#i literally just realized that reason i’ve been opening so much lately + the other manager that closes has had actual days off is bc we have

[ierogenvy]

y’know it’s so weird … there’s a lot of women that work at my job … but 99% of the time i’m the only non-man at opening … and it’s all non men closing …

[blueeyedgirll]

Sneaking In - Sal Fisher x F!Reader

a/n: this is something i literally think about constantly :)> sneaking out was sal’s idea not yours there’s no delinquency here. unfortunately this is NOT part two of he’d loooove that because to be transparent i don’t know where to go with it! i promise i started it though it’ll come out soon •3•

this fic includes: boyfriend sneaking in trope, rebellion, sal ITCHING to see you, no use of y/n, for some reason you don’t have a screen on your window but whatever, established relationship, smooching, cuddling

The dark, late night sprawls outside as the twinkle of fairy lights keeps you awake. The chatter from the movie you were watching keeps your ears occupied as you consider texting or calling someone to ease the boredom overtaking you.

You settle on your boyfriend, Sal.

You and Sal had been dating for almost a year and a half. You started dating in the beginning of freshman year, and are still together now, halfway through sophomore year. Dating Sal had been nothing short of wonderful. He has always been such a kind and loving person, and it shows in your relationship. You and Sal are the kind of couple that people call “goals,” or talk about because they “need a relationship like that.”

You pick up your phone to text Sal, but upon reaching his contact, you decide to call him instead.

The line rings once, twice, and then he picks up.

“Hey, love. Are you alright? Why are you calling so late?” He says as less of a question for his sake and more to make sure you were okay.

“Yeah, I just missed you,” You respond.

“Well, I miss you too. I’m glad you called.” Sal pauses for a moment and you hear shuffling.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to move Gizmo off my bed so I can lie down.”

You laugh at the thought of Sal trying his hardest to gently move his very large cat off the bed.

“Just pick him up,” You say, realizing that it’s in his nature to be gentle so he likely wouldn’t.

“No, he’s comfortable.” You hear him scoff in frustration and the thunk of him hitting the bed. “I give up.”

You laugh and change the subject.

“Well, what were you doing before you decided to evacuate Gizmo?”

“Honestly… I was trying to study for my history test, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. It was really hard to try to remember what years the American Revolution took place when the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen kept crossing my mind.”

His sudden compliment made you smile.

“Why, thank you. Luckily I wasn’t doing anything productive, because I promise you I would’ve been in the same boat…” You think for a moment. You both really miss each other, so why not make plans for the weekend?

“Sal, I want to see you. Want to hang out tomorrow?”

He pauses before he answers.

“Why wait?”

“What?”

“Why wait until tomorrow? I miss you now.”

You consider his point. You missed him now, too. But the thorough punishment that awaited you if your parents found out hung over you like a storm cloud.

“Sal, my parents will kill me if I sneak out.”

“Then let me.”

“My parents will also kill me if they catch me sneaking my boyfriend in my room in the dead of night. Can’t you hear how bad that sounds?”

“That’s why they won’t catch me. Please, baby? I can be sneaky, I promise.”

You pause for a moment.

You consider.

You decide the reward outweighs the consequences.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then?”

You can hear him silently cheer. “Yes you will. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The phone beeps after the call ends. A rush of adrenaline and emotions flows through you as it fully processes that you’re sneaking your boyfriend in, but the risk just made it that much more fun.

A few minutes pass that consist of you switching between pacing your room and tidying up. You realize that Sal needs to get in somehow, so you turn to leave your room and unlock the back door. Before you could leave, however, you hear a tap on the window.

You throw open your curtains and it is none other than Sal. His electric blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, he stares up at you, eyes visibly crinkled through the eyeholes in his mask.

You open the window to let him in. He smiles up at you and hoists himself onto your windowsill before jumping silently onto your floor. He stops to look around for a moment, then pulls you into his arms.

“We have a door, you know,” You say teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You smile at him and draw your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. You reach to the back of his head and unbuckle his mask, and he bows his head to let you.

You pull the mask off of his scarred face and he looks at you longingly with his bright blue lovesick eyes. Before either of you can speak, you both lean into a kiss. His lips meet yours in a unification powerful enough to make your knees tremble. He wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you deeper into the kiss, allowing you to run your hands through his soft hair.

"Wasn't this worth it? And, hey, I bet your parents are still sound asleep. They don't have a clue!" Sal drags out the last few words of his sentence in an excited whisper.

"Yeah, it was. Thank you for coming over."

"No problem. I missed you and it made me really want to see you."

"I can tell."

He smiles at your comment and moves to sit on your bed. You set his mask on your bedside table and follow his lead by propping yourself up on the headboard, patting the spot beside you to urge him over. He sits right next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He's so close that you can feel how warm he is through his sweater and smell his body wash.

He turns his head to give you a kiss on the cheek. You wrap your arms around his waist and fit your head into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, listening to his heart steadily beating.

"I love you," Sal whispers. "I love you, too."

[whumpninja]

W.M.D., Part 1: Living Weapon

Featuring: living weapon whumpee, heavy and literal dehumanization, lab whump, blindfolded whumpee, creepy whumper, brainwashing, memory loss

Taglist: @whumperofworlds

The meeting had been scheduled for 1:00. Mr. Abel showed up at 1:48, drinking something neon pink in a plastic cup and smiling apologetically. “Just chalk me up as ‘fashionably late’,” he quipped, extending his hand for a shake. “Nolan Abel, but you probably knew that, I’m everywhere. You’re Algernon Fowler, right? The scientist?”

Dr. Fowler stared witheringly at Mr. Abel’s extended hand, waiting for the man to realize that the empty right sleeve of Dr. Fowler’s lab coat was pinned up and out of the way. It took an embarrassingly long time for Mr. Abel to withdraw his hand, and even then, Dr. Fowler wasn’t sure whether he noticed or just wanted to end the awkward stare down.

“Is this your lab?” Mr. Abel asked, looking up at the top of the abandoned clock tower. “It’s…nice.”

“It is adequate,” Dr. Fowler replied. The billionaire nearly jumped at the low, whispery sound of his voice, and Dr. Fowler held back a twisted smile. “If I decide to enter into a partnership with you, I will require a more…updated facility.”

“Sure, Doc, no problem. I’ve got one all set up that nobody’s used in awhile. But I was told that I would be getting a…preview?”

Dr. Fowler nodded to the open door of his clock tower-turned-laboratory. “Just through there.”

Mr. Abel finished his drink as he entered, carelsssly tossing the plastic cup aside. It clattered on the pavement. Ignorant buffoon, Dr. Fowler thought, and followed him inside, shutting- and locking- the heavy door behind them.

“Got yourself a fixer-upper, huh?” Mr. Abel glanced around the first floor. “What a mess.”

“The natural consequences of my work. Science is not always clean.” Where Mr. Abel saw old, yellowing papers littering the floor and broken furniture pushed up against the grimy walls, Dr. Fowler saw nothing but promise and potential in the empty space. He’d thrown the papers out because he had advanced beyond their contents. He’d shoved the furniture away because he needed room to work. Even the location was important- in the middle of the most downtrodden, poverty-stricken part of the city. The building itself had been carefully chosen- a modern laboratory would have been inaccessible and drawn too much attention. The clock tower was perfect for his needs. Whatever mess the foolish Mr. Abel saw, Dr. Fowler could overlook in favor of the results that would come out of it.

“So where’s your brilliant masterpiece?” Mr. Abel asked. Dr. Fowler didn’t appreciate his teasing tone. “You said you had something special to show me.”

“I do. Upstairs.” Dr. Fowler led the way up the twisting metal staircase to the next floor of the clock tower- there were five in all. He rarely used the first floor. The second and third were his workspaces, as was the underground floor Mr. Abel did not- and would not- know about. The fifth floor was empty save for the ancient clock.

It was the fourth floor where his masterpiece lived. And it was the fourth floor where he led Mr. Abel.

“So you make weapons,” Mr. Abel said as they ascended. “Living weapons. You brainwash ‘em or something?”

Dr. Fowler scoffed. “Do not insult me. My work is no mere brainwashing or hypnotism. You may as well buy a robot if you merely want something to be commanded.” He shook his head. “The beauty of my work is in its balance. Too much, and you are left with a husk. Too little, and the result is unpredictable. There are many others in the business of making weapons. They all fall short. Their creations are mindless drones, suitable only for simple tasks.”

“And yours are different?”

