#but half the stuff that could use work has to do with trying to fit the premise

[ms-demeanor]

Can you offer any advice for avoiding hoarding when part of the problem is that trying to deal with the clutter and garbage and dirt causes paralyzing anxiety? I want my house to be clean and cluttered because it's stuff I like, but instead it's full of trash and stuff that had a place but doesn't seem to fit back in it after being used.

I can absolutely offer advice about that.

Short TL;DR:

Select the room you want to clean and make a map of it.

Divide the room into small segments like "top of desk" or "cabinet under sink" or even "half of junk drawer." SMALL segments.

Designate bags "trash," "donate," and "consider later."

Schedule a time to work on cleaning each segment, don't just assume "i'll do it next week." Write down an assigned day for each area.

Go into your target area and sort things into those bags.

Optionally, create a bag for memento items to put into a specific memento box/book.

Take bags out of the space when they are full to make more room to work and to see progress.

Do the section for the day and stop. Don't get overwhelmed by a ton of stuff, stop when you've done what you planned for the day (unless you've got good momentum built up and continuing will energize you.)

Long TL;DR:

Go someplace where you are not looking at the mess. You want to draw a map of the room, but you do not want to be in the room. Work one room at a time.

Divide the area you want to clean into very small spaces. You aren't cleaning an entire desk, you are cleaning one drawer of a desk.

Take three containers with you for each section: one trash bag, one donation bag, and one bag of stuff to consider later.

Plan out time to work on the space. Don't say "I'll do the whole thing this weekend" or "I'll get to it after the holidays," sit down and write out a schedule. There's a version of this called 40 bags in 40 days that people do for lent (that was the version of this i first found and followed the first time i did it), but you could do it in ten days, or a hundred, just try to stick to working on each segment on the day it's scheduled.

In each space, keep the stuff that's obviously meant to go there in that space, so if you're cleaning a desk drawer and it has a stapler in it, the stapler can stay there but if the staples and paper clips and rubber bands are a mess put that stuff into the "consider later" bin. Same thing with papers; if you've got a bunch of papers and you may need to keep some and may need to trash some, put them in the "consider later"

THERE IS AN OPTIONAL BIN FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HANG ON TO A MILLION MEMENTOS AND CONCERT TICKETS AND SUCH. I make them by getting gallon freezer bags and filling them up with business cards and concert programs and scraps of wrapping paper and birthday cards. This isn't quite "consider later" because it's probably stuff you know you want to keep, this is "I don't have a home for this thing right now but it's not trash" so this is a temporary home for that category.

Remove stuff from the space as you work. As you fill up a bag of trash or consider later or donate, take it out of the space so you aren't looking at it and you can see the progress you're making on the space.

Do each section as you come to it on your schedule and then call it quits. If you cleaned out the counter next to the sink and that was your area for the day, you don't have to worry about the area under the sink unless you have the energy and enthusiasm for it.

Philosophical musing about why this works

The reason this kind of plan works (for me) is by pre-managing several things. You know you're working with a limited area, you know what you're going to do with the stuff you find in that area (put it in one of your bags or leave it where it is if it belongs in that area), you're working on a limited time so this can't stretch out forever it's just a little chunk, you're thinking about the space as you build your plan so you're visualizing the anxiety inducing thing outside of the space that actually gives you the anxiety which hopefully allows you to detach slightly from the anxiety, and you're getting your steps lined up ahead of time so there's no muddle of "what do i do now, how do I get started" - you get started by grabbing your bags and you go to that day's scheduled section.

The whole thing is constructed to prevent you from getting overwhelmed.

I used to try to clean my room as a kid and I would find something that needed to get put away but I didn't know where it went so I'd spend a bunch of time trying to make a space for it and I'd end up getting lost in the weeds of imagining how I'd use the item and if the new place for it was accessible, and oh look at the items that I found in this other place where I was going to put this item and this method cuts off all of that. Where I am putting the item is in the bag, where it is going is the "consider later" pile and when I've cleared out most of the space I can consider where things go when I've gathered all the uncertain things into one place instead of continually unearthing them and disrupting the process of going through stuff.

What it means to Consider Later

The reason you're working room by room is because you should be isolating the consider later pile by room. If you're cleaning out the bedroom you may end up with stuff that belongs in the kitchen or the office, but you'll end up with a lot of stuff that belongs in the bedroom. When you've worked through all your segments, you can sort the consider later pile and now that you have all the objects together, you can consider whether some of them belong together in a space in the room.

For instance, when I first did this there were a lot of books that needed to go on bookshelves, but my bookshelves weren't accessible in the early parts of the process. So books from the floor and the bed and the nightstand went into the consider later pile and after the whole floor was clear and there was no trash on my desk and all the books I was donating had been pulled from my bookshelves, I was able to organize all of my books at once instead of stumbling across a book every four minutes and trying to shelve it.

That's what spawned the memento bags for me; there was a ton of stuff in my consider later bags that didn't precisely have a place but weren't trash and needed a place made for them. If I'd struggled to find where each item went as I cleaned it would have completely stalled me out.

I kept finding yarn as I went but I didn't have a dedicated yarn spot, so I just put yarn in the consider later pile and at the end I found a basket for it and put it on a shelf in the closet that had been cleared out when I'd donated old clothes. If I had tried to find a spot for the yarn before donating the clothes, I would have had to move it once the better spot opened up, so saving all the consider later stuff for later saved me from having to move stuff several times.

If you're in a small space or if you're living with people and you can't make a pile of stuff in another room for two weeks, at the very least remove the trash and donation bags as you go and designate an area for your consider later pile; maybe a laundry basket or something similar so that you can keep it mobile as you clean.

It's kind of like moving in to a new space. When you move in to an empty room, you have all your stuff in boxes and you need to figure out where it goes and that can take a while, but it's sometimes easier to find a place to put things in a new environment than it is to put things back "where they belong" because maybe you've added a dozen skeins to your collection and they don't belong in the little yarn bag anymore.

What to trash, what to donate, and what to consider later

Trash should be immediately obvious as trash. Anything that is trash goes in the trash bag right away.

If you find yourself thinking "but I might use this plastic fork that came with my value meal," or "this receipt may be important," put it in the consider later pile and don't think about it right now.

The donate bag should be for stuff that will still be useful for someone, but won't be useful for you. Clothes that you don't like, books you hated and won't re-read, toys you don't want to keep, all of that goes in the donate pile. If you think you might want to keep a piece of clothing but you want to make sure it doesn't fit, don't stop to try it on now just put it in the consider later pile and you can sort it into the donate bag later.

"Consider later" is for anything that requires more than thirty seconds of thought or effort to handle. If you're looking at your desk and you've got a keyboard for your computer on your desk that keyboard is staying there and doesn't need to be considered. If there's an empty takeout cup on your desk, that cup is going in the trash and doesn't need to be considered. If there's a receipt for your computer sitting on your desk, you may want to save that for record-keeping purposes but may not have a place to put it, so that is what you consider later.

Some guidelines on what is or is not trash

You might look at a sturdy plastic cup from a gas station and say "that isn't trash, I could use that, that's still good" but unless you have a specific purpose in mind for it right now, that is trash. If you wouldn't put it in a donation box to be used for some ambiguous future purpose, you don't need to keep it.

If you have a specific purpose in mind, like using an old milk jug to make a watering pitcher for your plants, it may not be trash. But only ONE is not trash; more than that is trash.

If you wouldn't need to have a hard copy of a paper and you have an electronic copy, it is trash. This means receipts for most everyday purchases like groceries and fast food. Don't keep receipts for items past their return period, don't keep receipts for items that you have a digital copy of unless that item cost over $1000.

Nice cardboard boxes (or good glass jars, or sturdy plastic takeout boxes, or cleaned food containers) that you don't have a use for are trash (or recycling, depending on where you live, but still in the trash category).

If you know someone who is specifically looking for an item (like maybe the neighbor kids are asking for cardboard tubes for a science project, or you work with a meal delivery group that could use extra packets of takeout utensils, or you have a friend who is into canning and has asked for jars, or if you make your own soup stock and need containers to put it in, or if you have a friend who is moving and needs lots of good cardboard boxes) then these items don't *have* to be trash but if you are just keeping them in your space and not giving them to people who want them or putting them to use yourself, they are just trash in your space and you should throw them away.

Memory Books/Memento Bags

I make memory books out of the little items i collect into one gallon storage bags. They allow me to hang onto the stuff that I want to keep because it brings me good memories without having a pile of random junk and sometimes without having to keep the item, or having to keep the whole item.

If the thing I want to keep because it brings me good memories is bulky, perhaps I can take a put a picture of that item to put in the book. If it is a worn out shirt, perhaps I can cut a patch off the shirt to put it in the book. If it is a card, perhaps I can cut out just the front of the card, or I can almost certainly just throw away the envelope and put the card in the book.

If you have things that do *not* fit into the memory book, like costume jewelry or rocks or a weird toy you got out of a coin machine on a really fun family vacation, you can also make a memory box; I have some of these and they've got a bunch of truly random crap in them, but I *like* having the nametag from the four hours that I worked at Denny's, or the keychain from when my mom took me to the morgue training class. It's fine to like these things, and to keep many of them, but you want to keep them someplace that they won't stress you out; that might be a display case for nice things, but it also might be a pretty velvet bag that you periodically pull out of a drawer and sort through like a magpie, or a wooden box that you painted.

You can also be selective about this stuff. You don't need every piece of costume jewelry your grandmother owned; keep the pieces you really like or the ones you have strong memories of or the ones that are very nice or the ones that are in good shape. But look, my mom was a teacher and she had a wide variety of goofy holiday jewelry that she wore in the classroom and I don't need to hang onto that. I don't need the big plastic ghost earrings that won't fit in my plugs, but I'll hang onto the spider brooch. She collected cheap watches - I don't need all of her four dollar watches, I can keep the nice ones, or the one that she got for ten years at her job. Do the same thing with stuffed animals and baby clothes and magazines and children's books. You don't need to keep all of it, and keeping all of it isn't going to help you remember that time more, or remember that person better.

Do you really want to keep it or do you feel obligated?

Youtuber Caroline Winkler (who has some great videos about home organization that I like a lot, in particular "this is why your home is a mess" - with the caveat that she likes closed storage and my ADHD ass loves open storage) has a really great tip on getting rid of stuff that works a LOT better for me than the Marie Kondo "Does this spark joy?" question and it's the Red Wine Test. Instead of asking if an item sparks joy, you ask yourself "If a bottle of red wine spilled on this (or if it was in some other way damaged) how hard would I try to fix it?" If you wouldn't try very hard, or if you would be *relieved* then you can get rid of that item. If one of the Venom mugs I have on the shelf fell down and broke, I wouldn't try hard to fix it. If my cat stuffed animal from when I was a kid tore open, I would immediately be looking for my sewing kit.

.... I should recycle those cheap teal glasses, actually.

Some general tips that may help to get you started that work for me and my ADHD and may work for you and your anxiety:

Start a timer for a short time. You don't have to clean your whole house, you are just going to pick up for five minutes. Then you can stop, and you only have to face a *little* bit of the anxiety.

5-4-3-2-1-go. Don't overthink it, count down quickly and then get up and do something. Keep going in as long a spurt as you can manage without getting too upset, but cutting down on the time for pre-game fretting might help with the anxiety.

Do the smallest amount possible. You don't have to clean this room, you just have to take one dish to the sink. You don't have to do all the dishes, you can just unload part of the top tray of the dishwasher.

Some general tips on trying to keep a space clean:

First, encouragement: It is a lot easier to maintain a clean space than it is to create one.

If you're thinking that something needs to be done and it can take you under five minutes to do it and it's right in front of you, do it. I do this with my dishwasher. It turns out unloading the dishwasher is the main thing that stalls me on dishes and keeps my sink full, so now when I'm waiting for the kettle or letting my tea steep, I unload whatever I can get done in that time. If I have the vacuum out and I did my living room but the hall and the bedroom could use a quick pass too, I vacuum them while I've got the machine in my hand.

Set success traps. Success traps are things that let you fall into succeeding by front-loading the effort (or executive function) of cleaning with planning. Trash collects in your living space? Put a bunch of little trash cans everywhere. Cleaning your bathroom takes extra time because you have to go get glass cleaner and paper towels from another room? Keep a bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels under the sink. You never sweep because it is a pain in the ass to get the broom out of the broom closet? Hang the broom from a mount in the kitchen. It takes too long to clean the counter because you have to pick up a bunch of makeup brushes and bottles and soap? Put that shit on a tray and now you only have to move one thing to clean the counter.

And for your specific question, with "things never seem to quite fit back where they came from" sounds like you're playing storage tetris, which is when things have a place and it is a *very specific and exact* place that doesn't have a lot of room around it. You may need to think about downsizing for your space, or, more likely, think about more efficient storage. That Caroline Winkler video I linked has some tips on this ("don't store things in a way that will make you angry like putting your common use objects on an out of reach shelf or you'll never put things back because it's hard to put them back" and "maximize your weirdo spaces" speak to your situation, i think) that I've put into use, particularly in my kitchen. It was hard to keep the counter clear because it was hard to put my stand mixer away because the rack for the stand mixer had a wok and a bunch of cast iron pans and a panini press and a chafing dish on it; I put the panini press and the least-used cast iron and the chafing dish and the wok in a more out-of-the way cabinet (because i basically never use them but they're very useful when I need them) and now that shelf has a little grill, my more commonly used cast iron, and my stand mixer so putting away the stand mixer is a lot less effort so my counter stays clear. I wasn't using the top shelf of my dish cabinet for dishes because it's too high up for daily use, but it's perfect for the rice cooker, waffle maker, and food processor that I use less than my dishes but more than my george forman grill.

And anyway, the TL;DR for all of that:

Work a little bit at a time, be nice to yourself, don't keep things that aren't worth keeping, and configure your storage in a way that works for you (by keeping your lifestyle, the way you use things, and how easy it is to put away into account before deciding that's where something lives).

Good luck!

[poebrey]

how I met your father is good but a little boring and it’s almost entirely due to the premise so it just makes me wish we had gotten a lizzie mcguire reboot even more

[a-soft-hornytiny]

Use it.

Summary: Mingi has a huge dick but is shy about it and has no idea what to do with it. 

Word count: 1.7k+

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x female!reader

Warnings: porn without plot, sub!mingi, virgin!mingi, kinda dom!reader, hand job, blow job, riding, teasing, slight begging, unprotected sex, cumming, dirty talk, breeding (let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading. 

Notes: uhmmm @star1117-archives miles you are a genius. I hope this is to your liking. Thank you for the request hehe

Taglist: under the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

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You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mister “I’m so cool and sexy” Mingi was sitting in front of you, blushing hard and not even able to form a proper sentence as you wide-eyed stared at his monster cock. Two reasons why you were completely overwhelmed. 

One: His dick was the biggest you had ever seen and you were genuinely worried if you could take him.

And two: Mingi. The man that never got shy when you teased each other. The man that never flinched away when it got heated. The man that obviously knew about his own sex appeal, was flustered as soon as you pulled down his pants. 

“I uhmm.” Your voice cracked while you got on your knees, now sitting between his legs. You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, making him flinch. “You are…” Your second hand was now embracing the middle part of his length, his tip still being uncovered. “You are huge.” You stated in awe. 