Dr. Fowler smirked. “The secret of weapon making is not in the mind, but in the will. Unlike those imposters, I leave my subjects’ mind intact. What I remove is their free will. Once I am finished, they can still think for themselves. They can reason, find solutions to problems- they do not stand stupidly waiting for someone to command them. And yet they still obey commands, without question.”

“If it works like you say it does, I’ll definitely want some,” Mr. Abel answered.

“That is only the first step in my process. They must be trained as well. And there is another variable that must be accounted for.”

“What’s that?”

“Humanity. I have learned that the best way to create my weapons is to strip them of their humanity. If you’ve looked into my background, as I’m sure you have, you’ll know that I was a genetic biologist. One can make a man believe that he is less than a person. I take it one step further. I take the lie and make it true.”

They had reached the fourth floor. Dr. Fowler came out into the middle of the room first, waiting for Mr. Abel to catch up.

This floor was bare, nearly completely empty. The only things in the room were the scientist, the investor, and a figure that knelt in the center of the room, their head covered by a hood.

“You asked for proof, Mr. Abel. Here is my proof. My first successful masterpiece. Project Magnum Opus.” Dr. Fowler crossed the room and removed the hood. “Or, as I prefer to call him…Kestrel.”

Mr. Abel’s mouth dropped open as the kneeling form stood.

Dr. Fowler knew what he was seeing. A young man, or what had once been one, dark-haired and pale-skinned, hair tumbling down the neck and over the forehead to conceal the face in shadow. Bare-chested, showing a burn scar on the shoulder and smaller scars scattered over the torso. Slender, but with lean muscle corded through the lines of the body, a body made to be quick, agile and strong.

“He’s impressive. But, if I can ask, why do you call him Kestrel?” Mr. Abel asked.

A smile tugged the corner of Dr. Fowler’s lips. This man was even more oblivious than he had thought- even though the primary reason for that name was still concealed, there were still clues visible if one looked. Mr. Abel seemed to be a man who had to be shown.

Well, let me not disappoint him.

He stepped behind his weapon and unbuckled the harness around the shoulders, allowing Mr. Abel to see the evidence of the other side of his process. The billionaire actually staggered back in shock. “Are- are those real?” he breathed.

The massive black wings slowly unfurled to their full span. Dr. Fowler did not try to hide his smile now. “Of course they are. The talons are real as well.”

Mr. Abel had somehow not noticed that the weapon was barefoot, displaying the vicious curved talons that were so useful in combat, or that the hands too had talons rather than nails. If it weren’t for the blindfold over the face, he would have also seen the piercing golden eyes. The wings and talons were enough, however, and he clung to the staircase railing like he would fall out of pure shock if he didn’t hold on to something.

“You may touch him if you like,” Dr. Fowler offered magnanimously. “He will not attack.”

Mr. Abel looked distinctly nervous and Dr. Fowler reveled in it. “Are- are you sure?”

“He will not attack,” Dr. Fowler repeated. “That is, not unless I tell him to.”

Mr. Abel approached cautiously, stretching out his hand like a small child about to pet a large dog. Kestrel watched him impassively, blinking once or twice. Mr. Abel stroked the edge of the wing, his mouth stretching into a grin. “Wow,” he said. “It feels real. How’d you do it?”

Dr. Fowler smiled, and leaned close to Kestrel’s ear, and whispered, “Corpus et sanguinis. Strike.”

Mr. Abel didn’t hear the exact words, but he certainly saw the effects. Kestrel went rigid for a split second before leaping into motion, knocking Mr. Abel to the floor, the head tilting to the side as the predator found the prey even without the use of sight. The wings were useless in this confined space, but spread out anyway, helping to terrify Mr. Abel even more thoroughly. The man was screaming, horror twisting his face as a sharp talon tore a gash in his sleeve.

“Hold, Kestrel,” Dr. Fowler said. Kestrel froze, still keeping the man pinned to the floor. Dr. Fowler waited a few more moments, savoring the look of fear on Mr. Abel’s face, before he commanded, “Release him.”

Kestrel let go and stepped back, and Mr. Abel staggered to his feet, white-faced. Mr. Abel glanced from one to the other, shaking, panting, his eyes wide. He pointed a trembling finger at Dr. Fowler. “I could sue you for that, Fowler. I could sue you for all you’re worth and have your- your- thing shot.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Dr. Fowler answered. “Not without admitting that you were ever here in the first place, which, Mr. Abel, you cannot do without coming under scrutiny so intense that all your filthy little secrets will be dragged out into the light right beside me. You would lose everything, and you are not the kind of man who would risk that.” The corner of his lips turned up. “Besides, you said you wanted a preview. That is what you were given.”

The anger stayed a moment longer, fury darkening Mr. Abel’s eyes. Dr. Fowler waited, unconcerned.

Finally, Mr. Abel pulled himself to his feet, laughing sheepishly. “I guess I did want a sneak peek, didn’t I?” The anger bled out of him, replaced by intrigue. “Wow. I mean, that’s impressive. I want a dozen of them. You told anyone else about this?”

“No.”

“Don’t. I want you to be my private supplier.”

Dr. Fowler smiled. “What does a rich man need with living weapons?”

“You stick with your business and I’ll stick with mine.” Mr. Abel ran his hands through his hair, his face transitioning into an easy grin. “So how does he work? You said something to him before he jumped me.”

“When I begin the mental reprogramming process, I implement cue words,” Dr. Fowler explained, careful not to give too much away. “In the absence of anything else, the brain latches onto anything it is given. In this case, the trigger words. Once the process is complete, those specific words will place the weapon under the control of whoever speaks them.”

“And his words are…”

“Not for you.” Dr. Fowler folded his arms. “I will make you your own weapons. Kestrel is mine.”

Mr. Abel shrugged. “Sure.”

The man seemed to have gotten over his fear, approaching Kestrel- although, Dr. Fowler noticed, he did not touch the weapon this time. “So what are his limits?” he asked. “I mean, he’s the prototype of mine, right? What can he do?”

“Anything you command.”

“Could I order him to fetch me a vodka with lime?”

“Kestrel is not some sort of personal butler,” Dr. Fowler said, his smile disappearing. “Kestrel is a weapon, perfectly designed for that purpose and that purpose alone. Not a toy for a rich man’s amusement.”

“Could you make one that is?”

Dr. Fowler sighed. “If that is what you would like, I can do it. I suppose you want it to be beautiful, barely clothed, and enamored with you, as well?”

The billionaire grinned. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Self-obsessed fool.

“Do you always make them…animal hybrids?”

“Yes. It tends to be more stable when I do that, and as I said before it helps the reprogramming process. I have tried many kinds, on many candidates. Kestrel has the DNA of a species of vulture.”

“That where the wings came from?” Mr. Abel walked around to look at the weapon’s back, where the wings protruded from the shoulder blades.

“The wings were originally from a California condor,” Dr. Fowler answered. “I grafted them into Kestrel. DNA can do many things, but it cannot give something wings. The talons and the eyes, yes. The wings required help.”

“Huh.” Mr. Abel looked sufficiently impressed. As much as he disliked the billionaire, Dr. Fowler had still hoped to take his breath away with his demonstration, and it seemed as though he had been successful. “So how many of these weapons can you make for me?”

“How much time do you have?” Dr. Fowler asked instead of answering directly.

Mr. Abel frowned. “Why does time matter?”

“Do you think it is an easy thing to create one of my masterpieces? That I can snap my fingers or hold up a swaying pendant and they’ll be ready to do whatever I command? The human will is the most stubborn force on this planet, Mr. Abel. To break it into splinters and scrape it out, to fill the empty mold back up with your desires, to make sure the vessel does not shatter under the pressure- it takes time.”

“How much time?”

“Months.”

“What?”

Dr. Fowler continued as if he hadn’t heard. “And of course, I must have the perfect candidate. I have tried this method again and again. All attempts ended in disaster. Some subjects did not survive the initial operation. Some lasted longer, but the strain of being reprogrammed was too much for them, and they died or became comatose. Some survived reprogramming, but as empty shells that could not move without being commanded, that had to be told to even breathe. It took years, Mr. Abel, years of failure, before I finally succeeded with Kestrel. But I think you’ll agree that the results are worth the effort.”

“Where do you get candidates?”

Dr. Fowler shrugged. “Kestrel is an excellent hunter. I sometimes have him bring them to me, but that tends to draw too much attention. I prefer more subtle methods. Money is a splendid lure. People who have no other option will gladly submit themselves to scientific study for the mere promise of cash in their hand. Though, of course, they stop having a use for money long before I would have to pay them.”

“You’re really committed to this, Doc.”