You expected him to smile, laugh or make a joke of any kind, but instead he covered his face in his hands and let out a pretty pathetic whine. He was embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry I should- should have warned you.” He stuttered an apology as he tried to turn away from you. But you stopped him.

“You’re sorry?” You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. That was not what you had expected. Packed men were usually pretty proud of what they got but he.. it was almost like he-

“You’ve had sex before right?” You asked, already sensing the answer. However you couldn’t suppress the need to gently squeeze his length with both of your hands. 

He immediately whined again. His whole body was squealing and it was obvious that he was trying to avoid the answer. “Mingi.” You said, a certain strictness in your voice. “If you don’t answer then I will stop immediately.” 

He instantly shook his head. You smirked. From all the time you had spent together you would’ve never gathered that you were the experienced one of you both. You still remembered that time when he wore this nearly see through, skin tight, dark blue shirt under a shimmering leather jacket and fitting pants. That whole fit screamed Sex.

“Not.. not really.” Mingi finally dared to look at you. “J-Just some petting a few years ago.” He admitted but the glance he sent you, made you weak. His eyes were begging for you to stay and continue. To try and stuff yourself with his enormous cock. 

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “I can show you how to work this.” You gestured to the twitching dick right in front of you. He nodded, still ashamed. You scooted forward slightly and took his shaft into your hand. 

“Listen. While you’re in my mouth, it’s important that you don’t move. I don’t know how much I can take but it’s important that I can control it.” Your voice was soft. You sent him a little smile as he nodded before you lowered your head - even though you didn’t really need to lower it to reach him - and opened your mouth. 

Your heart was beating up to your throat as you took him in. Inch by inch. He was not only big but also girthy, which made the corners of your mouth hurt slightly. You were breathing through your nose slowly as his tip reached the back of your mouth. Half of his length was still uncovered so you took your hand to help. 

During the whole process, Mingi didn’t make a sound, which you didn’t notice since you were concentrating on “not choking”. When you finally felt comfortable to move you looked up to him, and immediately let him slide out of your mouth again. You couldn’t help but giggle as he sharply inhaled.

“When I said don’t move, I didn’t mean don’t breathe.” His face was flushed. “But otherwise it's hard not to..” He murmured, avoiding eye contact as he buried his hands deeper into the bedsheets. 

“Come on. I want to hear your pretty sounds, big boy.” You teased him before you pushed him onto his bed. He was now lying beneath you, his dick painted with your saliva and his cheeks the color of a summer sunset. 

In the course of the hot make-out session you had before, you had already lost most of your clothing, which meant that as you were straddling him he could see every single detail of your body. And he loved it. His eyes were following your every movement and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

And you were still confused about the contrast. Just about 20 minutes ago he had no problem ripping your clothes off of your body and relentlessly sucking on your skin with his plumb lips. He had let out the deepest sexiest groans while his lips crashed onto yours and now he was rock hard, shy and whiny. 

“I need your support now.” You said softly before positioning his hands on your waist. He nodded again but it was clear that he wasn’t 100% listening. His eyes were fidgeting all over your body, unable to find one spot to focus on. 

Without much hesitation you grabbed his dick again and positioned his tip at your wet entrance. You were very glad that you had prepared yourself for this, even though you weren’t sure if it was enough anymore. Then you slowly sat down.

The moment his tip touched your folds, both of you let out a loud groan. It was finally happening. Both of you had anticipated this for weeks. The sexual tension between you ever since your first date was ripping apart the air any time you were in a private space and you wondered why you hadn’t already jumped him before.

He started stretching you out, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His head was thrown back, pressed into the mattress, but his grip on your waist was strong. And then you passed the first 4 inches. You immediately felt how your body was protesting, sending a sharp pain through your whole body, making you whine.

“Are you okay?” Mingi instantly helped to push you up again. His eyes were big, shimmering with worry. You smiled slightly.

“Yes, it’s fine. I knew it was going to hurt, don't worry.” You reassured him before continuing to move downward. “But- but I don’t want ahhh-“ he wanted to protest but he interrupted himself with a filthy moan as his dick disappeared deeper and deeper in your warmth. 

You whined with every single movement. He felt him grind against your walls, stretching you out deeply. It was painful, but at the same time, the best thing you had felt in awhile, and the longer it took the easier it was. Slowly adjusted to his length and girth, you sat down completely. Your hands were resting on his chest, your fingernails digging into his skin. You want to be gentle, but he didn’t mind. All he saw was this you on top of him, tears running down your face as his dick fully disappeared inside you.

“Is it okay?” He wanted to sit up to caress your cheek, but you immediately push him down again. “Don’t move. It’s- it’s getting better.. fuck!” You moaned as the pain was replaced by pleasure. Mingi was looking at you with big eyes. He was scared to hurt you, but at the same time it was driving him crazy. But he listened. He didn’t move, and if he was honest, he wouldn’t know how to anyway.

And that’s when you started to carefully rock your hips back and forth. You were still trying to find the right way to move but Mingi was already a mess. Pretty moans groans and the whines were escaping his mouth as this unknown pleasure washed over his body. 

“Fuck you’re so tight..” He tried hard not to move with you but his grip on your hips was getting stronger. “I don’t think I can take this for long.” He admitted, the redness on his face re-appearing.

“Oh, don’t worry you’re not supposed to.” You wanted to sound teasing but everything that escaped your mouth was breathy. He was hitting places that never had been touched before. You clenched around him, as you felt his pre-cum leak into you.

“No seriously I mean I-“ His moans grew louder as you picked up the pace of your movements. 

Your mind went blank. The amount of pure ecstasy that was running through your body was immense, numbing. You wanted him to fill you up, not only with his cock but with his cum. 

“Cum for me.” You moaned, getting lost in your own pleasure. But Mingi couldn’t relax.

“Are you sure? I- sure? Isn’t that kinda.. dangerous?” He stuttered, trying hard not to cum then and there. You groaned. Now he’s overthinking it?

You leaned forward, setting kisses onto his skin until you reached his face. Your lips were hovering over his. 

“Come on good boy. Fill me up. Give me your precious cum.” You whispered before pressing your lips onto his. You moaned into each other’s mouths as you started moving again. Mingi was completely overwhelmed by your words but they showed an effect immediately. 

“Faster.. please..” He murmured against your lips and you let out a chuckle. “I didn’t know you could beg.” You responded, listening to him still. Your hips were now moving at the steady but fast pace and you could feel him twitch inside of you. 

“Yes.. Yes this is it.. I’m ahh I’m cu-cu-“ Mingi couldn’t help but buckle up his hips as his orgasm washed over him, making you cry out. “I’m cumming!” He whined while painting your insides white. You felt so full. Physically. You helped him ride out his high and just as he relaxed, you started moving again. He instantly cried out in overstimulation. 

“Now I’ll show you how you can use this huge dick of yours for good.” 

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Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

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[moonstruckme]

Hii i recently discovered your account and i am devouring all your marauder works! They bring me so much comfort and just ahh i love the way you write! I really like emt!marauders and i was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a fic with them and a reader who has health anxiety?? And maybe she gets sick or something and they help her calm her thoughts and fears and just take care of her?? Only if this is something you would want to write ofc :) have a lovely day!! 💗

Thank you lovely <3

cw: health anxiety

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Here you go, m’love.” James sits between you and Remus, holding your tea towards you with the handle out. “Careful, it’s hot.” 

You grab it quickly. “Jamie!” You suck in a thoughtless breath, setting off your cough. “Don’t—don’t burn yourself!”

You set the tea down before you spill it, James patting between your shoulder blades while you cover your mouth with a tissue. 

“Easy,” he says. “I wasn’t holding it for long, don’t hack up a lung on my account.” 

Remus doesn’t disagree, but he takes the offending hand and kisses James’ fingertips lightly. 

You take a breath as the fit settles, picking up your tea with a quiet thanks and continuing to read on your phone. 

“What’re you looking at so frownily?” Sirius asks, tilting his head where he’s sprawled out on the armchair. 

“Just reading,” you murmur, but he casts a suspicious look to the other two on the couch. James leans over, peering at your screen. 

He laughs. “Sweetheart, you know this stuff will only stress you out,” he says, leaning his shoulder into yours amicably. “You’ve gotta trust us, we’d be able to tell if it was anything serious.” 

“WebMD?” Sirius asks. 

“Healthline,” Remus replies, craning his neck to see behind James. 

“I know,” you ignore the other two, replying to James, “but I was talking to my grandma today and she—” Sirius groans, letting his head loll back against the cushion. “—she said this is exactly what it was like when she had pneumonia.” 

Remus looks at you evenly. “How old is your grandmother?” 

You take a sip of tea, hiding behind the rim of your mug. “Eighty-six.” 

He gives you a weary half-smile. “Pneumonia is a lot more common in older adults, dove. And your cough doesn’t sound like pneumonia anyway.” 

“But how do you know?” you ask anxiously. Remus’ features tighten a bit in sympathy. “I just don’t want to have it and have no idea, and then it gets worse and worse and worse.” 

James takes your hand in his. “That makes sense, angel, but—”

“And then while I was looking, stuff was also coming up for whooping cough, which sounds horrific—”

“You don’t have whooping cough,” Remus says. 

“But what if I do?” Your voice scratches a bit, and you try to breathe more shallowly to avoid a fit. “Because if that’s what it is, then it’s super contagious and you guys shouldn’t even be around me. And you can start throwing up and—” Your cough catches up with you, and you cover your mouth, eyes watering. Remus and Sirius both wince, James’ hand finding your back again. It’s nice, when you’re sick and miserable like this, to be around people who are so accustomed to it. Who will reach for you instead of cringing away. 

“It’s okay,” James murmurs, palm big and heavy between your shoulder blades. “You’re fine, sweetheart, just take a minute.” 

When it ebbs, he passes you your tea silently. The honey in it coats your throat, the warmth soothing the ache in your chest. 

“I just don’t want it to be more serious than we think,” you say weakly. “There’s a lot of things it could be that are worse than just a cold.” 

“Baby,” Sirius says firmly. “Look at me.” 

You lower your mug, finding your scariest boyfriend considering you with his usual intensity. He tilts his head to the side, brushing a piece of dark hair behind his ear. 

“Did you have your jabs when you were little?” 

You feel your brow pucker worriedly. “I think so.” 

His tone gentles a bit. “Then you can’t have whooping cough, darling. We all get vaccinated for it when we’re small.” 

You don’t want to argue with him, but your eyes flit back to your phone. “Actually, it says we can still get it even if we’ve been vaccinated.” 

“But not nearly as bad,” James says, squeezing your shoulder lightly. “You’re right, it could seem like a regular cold in that case, but it really wouldn’t turn into anything worse than that. None of the vomiting or anything like that.” 

You swallow, nodding. “Okay. Okay, that makes sense.”

“We know there’s a lot of things a cold could turn into,” Remus says. “Trust me, dove, we know. The reason we’re not worried is because we also know exactly what those would look like if they did turn up, and we could get you to the hospital at the first sign of something serious. Also, the serious things are less common than you might think.” 

“Yeah, there’s a reason it’s called the common cold,” Sirius jokes, shooting you a wink. 

You smile back, partly for his sake and partly for yours. Remus fixes you with a soft, open look. 

“I promise to tell you if we notice anything,” he says, slowly, making sure you hear the weight of every word. “Do you want to talk about pneumonia?” 

You nibble your lip, unsure. 

“If you’re still worried about it, we should talk about it,” James says. “We don’t want you to just be stressed out and silent, angel.” 

You blow out a careful breath. “Okay. I’m coughing up dark mucus and have a fever, which seems like pneumonia. How do we know it’s not?” 

“Pneumonia could have mucus or no mucus,” James tells you, as though reciting from a textbook. “And as for your fever…” He takes your face between his hands, pressing his lips firmly to your forehead. “My gauge tells me it’s still not that severe.” 

You grin at his antics, ducking your head when he goes for more so that he’s forced to confine his affections to your hair. He makes a gleeful sound of protest, grabbing you around the middle to get you closer. 

“Don’t knock her tea,” Remus warns.

“I can run you through the checklist we sometimes use before testing for pneumonia,” Sirius offers. You nod, and he launches in. “Do you have shortness of breath?” You think, then shake your head. “Chest pain? Sweating or shaking? Fatigue—well, fatigue is a yes, right? Don’t worry, doll, that’s a symptom of everything—Chills? Nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea?”

Your mouth puckers in distaste at the last few, but you shake your head to all of them and Sirius spreads his hands magnanimously. “There we go,” he says. “If you were in an ambulance right now, we’d be telling you not to waste time on getting pneumonia tests done.”

“Plus, your cough doesn’t sound like it,” Remus adds, somewhat smugly. 

“Okay,” you relent. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” James sweeps a thumb over your ribs, stamping a kiss on your temple. “You can’t help worrying about these things. We just wish the internet didn’t give you so much material, you know?” His eyebrows go up a bit in the middle and he strokes your side again, more gently this time. “You should be allowed to focus on getting better, sweetheart. All this anxiety doesn’t make for great rest.” 

You let yourself sink into his side, cradling your mug in your hands. “I just don’t want to badger you guys with questions all day.” 

“We don’t mind,” Remus promises you. 

“And I’d like to think we have a bit more experience under our belts than healthline,” Sirius scoffs. The teasing look he sends you lets you know his derision isn’t for you. “Anyway, what does healthline say you’re supposed to do if you have pneumonia?” 

You scroll down a bit. “See a medical professional.” 

“Well, lucky you.”

[emoangel44]

The thing I've always loved most about aa4 is how much darker the tone is than the rest of the series in a way that isn't just edgy for the sake of it, but subverts your expectations from the original 3 games in a really interesting way. The trilogy was built upon the trust Phoenix had in others, and it was something we as players could almost always feel certain in. AA4 flips this on its head and makes it so Apollo effectively can't trust anyone but himself.

Your mentor, who the in the trilogy was a paragon of wisdom you could always turn to no matter what, gets revealed to be the culprit and sent to jail in the first trial and by the end of the game his list of crimes has stacked high but you still have so few answers on why he did any of it.

Your boss, the goofy protagonist of the trilogy, is now inexplicably a washed-up, disgraced, cheating poker player with an implied drinking problem who seemingly found a new hobby in evidence forgery and jury rigging.

He has a codependent relationship with his daughter, your assistant, who usually is a completely innocent and hapless victim of circumstance. She sees herself as the provider for the house and will help her father cheat at poker, or forge evidence, or guilt trip the poor attorney they knowingly screwed of out of a job into working for them for dirt cheap.

The detective, the only other returning main character, a previous assistant, is completely changed since we last saw her. In the trilogy she was chipper and bright despite the hardships she faced, and now she's unfriendly and burned out, turned bitter by the world. The scene we're first properly introduced to her in Apollo genuinely spends several minutes thinking his boss is making him bribe her with cocaine.

Every single defendant is a criminal guilty of something other than what they're charged for. Each case centers around an underground black-market poker ring, a mafia family and medical malpractice, a smuggling ring, and a family of forgers and an incredibly shady troupe of magicians. The one thing all of these people have in common is that none of them will tell you literally anything about what's happening, half of them clearly reveling in being as big of cryptic assholes as possible.