Dr. Fowler pinned the man with a look. “This is my life’s work, Mr. Abel. I am as devoted to it as a mother to her child. No force on this earth could sway me from this path. No amount of begging or bribery, threats or tears, no amount of opposition can stop me once I begin my work. It is not an easy road to walk, but I walk it, and it does not matter what obstacles are placed in my way. I have set out to create the perfect living weapons. That is what I will do, no matter how many tries takes. No matter how many bodies I have to bury. I will suceed.” Abruptly the smile returned to his face. “I have succeeded, with Kestrel. Though of course there are always improvements that can be made.”

“So how do I do this, when I get mine? What happens if he disobeys?”

“My weapons cannot disobey.”

“Okay, what about when he does something I want?”

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Abel shrugged. “If I tell him to do something and he does it. Do I click a button, or give him a reward or something?”

Dr. Fowler smiled humorlessly. “Yes, he gets a reward.” He trailed his gloved fingers down the side of Kestrel’s face, ghosting over the blindfold. He was always careful to avoid touching Kestrel with his bare hands- skin-to-skin contact could have an adverse affect on the training.

“What kind of reward?” Mr. Abel wanted to know.

“He gets to live.” Dr. Fowler moved his hand lower, wrapping it around Kestrel’s throat. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t have to. Kestrel knew he could. That was enough.

“I do not tolerate disobedience, Mr. Abel. If one of my creations fails me, I destroy it, and start again with a new base. There is never a shortage of test subjects in this city.”

It was, at least partially, a bluff. Dr. Fowler did not get attached to his creations, but Kestrel was his first true success. It would take a failure of great magnitude for him to start over. There were other ways to discipline a weapon.

Mr. Abel was grinning. “So far, Doc, I’m seeing no drawbacks.”

Dr. Fowler replaced the hood over Kestrel’s head, gesturing Mr. Abel towards the staircase. This time he let the billionaire go first, all the way back down to the ground floor. “What do you think?” he asked.

Mr. Abel hummed, stroking his chin. “I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership. I’ll have one of my lawyers write up a contract-“ at Dr. Fowler’s warning glance, he held up a hand. “And I’ll leave out any details to keep your secrecy. You can add those in yourself.”

“That is appreciated.”

“But I want one more thing in exchange, Doc. I like what I’ve seen so far, I do. And I love the idea of having my own personal weapon who will do anything I tell it to.” He folded his arms, and suddenly the foolish billionaire seemed slightly less so. “Your Kestrel. I want to see him fly. Tomorrow morning.”

“You- what?” Dr. Fowler was not often taken aback. But this request sent him reeling a little. “Kestrel isn’t used to flight. I don’t send him out often, and then always under cover of darkness.”

“Exactly. I want to see the reaction to him, if there is one. If the government has a conniption fit and comes down on you, I don’t want to be involved.” He spoke bluntly, without shading the truth. Dr. Fowler grudgingly appreciated that. “And I want to see those wings in action. You can send him out early enough that there won’t be many people on the beach. But I want to see what he does when he’s away from you. No offense, but I’m betting he takes off.”

Dr. Fowler pressed his lips into a thin smile. There were still some things this man didn’t know. “All right, Mr. Abel. I will take you up on that bet. Tomorrow morning, I will send Kestrel out. And we’ll see what happens then.”

Mr. Abel returned his smile. “We will, won’t we?”

They shook hands on it.

[razorblade180-heated]

A Talk

Jaune:Weiss, I would like to discuss something with you.

Weiss:*reading* I’m listening. You find another mission to take?

Jaune:Nah. I…wanted to talk about our sex life.

Weiss:….*slowly puts down book* What?

Jaune:We never really discuss it. We just go with the flow. Like if I’m satisfying you.

Weiss:*blushes* I promise you that I’ve never once faked a noise with you. Wait, am I slacking!?

Jaune:N- well…no. I wouldn’t say that.

Weiss:I don’t like that hesitation! What exactly does that mean.

Jaune:My hips have been getting a little tired.

Weiss:…Ah, I see. So you wanna do it less?

Jaune:Interesting how you’re not bringing out topping as a solution!

Weiss:Look! I…sigh it’s a little embarrassing at times.

Jaune:How is it any more embarrassing than anything else I do to you?

Weiss:*crimson* It’s hard to keep focus….

Jaune:*red* I don’t know how but you made that response kinda cute.

Weiss:Hush!

Jaune:Anyways, I didn’t start this conversation for that specifically. I wanted to know what other ways I could do better or try.

Weiss:What brought this on all of a sudden.

Jaune:To be honest, it’s still a little surreal you and I are together to begin with. *rubs head* I wanna do my best for you.

Weiss:(And he calls me cute…) First, I hope you realize I’m not the kind of person to lose interest just because the sex isn’t as phenomenal as it could be all the time, or even occasionally. There’s a thousand other reasons why I adore you Jaune Arc.

Jaune:That’s nice to hear. Not that I doubted there weren’t any. Still, I’d like to know you better. I won’t judge you.

Weiss:….*looks away* Well, I wouldn’t be upset if you were more aggressive or even strict. I’m not as delicate as I look; you know that.

Jaune:Aggressive how?

Weiss:You know…desire wise. I don’t mind if you’re a little impatient or brutish. *bright red* I could handle that just fine. *looks at him* You better actually give me advice too! It’s frustrating saying all of this.

Jaune:I like it when you’re honest.

Weiss:That’s even more embarrassing and frustrating!

Jaune:But you’re so beautiful when you’re like that. *smiles* It feels good knowing you’re loving it.

Weiss:Well you could also stand to be more confident, hmph! You literally have me in bed. Trust me, the difficult part is over. I can tell you overthink at times; though I guess that’s kept you alive in life.

Jaune:Anything in particular you wanted to…experiment with?

Weiss:Jaune!

Jaune:Like I said, won’t judge. I’m open to ideas.

Weiss could feel her face heating up. She slowly stepped toward Jaune and took his hand. Weiss raised it up for her cheek to rest in. Weiss looked at him with need as she gradually dragged his hand down to her neck to gently squeeze.

Weiss:I’m only going to say this once so you better pay attention.

Jaune:….

Weiss:…..Own me. Make me want to do nearly anything. I don’t need control; not when I’m safe with you.

Jaune:Weiss….

Weiss:I know that might sound a little much but-

Her heart leapt out of her chest as Jaune pulled her in quickly with a rough kiss that silenced her. His right arm kept her waist against his while his left held one of her wrist. A brief separation allowed her to catch her breath and clear head as he went back in for another.

Weiss:T-Timeout!

Jaune:Hmmm?

Weiss:Good start; amazing even. But I have to go to lunch in like fifteen minutes.

Jaune:Yang is always late.

Weiss:It’s with Winter.

Jaune:…That’s a little bit more serious. *rests head on her*

Weiss:Heh, sorry. What happened to this being a talk?

Jaune:I wasn’t expecting you to say something so…honest. How could I not want you right now?

Weiss:*flustered*…Well, we can pick up after I get back? Maybe try and show some of the things we’re interested in.

He was trying not to look pouty, which Weiss found adorable. His arms reluctantly left her body to both of their dismay. Weiss saw her blushing boyfriend lean back in. As she tilted her head up to meet his kiss, a tiny squeak left her lips when Jaune chose to bite the crook of her neck instead, gently kissing the newly made mark afterwards. Weiss instantly covered it, stunned from the surprise move as Jaune started to fix her collar and put her braid over her shoulders to cover it.

Jaune:Can’t say I entirely understand what you mean by “owning” but consider that proof you’re mine.

Weiss:…*inhales* Okay.

Weiss:*hurries out the door*

Jaune: *covers face* (Maybe that was too much?)

xxxxxxx

Weiss:(AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH) *reaches restaurant*

Winter:Weiss! *waves* Trying something new?

Weiss:Hm!?!

Winter:*points* Your hair.

Weiss:Oh, yeah. *inhales*…Yeah

[juceynightmare]

dating 101 (18+) part 23 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x fem!reader, roman reigns x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

|| previous part || next part ||

“what are we?” was the question that echoed in the room the second it had left y/n’s mouth. it was the late in the afternoon now, and after showering together, buying a plan b, and eating out at a nearby pho restaurant, the two of them went back to cuddling on y/n’s bed. he knew one of them was bound to ask the question sooner or later, considering the fact that the two of them had quite literally scarred each other with their initials, and the last mark cody had cut into her skin had been his first name.

cody sighed, his gaze trained on the ceiling although he could feel y/n’s gaze on him, almost as if she was begging for him to look down at where she was laying on his chest. “i don’t know.” he mumbled, feeling his heart hurt in his chest at a realization that y/n was most likely still going to go to roman. for whatever reason, the man didn’t want to bring up roman. the thought of roman had suddenly made him feel angry, and not because cody likes y/n. he figures something had to have happened during basement night, because whenever he tried to remember what happened with roman, he’d only see red. “are you still going to be with roman even though i’m the first person you see in the morning when you wake up and the last person you see before you fall asleep?” he asked, and the question had been laced with so much hurt that cody couldn’t even mask it if he tried.

god, y/n couldn’t believe austin was right.

she tore her gaze away from cody’s face, fixing her gaze on her wall as she slid her head off of his chest and into the crook of his shoulder. roman had texted and called her that morning as soon as he woke up, but y/n couldn’t bring herself to even open the text or call him back. the guilt was too much, and now it had all erupted in her face.

she’d be stupid to not recognize the hurt in cody’s voice. cody liked her, but y/n couldn’t even figure out if she was simply infatuated with roman and not actually liking him in the way she thought she did. what she did know was the fact that she was drawn to cody like a moth to a flame, and that every part of her body that was currently touching his had felt as if she had been electrified.

“you don’t even date.” she mumbled, her defense mechanism telling her to argue, argue, argue.

“you haven’t even thought of there being a possibility that maybe, just maybe, i see myself dating you.” cody angrily huffed. and despite the anger that laced his voice, he tightened his arm around her to pull her closer into his side. “i like you, y/n. and maybe i’ve liked you this whole time, i don’t know.”

that certainly wasn’t the way cody had expected to confess to y/n, although he supposes it was the perfect confession for two humans who used each other for their own needs.

“cody, you said yourself that you don’t see yourself being committed to one person.” she said, ignoring cody’s confession because she knew now that cody has liked her the entire time. when she pushed herself up to sit up on her bed and face cody, she found that his gaze was already piercing through her. it was as if a dam had broken down in his gaze, and every unsaid emotion cody has been hiding from her had finally flowed over.

“god forbid that i grow up and have a different view on what i want out of life.” cody scoffed, pushing himself off the bed so he could also sit up on the mattress. “i tried, y/n. i tried to ignore my feelings for you and fuck them straight into someone else. yesterday morning, right after you had gone off to roman, i tried to literally bury my feelings in some other girl’s pussy and guess what? it didn’t work. because here i am still in your bed hoping that you’d wake up and realize that i don’t give you the ick when i kiss you, no matter how many times you say that me being a frat boy gym rat is an ick in itself.”

y/n stared at cody, eyes wide and her heart falling in her chest. here, her best friend was pouring his heart out for her in the most cody way possible.

“i like you, y/n. you’re my favorite person in this entire world, and if this doesn’t prove how much of myself i’m willing to give to you-” cody grabbed her hand and lifted his shirt, pressing the palm of her hand over the cut she had made into his stomach. “then i don’t know what will. i’m not good at this relationship shit. i’ve never had a girlfriend, and i’ve certainly never felt this way about someone.”

y/n gulped, her fingers brushing over the cut gently. she stared down at her lap, breaking the eye contact with cody and feeling her brain began to pound against her skull. her heart had felt full in her chest after his confession, and the cuts of cody’s initials on her hip and his name on her back had began to burn and itch, as if to remind her that she had asked him to carve himself into her.

she thought about the way she’s been acting around cody. the way she’d literally run to him after feeling disgusted about kissing roman. the way her body had literally wanted to claw at itself after realizing that she had made out with randy and not cody. the way cody had made himself a permanent fixture in her college life. the way that cody was the one who lured her out of her shell and made her realize that if it weren’t for them, she’d most definitely be hating her college life right now.

she had also learned that despite the fact that cody had always sounded like he’d be an emotionless asshole considering the trail of broken hearts he left behind, cody was the same man who’d tie her hair up every morning, hold her hand so she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and make sure that she felt safe at all hours of the day. he’d literally flip the world on its axis just to make sure y/n didn’t have a shit college experience and that she’d only have happy memories here.

“i’m not good at relationships either, i’ve never had a boyfriend.” she mumbled in response, finally looking up to meet cody’s gaze. “i don’t know if what i feel for you is more than platonic.” she admitted softly, and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest at the way she could visibly see cody’s heart break. “but i do know that i like being around you, being taken care of by you, kissing you and getting fucked by you. you’re my favorite person and…” her voice trailed off, and suddenly y/n felt embarrassed. she leaned forward, her head turned downwards and she rested her forehead against cody’s shoulder. “i know that i don’t feel fireworks that tingle all the way down to the ends of my fingers and toes when someone hugs me that isn’t you and i hate kissing someone who isn’t  you.”

cody would settle for that answer for now, and he wrapped his arms around the girl. he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and he felt his heart pump slowly in his chest. “so what now? you know i like you and see myself being committed to just you. you don’t know how you feel for me, but it sounds like you don’t want me to stay away.” he asked, closing his eyes and burying his face in the girl’s hair.

“let me figure things out, i guess.” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around cody’s midsection and moving so that she could straddle his lap. “i don’t want you to stop how you’ve already been acting around me, but i think it’s best we don’t kiss or fuck for a while. not until i figure out what i want.” she said.

cody nodded his head, not trusting his own words as he pulled his face out of her hair. he brought his hand up to the back of her neck, squeezing it gently as if to tell her to look up at him. when she pulled her head away to look at him, cody felt as though he could read her thoughts when he looked into her eyes. he could feel the way her thoughts were running a thousand miles an hour, and cody knew what her first step was to figuring out her own emotions. “you’re going to talk to roman, aren’t you?” he asked, watching the way shock quickly took over her features. he flattened out her hair, leaning in as if he were going to kiss her, but quickly dipped his head and pressed a kiss where her neck and shoulder met. “go. i’m getting angry at the thought of you being with roman for reasons that i know isn’t just because of my jealousy.” he laughed, lifting his head and seeing the uncertainty in y/n’s eyes.

“will you be okay if i go talk to him?” y/n asked, bringing her hand up to cup cody’s cheek.

he smiled at her, a half-assed smile that hurt y/n where it really mattered. “if it helps you figure out what you want, then yes, i’ll be more than okay.” he assured her. he bucked his hips up, as if to tell her to get off of his lap and leave. “text ted if you’ll be joining us for dinner. he should be back soon.”

it hadn’t gone over her head that cody had told her to text ted instead of him, but she didn’t push it. everything had blown up so quickly and y/n needed to figure things out now - midterms were starting the very next day and she didn’t need to have this on her mind when she should be worrying about her upcoming exams.

she pushed herself off of cody, stopping herself from leaning in and pecking his lips despite how much her body and heart were yelling at her to ease his pain. she walked over to her desk where both of their phones were resting, picking up her phone and texting roman.

[y/n] can i come over? we need to talk.

she watched as his read receipt showed up almost immediately. what caught her eye was the fact that cody’s phone had lit up with roman’s contact calling him, and she turned to look at cody.

“who is it?” he asked as he got out of bed.

“why did roman call you after reading my text?” she asked, pulling cody’s phone off of the charger and handing cody his phone once he stood beside her.

he stared down at roman’s contact, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as he watched the call eventually drop because he let it ring for too long. “no idea.” he mumbled, looking over at y/n’s phone and reading her text with roman. “you didn’t text him anything about me either, so really there’s no reason why he should call me.”

cody unlocked his phone and pulled up his and roman’s text message, about to call the man back before a text from roman popped up.