The only person who doesn't fit this description is, for once, the prosecutor. Usually your biggest obstacle and the most morally corrupt of the main cast, he's the only person who's both 100% on the side of truth and on the same page as you for the entire game. He's just as clueless as you, being used nothing more than a chess piece just like you are.

But the truly masterful thing about AA4 is how morally grey it is. These characters aren't just one note villains. They're not even villains at all. Most of them aren't even malicious.

Your boss, for all the low levels he stoops to, is underneath it all the same guy he's always been, doing everything he can to bring a criminal to justice and protect his family. Your assistant is a sweet girl who truly cares about you, she's just prioritizing herself and her fathers safety before anything else. The detective is the same passionate and kind woman under everything else. The rest of the defendants are genuinely well-meaning young people who got involved in shady stuff they didn't fully understand.

The game is filled with good people trying to make the best of bad circumstances. The game has just as many fun moments as the original trilogy. For all it's rough appearance, the game has a similar heart. For every unanswered question or unrighted wrong, there's a smile or a hope for a better future. For every bad action, there's usually someone trying their best behind it. The game is melancholic and dark, but isn't afraid to let good shine through. It knows there's no shadows without the light.

[itryhardtomakethishouseahome]

Jjk love languages

~Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Maki, Megumi, Choso

pt 2(toji & sukuna)

a/n: sorry if this sucks, I wrote in in two hours(i just realized i left out toji but lmk if you want me to write one for him too). also, please reblog if you can, I'd really appreciate it!!!

Gojo~

Annoying the absolute fuck out of you(obviously)

You could be lying down reading a book or watching a show/movie and this man will sneak up behind you and try to jump scare you or use his infinity to prank you. When he’s laying on you and you haven't said anything for a while he’ll look up at you and start poking your cheeks or biting you.

On days where his behavior doesn’t resemble a child fueled by 6 bottles of coke, 3 monsters, 8 red bulls, and 10 tons of sugar, he’s extremely gentle and soft with you. Satoru will cling to you and kiss your cheeks, neck, forehead, or hands or caress your face while staring deeply into your eyes telling you that he couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

Maki~

Encouragement 

Sparring with Maki was never easy and 100% of the time you end up getting knocked on your ass which is a little sad considering she always takes it easy on you. She has a habit of letting everyone know how much they suck and rarely ever encourages those that train with her but with you she’ll help you up and tell her that you almost had her and to not give up with a half soft half cocky smirk. 

Because of where and how she grew up, she’s not the best with emotions but if you’re sad/stressed she’ll rub your back and tell you everything's gonna be okay or let you fall asleep in her arms if you’re at home.

Geto~

Princess treatment

If you need something but you're sitting with your legs over Suguru’s lap or laying on him and don’t feel like getting up he’ll sigh and immediately get up and get it for you. 

When you’re out shopping with him, Suguru always pays for everything even when you try to fight him over it. He’ll always buy you food or offer to share his with you even though he ends up fighting the reflex to swat your hand away  when he sees you reaching for some out of his peripheral due to Gojo trying to steal some all the time.

When you’re too tired to get ready or you’re sick he’ll bathe and clothe you then brush your hair while telling you how beautiful you are and that he’ll always take care of you.

Megumi~

Honestly all i can say is “idk i just work here🤷‍♀️”

In the beginning of your relationship Megumi was awkward. He was a mix between vibing in silence with you and trying to figure out what to say and do. You knew he was never good with his emotions and that was completely fine because he had other ways of showing what he was feeling or thinking. When he missed you he’d text or call to “check on you” but really it was to hear your voice. When he randomly felt like saying ‘I love you’ he would rest his head on your shoulder or lap or play with your hair.

When you’re sick or stressed but have stuff to do he’ll get sassy with you and demand that you stay in bed and that he’ll take care of both everything you need done and you.

Nanami~

Acts of service and princess treatment

Kento’s acts of love and affection range from small forehead kisses every time he walks by you or leaves the house to you coming home to find a trail of rose petals leading to the bathroom while he’s leaning over the tub, pouring in bath salts and essential oils. He’s always doing something for you like cooking dinner in a pink heart shaped apron and massaging your feet even when he’s the one that had a long day. 

You getting sick is a whole different story. Kento goes from calm mama Nanami mode to uncharacteristically panicked mama Nanami mode. He makes you soup, runs bathes for you, checks your temperature on the hour, and forces you to stay in bed but the second he hears you having a coughing fit his composure goes out the window and he’s by your side in a millisecond rubbing your back and asking if you need to go to the hospital in a panicked tone.

Choso~

Another “idk I just work here🤷‍♀️” moment 

Choso is not only new to society and normal people but also to relationships. He has absolutely no idea what to say and when to say it, but he notices that when he acts on his urges that you seem to like it. Sometimes he wants to blurt out how much he loves you, but he feels like it’d be weird so he’ll either hold your hand and stare at you or pick you up, take you to bed, and cuddle.

Choso noticed that you love playing with his hair so when he feels as though you’re not giving him enough attention, he’ll ask you to brush his hair or wash it for him.

When you get sick he breaks down and panics. He’ll call Itadori balling saying that he needs help, you’re dying, and he doesn’t know how to make you better. It happens every time you get sick; panic and call Itadori to come help while he cradles you in his arms, begging you not to die, with his tears dropping on your face while you try to calm him down.

[nolita-fairytale]

j is for james beard... and for jealousy | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

pairing: jealous boyfriend!carmy x female!reader 

word count: 7.4k

summary: after sydney takes home a big win at the james beard awards, you and your boyfriend carmy run into an old rival for a fiery, chaotic, and surprisingly sexy night. companion piece to 'make my heart surrender' but can be read as a standalone oneshot.

warnings: 18+ chapter, minors dni: lots of swearing, p*rn with a plot, smut, p in v unprotected sex (reader is using hormonal birth control in monogamous relationship), praise kink, rough jealousy sex

a/n: how dare I drag poor james beard into this hetero nonsense?! anywayssss surprise i'm back because i keep having ideas for these two. maybe one day i'll just write a carmy x reader piece that doesn't include this character but for now... please enjoy this literal porn with a plot. also: let's all agree that toxic jealousy is a red flag in relationships, however, i wanted to work with a scenario where carmy would perhaps be more sexually assertive.

“I look ridiculous,” Carmy had grumbled earlier that day, at his reflection in the mirror. 

He had never felt like himself while wearing a suit. Sure, he would spend time, effort, and money into finding the perfect vintage denim jacket, but a suit? He’d much rather be behind the scenes, in his chef whites, instead of this. 

“You look…” you’d countered him, emphasizing the word ‘look’. “...hot, Carmen.”

He’d given you somewhat of a half smile in response – flattered by your comment, and also unconvinced you hadn’t just said in an attempt to get him out of the house. 

Or out of obligation. 

Because he’s your boyfriend. Because you’ll say anything to get him out for Syd’s big night. Because you love him. 

Carmy had never gotten used to the whole celebrity aspect of the food world – especially his own. These award ceremonies were always an uncomfortable reminder that he never quite felt like he fit in. 

“Do you think Syd would kill me if-?” Carmy had asked, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Baby, Sydney is counting on us… and she and I will both kick your ass if you don’t get in the car,” you’d cut him off, because there was no way in hell he was getting out of this. With a scowl on his face, you’d dragged him down the stairs and into your Uber. 

And that’s how he ended up here, at the James Beard award ceremony on a Sunday night, as you all wait anxiously for the announcement. While the restaurant hadn’t been open long enough to be nominated and was actively in a state of ‘working out the kinks,’ Carmy’s celebrity in the food world had brought in a lot of press. Ever since Sydney and Carmy had become partners in the reopen, he had been more than happy to let her take center stage. When the nominations were announced, and Sydney was on the list, he was ecstatic for her. Truthfully, it was a relief that she seemed to do much better with all the stuff he wasn’t crazy about: press, interviews, the spotlight. 

“Wake me up when this snoozefest is over,” Richie mumbles trying his best to pretend he’s not having a good time. You snort, shooting Richie a look, because you know it’s one of the most exciting nights he’s had in a while. 

Besides Carmy, who wouldn’t want to get all dressed up to go to a fancy party and celebrate Sydney?

You’ve somehow managed to corral the core staff of The Bear here this evening. The entire restaurant had been abuzz when the nominations were announced, and talks of who would get stuck at the restaurant the night of the award ceremony had already begun. It was an easy decision to close the restaurant for that night, so that everyone who wanted to could attend. 

Your life here is better than you ever imagined it could be. Working your ass off in a kitchen that you love has been invigorating. It’s helping you fall in love with the process all over again. You suspect that your time in fine dining had, perhaps, run its course even before you quit your last job. Back then, here is what you’d longed for on the days you felt your most lost. You love being a teacher; you love mentoring Marcus. He’s got a desire to learn that never quits, and it inspires you day in and day out. But most importantly, you’re head over heels in love. You’re so deeply in love with Carmy that sometimes, you wonder what took the two of you so long to pull the trigger.

Tonight is no different. You’re surrounded by people you adore more than anything  – people you’ve been in the trenches with during a dinner service from hell, people you’ve laughed your ass off with after a round of drinks outside of the restaurant – and you’re all here to celebrate someone who’s become a close friend of yours. It’s just another reminder – another sign from the universe – that you made the right decision.

And you’re sure Sydney is going to win. 

You’re not sure how you know. 

You can just feel it. 

Sydney sits between Carmy and Marcus, and you’re seated in between Carmy and Richie. You notice Carmy’s leg is bouncing up and down impatiently as he anticipates the next category of awards. Even though you know these big social events put Carmy on edge, you know he’s really just nervous for her. 

“And the winner… for the James Beard Rising Star award of 2023…” the announcer, esteemed chef Mashama Bailey begins, grabbing the attention of the entire room. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and Carmy continues to fidget nervously. You reach across Carmy’s lap, grabbing Sydney’s hand and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Sydney holds on to you, and while you’re sure she might cut off your circulation from squeezing so tightly, you don’t mind. You’re all on the edges of your seat. 

“Sydney Adamu of The Bear!”

You and Carmy are cheering as loudly as you can, while Richie jumps to his feet letting out a loud ‘whoop.’ A chorus of ‘that’s right,’ ‘she won!’ and ‘c’mon syd’ echoes through Tina, Gary, and Ebra and Manny, while Angel is already on his feet taking a video of the crowd. Everyone is cheering so boisterously you’re not sure it’ll ever stop. 

“You won, Syd!” you yell over the loud claps and cheers, giving her hand one more squeeze. She rises, letting go of your hand, you and Carmy both following to give her some space to walk through the aisle. 

“Let’s go, Syd! That’s right. That’s right,” Marcus calls out loudly, jumping to his feet with Richie and earning a few looks from the people sitting to the right and left. 

“Congratulations, chef,” Carmy whispers, as she passes him by. You watch as Marcus ushers her over to the aisle so that she can go up to the stage while Angel films the whole thing on his iPhone. Carmy has the proudest look on his face, the tip of his nose the lightest blush pink, and you’re beaming as you watch your friend make her way towards the stage of the opera house. 

“Remember when this was you?” you whisper to Carmy, catching his attention. 

“Tonight everything changes for her,” Carmy replies, grinning from ear to ear. 

“For the both of you,” you add. “For all of us.”

The night he won the rising star award put him on the map. While you hadn’t known Carmy at the time, you’d heard about him in those early days of both of your careers. Carmy had risen so quickly through the ranks that by the time you met him, he was only a few weeks away from his promotion to CDC at the old restaurant. Not only did this put Sydney on the map, but it was better press for The Bear than anyone could ask for. 

“Congratulations, baby,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He just shoots you a look, the pride evident in his eyes, before wrapping his arm around you and holding you close. 

~

“I just wanna say,” Richie begins, having garnered the attention of your group. You’re all huddled in a circle at the reception, champagne flutes in everyone’s hands. 

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye…” Richie toasts, earning a few looks and side comments from your team. “And don’t forget about that time you stabbed me… but even if this brings a bunch of fuckin’ strokes to the restaurant, we’re so fuckin’ proud of you.” 

“To Sydney, who’s… what does Carmy say… changed the chemistry and who is the heart of this restaurant,” Ebra adds on. 

Tina smiles proudly, raising her glass to Sydney. It brings a smile to your face to see her all dressed up too. 

“Syd, I don’t know where the hell we’d be without you,” Carmy continues, raising his glass. 

“Cheers to you, Sydney!” you say, clinking champagne glasses, before taking your first celebratory drink as a team. 

It doesn’t take long for your group to break off into smaller ones – making comments about how out of place you all feel at this fancy of an event. Richie’s wrapping an arm around Carmy’s shoulder, ushering him to a side conversation – something about ‘lizards this’, and ‘the working class that.’ 

“So how do you feel?” you ask, turning towards Sydney, taking a moment to quietly congratulate your friend. 

“I think I’m still in shock,” she sighs in relief, earning a chuckle from you. 

“Well, I’ll cheers to that. You know. To calm the nerves,” you joke, raising your glass once more. 

“To liquid courage,” she agrees, clinking glasses with you again, as you both decide just to finish off your flutes of champagne. 

“Can I get you another drink?” you offer, placing your now empty champagne 

“Oooo can you get me one of those fancy themed cocktails I saw at the bar earlier?” Sydney replies, excitedly. 

“Anything for you,” you say back. 

“And when you’re back, I think I saw Carla Hall has a tasting table here so we should make our rounds,” Sydney mentions, because there’s no way either of you are missing out on the fact that the best chefs in the world are cooking in this room right now. 

You nod in agreement, heading to the bar to get both you and Sydney a new round of drinks. 

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asks. 

You glance at the menu, deciding on your go-to, a gin and tonic, and then one of the featured cocktails of the evening that Sydney mentioned, knowing she’s a tequila drinker. You wait at the bar for your drinks, knowing the fancy mezcal cocktail you just ordered for Sydney will take a little bit of a time to make. 

“I was wondering when I’d run into you,” you hear a voice say, grabbing your attention. It’s a familiar voice that you were really hoping you’d never have to hear again. 

“Funny, because I was hoping to avoid you,” you quip back, turning to the man who’s just joined you at the bar. His bravado alone is enough to earn an eye roll from you and you can feel your guard going up. 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the disdain in your voice. 

“You haven’t heard?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face that you just want to slap off of it. 

“I don’t make it my business to keep up with you, Walker,” you shoot back, using his last name as a formality, completely unamused by his question.

“God, I love it when you talk dirty,” he croons, a flirtatious low chuckle rumbling out of his chest. 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes for the second time in the last two minutes, as you thank the bartender who’s just come back with your gin and tonic. You raise the glass to your lips, getting a head start since now, you definitely need this drink. 

“Moved to LA. Took a CDC position out there. Besides, after you left… New York was… getting boring,” he explains, playing it cool. He drops the name of the well-respected LA restaurant that he’s running now in an attempt to impress you, which only seems to piss you off further. 

You scoff in response. If you weren’t waiting on Sydney’s drink, you’d be long gone by now, but as you watch the bartender burn a sugar cube, you wonder how damn long it takes for a fucking mezcal drink to be made. 

Maybe if I’ll just ignore him, he’ll fuck off, you think to yourself.

“You know, I was surprised to hear you moved to Chicago. Left without saying goodbye. Then again, should’ve known…” he provokes, continuing his very one sided conversation. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nate?” you snap, turning your head to him, instantly regretting giving him the attention he’s so desperately seeking.