[roman] she’s texting me talking about suddenly “needing to talk”

[roman] i’ll kill you, rhodes. i know you told her.

he turned his phone off after he read the texts, and before y/n could see it. he cleared his throat, wondering what happened the previous night because seeing roman’s text had ignited something in him. “he text you yet?” he asked her, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“yeah he did. apparently he’s already here in the building talking to a friend of his so he’s coming up.” she hummed, looking up at cody. “you should probably…” her voice trailed off.

cody nodded his head, wondering if it would be okay for him to reach out for a hug. he didn’t like the thought of roman being in the room with y/n alone, considering the threat roman had just texted cody. he settled for patting her head and telling her, “call me or knock on my door if you need me, okay?”

she nodded her head and it took cody a moment for him to actually get moving, feeling as though his feet were glued to the floor. reluctantly, cody made his way out of the room, the only sound as he left being the sound of his keys.

just as he left, roman was already outside of y/n’s door. instead of greeting cody when they crossed paths, roman simply bumped shoulders with cody, and cody returned roman’s fiery glare as the two stood side by side facing opposite directions. for whatever reason, seeing roman now had cody wishing he could raise a fist and slam it into roman’s jaw as hard as he possibly could. but why? because cody wanted to make a statement that he’s better than roman? no, even cody knew that picking a fight with his love rival wouldn’t make him win the girl. so why did cody feel as though he wanted to strangle roman, and why did roman share that same hostility? did cody spill his feelings for y/n during basement night and roman remembered? was roman’s threat because he told cody not to confess to y/n because it’d ruin his chances with her?

every scenario was running through cody’s head, but instead of pressing further, he simply bumped shoulders with roman again, harder than roman had pushed his shoulder against his, and walked past him to walk into his room. cody was going to do everything he could to remember what the fuck happened that night.

y/n watched from inside her room, her eyes wide at the hostility that had occurred outside of her room. eventually though, roman realized that y/n’s door was wide open and she had seen the entire interaction.

roman sighed, thinking of lies to make up to get out of this situation while still saving his 500 dollar bet as he stepped foot inside the room and shut the door behind him.

“look, whatever cody said, it’s a lie, okay? i don’t even know who she is. cody’s trying to spread rumors about me because he’s jealous of us and-” roman began, only to be cut off by a very confused y/n.

“what’s a lie? who is this ‘she’ you’re referring to?” y/n asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow at roman’s words.

roman couldn’t think of a lie quick enough that’d get himself out of this deeper hole he had dug himself into.

|| next part ||

[loserscanwritetoo]

Starman

Chapter 3

TW: Description of a panic attack, mention of past su1cid3 attempt

Nico wouldn’t say that he was a pessimist, but after the awkward run-in with SunBoy last night he would be lying if he said he didn’t run back home and barged into Hazel's room.

The past day had been alright. Turns out Hazel wasn’t a bitch, just an introvert who quite literally had no idea what to do with a big brother, and honestly, Nico wasn’t sure how to behave now either. He knew, realistically, that they would never have a ‘normal’ sibling relationship, but he still hoped, somewhere deep down, that they might become somewhat normal over town. 

Hazel was nice, and Nico liked most of her friends. Frank wasn’t too bad either. Apparently he was just shy with a resting bitch face. 

However kind her friends may be, Nico knew that he would never feel safe with them. You know when you meet a new person, and you badly want you to click, but something is just a little bit off? That’s how Nico felt with Hazel's friends, but it would work. He really just needed to get through two years, and then he’d graduate and be able to move back home, and go back to his solitude. That was a safe plan, and he’d stick to it. He wasn't going to let some half sister get between him and his goal, and he definitely wouldn’t let a guy ruin it for him.

He’d let guys ruin things for him since even before he realized he was gay. There was the italian guy in the playground in preschool, the mysterious foodie in middle school, and numerous other crushes that he had promised never to tell anyone about. Well, he’d told Bianca, but that didn’t count. He’d told Bianca everything.

He never ended up telling his mom though. She had a tendency to be a bit old fashioned, and Nico didn’t want to risk losing her. He had planned to tell her once he had moved out, but that was before the accident. 

Sometimes he found himself talking out loud, as if his family was still with him. Sometimes he cried, because he wished it would’ve been him and not them. Bianca was a genius, both academically and socially. Nico had always just been her weird little brother, who cut his own hair because he hated hairdressers, and only wore clothes a size too big, because he didn't want anyone to look at him. She had a bigger reason to live. Nico was just… kind of there. Didn't do much, didn't say much, and didn’t make much of an impression on anyone.

That’s why he had been so uncomfortable when he saw that Will was watching him in the graveyard. That was Nico at his most vulnerable, and Will had forced himself into his bubble. 

“You will not believe what just happened!” He thumped down on Hazel's bed, realizing a little too late that Hazel was in the middle of a facetime call with Annabeth.

“Good evening to you too Nico” she replied with a sigh. It looked like Annabeth was about to say something, but Nico interrupted her.

“Not now Annabeth, this is a missing-fathers-only conversation”. Annabeth opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Nico leaned over Hazel and hung up the phone.

“Nico, I swear to god, if this is not super important I will kill you. We were busy talking”

“Yeah, yeah, Luke’s an asshole, I’ve heard” Hazel glared at him, but Nico just rolled his eyes. He’d had enough of hearing about Luke, especially when no one seemed to want to tell him what he had actually done that was so bad. 

“So I was in the graveyard-”

“No normal person hangs out in the graveyard.” Hazel interrupted.

“Shut up. As I was saying, I was in the graveyard,” He felt his breathing speed up and his limbs starting to vibrate. “And I’m talking to Bianca and mom” He felt like a weight was put over his chest “and then all of a sudden Will fucking Solace is there and he’s watching me, and probably thinking I’m crazy, and I really don’t want him thinking that because I’m not crazy, or am I?” He tried to form more words, but his mouth was so dry, and it was like all of a sudden no words made sense, and he couldn't form sentences, he felt like his head was being dunked underwater, and Hazel seemed to seep further and further away.

He could see her opening her mouth, watched her talk, but he couldn’t hear her, and then she was gone and he was left alone in her room. It seemed to shrink more and more as every second ticked by, and he was afraid it would kill him, crush him down into a fine powder, and then finally he would join mom and Bianca again, and he wouldn't be so alone.

He was so alone. So very alone. It was just him against the world.

He felt a lump form in his stomach, and before he had time to react he threw up all over Hazel’s floor. He was startled by the sound of a door slamming open, and he felt someone hold him, talking to him in a soothing voice, but he couldn't hear the words. Then a hand was pressed against his chest, and he noticed it wasn't moving. He wasn’t breathing. How do you even breathe?

The hand moved up into the air, and then down again, over and over again, until Nico realized his chest was supposed to follow it, and it did.

Slowly he seemed to come back to reality, and he realized he was sobbing. Hazel was holding him, and handed him a glass of water. She clearly didn’t know how to handle this, and Nico’s heart sank. He had just come crashing into her life, and now here she was, sitting on her floor, surrounded by his vomit, trying to comfort someone she’d known for less than a day. He realized she was speaking, but her voice was laced in concern.

“Hey, I’ve got you. I’m here.” Nico tried to answer, but no words came out, so he just leaned into her touch and cried. Cried for the first time since the funeral. Felt all of the feelings he had done his best to ignore for months.

He cried out of anger. Anger for that drunk driver who had separated him from his family. 

Out of sadness, because he would never see his mom or Bianca ever again.

And out of embarrassment, because Hazel saw him like this. No one was supposed to see him like this. Not even Bianca had seen him like this. God, how he missed her. He would do anything to be with her again.

Hazel grabbed his hand, and he realized he'd been stroking the ugly, horizontal scars on his wrists. Now she was crying too. He had ruined everything, and he just wanted to sink into the ground.

Those scars were his biggest shame. He had been drunk, and angry, and sad, and willing to do anything to be with his family again. He had sworn never to do anything like it ever again

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so fucking sorry” Hazel tried her best to steady herself before replying with a shaky breath,

“Don’t apologize for feeling things. How can I help you?”

“You can’t”

“Let me in, Nico. You don't have to be alone in this.”

And so Nico talked, and he didn't stop until the early hours of the morning. When the siblings finally fell asleep, holding each other, Nico felt a little lighter. Hazel was good. He was going to give this a chance.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Hazel's alarm went off at 6 am, and Nico rubbed his eyes desperately. It was so early, and he felt like he had only slept for a minute or two. Next to him, Hazel groaned, before falling out of her bed, letting out a little yell. Nico couldn't stop himself from laughing, and Hazel glared at him before kicking him out of her room to get dressed.

Nico took a quick shower and found some clean-ish clothes in a moving box that he had never bothered to unpack. It still smelled of his home back in Italy, and he took a minute to breathe it in before downstairs where she was met by Hazel and Marie. 

He grabbed a sandwich and got into his car. It was a crappy RV, that barely even ran anymore, but he had bought it with his first paycheck, and he loved it. 

Since it was his, nobody could stop him from smoking in it, so naturally, he lit a cigarette. Hazel joined him and they sat in silence as Nico finished his smoke. When he had put it out, he glanced at her, considering telling her his biggest secret.

“Don’t you even dare apologize for last night”

“I wasn’t going to! It’s just, I want to tell you something,” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m gay.” Hazel hesitated for a second before replying

“Cool. Are you gonna make sure we get to school on time?” She smiled at him, and Nico mirrored her response before rushing off in a speed that definitely wasn’t legal, but he didn't care. He had a sister. He wasn’t alone. She might not be Bianca, but right now, Hazel felt just as safe.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I made a post a year ago, I think, about how I enjoy that this site has a few blogs that are entirely dedicated to being obsessed with Tim Key, so everyone once in a while I’ll open Tumblr and be flooded with images of Tim Key, because the Tim Key blogs have decided to be active today, and I guess it’s Tim Key Monday.

Well, this time, for once, it’s been Tim Key Week in my comedy calendar, and it’s been a good time. Here are some things this week has covered:

- It started because Tim Key recently went on RHLSTP, and someone recommended it to me, so I listened to that latest episode. This was the first episode I’d ever heard of that podcast (aside from that YouTube video of the car crash with Stewart Lee) because I’m not a massive fan of Richard Herring, but I really enjoyed that one. So then I listened to the other three appearances that Tim Key has made on there, all within the last few years, because Tim Key has been very busy with writing books lately (just putting out his third book since the start of COVID) and keeps going on there to promote them. But then he ends up not promoting them, and just spending the whole time talking shit about Richard Herring.

God, he’s ridiculously quick. He just goes right into character and stays there the entire time, he can take anything Richard Herring says and spin it around in a split second and hit him back with it. Really sharp and can make absolutely anything funny. Literally anything. I re-watched that DVD extra interview he did with Simon Amstell last night, and that really highlighted how much he can make the most mundane thing in the world hilarious.

It's amazing style, I think. Be just a few steps outside of what is normal and reasonable to say, but say it with full confidence, and then ask other people what’s wrong with them when they don’t keep up. I’d previously seen him do it for five sets of No More Jockeys, and delighted in hearing he’s like that all the time.

- I enjoyed that, so got sent some more Tim Key things. His Radio 4 documentaries, of which I had heard one before, because it featured Kitson, and earlier this year I did my huge trek through every weird tiny thing where Daniel Kitson might have had even the most obscure role (I watched a terrible movie called Dog Eat Dog, the rabbit hole went deep, and the rabbit hole contained a Tim Key documentary about a Russian novelist). But I hadn’t heard some others, so I spent an evening listening to Tim Key talk about Russian poets and writers and how to start a novel, and that was lovely. I enjoyed that.

- But the main things I got were a couple of recordings of his old stand-up shows, and this album he recorded in 2010, called On a Boat With a String Quartet, where he reads poetry and talks shit to Tom Basden. I really, really enjoyed listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. I realized I have heard that before, as they were together on season 2 of Mark Watson Makes the World Substantially Better, and on Mark Watson’s Live Address to the Nation, and they did basically the same thing there. This album made me remember how much I enjoyed those radio shows, partly because of how much I enjoy listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. “Wow,” I thought. “I wish there were only some way of hearing more of Tim Key reading poetry while talking shit to Tom Basden.” Then I remembered he has a five-season radio show that I’ve somehow never heard before.

- So next on the list was the Late Night Poetry Programme, which I’d been vaguely meaning to listen to “at some point” for ages, and this was clearly that time. God, it was good. I’d heard Tim’s poems before in various contexts, but really enjoyed hearing so many of them at once. And the soundscape was nice. And of course it was fun when he talked shit to Tom Basden.

I think the first few seasons were pretty well perfect, just those two in a studio with little hints of their life outside it, dropped through a line or a word or two, throwaway jokes where the meaning hits you a little at a time as you realize what it implies about the life they live. It was cool at first, when they started opening it up and we actually saw that bigger world that they’d been teasing for a while. By season 5, I have to admit, I felt like it had gone too far. Which they acknowledged several times, Tom Basden making comments that they’d gotten too far away from season 1 and Tim Key doesn’t even read his poems anymore. But I did kind of think the character was right. The sitcom was still fun, I enjoyed every episode. But I think my favourties were when it was just two people in a studio reading poetry.

Katy Wix was good, though. And I did enjoy the guest stars throughout all five seasons. That turned into a game that I was able to play due to my abysmal lack of talent for identifying people based on the sound of their voice alone. Because I’m so bad at it, I avoided looking at the notes beforehand, and tried to guess who that episode’s guest voice actor was, and would then hear in the credits whether I was right. I was quite bad at it. I went through an entire episode with Sally Phillips, and two entire episodes with Mike Wozniak, convinced that they were played by people I’d never heard before, even though I know both those voices quite well.

I only guessed a few. By the end of Isy Suttie’s episode, I was about 80% sure it was Suttie, and then I turned out to be right. I got Bridget Christie’s voice right away, though that’s partly because I knew from a No More Jockey’s episode that she’d show up at some point, and she hadn’t been on it yet and this was the last episode, so it had to be her. The only voice where I was immediately, 100% sure who it was was when they had Liam Williams on. Absolutely no question there. That is an extremely distinctive voice, it was almost distracting because every time he spoke I just thought “Oh it’s Liam Williams” rather than believing it was a farmer or whatever.

- After that, I wanted even more Key & Basden, and I remembered how Stuart Goldsmith says that his best evidence for why TV isn’t a meritocracy is that Cowards never got more than three TV episodes. So I downloaded those TV episodes. But of course I have to do things in order, so first I downloaded the radio episodes. Did the radio show and then the TV show.

I really liked those, and I’m often not big on sketch comedy. These were fucking great, though. The TV show had quite a few sketches that I could see myself re-watching on YouTube one at a time. And that’s nice, because for years I’ve done that regularly with Mitchell and Webb, but these days I watch those and have trouble enjoying them as much because, you know, transphobia. I guess I should stop being shocked when it turns out that Footlights men from the early 00s may not be the most clued-up people in the world about trans issues (Webb, Ayoade). But if Tim Key or Tom Basden or those other two guys (sorry, I do vaguely know they both have quite good careers in their own right, but in my mind they are those other two guys) in Cowards have any views on trans people whatsoever, I’d like them to keep that to themselves so I can have some new sketches to re-watch on YouTube without feeling guilty. No more Footlights guys from the early 00s should be allowed to talk about trans people (except John Oliver, actually Mark Watson’s made some pro-trans rights statements too, they can stay).

Anyway, the point is that I really enjoyed the sketches. They all seemed so cohesive – the characters, and the plots, and the actors. A lot of sketches didn’t end on huge punchlines, which I always think is the sign of a good sketch, if it’s funny enough to get laughs throughout and not just for a twist at the end. Really good stuff. I see Stuart Goldsmith’s point.

- Then I still hadn’t had enough Key & Basden on Radio 4, so I downloaded the sitcom Party. That was pretty good. The jokes were consistent and funny, which is the main point. I have to admit the premise didn’t work quite as well today as it might have then, which is not Tom Basden’s fault, as you can’t have expected him to foresee the fall of Western civilization back in 2010. In 2010, I remember that the idea of naïve youths involved in politics was funny. Straw feminists and all that. Whereas these days, the situation is so dire that if I see a young person who’s politically engaged, I don’t want to make fun of them for being underinformed anymore. I just want to say “Thank you for doing anything besides making Tik-Tok videos and listening to Joe Rogan while Rome burns.”

Having said that, the point of this show was not exactly to be hard-hitting satire of student politics, it was to be a vehicle for jokes. And it did that very well. It was funny. The characters were good, too. Five different main characters it a lot for a sitcom that started with only four half-hour episodes, but by the end of the very first episode, I had a clear idea of who was who. I could tell their voices apart, which helps (Tim Key’s voice I know, Tom Basden’s voice sounds a bit too similar to Johnny Sweet’s but I could tell them apart if I tried hard enough, I can tell Katy Wix’s Welsh accent apart from Anna Crilly). And each character was sufficiently distinctive for me to see why they were there.

- Just today, I watched The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island, written by and starring Key & Basden. I enjoyed it. Short films, or films in general, aren’t hugely my thing. But I liked the pretty shots of English countryside. I liked the dismal shots of the ocean in bad weather and little rowboats and the old house. And it was a nice story starring a folk singer and an eccentric person, and what more could I want out of some characters?

I know Tim Key has done a bunch of short films before, some with Tom Basden. The only other one I’ve seen is Very Few Fish, which I watched entirely because of that bit at the end of a No More Jockeys episode, where Tim lists all the Taskmaster contestants he has or hasn’t touched, and says he’s kissed Aisling Bea, on screen. I found out that he’d kissed her in this weird short film written by Tom Basden, so I watched that out of curiosity.