He raises an eyebrow, before nodding towards Carmy as a reply. Your gaze follows, and you can tell that Carmy’s noticed who you’re talking to at the bar. 

“It’s a small world. Word gets around. People talk.”

But you’re not listening to him, your eyes fixed on Carmy. Carmy sends a look of concern your way, but you nod back to him as if to say ‘all good.’ You can hold your own here. Nate watches carefully, noticing the look you share with Carmy across the room. He was always a detail oriented son of a bitch. 

“Classic golden boy,” Nate sighs, the envy in his voice giving him away. 

“Don’t you think your little one sided rivalry with Carmy is getting a little old?” you laugh dryly. 

“One sided?” Nate asks back, taking a step towards you. 

“Yeah, one sided,” you repeat, standing your ground. Now way in hell you’re going to let this asshole back you up. “Because if I recall correctly, he never indulged you in your silly little games.”

Nate laughs again, taking another step towards you that makes you increasingly more uncomfortable. 

“If that’s how you remember it.”

“Oh grow up.”

“Not when golden boy gets everything I want.”

“You’re so full of shit!” you exclaim, finally taking a step back. “Carmy’s had to work for everything he’s achieved. You and I both know that.”

“How do you think he’d feel,” Nate starts, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to sound seductive or intimidating – neither of which are working on you. “... if he knew about what happened between us? After he left New york? It was… what? A week, maybe two, before you jumped into bed with me?”

“Carmy knows I’m not a thing to be had, Nate,” you seethe, glaring at him. 

The bartender returns with your second drink finally. 

“You sure about that?” Nate smirks, reaching out to touch you. 

What a fucking asshole. 

“You’re disgusting,” you seethe, jerking your arm away from him. You take both of your drinks, and you can’t get out of there fast enough. 

“It was great catching up,” he calls after you, cockily. 

“Can’t say the same,” you say, not even turning to look back at him. 

You return to your group, holding in your fury. It’s Sydney’s big night and you’d much rather focus on that than the asshole of an old coworker you can’t fucking stand. You try to shake off the interaction, deciding it’s not even worth expending energy on. 

“What the hell was that all about?” Sydney asks, having witnessed your tenuous interaction with the man you called Nate. She thanks you as you hand her her new drink. 

“Absolute trashcan of a human. We used to work with him. In New York,” you said, letting out a puff of flustered air. 

“Okay but… that was weird right?” Sydney questions, seeing that this guy’s clearly gotten under your skin.

“Totally. He’s a piece of shit. He and Carmy always had this weird rivalry but it was mostly on his end. I… also may or may not have made the dumbest mistake ever once upon a time and slept with him… like… over a year ago,” you confess, feeling just a little bit guilty about it. 

“Noooo,” she replies, her eyes widening. “You slept with that guy?”

“Yeah,” you answer, regretfully. “Not one of my finest moments. Long story short: right after Carmy left New York to come back here, I got a little too drunk with some coworkers. I was really sad and it was stupid, and uh, he was… let’s just say more than happy to play the part of a good listener.”

“Can’t imagine that guy being good, or a listener, let alone both at once,” Sydney replies, seeing the negative effect he’s had on you in one conversation.

“Yeah, It was a stupid fucking mistake and I regretted it the next morning. If you can believe it, he got even more insufferable when he realized it would never happen again,” you tell her, shaking off the bad taste in your mouth the conversation left you with. 

“Yo,” Carmy says, hesitantly. He can tell that you’re pissed after your conversation at the bar. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, honestly. “Just Nate Walker being a fuckin’ asshole. But what’s new?”

“Hey Syd! Let’s go grab a bite,” Marcus calls to her. 

“You guys mind?” she asks, looking from you to Carmy. 

You shake your heads ‘no’, and honestly, you’re glad it gives you a little time alone with your boyfriend. You watch as Sydney leaves with Marcus to make the rounds, leaving you and Carmy alone. 

“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” Carmy starts, bringing Nate up again. He can feel his face beginning to heat up as he asks you about it. 

“Yeah.”

“Biggest jackoff in New York City.”

“Well, apparently he’s LA’s problem now.”

“Fucko,” Carmy says, shaking his head at the memory of his pain in the ass sous. He can’t figure out why seeing Nate talk to you near-sent him into a blind rage, but you’d reassured him that you were good so, he let you hold your own. 

“Seems like he had a lot to say to you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you reply dryly. 

“After that I think I need a shower. Or a bath of bleach.”

Carmy lets out a small laugh, releasing some of the tension he, unknowingly, was holding in his body. 

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about Nate,” you say, changing the subject. 

It’s not that you feel weird about it – that you’d feel weird telling Carmy about what happened between the two of you – but it just feels so small and insignificant in the face of the love that you have with Carmy. 

“Good, me either,” Carmy exhales. 

Another release in pressure. 

He wonders if he’d been this tense all night, or if seeing you with Nate had managed to piss him off this much. 

“You wanna dance?” you ask him, a mischievous smile on his face. You offer a hand out to him. 

“Baby, you know I don’t dance,” he states, matter of factly. 

“I know. But I do,” you say, with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

“One dance,” he warns, earning a triumphant smile from you.

He takes your hand, prompting you to put your drink down on the table where you’re all posted up at. Carmy shakes his head, surprised that you’ve coaxed him this far out of his comfort zone. As he pulls you into his arms, you giggle, wrapping yours around his neck and sway to the loud music in the background. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks you with such genuine love in those beautiful blue eyes of his. 

He thinks you look like a goddess – could be the dress, but he’s pretty sure it’s you. Your hair is shorter now than it was a few months ago and lays in the softest, most gentle waves, parted perfectly down the middle. He hasn’t stopped staring at cherry red-painted lips all night, and every time he gets a peek of your legs through the high slit in the dress you’re wearing, he swears he short circuits. 

Not to mention the low neckline. He’d watched you tie the top of the dress into a plunging neckline, and had to hold back his ask for you to cover up. It’s not that he cared about what you wore. But if he hadn’t been going to therapy over the last few months, he might feel some kind of way about anyone else getting to see any part of your breasts – anyone but him. 

“A couple of times… but I won’t be mad about hearing it a few more, Bear,” you grin, leaning into him. 

He smiles at your use of his childhood nickname. Back in New York, he’d kept it from you. It was just a reminder of what he’d left behind: his psycho mom, a nightmare of pain from his psycho-fucked-up family, how much it hurt when Mikey cut him out. But now, he loves the way it sounds coming from your lips, your voice the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. While he knows it’s taken him a long time to let you in, he’s glad he has. Whether it be at the restaurant or at the home you share together, you’ve become one of the most consistent things in his life. 

The rest of the night is almost perfect. It’s filled with dancing, catching up with coworkers and friends in the culinary world, and most importantly, a celebration with your chosen family. That is, until you hear Sydney swear halfway across the room, catching the attention of you and Carmy both. 

Carmy’s looking past you to where Nate is towering over Sydney at the bar. If looks could kill, he’s pretty sure Nate would be dead by now. 

“Is that Nate again?” Carmy asks, his face pink as he feels a rush of blood flow throw him. 

You can see that Sydney is practically in the same place you were an hour ago. You watch as he steps in front of her, practically blocking her in between him and the bar. 

“I don’t like this. We should go over there,” you say with a sense of urgency. 

Carmy agrees, and Richie and Marcus, who you’re currently conversing with, follow close behind. 

“Okay. You need,” Sydney warns, her voice deliberate, like a rattlesnake giving one last warning before it strikes. “... to back… the fuck up.” 

His response is even worse, causing a fire to burn in your belly as you overhear what he says to Sydney. 

“Oh come on,” he coos, forcing himself closer to her. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

Sydney takes another step to the side, trying her best to escape him and holding her hands up as a barrier while you charge at him. Your sudden movement attracts his attention, giving Sydney the out that she needs. You put both of your hands on his chest, shoving him away from her as you shout. 

“She said ‘no.’ What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Nate’s got such a smug, satisfied smirk on his face that, if you weren’t in a room filled with the best chefs in the world, you’d actually punch it right off of him. Carmy follows you, protectively standing behind you. 

“Jealous?” he asks, amused. His eyes flicker over to Carmy, whose face is beginning to heat up, turning a brighter shade of red by the moment.  

“In your dreams, asshat,” you spit back. 

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” he says, completely satisfied as Carmy’s fist clenches. He’s clearly enjoying just how much he’s getting under his old boss’ skin. 

You feel Carmy step towards him, but you turn to him, placing a hand on his abdomen to stop him, “Bear, it’s not worth it.”

“Did you tell him?” Nate asks you, with the intention of stirring the pot. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, shaking your head in absolute disbelief. 

“Tell me what?” Carmy asks you softly. 

“How does it feel, golden boy? To know that the one thing you always wanted… I got to first,” Nate sneers, a threatening sound in his voice. He looks from you to Carmy, assessing the damage. 

Before Carmy can say anything, it’s you who lurches towards NAte, and Carmy’s wrapping his arms around you to hold you back. You can feel the tension in his arms as he holds you against his chest protectively. 

“Okay this motherfucker is just asking for it,” Richie seethes, charging towards Nate. 

“Richie, don’t!” Sydney shouts, shooting him a ‘please don’t make a scene’ look. 

It takes all of Richie’s self control to stop himself. He nods to her, holding up his hands as a surrender. He begins to take a few steps back as your uncomfortably public standoff continues. 

Sydney has retreated back so that she stands side by side with Marcus, while Carmy’s loosened his grip on your waist. 

By the look on Nate’s face, you can tell he thinks he’s gotten away with it all, as he looks around at all of you one last time. 

“You all have a goodnight,” he smirks, before taking his drink and slithering away. 

You could care less where to. You’re just glad he’s gone. 

You watch as he goes before checking in with Sydney, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head. Marcus is by her side in an instant and you can see Carmy’s jaw twitching with anger. “Can’t believe you used to work with that guy. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Richie agrees under his breath. 

“C’mon. Let’s just…” Marcus encourages quietly, nodding to your table. 

Richie, Marcus, and Sydney all make their way back to your group as you stay with Carmy. His face is red and you can see it on his face that he’s still processing what just happened – what Nate said. You can see the gears turning in his head, and he’s staring at the floor, his face still cherry tomato-red.

“Carmy,” you say, ripping him from his thoughts. 

He looks up at you, his face softening the minute you make eye contact. 

“Can we go somewhere? Talk?” he asks, trying not to look like he’s going to burn the fuckin’ place down. 

You agree with a nod, taking his hand and leading him elsewhere. 

The further away from the reception you go, the quieter the party gets, and the louder your thoughts get. Would he be mad? You were furious with Nate for trying to use what happened to get under Carmy’s skin, but you also wonder if he’s mad at you too. For sleeping with Nate? For not telling him? But was it something you were supposed to tell him? It’s not like you expected him to tell you about every person he’d ever slept with. 

Carmy finally stops, leading you into a quieter room, far away from the party. As you flick the lights on, it looks like a single dressing room for the plays performed here. The silence between the two of you is deafening, and it’s not just because it’s the first quiet moment you’ve had together since you arrived. 

“I’m not mad… about Nate… about what he said,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

He’s trying his best to sound convincing, reassuring even, but he’s sure he’s doing a shit job. 

You’re surprised, so you just take him in, searching his face for any clue that he’s telling that truth. His face is red, and you can see a tightness running across his chest as he’s looking for the courage to ask:

“But why didn’t you tell me?” 

You sigh, unsure of what to say. 

“Because…” you begin, hoping that if you just start talking, you’ll find the right words to explain. “I-, I didn’t think I had to. It happened once and it was a stupid mistake with… a lot of tequila involved.”

“You had just left New York and I was lonely. I didn’t say anything because… it didn’t mean anything to me, Bear.”

He listens, taking your explanation in, his eyes fixed on the floor again. He’s not mad at you, but he can’t seem to shake this feeling of anger – this tension that has him wanting to punch a hole through the wall. 

“I don’t like what he fuckin’ said to you,” he finally blurts out. 

“That- that he thinks he can just say whatever the fuck he wants. That he forced himself on Syd like that, like he can-.”

Carmy looks down at the floor again, his words trailing off. 

He’s pissed. 

You can tell he’s pissed. 

But you have a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that says something else is going on. 

Is Carmy… jealous?

“Carmy, I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you apologize softly. “He shouldn’t have-, I mean he really is the worst fucking person to ever walk-.”

“I’m not upset about-,” he interrupts, firmly. He holds your gaze, trying to give you the most reassuring look he can. “I don’t care about-. I just… I don’t like the way he talked to you.”

You wait as he stews on his thoughts, his anger simmering as he sorts through his feelings. It’s like watching a hot pot of water come to a boil. 

“I didn’t like seeing him touch you earlier like-.”

Let it rip.

“Like he can just put his hands on anyone he-. On you! I–.”

And then finally he explodes with, “I just fuckin’ hate that guy!”

It’s as if the pressure valve has been released as he lets out a big puff of air. While you can see it’s given him some relief, you’re still not sure what you’re supposed to offer at this moment. 

“Carmy, what can I- hmmph?” you begin to ask, before being cut off by his lips on yours. 

Well this isn’t what you were expecting.

Your head is spinning as your boyfriend kisses you with such passion, fervor, and urgency. He’s crashing his lips against yours at a desperate pace, and it’s all tongues and teeth and his hands are grabbing the back of your head, tangling into your hair. You’re not sure how you’ve gone from trying your best to hold space for your boyfriend’s feelings, to him pressing you up against the dressing room counter.

You gasp as he hoists you up onto the counter, pushing his body into yours. 

“Carmy, are you-?” you ask, feeling the tent that’s already formed in his pants as you wrap your legs around him. 

There’s a confident assertiveness he moves with, and as much as you hate to admit it, this is all turning you on.

“Hate that fuckin’ guy,” Carmy murmurs into your skin, as he begins to leave kisses down your jawline. 

His mouth moves urgently down your neck, to your shoulders, to the exposed skin the plunging neckline of your dress reveals. His teeth leave light pink and purple marks in their wake, and you’re gasping, moaning, grabbing at any part of him you can hold on to. Little love bites begin to appear, but when he’s making you feel this good, you could care less. 

He’s confident in the way he sucks little marks into your skin, biting down then immediately soothing the pain with his tongue. As he works his mouth over you, he looks up at you, his eyes wide, pupils blown out in pure desire, and it takes your fucking breath away. 

Pain and pleasure.

Just to show the whole world that you’re his. 

 “Thinks he can fuckin’ look at you. Put his fuckin’ hands on you,” he mumbles against your skin. His mouth has reached the lowest point of your plunging neckline as he stands up, pushing himself against you between your legs. 

“Baby,” you breathe out. You make a mental note to unpack why his sudden possessiveness has you so hot and bothered with your therapist next week. 

“I really, really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Carmy drops to his knees, stripping off his suit jacket and throwing it elsewhere. The sight has you absolutely drenched and you think you may cum just from looking at him. 

“You’re mine,” is all he says, eliciting another moan from you as he sinks his teeth into the soft supple skin of your calf. You slide a heel-covered foot over his shoulder, as his lips begin trail up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thighs…

“Yes. I’m yours,” you breathe out, exasperated by Carmy’s sudden forwardness. You lean back, your head hitting the mirror with a thud. “All yours.”

He works his way up your thighs, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs while his hands disappear underneath the skirt of your dress, frantically searching for your panties. 

“Carmy, I don’t know if we have time for-,” you gasp, as he pulls away for a moment. 

His curls are unruly from running your fingers through them, his lips swollen from the passionate makeout you started only moments ago. You feel his fingers hook underneath the top of your panties and he looks at you like he can see right through you. Holding your gaze, it’s impossible to not get lost into his ocean blue eyes you’ve fallen so deeply in love with. He takes his sweet time, teasing you, refusing to break eye contact, as he pulls your panties down your legs at an unbearable slow pace. 

You don’t look away. 

You don’t dare look away. 

Finally, finally, he breaks eye contact, sliding your panties over your feet, and putting them into his pocket as you brace yourself for what comes next. 

“We should-,” you start, your words ceasing instantly as he spreads your legs, licking a stripe up your dripping wet core. You cry out loudly, panicking almost instantly, because you don’t remember locking the damn door. 

We should stop. 

Do this elsewhere. 

Lock the door. 

Keep quiet. 

But you can’t seem to get the words out, as you let out another loud moan, and Carmy doesn’t have the heart to stop you. Something primal inside of him wants nothing more than for the whole party mere hallways away to hear you crying out his name. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue through your folds. “Already so wet for me and I’ve barely even put my mouth on you.”

He wonders if there’s an award for this. 

Lifetime Loser Award.

2023’s Most Jealous Boyfriend

Chef Most Likely to Fuck His Girlfriend During the James Beard Reception Because He’s a Sad, Jealous Fuck.

“Carmy, please,” you beg, scooting your hips off the counter and pulling him up from the ground. Your demand rips him from his own self deprecating thoughts. 

“I need you inside of me. Now.” 

You need him.

“Turn around,” is all he says. 

He’s not sure where he gets the confidence for such a demand and it has you clenching around nothing. 

You’re more than happy to oblige as you whisper out a ‘yes,’ and turn yourself around to face the mirror. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his pants, then he’s hiking up the skirt of your dress once more. He puts his hands on your hips to steady you – maybe even to steady himself – and you can feel the head of his cock running through your folds. 

Just when you think you may die if you don’t get what you want, you let out the loudest cry you think has ever come out of your mouth as he pushes inside of you. You gasp, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you feel him shudder against your back. Your head hangs low, just focusing on memorizing how every single inch of him feels inside of you.

Carmy’s thrusts are slow at first, deep and deliberate thrusts burying himself all the way to the hilt. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you is really testing his patience here as he thinks he may go insane. 

Back out. 

Then back in. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. So fuckin’ perfect for me. God, I love being inside of you,” he groans, enjoying his last few slow and deep thrusts. 

He’s got one hand on your hips and the other, wrapped around your waist. As he begins to speed up the pace of his thrusts, the hand around your waist goes to the counter too, to brace himself. 

“Carmen,” you moan his name, as he starts to go faster. “Yes. Perfect for you. Only you.”

Only you. 

Your words cause him to smirk, and the sounds you’re making only encourage him to keep fucking into you like he means it. 

“Look at yourself, baby,” he says, his words causing you to squeeze around him. He groans, his eyes rolling back, before he returns his gaze to the mirror. 

When you lock eyes, it’s like you’ve been set on fire. Your skin feels hot, and the prolonged eye contact has you squeezing around him as you start to grind against him. You feel lightheaded, breathless, purely at his mercy. 

Carmy holds your gaze through the mirror and you want to commit this photo to memory. You watch your reflections in the mirror, seeing your face change as he speeds up again. His hands are everywhere: in your hair, grabbing you breasts, tracing over the little marks he’s left all over your chest.

 “This how I make you feel? Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel,” he asks, and you think this is the most vocal he’s been during sex.

“So good, Car,” you’re panting. He grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head to the side so that he can kiss you. You manage to continue your praise in between wet, sloppy, and desperate kisses, and desperate thrusts between the both of you.

“So fuckin’ good. So high. Like I’ll never come back down.”

He’s satisfied with your answer, feeling more and more confident with each thrust. You can tell he likes it, so you decided, why the hell not?

“You feel incredible inside of me, baby,” you continue, wanting nothing more than to appease him. 

He’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues to fuck you, your pushing your ass back against him, your hands bracing against the mirror. You see stars as he hits that spot inside of you – the one that makes you let out a sob – and he’s bending you over the counter so that he can find that spot again and again. Carmy presses his forehead against your shoulder as his hands move underneath your skirt once again, rubbing fierce circles around your clit, trying to take you there with him. He knows he won’t last long when you’re moaning his name like that. He looks up for a moment, enjoying the reflection in the mirror a little too much, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, feeling himself get closer… closer…

You can feel he’s close too, so you say something, something you know will bring him over the edge. 

“Want you to cum inside of me.”

“That what you want? Want me to fill you up? Have me dripping down your legs when any other fucko tries to talk to you tonight. Tries to even fuckin’ look at you…” he asks, his breath ragged and sentences becoming increasingly choppy. 

He's leaving little kisses and bite marks all over your upper back as he continues to fuck you.

“Yes,” you pant, moaning his full name once again. 

“Fffffffuck, baby. That’s so hot,” he stutters, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He grabs a handful of your ass, chasing his high with you. 

You’re squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see stars when he finds that spot again, and you remember that he wanted you to watch. You blink open your eyes, breathless as you take in the image of your boyfriend fucking you from behind. He’s got his forehead resting on your shoulder. You feel the delicious contradiction of pain and pleasure once again, as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, in the same place from before.

So close. And you're already so tender.

“Carmen. Yes. Right there. Please, baby. Fuck. Don’t stop,” you’re crying out as you as your walls clamp down around him. It’s like an explosion erupts inside of you and you feel that you perhaps are on another fuckin’ plane of existence from the way he makes you feel. 

Your eyes close again as he fucks you through your orgasm, taking you higher and higher. The way your walls are squeezing around him have him on edge and he gives you one, two, and then a third thrust before painting your walls with his release too.

He stops, resting his head on your back again, still buried all the way inside of you.

Both of your heavy pants fill the room, before you interrupt the status quo with a laugh. 

“Holy shit, babe,” you finally say, exasperated and completely fucked out.

He pulls out of you, and you have to put a hand down on the counter he just bent you over, for balance as you stand up straight. You can hear Carmen pulling his pants back up and you’re adjusting your dress as you turn to look at him. His eyes are fixed on the button of his trouser pants, as you grab his face for another long, lust-filled kiss. 

“What do you say… to getting out of here? Maybe continuing this at home?” you propose, your voice hoarse from what you’ve just done. Your forehead is still pressed to his and you want nothing more for him to say ‘yes.’ 

“Fuck yes. Please,” he practically groans, wondering how it’s possible for him to be hard again already. 

“I’ll order a car,” you agree, reaching for where you left your phone on the dressing room counter. 

“Surge rates, babe” he sighs, the disappointment evident in his voice as he issues the little reminder.

You shoot him a look that says ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?’

“I will pay all the surge rates in the world, if I get to have you again, as soon as possible,” you state, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to wait till you get home.

You glance back down to your phone, your fingers moving quickly through the right buttons to get a car on the way. As soon as you see the confirmation, your swiping out of the app, and over to an unread message:

Sydney: So that was weird. Where did you guys go?

You: Out for some air. Sorry, we’ll be right back in. 

Sydney: Angel wants pizza and a few of us are gonna go. Wanna come with?

You: Think we’re gonna head home. Breakfast tomorrow? My treat. 

Sydney: 100%

You: Congratulations again, friend. Love you. 

“What’s going on?” Carmy asks, as he sees you fiercely texting away. 

“Nothin’,” you answer, seeing the Uber notification popping up on your phone. “Just telling everyone we’re gonna head home.”

You turn your back to the mirror to examine the damage, immediately spotting Carmy’s bite mark on your shoulder. 

“Carmen,” you sigh, fingertips running over the huge bite mark on your shoulder – the one he left when he made while cumming inside of you.

Carmy takes a look, a small smirk on his lips as he sees what you’re referring to. He has to admit that he’s almost… proud of himself as he leans over, leaving a soft kiss against one of the rapidly forming purple bite marks left on the back of your shoulder. 

As much as he’d like to show the entire culinary world that you’re his, he removes the suit jacket he just put back on, and hands it to you. 

“Here. You can wear this.”

You giggle, taking it and appreciating Carmen’s act of chivalry. 

“As much as I’d love to do a walk of shame through a room full of the world’s best chefs… think I’ll keep this one between me and the one that just fucked me,” you joke playfully, as you kiss him as a ‘thank you.’

You check your reflection in the mirror as you drape the coat strategically over your shoulders, making sure you both look somewhat presentable enough to flee the scene with dignity. 

“Carm?” you ask. 

“Before we leave. I just-, I want you to-,” you stammer, uncertain if you’re doing the right thing by telling him. You’d hate to play into Nate’s little game – even if you both won after what just happened. 

“Hmm?”

“Just… you know… for the sake of factual accuracy and not that we’re playing Nate’s game at all but... you and I hooked up first. Nate just doesn’t know that.”

He nods in response, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. 

But it certainly makes him feel better.

“Well, if we’re being factually accurate…” he offers up in response. “I know you always thought our whole rivalry thing was one sided… but it wasn’t.”

“No?”

“Rode that guy as hard as I could, every chance I got,” he confesses, in reference to your old, very toxic work environment. 

“Because he deserved it?” 

“Because I hated how much he flirted with you.”

You shake your head with a small smile. Your phone is buzzing in your hand, letting you know that your Uber has arrived. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Bear.”

[powerfulblob]

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!” 

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!” 

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us”  (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

[butwhyduh]

Locker Room

Summary: Post workout locker rooms are like their own world. Especially Titan’s tower.

Warning: smut. Don’t do this irl

“Good job, everybody,” Nightwing said with a grin. He has barely had a glean of sweat to show he was even working out. “Practice your individual skills or hit the showers.”

Half the people walked out and the other found their own niche. You were laying on your back on the cool mat just trying to not die. A shadow stood over you.

“Need help,” said a soft male voice above you before offering a hand. Tall and built like a brick, there was a lot to be intimidated of the Red Hood. But wearing gym shorts and a sleeveless hoodie that had headphone strings sticking out made him seem so normal.

He pulled you up to stand. He was so pretty with wavy black hair with just a tuff of white. You’d watched him plenty but rarely interacted with him.

“Will I ever get used to this,” you asked with a huff of laughter. You tried to ignore the way his sweaty hoodie stuck to his skin in certain places.

“No? Yes? I can’t take Goldie seriously but,” he shrugged. “Maybe you should drink your water next time?” He offered while tossing you the bottle. You chugged it like you had been walking in a desert for a month. “Wow,” he said, watching the water messily fall on your shirt that was already drenched. If you wouldn’t have to clean it up, you’d probably pour the water on your head.

Realizing you had an audience to your gremlin behavior, you tried to wipe the water from your mouth but it wasn’t exactly helpful as you were soaking wet.

“Yeah maybe more inside than out. I’ve got hit the showers,” he said, bemused.

“Same,” you replied.

The showers were more like a locker room with little stalls with paltry curtains that were only a little more private than just open stalls but everyone used them as if normal. Most people understood the unspoken rules but there had been more than one time where you’d seen kori brushing her hair in the nude by a mirror completely oblivious to the social norms.

You didn’t even bother with the hot water but relaxed into the cold water finally cooling your overheated skin. It didn’t take much for you to relax into the shower and forget about the outside world. A full 30 minutes later you were pruny and decided to climb out of the water.

Forgoing the bra and sweatpants, you just slid into your oversized tee shirt like dress. You were just going to your room where you would veg and watch Netflix. Most people had already left to go do whatever they needed and you could finally see the mirror to brush your own hair.

“‘Scuse me,” said a man to your right and you scooted over as the Red Hood slid up to the sink with a shave kit. You didn’t even know what to call him outside of work. And his pretty blue eyes kept your attention longer than you’d admit.

“I’ve never seen you without a mask,” you said. He shrugged.

“Seems like a shower would be a safe spot. It’s just my eyes I cover anyways,” he added.

You couldn’t just stare into his eyes so you looked down and boy was that a mistake. He had a huge y shaped scar that you didn’t even want to know how he got but you couldn’t help but notice how insanely fit he was. He definitely had visible muscle but it was also clear the boy could put some food away.

You tried to focus on your own stuff while he shaved. He wasn’t meat to stare at.

“I don’t even know your real name or what else to call you besides Red Hood,” you added.

“Oh… you can call me Jason,” he replied softly. He stretched his neck to better reach a spot and you looked at the cord of muscle that moved. Did he know he was beautiful??

“You missed a spot,” you said when it looked like he was going to rinse his face, not that you had been watching. He looked in the mirror but it was on the underside of his jaw. “No, here,” you said pointing to the spot. He turned and missed it with the razor.

“Here?”

“No, can I?” You asked and he handed you his razor. You gently turned his face to run the razor along the underside of his jaw. Your skin heated up as he watched you shave his face. Somehow you had slid between him and the sink to get at the spot. “It’s on both sides,” you said and he willingly turned his neck the opposite direction.

He smelled nice like a mint soap and you could see the dampness of his skin being this close. Your own lack of clothing felt obvious at this point. He could probably see your nipples if he wanted to. What did this look like?

“Got it?” He asked and you just nodded and handed him to razor. He sat it behind you and grabbed the towel on your other side to wipe his face. He had caged you in but you didn’t mind. In fact your heart was hammering in your chest.

His eyes looked down at you and down your clothing, stopping for a few seconds at your chest before returning to your eyes. You looked down at his mouth. He leaned down until he was just a breath from your lips.

It took just a tilt of your head to press your lips to his. He gripped the sink as you kissed. You slid a hand up behind his neck to pull him closer. He took it as an invitation to push you up on the counter. You gasped and wrapped both arms around his neck.

One arm held your hip as the other did its best to thread in your hair. His tongue swiped across your lip and you opened your mouth with a little moan. Fuck. You never imagined you’d do this. You pulled back just enough to bite his lip and he groaned while placing his hand on your thigh.

Barely controlling himself, he pulled his lips back only to rest his forehead on yours.

“Not here,” he breathed and you weren’t sure if he meant to tell you or himself.

“No one is here,” you said pulling him even closer with your legs around his waist. His lips instantly met yours with a desperation that wasn’t there a minute before. He pushed you back with his kisses and your back pressed against the mirror while your shirt did little to hide your underwear with your thighs open.

“Fuck,” he breathed when you began kissing your way down his neck. One of your hands slid down his chests, feeling the muscles move with each breath, each side of your hand down. His hand gripped your thigh tightly as if to control himself. But as you slid your fingers along the crotch of his gym shorts, he seemed to lose control. His hand slid up your thigh to cup your pussy through your panties and you could feel a pulse in your clit.

He was growing hard in your hands as you massaged and stroked him. He pulled back from kissing to nip at your collarbone and down your chest. Only his other hand behind your back kept you from falling over as he bent to take your peaked nipple in his mouth. You arched into his touch as his mouth teased your breast while his fingers slid along your slit through your panties.