And found… it was quite a good film, probably deserved to get more commissioned. But I didn’t like the bit where he made out with Aisling Bea. I’d just watched all this No More Jockeys, where he’s in his house and playing himself so I felt like I knew him. And I don’t want to see people I know graphically make out with other people. It’s like when your friend is doing PDA at a party. It’s even weirder than when a stranger does it, because you just think, I don’t want to see you that way. I know you, I like you, that side of you is meant to be kept behind closed doors please. That’s what Very Few Fish felt like. Like following a friend on a date and watching him make out with someone. It was weird.

That’s an interesting level of parasocial relationship, isn’t it? Watching No More Jockeys has parasoically made me feel like that guy is my friend, but the effect is not for me to try to hang out with him on social media or anything creepy like that, the only effect is I don’t want to watch him kiss anyone. That’s probably okay, as far as these things go.

- Last night, I tried the first episode of We Need Answers. I’d have absolutely loved to see the stage version of this, I have collected pictures and short videos of it from various corners of the internet (including those fucking unhinged promo videos on Alex Horne’s YouTube channel that introduce the contestants), they had all the best comedians and it seems like a great showcase of my peak area of interest, which is 00s Edinburgh comedy.

However, I’ve always avoided the TV show because the list of guests is awful. Almost no comedians, heavy on presenters and reality show people. It didn’t help that the first episode featured noted transphobe Germaine Greer (also, as I always feel the need to add when her name comes up, she wasn’t some perfect feminist who was ruined by going TERF, I always disliked some of the comments she’d made about cis women who didn’t fit the type of womanhood that she liked, and I hate the she’s held us as an example of great feminism). So I’m open to giving it another shot. Does anyone have opinions on whether it gets better in the future? The first episode was all right, but I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

So that is my Tim Key binge. Does anyone have recommendations for things I’ve missed? Especially short films, I know there are other good ones. Happy Tim Key Thursday, everyone!

[dumfanting]

See You Again

AO3 Link

Rating: Safe, will be mature/explicit in later chapters. Please respect that this is an 18+ only blog.

Warnings: none

Notes: fem reader, second person pov, present tense, reader owns a bar and used to sing publicly

Word Count: 1061

(Not to be confused with kaminocasey’s story of the same name)

I’ve had a vague idea from this song for literally years but only recently had a specific enough idea to start working on it.

Recommended listening: See You Again- Elle King

F! Reader/ Gregor

You find someone lost, but may wind up losing him.

You push the back door of the bar open with your hip, since your hands are full with the evening trash bags. The chilly air of the desert at night feels heavenly on your sweaty brow. You lug the bags behind you for a few meters, then haphazardly toss each one into the waste unit at the end of the alleyway. You find deep satisfaction in the sound of breaking bottles, and pause to stretch your back for a moment. When you turn around to go back inside, you see a trail of garbage leading from the back door to the waste unit; one of the bags must have had a hole in it.

You think about just leaving it there to deal with when you return to open back up, then remember how snippy the landlord got last time you didn’t clean it up right away. You groan in aggravation, resigned to yet another chore you shouldn’t even be doing, but Mayr called out today, so you have to pick up the slack. Which you expect to do every now and then, it’s part of owning a business, but tonight was rough. Another fight broke out and you’d been hit on multiple times by a persistent creep, so you’re especially tired, which is why you’re irritated by the extra work.

You run back into the building and fetch a broom and dustpan to clean up the concrete path with, though it really won’t make much difference, the place is such a dump anyway. You start sweeping, and your mind wanders. Without being fully conscious of it, you sing a slow, soft song as you work.

“So won’t you stay, ‘til the morning, I’ve been frozen since that night you sang with me…”

The sound of approaching footsteps jerks you out of your tired haze and you immediately go silent, listening carefully for any other noises.

“Who’s there?” you say, assertive. A few seconds pass, but you get no reply. “I can hear you walking,” you continue, holding tightly to the broom handle and glancing around.

The footsteps approach again, coming from a gap between buildings a few doors down. You turn toward the sound, on edge. Whoever it is walks under one of the weak lights, and seems familiar. You watch them approach and keep your guard up, just in case they try something stupid.

“Sorry miss, I didn’t mean to spook you,” they say in a low, gravelly voice, coming to a stop a few yards away from you.

Now that you’ve heard them and can see better, you recognize one of your regulars. You don’t know his name but there’s no mistaking his tanned skin, wide nose, and dark eyes. He comes in nearly every night, probably after leaving work, gets a single Kork and sits quietly at the end of the bar, alone, occasionally telling off someone who won’t leave you alone, which you appreciate. He has an odd air about him of someone who is lost but hasn’t realized it yet, and a part of you feels for him. All of your interactions have been friendly enough so far, so you don’t have much reason to be suspicious, though you know better than to relax completely. Not that it matters, but he isn’t hard on the eyes either.

“Sure you didn’t. It’s totally normal to creep up on someone alone in the dark late at night like this,” you say sarcastically.

He cringes. “Yeah, I didn’t really think about that,” he says.

You continue sweeping, glancing up at him every few seconds to keep track of where he is. “Well? Why are you here? I saw you leave hours ago, and you should know when I close the bar by now,” you say. You’ve lightened your tone, but not by much.

“Oh, I do know, I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up this late,” he says, taking a cautious step closer.

“I’m almost always up this late, the work doesn’t end when I lock the front doors,” you say.

“Really? I’ve never seen you back here before,” he says, his interest piqued.

“Mayr called out today, so I’m having to do their job on top of my own, I’m not usually the one outside,” you say. You grab the dustpan and sweep everything into it before dumping it out on top of the trash bags.

“So,” you say, dusting your hands off, “do you usually skulk around here this late at night?”

He shakes his head. “I only walk around like this when I can’t sleep,” he says.

You gather up the broom and dustpan, and move to head back inside, but pause at the door, waiting to hear anything else he has to say. He shifts awkwardly on his feet for a moment.

“I, um, heard you singing,” he says.

You chuckle. “Had to find the dying tooka, huh?” you say.

He frowns at you. “That's not what it sounded like to me at all. You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” he says, almost stern with you.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you otherwise don’t know how to respond.

He keeps talking; “I know you have live music here every now and then, why haven’t you ever gone up?” he asks.

You chuckle, then sigh sadly. “I used to, back on Coruscant. But that was a long time ago, and there’s nobody here who would want to hear me,” you say, not meeting his eyes.

“I would,” he says, surprising you. You glance up at him and the expression on his face makes you think he didn’t mean to say that out loud. The seconds stretch out for far too long before he clears his throat. “Well, uh, you’ve got work to do, I won’t hold you up any longer, sorry,” he says, then turns back toward the main street.

He’s a few paces away when you call out to him. “Wait, what’s your name?” you ask.

He turns enough to look over his shoulder at you. “Gregor,” he says, a soft smile on his face. You feel something faintly stir in your chest, but ignore it and tell him your name. He repeats it back to you and nods.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says, and the next thing you know, he’s turned the corner and disappeared.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69

To be added to or removed from the tag list for this specific story, reply to the post.

[pussyterminator88]

How drugs affect your personality

Have you ever thought about how you act while being on a substance.

What I mean is, do u know how you are being perceived by others when you are saying the things you are saying or doing. Do the words from your mouth come out worse then what they actually sound in your mind and same goes with your actions ?

Idk I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and it’s low-key sending me into a spiral. Sometimes I feel like I can talk a little bit too much about myself which can make me look entitled….maybe? This is just speculation and an observation, but when you are in a different state of mind your self perception kind of goes out the window. And maybe sometimes it can come off as I only care about what I have to say and the world just revolves around me, my life, people I know and my experiences.

However I think that instead of being so hard on myself and thinking that way, I should see it in a more positive light. Like for example, instead of painting myself as an entitled self-centered bitch in my head, I should maybe think about a different reason, of why I talk so much about anything, to everything, to nothing, to me, to others. Because after all not everything is black or white. I don’t like to make everything about me and shit you know. That’s why I just can’t be a self centered individual. I think that I just like to share things with people that I find interesting and create a conversation around that. Not a conversation about me! which is the reason why I don’t try to make things about myself.

I like to share my interest, and have an open discussion about anything and if I have an experience that is relevant to the conversation I might as well bring it up. It makes sense right? But here is the catch, when I’m on a substance I feel super excited about different topics and I’m eager to share my thoughts on things, and I can become so eager that I talk over people and not letting them finish their sentence, but I truly know that this isn’t coming from a place of hatred and selfishness but it’s coming from a place of pure joy and passion for the conversation. For the other person this could be super annoying and seem like I’m rude and that I don’t care about their words. But I truly do care. I just need to learn to let people say what they want to say and then add my thing when the other person or people are done. However I also have a feeling it could be more than just passion and eagerness that makes me so amped and overly hyped over literally the most irrelevant thing.