You pressed your fingers through the band of his pants to grip him properly. “Fuck,” he gasped and you grinned. He pushed your panties to the side to properly finger you. You almost arched off the counter as he slid two fingers inside you. You both just enjoyed the sensation for a minute of pleasuring each other.

“Want you,” you breathed in his ear and he whined. You shoved his pants down and his hood pushed forward until you could feel his tip next to your core.

“You sure,” he asked as if it took every part of him to remain calm.

“Fuck me,” you replied and that’s all it took for him to push in. He pulled your shirt off before starting to thrust. One hand held your hip tightly and his lips desperately kissed you.

The door to the locker room opened and Jason just growled, “get the fuck out,” but didn’t stop. The door closed suddenly. You knew in the future you be mortified but right now the only thing you cared about was making him keep doing the things he was doing to you.

It took just a few runs of his thumb across your clit to have you clenching around him while gasping his name. He thrust through your high before pulling out to cum on your stomach. You both panted and stared at each other.

“Fuck,” Jason said while giving you a towel to clean off with. You sat up awkwardly. Did he regret it already? “I didn’t mean- shit- I was trying to ask you out,” he huffed out with an awkward laugh. “Not this.”

“I mean- you still can,” you replied while pulling your shirt on.

“Do you wanna-“

“Thought you’d never ask. There’s this restaurant I’ve been wanting to try,” you replied before he could even ask. He huffed a laugh.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Banging on the locker room door made you jump. “If you hoes are done, I need a shower! Don’t forget to clean up!” Called a recognizable voice from outside the door.

“Go away Roy,” Jason called.

“Congrats bro! Finally! But hurry up!”

You flushed and you both laughed. “Finally?”

“Don’t ask.”

[number1mingyustan]

-Cuffing Season-

His Thighs

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, cursing, explicit smut, dry humping, thigh grinding, size kink, premature orgasms, cumming untouched, teasing, begging, mentions of porn

Summary: He won’t always give you what you want, but sometimes it’s just what you need

Word Count: 1.7k

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i wanna post more but school has been kicking my ass and i barely have time to write 😔)

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Mingyu asks, popping a grape into his mouth. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter with the bowl of grapes on his left.

“I wasn’t staring at you.”

You were totally staring at him. Mingyu currently stands across from you in the kitchen dripping in sweat. He’s wearing all black, a compression shirt and shorts.

Shorts.

On leg day.

He’s spent the last hour and a half in the gym inside of your apartment building. You’ve just finished renovating the old guest room so Mingyu could have his own personal gym in your home.

He hasn’t been able to work out as much as he wants since he’s always on the job or spending time with you. So the best solution was to turn the guest room you don’t use into a gym so Mingyu can still workout and be at home with you.

One thing he didn’t take into account was just how much it would affect you.

“You sure about that? It seems like you were.” He smirks at you.

You’re going weak in the knees. He’s not even doing anything and you’re practically drooling over him. He just looks so good.

His clothes fit him tighter than they did 2 hours ago. His muscles are so prominent, especially in his thighs. He’s not even purposely flexing yet his muscles are bulging out.

“Someone just needs to check your ego. ‘M not as obsessed with you as you think.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

You’re lying through your fucking teeth right now.

Mingyu pops another grape in his mouth and let’s out a genuine chuckle. “So defensive for someone who wasn’t staring.”

You cross your arms and your legs and lean back into the chair.

He shrugs. “Saw your eyes drift down to my dick like… 4 times baby. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. ‘S okay to ask for something you want, you know.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I was not staring at your dick!”

He licks his lips slowly. “Yeah? What were you looking at then baby? Don’t bother trying to lie to me either.”

“Was staring at your thighs,” You mumble.

A cocky smirk forms on your boyfriends face. “Maybe I should hit legs every day then. ‘S cute having a secret admirer.”

“Not a secret… just your admirer,” You look up at him softly.

Your words rush straight to his head and his cock. You’re so shameless. He breathes out. “Shit, come here.”

He pulls you in by the waist, pressing his thigh between your legs.

“I saw this in a porno once,” He licks his lips.

You roll your eyes. “You and your porn…”

“Hmph.” He begins lifting up your skirt. “Complain all you want but you always love the stuff we try from my pornos. Besides…. you watch way more porn than I do.”

You roll your eyes again. “I only watch when you’re away on business trips. Besides, I watch our videos, not faceless strangers. ‘S not the same.”

“I’m just a man after all baby,” He grins, pressing his thigh harder against you. “I promise you won’t be complaining when you’re cumming on my thigh in a few.”

His words send a shiver through your body. You didn’t think the friction would be enough, but you’re already dripping on his thigh.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” You pout, grinding against his thigh slowly.

He shakes his head. “You’ve such an attitude with me today, don’t think you deserve it.”

It’s like a flip switches inside of you every time things go sexual with him. You were giving him attitude mere minutes ago but now you’re whining desperately and begging him to fuck you.

“Please Gyu… ‘M sorry. Just want your cock…… you told me I could ask when I wanted something. I’m asking nicely,” You look up at him with desperation in your eyes. You don’t even realize how much faster you’ve started grinding against him.

“No baby, you have to learn your lesson. I can’t just give you what you want cuz you said sorry. Gotta punish you a little.”

You whine, head falling down into his large chest. He towers above you, staring down at you almost condescendingly. Your hands grip his shirt harder and you tug at the material clinging to his skin. You hold onto him, clinging tighter to him and pulling yourself closer.

“So greedy baby, begging for my cock like you’re not about to cum on my thigh,” He stares down at you.

“Can’t cum like this,” You pant. “Not enough.”

“It’s more than enough, you’re just greedy. Absolutely insatiable,” He whispers into your ear. He decides to help you out, pushing your panties to the side so your bare bottom meets his thigh.

You groan, pressing yourself harder against him and picking up the pace of your movements. “Fuck me please. Need your cock so bad.” You whine.

“No,” He tells you firmly.

You let out a whine. “But Gyu… you’re already so hard.”

You reach your hand out toward his cock. It’s so big and hard, poking out through the material of both his underwear and shorts. You’re practically salivating, aching to release him from the confines of his clothing and bounce on it.

But he stops you.

Before you can touch him, he reacts quickly and grabs you by both your wrists. He flips your position so it’s now your back resting against the counter and he holds your wrists behind your back firmly. You let out a shaky breath when your back meets the counter.

His thigh is still wedged between yours but the grip he has on your wrists is tight. His other hand now holds your chin and he tilts your head back, forcing you to look at him.

You’re violently throbbing against his thigh. He’s got you pressed so closely against the counter and his body you can hardly move your hips. The friction is now minimal and miserable.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” He grits. “You take what I give you like a good girl or you get nothing. Do that shit again and I’ll stop right now and I won’t touch you again for a week.”

You whimper in response. “You’re so cruel.”

“And you’re a brat. Gotta keep you in check sometimes, pretty girl,” He licks his lips. “You gonna be grateful for what I give you now?”

You nod eagerly without hesitation. Your obedience brings a smile to his face and he releases the grip on your wrists. You find your hands clinging to his shirt again as you begin grinding on his thigh.

You feel like a teenager again. Having to work for your orgasms and hump like a bitch in heat. But the friction is just oh so good. Mingyu tenses his thigh, causing you to moan out and whimper pathetically.

“Oh fuck,” He lets out breathily.

Your knee nudges against the underside of his cock, rubbing against it just enough to have him twitching in his shorts. Building pleasure making precum stain the cotton, steadily leaking out the tip and through both layers separating the two of you.

He adjusts himself in his shorts,lightly palming over his cock and squeezing over his cockhead to avoid cumming himself. He’s not concerned about his own orgasm, but your thigh brushing up against him might just get him there anyway.

Your knees brushes against him so lightly, but it’s driving him crazy. His cock is so big and hard, poking out through the material of his shorts. He ignores it, despite it being so hard to miss and ignore. His attention is on you.

Your hips stutter forward, desperate as you rut against Mingyu’s thigh. He can feel the way you’re pulsing, arousal dripping down his skin. It’s so wet and messy, dribbles of arousal sticking to skin and fabric. The wet noises and your small gasps of pleasure making his cock twitch with every jittery rut of your hips. Your mind feels hazy and your legs feel weak.

His big hands settle back onto your hips, pulling you forward, helping you roll your hips faster. He’s so smitten by your clit dragging against his warm skin.

Your head dips lower into his chest when he tenses his thigh again. You moan loudly and your grip on his shirt tightens. You just need something to hold onto as you feel your high approaching.

He coaxes you through it, talking down at you as his big hands continue to guide your hips. “C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. Cum for me.”

He keeps his thigh tensed, grabbing you by your hair and tilting your head back. He forces you to look at him when you cum. His gaze is lustful and hazy and it has you falling apart in seconds.

You struggle to keep your eyes open, but you know how much it pisses Mingyu off. He wants to see you fall apart and he wants you to watch him. Tears of desperation drip from your eyes as you force them open and rut against his thigh erratically.

You’re a moaning mess, hips rolling against his tensed thigh with no sense of rhythm as your orgasm courses through your body. It’s intense, way more intense than you imagined. Especially considering the way you didn’t think you could cum like this just minutes ago.

Your knees really go weak and nearly give out as you fall limp against his chest, burying your face back against his legs.

You let out a small gasp into his skin when you feel his cock throbbing against your hip. His hands grip your hips tightly and he lets out a long groan with his head tilted back. His adam’s apple is prominent as he leans back and ruins his shorts.

Your mouth opens in awe when you watch his thick release spurt through his shorts. White cum dribbles and stains the black material as he rolls his hips upwards, bringing you both down from your highs slowly.

“Shit,” He whispers.

He pulls himself away from you, looking down at the mess you’ve made.

You’re still lightly panting, looking down between the gap separating you two and taking mental note of the mess.

“Shower?” You finally ask.

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Needed one anyway after the gym.”

You lean against the counter lazily. Your legs are still shaky. “You gonna fuck me properly in the shower?”

He licks his lips and smirks at you. He shrugs before walking out of the kitchen and toward the bathroom. “Only one way to find out.”

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for moving a box of spaghetti?

I (24F) live with my retired parents (66M, 66F). I pay rent (though significantly below market rate) and I pay for all my own expenses (groceries, insurances, phone, etc.). I also provide free live-in pet care when my folks travel, which they tend to do for weeks at a time.

My mom is kind of a control freak about the house. I am not allowed to have visitors, or any belongings outside the confines of my room. She also used to extend this to my room, but not since I turned 18. When I was in high school, I had to secretly buy and assemble a desk while she was at work because she thought a desk would "ruin the aesthetic" of my room. The only exception to the "no stuff" rule is in the kitchen, as perishable foods don't really do well in bedrooms.

She has decided it is her New Project to segregate all of their food from my food. I don't have an issue with that in itself. However, she is intent on doing it completely unilaterally. She first did the freezer, which she showed me excitedly. I was like "Oh, cool. Do you think we could switch which drawer is mine? I was used to using this one". And she absolutely freaked out, because I am not a ROOMMATE, I am a GUEST, and how DARE I have the ENTITLEMENT to tell HER where to put things in the house SHE OWNS. Please note that here she is screaming so loud that my friend, waiting for me outside, could hear her from their car.

We had a similar exchange when she showed me the fridge! I didn't have an issue with the actual organization there, but I was still like "hey you seem really stoked to show me this. I wish you would communicate about it beforehand though. Even if you're going to do it anyway, I feel like it's an act of respect to let me know what your plan is before you just start touching and moving my stuff". That again, didn't go well.

Today she decided to tackle the pantry. At this point this is a sore spot for me. I am like, physically holding myself back from heckling her as she does this. It doesn't help that she started doing this right before I was about to make myself breakfast so I am Hangry. She finishes like, an hour and a half later. I make my food. I notice that the way she has arranged my pasta, you can't get at any of the stuff without taking it all out of the cabinet. I fix it while still keeping all of my stuff on My side, but I have to remove a box of spaghetti because it doesn't fit quite right. I put it on the counter while I clean my pan because I'm not sure how I'm going to address it. I am definitely aware there is a chance I'm going to get yelled at, but I move it anyway.

While I'm scrubbing, my mom comes into the kitchen, sees the spaghetti box on the counter, and starts screaming bloody murder at me, at "audible down the street" levels. To the point where I was very viscerally upset for hours.

I obviously know that the severity of her reaction is literally insane, especially because I didn't even yell back at her. However, I'm torn on how justified I actually am in wanting to be included in the organization of the kitchen. AM I being entitled about this? Should I just let my mom do what she wants or should I keep trying to advocate for myself?

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Could I request BG3 origin companions + Halsin and Rolan reacting to you asking them to help you work out/get fit? I've just started my fitness journey (for health reasons) and motivating myself can be really hard sometimes ;-;

good luck on your fitness journey, anon! i lost a load of weight over lockdown so i know that it can be difficult but i promise you it's possible!

Astarion

he' will literally complain the whole time but will do it anyway.

he doesn't work out with you, but he will sit to the side as you exercise and shout 'encouragements' at you.

"oh that weightlifting looks like it's absolutely awful, keep it up!" or he sees you eating a protein bowl and he's like "good on you for eating that but I'm glad I only need to survive off blood"

but still let you know he's proud of you and is, overall, supportive and sweet.

Gale

I am not a 'gale has abs' truther. sorry larian he has a str 8 I'm not buying it.

still, he will really really do his best to help be your workout partner.

if he spots you with weightlifting he has to do it with a mage hand too, or my boy is not strong enough to make sure you don't hurt yourself lol

he will get so knackered trying to keep up with you but he'll do it! he wants to be a good exercise partner!

is the best for looking up dietary stuff & researching into best exercises for the parts of your body you want to focus on.

maybe he does have abs by the time of you get into a good routine...

Wyll

Wyll is the only str8 companion I buy having abs. he's a swordsman and keeps himself lean to be good in a fight.

uses his swordmanship knowledge as a fitness regime - the two of you spar every day for long periods, it's a great workout!

helps you cool down after too, shows you the best way to help ease the sting of lactic acid.

he will sit down with you and make an exercise plan for each day. if he's doing this with you you're going the whole way, not half-arsing it.

exhausting but a great workout partner!

Karlach

very excited. jumps into training with you way too fast and hard. you are exhausted after the first couple of days and go to bed aching from it.

when she realises she cuts down on what she's asking you to do and tries to build up your strength and endurance on a curve rather than all at once.

she loves getting up early and going for a jog, just the two of you.

great at weight lifting. you're able to lift far more than you could every dream of after a couple of months.

she flexes at you and you flex back, then break into laughter. she loves having someone to do this with!

Shadowheart

especially when she's still a sharran, she is very much a 'feel the burn' sort of exercise partner.

your body hurts? good. keep going. that's how you know it's working. shar wants you to feel the pain.

lots of yoga and meditation, too. helps you restore balance to yourself after a tough session.

you go to bed sore every night but she just uses heals on you the next morning before you get going again.

it works but god, it is rough.

Lae'zel

"hmm. very well, i have seen how enviously you look at my body. i will train you to have my strength."

like karlach, she throws you in to the deep end, because that is how githyanki do it. unlike karlach she does not let up.

she is brutal but you see results quickly. another one of the companions who likes sparring. will make you fight her again and again until she can see proof your muscles are developing.

one day she gives you a compliment about how well you're doing and you're glowing for the rest of the day.

Halsin

for sure uses his wildshape to help you work out, turning into bigger and bigger animals and getting you to carry them as you run.

very supportive! constantly giving you a stream of praise about how well you are doing.

suggests good plants to supply you with extra vitamins, makes sure you are drinking water and staying hydrated.

being so old he probably has his own workout routine which he adapts for you. is aware of how much you can do but also helps you increase your endurance - he is the best at planning what you're doing that day.

Rolan

will. not. shut. up. about. how. he. hates. this.

"i don't want to do this >:(" "then don't." "no wait--"

groans and whines as he jogs next to you. eventually uses a floating disk to hover next to you as you run a circuit.

when you point out he's just giving up, that incites him, and he becomes a halfway decent workout buddy - he says it's just to spite you, but you think it may be because he enjoys spending time with you...

[rafferty3207]

hi! could i request jamie x reader. neighbours. annoyance to lovers please?

I loved this idea and also got massively carried away as always, so this will have to be split in two parts!

warnings: two horny idiots as usual, swearing, artist fem!reader, nudity

Too Good to be True (part one)

You knew it was too good to be true.

When your mum’s quirky bohemian friend Sylvia told you that she needed someone to house sit over the summer, you never realised it would look like this. You had always known she was well-off, but it turns out Sylvia was rich rich. Her house was in a beautiful area of London you had never been before, full of tall semi terraced Georgian buildings with big ornate gardens. It was the sort of area almost exclusively frequented by yummy mummies and incognito celebrities.

As you walk around all the gorgeous rooms, tenderly stroking the furniture, you felt like you couldn’t have wished for a nicer place if you tried. After living in an awful house share with terrible roommates for the last six months, you were ready for some alone time.

This was not to be. On your first day in the house, after several hours exploring all the nooks and crannies, you eventually fall asleep in her massive bed around midnight; however, you are rudely awoken about four hours later by the sound of arguing outside. You try to ignore them but it only gets louder, until you are forced to put on one of Sylvia’s many(!) silk robes and investigate.

You march outside to see two men facing each other in the doorframe of the house attached to yours.

“Would you two mind shutting the fuck up? It’s 4am and some of us are trying to sleep?”

They both turned around. They are both incredibly handsome; one is dark and surly looking and standing outside with his arms crossed. The other has an incredible jawline and floppy boyband hair, and is still standing in the doorway. The boyband one looks you up and down and you feel your cheeks heat up. It’s times like these you regretted sleeping in the nude, as you huddle the way-too-thin robe tightly around you. He eventually folds his arms indignantly and opens his mouth.

“Love, you don’t understand, we’re -”

“I do not give a flying fuck who you are, just be quiet. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months and I’m not about to have two bozos ruin it with their lover’s tiff.” 

You huff, turning swiftly back indoors before a sharp night’s breeze could expose you.

The surly man who had remained quiet for this entire exchange turns to his friend.

“I like her.”

____

The next morning, you open the front door to find a small beautiful wrapped box.On the label it just says,

Hey Neighbour,

Sweet Dreams 

Jamie xx

Jamie. That must have been the floppy haired one.

You tentatively open it to find a small pair of earplugs. The cheeky git. 

However, that night when you climb into bed, you spot the box of earplugs. You don’t want to use them out of spite, but also you are shattered and couldn’t risk getting woken up again.

You were surprised to wake up a whole 12 hours later. It's the best you've felt in a long time. You look up the earplugs online and it turns out they are very expensive. He may be rude, but at least he wasn't cheap. You consider thanking him, especially as you start regularly seeing him stretching or working out in the garden, until one day he catches you looking.  He waves at you with the smug grin of a prick who knows how good he looks, and you have to immediately walk away. At this point you decide never to talk to him again if you can help it. After all, it was just one summer - how much could you see him really?

It’s the next Sunday when you are walking home from your weekly shop in perhaps your grossest sweats, hair everywhere and glasses still on. To make matters worse, you're struggling as you always buy too much to fit into your bag.

It’s at this point when some dreadful orange sports car pulls up next to you and honks their horn, making you nearly jump out of your skin and drop half your stuff on the ground. You turn around just to see a familiar smug face as he waves at you before speeding off. No, he is a prick.

After you make it home, you decide to forget all about him. But these are old houses, and the walls are thinner than you’d like. More specifically, a week or so later, as you get into bed you think you can hear a voice. You think it may be a ghost, until you hear a distinct Mancunian twang and you realise that Jamie’s bedroom is directly connected to yours (or at least one of them was, who was to say how many bedrooms these sorts of houses had.) It’s when you hear another, softer voice that you realise that maybe Jamie has company.

But it’s fine. He’s allowed to have people over. You go back to your book until ten minutes later, when you start hearing very different noises. He definitely was not alone. And clearly whoever he was with was having a great time.

Your stomach tightens. This isn't just annoying at this point, it’s downright depressing. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel like that. As much of a patronising shit as he was, you had to admit that Jamie was very attractive. You try to keep reading, but you soon find your imagination straying into unwanted territory. Your entire body goes flush when you catch yourself, so you put your earplugs in and go to sleep. Eventually.

—-

It's a blisteringly hot day and you've made the mistake of buying yet another heavy shop. As you're walking home, you're covered in sweat. You're trying to get home as fast as you can before some of the food defrosts in this heat, but it's like wading through hot sticky mud.

You take one more step and suddenly feel a bit lightheaded. You stagger to a nearby wall and sit down, looking down at your feet. It's at this point that of course you see out of the corner of your eye, a familiar orange car pulling up in front of you. You wave a hand away.

"Not now Jamie." 

"Are you alright?"

You look up and he's got a genuine look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather. If you haven't noticed, it's very hot out here."

He pauses for a moment.

"Did you want a lift?"

"I'm good, thanks. It's not that far."

"Don't be daft, just get in the car."

"Jamie -"

"It's got really good air con."

You look at your bags. You really didn't want the food to go bad in this heat.

"Fine."

You drop your bags into the bag and slide into the seat next to him. You can't help but notice how gross and sweaty you were on his nice leather seats.

"Sorry, I'm very gross and sweaty." You immediately say without thinking.

He looks over and laughs.

"Trust me, this car has seen a lot worse."

You groan.

"Oh come on, I don't need to imagine that."

"I just meant after training, Jesus woman, get your head out of the gutter!"

"Training for what?"

He laughs again. "You're joking, right?"

You shake your head.

"You seriously don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

He smiles as he looks back out to the road.

"Nah, I guess not."

You look around his car.

"All I need to know is that you've clearly got more money than sense."

"Oi, I'm doing you a favour here like a bloody gentleman!"

“I mean I don’t know if this is really a favour. You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

“Love, I’ve got more than enough money. I do not need to kidnap some random bird for a ransom.”

“Who says you’re doing it for money?”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible, or just practical? Us ‘random birds’ have got to look out for ourselves.”

“Well then, Your Highness, we have arrived.” Jamie signals to your door as the car pulls to a stop.  “You can get out now, I promise.”

You get out and go to get your bags,but Jamie quickly grabs them and is walking to your door. You run ahead, making sure you’ll be able to get in and clear any embarrassing debris before he can see it.

"You don't have to do that, you know." 

He shrugs. "I used to help my mum carry her shopping all the time when it was just me and her. Now I just pay to get it delivered to her house." 

You stop at the front door. The admission strikes you. You wondered for a moment what Jamie was like when he was younger. You wondered where his dad was. However, Jamie didn’t understand your silence.

“I’m not trying anything, I swear. I won’t come in and …” He looks around. “Steal your knickers or whatever.”

You scoff as you turn around.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

He huffs in exasperation.

“Look, my arms are going to drop off, can you just open the bloody door already?”

“Alright, but if any one of my knickers are gone, you’re in serious trouble.” 

“Aye aye captain.” He tries to salute, but wacks himself in the face with one of the bags. You stifle a laugh, before letting him in. He smiles at you for a moment, and you feel an unfamiliar warm feeling in your chest. Best to just ignore that and get back to the task at hand.

As you put everything away, he looks around. There are unfinished canvas and paint everywhere.

"Are you one of them fancy pants artists then?"

"Not yet. I'm one of those unpaid ones.” You suddenly feel very shy. “I'm just house-sitting for the summer, I'm not rich. Unlike you.”

“So no one is paying your ransom then?”

“No one would pay good money for me. In fact, they might actually pay you for taking me away.” You say it flippantly, but Jamie sees the slightly dejected look on your face.

“So maybe you should be the one kidnapping me, eh? I tell you, I’d go for a pretty penny.” He gently biffs your arm. You don’t look at him, continuing to pack away the shopping.

“Well if I ever have to turn to a life of crime, you’ll be the first to know.”

He stands around for a minute, as if he’s not sure what to do with himself, before going to leave.

“Thanks, by the way.” You call out.

He turns around and shrugs.

“Any time.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Next thing you know, you’ll be my personal Uber.”

He jogs down the front steps, without looking back.

“Only if you start tipping!”

___

A few days later, you're gardening when suddenly a ball crashes into the ground right near your hand. You scream, causing Jamie to pop his head over.

"Jesus Jamie, are you trying to kill me?"

You stand up and dust your knees. He's got that concerned look on his face yet again. 

"Are you alright?"

You reassure him. "I'm fine, you just missed me.” You pinch your fingers almost together. “Just."

He looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry."

You fold your arms.

"You should be."

As you say this, two other men peer their head over the fence.

"Sorry miss. We're just playing a round of cricket."  One replies in a soft Welsh accent. Behind them, you notice the surly man sitting in the back of the garden, who nods at you.

"Roy's taking a break if you want to join?" Jamie offers you the bat.

"Are you asking me to play with you Jamie?" 

"Well, you're less likely to get hit in this garden."

"Hmmm." You think of all the empty canvas you were ignoring. "Fine, but let me get changed first."

As you start to walk into the house, one of the boys turns to Jamie.

"You didn't tell me your neighbour was fit."

"Isaac, don’t even think about it.”  Jamie chides him. Something about this made your stomach feel squiggly, but you couldn’t put a name on it. 

This squiggly feeling means it takes you a little longer than planned to get dressed, as you meticulously scrub the dirt from your hands and knees and maybe apply a tinted lipbalm or two. By the time you come back out, the men seem to have doubled and one of them has somehow set up a barbecue. The game of cricket seems long forgotten as they sit and drink around the fire pit. You pick up a beer bottle and wander around, trying to slip into one of the group conversations.

“When do you think Ted and Rebecca will get together?” A man with a strong french accent says.

“I dunno, I still think him and Trent have got something going on.” Colin muses thoughtfully. Isaac nods with him.

“Yeah man, there were vibes between them at Christmas.”

You decide to pipe up now before you have to figure out who Ted, Trent or Rebecca was.

"Sorry to interrupt, but how do you all know each other?".

The boys look at each other, then Jamie.

"We all play football together." Jamie finally breaks the silence.

"Oh that's cute!” You look around at this crew. They are all very handsome, but all looked very different, from all walks of life.  “It's so hard to make friends as an adult I find, so it's good to have hobbies. Do you think I'll be allowed to come to one of your matches?"

They all look at each other again and start to laugh. You think you've missed something but you figure it's some inside joke.

One of the guys, who you think you heard referred to as Sam, leans forward. "So Miss, what do you do for a living?" 

You take a swig from your bottle.

"I'm an art teacher. I teach at the local college, although it's mainly adult evening classes. You know the saying, ‘those who can't do, teach’.  At least, that’s what my dad likes to say."

"But you can do though." Jamie pipes up from behind his beer. "I've seen all them canvas in your house."

"Ah, you are a painter. Are you more of a modernist or post modernist?" Jan, the tall Dutch one asks.

"I don’t know, I mean I've got a show at the end of the summer which I'm preparing for but I'm not very good-"

"If you've got a show you must be good. Or at least someone thinks so." Jamie folds his arms.

“I mean, I guess, the guy at the gallery did personally invite me-.”

“There you go.” Jamie nodded triumphantly.

“Can we see them? The paintings?” Sam asked.

“Not yet! They are nowhere near ready!” This was somewhat true. For the most part, you had barely started. You had been struggling for inspiration lately, but you weren’t going to tell this extremely attractive group of men that. “You’ll have to come to the art show. I’ve got some flyers in the house. I can get them if you like?”

The boys enthusiastically nod, and you make sure to hand them each one, with Jamie receiving the last flyer. Your fingers brush for a moment, and you find yourself staring at each other a bit too long until you are interrupted by a loud cough.

“The meat is ready, Jamie.” Roy loudly announced.

“Coming!”

The rest of the night goes quickly in a blur, as all the boys bombard you with questions and you find yourself chatting to all of them in depth. You’re pretty sure you know all their life stories by the end of it. Eventually, the night wears on and they all slope off one by one until it’s just you, Jamie and Roy left. Roy is sound asleep on Jamie’s couch, and the two of you quietly start cleaning up.

“You don’t have to help me, you know.” Jamie says. “I’m a big boy, I can clean up after meself.”

You drop a can into the recycling bag.

“I know. But a nice guy dropped me off when I was struggling to take my shopping home, so I thought I’d return the favour.”

Jamie stopped what he was doing.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know.”

The two of you go back to tidying in silence.

“So, Isaac thinks I’m fit, does he?”

Jamie drops the bottle he was holding. He frantically grabs a dustpan and brush and frantically starts brushing the broken glass. Roy stirs for a minute, then rolls back over. You gently took the dustpan off him and empty it into the bin.

“No! Er, I mean, he does, but he thinks anything with a pulse is fit.”

“So you’re saying he’s got low standards?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just- just-”

“I’m teasing. I obviously know that just means he has excellent taste.”

“And I thought I had a big head.”

“I mean, you do, but that’s beside the point.”

“Oi, I can say it, but you can’t!” At this point, Jamie puts down the bag and picks up the hose.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” You ask.

“What do you think?” He says, before switching it on, chasing you with the spray. You run away, screaming.

“I’ll get you for this!” 

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me?” He moves the hose to catch you again, but at the exact same time Roy walks outside and Jamie catches him in the face. You both freeze.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow, Jamie!” You quickly leave, waving a goodbye as you start to hear the beginning of Roy’s bollocking.

Later, as you go up to your bedroom and dry your hair with a towel, you spot Jamie and Roy chatting in the garden. Jamie looks up at you and smiles. You smile and wave back, before pointing at your still soaking t-shirt.

“I hope you’re proud.” You mouth at him. He shrugs and you shake his head.

Roy turns to Jamie.

“When are you just going to fucking ask her out already?”

___

After the barbecue you start to see Jamie more often. 

He almost always drops you home from your big shop,  and sometimes drops you there too. He always says hello when you're in the garden and even starts asking for gardening advice. 

One day, when it is too hot, you buy a child's paddling pool to sit in your bikini. Jamie, who has been trying and failing to do his workout in the sun, asks if he can join you and the two of you sit in it in silence until the sun goes down. Both of you are definitely not checking each other out behind your sunglasses when the other isn’t looking.

Then one night, you go out with some of your old university friends. What was meant to be just one drink turns into several bottles and you find yourself outside the front door at 3am trying to get the key to work. 

After what feels like forever, you hear a door open.

"Oh, how the turn tables."

"Hello Jamie." You slur a little, swaying gently. "If you don't mind I could really do with focusing right now."

"Well it seems like you are doing just fine without me, so I'll leave you to it." He goes inside, sighing before coming straight back out again.

"Do you want to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea? Some toast?"

Your shoulders sag, "I would love that, yes. My feet are absolutely killing me." You follow him as enthusiastically as you can while he gently takes your arm and guides you in.

You flop down on the couch, quickly taking off your shoes and putting your feet up.

"Jamie, how long have you lived here?"

"About six months, why?"

"There's no decoration in here at all. This is the house of a killer, Jamie." He pops back around holding two mugs.

"I mean, I dunno. I'm not sure how to make it look good.

"It doesn't have to look good. It's your house. It just has to make you happy. What makes you happy Jamie?"

He takes a minute to think, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Bums?”

“Bums?”

“I like what I like.”

“Hmmm. We can work with that. Perhaps a big tasteful nude somewhere around here.” You wave your hand towards the fireplace.

“Do you paint nudes?” Jamie pauses for a moment. “Nude is them pictures of naked people right?”

“Yeah they are and are you asking me to paint you a nude Jamie? Men usually slide into my DMS for that sort of thing.”

“Not like that. I just think your art is really cool. It reminds me of that guy…what’s his name? Frankie Bakeoff?”

“Francis Bacon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“He’s actually one of my inspirations. You know, you've got a good eye Jamie.”

He sits down, placing the mugs on the table. 

“Er, I’ve got two good eyes actually.” He remains completely deadpan and at this point, you let out a proper laugh. 

“You know I never asked you what you do for a living. I mean, you’re obviously a comedian but you know, for money. Especially to live in a place like this.”

“I’m a footballer.”

“Haha, yeah, good one.”

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. My name is Jamie Tartt and I play for AFC Richmond.” 

You squint at him, before pulling out your phone. You type in “Jamie Tartt.” And suddenly there are thousands and thousands of articles and pictures with tiny Jamies staring back at you.

“Oh my god. And all those boys at the BBQ -”

“They are my teammates.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You cry out, putting your face in your hands. “I told all of them about my dad’s five a side! They must all think I’m a complete idiot!”

“Nah. They all thought it was pretty cute.”

“I’m glad someone finds my stupidity cute.”

“I dunno, I think a lot of stuff you do is cute.”

Your face goes red. He can’t have meant that. You look at him. He truly is beautiful, although he must know it. You remembered the woman in his room. He could get anyone and you know it.

“Have you ever done modelling Jamie?”

“I mean yeah. I’ve done shoots for stuff. Adidas, Nike and my own fragrance for men, Tarttbreaker.”

“What the hell does that even mean? You know what, never mind, I was just wondering..would you fancy posing? For a painting?” You look at your feet. “It’s just, I’m so sick of painting myself and oranges at this point.”

His eyes light up.

“Really? You want to paint me?”

“Don’t let it go to that massive head of yours Tartt.”

“I can’t promise anything.” He sits down next to you, placing the mugs on the table. The throbbing in your feet still hasn’t gone away, and without thinking you start rubbing your soles. Curse those beautiful shoes, you think to yourself.

“Here, I can help with that.” You didn’t realise Jamie was staring at your feet.

“What?”

“Trust me, I’m really good at foot rubs.”

“Is this some weird foot thing?”

“No, you perv. My physio showed me some really good tricks. You know the physio I have because I am a professional footballer, yeah?” You roll your eyes as he gently takes your foot.

“You’re never going to let me live that do-”

You can’t finish the sentence as you are distracted by just how good it feels. A small “fuck” slips out.

“Is that alright? I didn’t hurt ya, did I? I can stop.”

“No, no no no. No.”

You are surprised by your own enthusiasm. He slowly starts again, and you say nothing, until a small moan slips out. Jamie’s head suddenly whips up. 

“I mean, I think my ankles are more sore than anything -” He moves his hands up, moving his thumbs in slow circles. You thought this would improve things, but it’s just making things worse. Your heart is racing.

“And what about your calves?”

You nod dumbly. “They’re pretty - pretty sore too.”

His hands hesitantly move up your leg, up to your knees. His face inches closer to yours, his hands about to move down your thigh, when your stomach very loudly rumbles. He jumps up and your legs close shut.

“I was going to make you toast.”

“Yes, yes you were.” He leaves the room and you lie back on the couch. Your head is spinning.. What is going on? You think as your eyes slowly start to close. 

By the time Jamie finally returns to the room, two very distracted attempts at toast later, you are fast asleep on the couch. He picks up a blanket and covers you, before heading upstairs. He then lies down, closing his eyes for just a minute, until there is a soft knock on the door. 

“Are you ready for training, fuckhead?”

“Shh.” He points to you, sound asleep and snoring.

Roy tilts his head. Jamie whispers. “I’ll explain later.”

______

You wake up with a pounding headache. It takes you a second to realise you are not in your bed. You are on someone’s couch. Jamie’s couch.

You look at your phone. 9:03am. You look around for any sign of him, but it seems like he’s gone already. YOu decide to wash up the mugs, before you spot it on his fridge. There is no decoration in any of his flat, except one flyer that is stuck on the fridge. Your flyer.

You smile, before finding a piece of paper and a pen.

That afternoon, you return to your flat. Looking at your big canvas you know what to do.

___

Jamie finally gets back to his flat and he is exhausted. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night, and as he suspected, you are long gone by the time he gets home.

However, as he walks through, he notices a little note stuck on the fridge in front of your flyer. 

Thanks for the tea and the footrub.

You can wake me up any time.

X

PS. Let me know when you’re free, you poser.

With your number added to the bottom.

He can’t help but smile to himself, before wandering out into the garden.

He hopes to see you there, but you’re not. He looks back towards the house and stops dead in his tracks. He can see you in one of the rooms, in front of one of your canvas. But you are completely naked. 

He looks away. He knows he shouldn’t. But maybe he just imagined it. He takes another quick look to confirm, you are definitely naked as the day you were born. You have your back to him, but it’s clear you are looking in some sort of mirror. He suddenly realises. You’re painting yourself. He walks quickly inside and decides it’s time to go to bed. He puts his earplugs in and goes to sleep. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! You can read chapter two here!

[nipuni]

Time for an old school blog post, Hello!

Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊

Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.

Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.

This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!

Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!

On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.

Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!

We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.

Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂

OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!

Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!

Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

A Critique of Riordan's: Neurodivergency

tldr: Rick made ADHD and dyslexia superpowers in the books which fit the time he wrote the books, but it's not accepted now cause it diminishes neurodivergent struggle. At the same time he made autism coded characters the 'annoying' ones and had a very racist thing of having the only neurotypical be Frank.

He tried to fix it in the show. It worked for about 3 seconds.

TW: Ableism, Autism speaks mention, r slur, anti-schizo stuff.

This paragraph is useless so don't read if you don't want to: Sitting in my drafts are 3 different 'A critique of Riordan's' posts i made as i tried to redo my full critique of the Riordanverse with a little more positive feedback and a little less Rick Riordan is the devil spawn. I have decided to not do it in order because because i watched the show and i noticed some things which were iffy and others which were great. So yeah neurodivergency first. Enjoy and think Critically.

Books

Research and Diversity

The books were written in the early 2000s for Rick's son who has ADHD and dyslexia

As a result, it takes on a very "your ADHD and dyslexia is a superpower" message which were popular during the time, but we recognise now has delegitimised neurodivergent struggles

Also as a result, the books were very focused on his son's symptoms, and represented ADHD as a monolith which quickly turned into stereotypes (e.g jumpy, impatient and fast reflexes becoming the connecting feature of half-bloods)

It got so unresearched that at one point he said:

He also talks about coffee in a similar way, despite sugar and coffee not making us more hyperactive and instead making us sleepy. Unless all the scientists and people with ADHD are wrong i really don't know this works.

and also said this: "Leo was extremely ADHD even by demigod standards" Like what

But the worst part about the PJO books was that the neurodivergency was limited to the first book. Percy's ADHD and dyslexia magically vanish and honestly it's only really brought back up in HOO every now and then (not very well might i add)

Ways he could have improved:

He could have given other characters, like Annabeth, more diverse symptoms of ADHD. It wasn't that hard, For Annabeth recognise that she as a 'gifted kid' is more likely to have undiagnosed and so have to face the issues related to being undiagnosed and/or being both a gifted kid and having ADHD, and then also give her more symptoms common to girls like being really chatty or frequently daydreaming.

Continuing having ADHD (and dyslexia) as constant parts of the novels rather than throwaway lines. Build it into the characters actions and persona rather than add it on like an accessory

Research. Never stop researching. Always reach out to people with the disorders and ask them to help. Writing is nothing without research.

Get sensitivity readers

Grammar

This is really minor, but he keeps say ____ was ADHD, and like gramattically that's a no. I am not a disorder i am a person with a disorder . Note for autism, the prefered grammer is Autistic person (aka turn into adjective and describe, something we can't do with ADHD)

Nico and Leo

Making Leo and Nico the 2 characters who were annoying and unlikeable (to everyone else not to fans) was really weird cause these 2 characters were the autistic coded ones.

NOTE: I did see a post explaining it better in the past, and i will link it when/if i find it again.

Tyson and the R Slur

I genuinely think he tried to make the r-slur scene show that it was bad, but the way Percy reacted to it wasn't quite right. Especially for childrens books these things need to be really clear. So it was good to make a bad bully character who was hated say it, but he could have made it better by skipping Percy saying "He’s not r*tarded" and go straight to "I had to try really, really hard not to punch Sloan the face."

The scene was ok, it could have been better, but again these were written in the 2000s, we have to acknowledge that.

Percy and School

Now this is interesting because this is more recent. Percy tried really hard in school and was smart, it was part of his characterisation. But he never did well in school, because that's how his disability affected him (especially since it was the American school system which we all know is shit and even more shit for people with learning disabilities).

The problem stems from TSATS, where Percy is made out to skip school, and not try at all (feeds into people with ADHD do bad cause they don't try/are lazy)

credits to @aroaceleovaldez

Racism: Frank Zhang

Frank Zhang the only Asian member of the 7 has no form of neurodivergency, despite the rest of them all having. It must be a just coincidence that there's a stereotype that asians are really smart and good at maths and the fact that the rest of the Romans have dyscalculia/s.

It's not weird at all that the character instead has lactose intolerance, which is really common in East Asia unlike dyslexia, ADHD or dyscalculia, which has such a low rate of diagnosis because there is a large stigma behind the disorders and because white people don't think Asians can have learning disabilities/s. No not weird at all that the dude is described with symptoms of dyspraxia but Rick refuses to recognise he is not neurotypical/s

I'm stepping out of sarcasm speak to remind you that Asians with learning disabilities are significantly less likely to get diagnosed with anything because:

because their parents won't let them until they have no other choice (glares at my parents) because there's a massive stigma behind intellectual/learning/development disorders in these communities

When we do try to get diagnosed our claims are diminished because of racist stereotypes and the belief that booksmarts/giftedness = no learning disability. It means most psychologists and psychiatrists (who are usually white) think that all Asians are smart so they don't ever have any form of neurodivergency and we're left to struggle.

Schizo Rep

Octavian. Villain. Schizo. Again.

Do i even need to explain this?

Show

Not actually a specific disorder - Percy just has a learning disability

Interestly Percy's dyslexia is just never talked about, And even his ADHD is never mentioned by name. He's got a random learning disorder which isn't specified. At first i assumed it was still ADHD cause the books, but watching more, you realise they aren't actually focusing on what learning disorder he has and what he has to deal with as a result of that. It's just a generic learning disorder.

Which is weird because learning disorders are all different and we all face different things, even with the same disorder. So placing all learning disorders in the same group? not good. Don't know what i expected from disney, but it wasn't this.

Autism Speaks

So the show tried to acknowledge that Percy was constantly told he was special and heroic when he really wanted to have help for his issues and for people to recognise that he has problems and those are bad. It also represented less stereotypical adhd symptoms (though whether that's because the disorder is no longer adhd or whether they wanted more inattentive symptoms to be present, we'll never know)

but then it went ahead and used a broken puzzle metaphor for his neurodivergency?

Puzzle piece metaphors when talking about any form of neurodivergency are a no go because the creators of the metaphor literally want Autistic people dead.

I DON'T GIVE A SHIT THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE AUTISM, WE ARE NOT ALLIES TO THE AUTISM COMMUNITY IF WE USE THE LANGUAGE AUTISM SPEAKS CREATED

Not only that but a broken puzzle is not a good way to represent us anyways because NEURODIVERGENTS AREN'T BROKEN.

[morganbritton132]

First, I adore you and your brain. Second, I have a silly little ankle tattoo of a doodle (it’s a lemon man) my sister made and fully love poorly drawn lil things so Eddie’s octopus is my favorite. Third! I picked up crochet during the pandemic (the first bit lmao where I got laid off and super depressed) and it’s so therapeutic when i need to just shut down and focus on one thing because I’m stressed or overwhelmed. I’m working on coasters right now, and god they’re so much easier than the first coaster pattern I tried (that one put me off for a while). I just had a funny thought though, of when Steve gets fully into it and does what a lot of us crafters do and stocks up on yarn for future projects.

I bought a big ass show organizer for all of mine and have to restrict myself to just what fits in there

(Also I’m picturing Eddie in a wonky hat like the one I just tried to make for my sister’s cat but he’s still wearing it super proud)

At the start of the pandemic, I got a new job where I was working half in the office and half from home. I also moved out of my parents’ house so I suddenly alone all the time and to kinda cope with that, I picked up knitting. I originally tried crochet but I just couldn’t get my hands to work right, but I’ve gotten it down (at least enough to do the second row), and I agree with you. It is very therapeutic and I’m happy that it was able to help you through a rough time.

And lol, but all of us crafters are the same because I have a whole shelf dedicated to yarn I bought for future knitting (and now crochet) projects.

It’s not Steve’s intention.

He is just trying this hobby out so he can tell his physical therapist that he gave it a go and it didn’t work. Steve is not crafty or creative like Eddie, so he doesn’t need to buy all this stuff.

But he did need to buy melting chocolate, so he agreed to go when Robin asked if he wanted to go to Michael’s with her. And yeah, maybe he did pick up a new crochet hook but that’s because there’s clearly something wrong with his. What other explanation is there for why he keeps skipping stitches?

And maybe he did get a new skein of yarn, but he’s just being practical. If he’s going to make Eddie a hat than he is going to need a color that compliments Eddie’s complexion, right? He might as well get this blue too. It’s a pretty color and there’s only like, five skeins left. It could disappear forever.

Then he bought a bowl to hold his yarn but it was cute! It was shaped like a sloth. And yeah, he got the yarn winder thing. That’s just practical. And okay, well. Joann’s has magazines with patterns in them so Steve’s going to need that.

And it all kinda just snowballs until, “Babe, what the hell did you buy for a hundred and fifty dollars at Michael’s?”

Steve, surrounded by yarn in each color, “Nothing.”

Also, Eddie absolutely wears anything that Steve makes him. A fan took a picture of him buying cigarettes in a lopsided hat. Another fan took a picture of him at show where his guitar strap has a single crochet chain wrapped around it. There’s a Tiktok where Eddie is pulling his hair up with a crocheted scrunchie.