I think I speak about my life because I want people to be able to feel comfortable with sharing things about their life. To create a space where people can relate to one another and express their feelings about certain things. Not in a sense where I trauma dump and expect the same from others but just create a vibe that’s not toxic an aura that is fun yet interesting.

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense to you, and maybe you truly don’t care about this shit (which is a feeling I get quite often when I’m done speaking with someone.) So, maybe I just overdramatize this whole self image thing and how I’m perceived, and really what I need to realize is that no one really gives as much fucks about the things you say or do afterwards as much as yourself. Because we are all the same in a way, and we all are probably not thinking about what the other person really meant when he/she said those things we just see them as what they are and how they were presented. Not overthinking about this stupid idea of what the real meaning behind those words are. Just because I share something about my life it doesn’t mean that I’m secretly a narcissist, because I know that I’m not bragging, I know I’m not flexing, I’m creating a bond.

and what I know now is that I’m just trying to open as many doors to as many conversations as possible and in this case the habit I need to learn is. These people are not going anywhere and I can wait with my parts or if I don’t understand the context of what others are talking about instead of cutting them of and asking what the conversation is about I should just listen try to figure it out and when it’s reached it’s end and I still don’t get it then allow myself to ask.

[whimseee]

june’s lessons for me:

1. the job I strive for is intellectually stimulating and aligns with my values. these are priorities as they make everything else bearable and worth it

2. the dentist said I should floss before brushing my teeth, which I never knew was the correct process but now I do! and I need to floss more because it does in fact make a difference

3. tea in the morning instead of coffee. better for my teeth and idk why I drink coffee in the first place. I don’t even really like it! unless it’s a little treat ofc

4. you’ve heard of don’t worry about what you can’t change, now get ready for don’t worry about what you can change. and so on. basically if I’m choosing to put myself in a situation, then I have the authority to take myself out of it and/or stick with it knowing that it is my choice. no reason to feel frightened and trapped, the exit is open and I can walk

5. no more people pleasing! obviously. everywhere I look people are saying people pleasing is a mental process in which you go against what you want to do in order to make others happy, but for me it’s an automatic response. I’ll feel 100% okay with doing anything, up until it’s too late to turn back and I realize that it’s not something I’d ever want to do. I need to develop my ability to pause in a situation and reflect before saying yes or no

6. also with people pleasing, no more hiding from the spotlight. I literally love the spotlight, but I duck it when I’m around someone who I feel “deserves” it more or “is better suited for it”…whatever that means! why can’t we both be life-of-the-partys? we’ll encourage others to come out of their shells, too! and I’ll get the chance to feel comfortable + be myself instead of hiding in the corner at an event because I don’t know how much I’m “allowed” to say!

7. I will be murdering my phone this upcoming month. I’ve been spending less and less time on it and honestly whenever I’m doing something on there that’s not reading or tumblr I’m bored. I want to fill my time with things that are actually satisfying

8. on that note, I want a serious hobby. I should get really into reading. and I need a new library card asap! I also wanna write more and take photos and start running again and learn new recipes and

9. don’t trust cashiers who try to get you to sign up for credit cards. speaking as one. we don’t know what we’re doing

10. don’t press a hot washcloth to your face to get rid of a zit. it will burn you. this has happened multiple times and idk why I keep doing it. I need the washcloth to just be warm, not hot

11. walk more, understand + connect with my environment. helps me feel at home and loved

12. spend time with real people. talk to strangers outside of work. hang out with friends more. for goodness sakes it’s what keeps me sane

[starjxsung]

hai bb <3 ive missed youuu! i hope you’re doing so well.

i’m glad you received a lot of support from the neighborhood and that you raised awareness as well. it’s heartbreaking that these things happen and people get away with them more often than not </3

i’ve been bed rotting a lot lately. this semester was so stressful that i gained like 30 pounds bc ✨stress eating✨and i have not been able to lose them bc ✨pcos✨ (oh the things we have to go through as women </3). and i can’t handle looking in a mirror or thinking about outfits for lolla or lolla in general (only minho falling in love with me will break the curse😪) but i manage it through rewatching comfort shows and reading feminist literature that discourages my perfectionist needs.

i’ve never rewatched kingdom entirely soooo new bedrotting material👀 thanks!

rhodes island kitten sent me!! he/she’s doing so well but the mom is ever so protective and won’t even let me touch him/her anymore😪 (she only likes men)

the kitten interview is my new comfort skz content is2g. i love seeing non-cat parents handle kittens. it’s hilarious. everyone struggling and lee know just like “yeah i live like this”. channie was so good with them too! petition for cat dad! chan fr. and the claws!! my cats used to do that so much and at that age they don’t really have too much control of them so it is not for the faint of heart. i felt for them 😂

i haven’t preordered the album yet😪 and probs won’t order it until after lolla bc i have no self control either and kinda went off with my spending on baby stuff for my nephew (who’s due in a month btw such excitement! much scary!) and ateez comeback (kpop doesn’t help my finances).

i looooove your junhan pc aesthetic! i didn’t know you liked xdh🥹🥹 im waiting for my album to arrive bc i preordered it with some other things that weren’t in stock but it just shipped out🥹 i shall update on my pulls✨

take care bb! i love youuuu🫶🏻 i hope you have the best week ever!

MY ANGELLLLLLLL 🫶👼💘❤️💞 it’s so good to chat with you on here again I’ve missed you so so dearly

THE BEDROTTING…. IS SO REAL………… last week I genuinely woke up at 6pm and I thought I just napped or something for a good minute bc I was like there is no way I just slept the entire day away. There was in fact a way bc it was literally just 6pm and I lost my entire Saturday 😍 this bedrot slay

NAURRRR not the kitten who only likes men !!!!???.?.?.?.?.?..? PLSSSS my cat at my parents’ place is so particular to men for some reason and I’m like. GIRL. STAND UP. GET UP. Luckily Momo hates everyone so she’s kind of feminist in the “I only fw my mother” kind of way. Also side note she has so many fans in my apartment complex now and there’s a family with kids who look for her every day to take pics of her in my window 😭😭 she naps in my window all day long when I leave it open while I’m working so the whole neighborhood just ADORES her lol it’s the cutest thing everrrrrr

The amount of times I’ve watched the skz kitten interview. oh my fucking god. Jisung’s little “say something to the world” HWLELPPPDLDKKFDJ I genuinely cannot pick who’s more cutie between them 😭 Chan never struck me as a cat person but in hindsight he gets along with everyone and everything so. makes sense 🫶😭 and Minho is just Minho ofc

IM NGL I only preordered to get a signed album and it wasn’t until after I checked out that I realized I bought the regular ones and then the signed ones sold out 😀 I was like. Oh. Oh! Ok. My wallet is CRYINGGGGG but at least it’s preordered???? LMAO 💔💔💔

I bought my first xdh album a few weeks ago and I’ve been dragging my jh pcs around like a ghost child with their haunted victorian doll oh my god I am OBSESSEDDDD WITH HIM 🤞I also got so many xdh posters with it for some reason so I finally caved and hung all my big ass pob posters in my room and it fully looks like a kpop store in here now LMAO 🚶‍♀️YES update all your pulls !!!!!!!!! I’m so excited 👼

ALSO THE SKZ MEME PLEEAAKKXKXKDKEK SOOOO FUCKING REAL the way my sister texted me the shinee version of that meme this morning 😭😭 I love you bb I hope you have the best week !!!!!!!!!!!! 💓💓💓💓🫶🫶🫶

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

I had my first GVF smutty dream last night (and it was about Sam which I didn’t expect cause I’ve been on quite the Danny kick lately but I’m not complaining) and boy was it something so I figured I’d recall it the best I could for this Wild Wednesday!

We’d only been on a few dates so far but after dinner one night he invited me back to his place for drinks and a movie and to meet the pupper which is the main reason I agreed to go honestly. But we get back and start drinking and watching the movie and cuddling on the couch with Rosie who was a lil skeptical about another woman in her space at first. Part way through he went to top off our stick drinks and after he comes back with the refills he told me I looked so cute with my cheeks all red from the wine and the moonlight streaming in the window.

We started making out on the couch after that declaration and figuring out some things that make the other tick and almost dry humping and feeling each other up until the credits came up on the movie a while later and brought us back to reality. He then heard Rosie scratch at the back door and went to go let her out for a final potty break. When he came back in he asked “I hope this isn’t too forward, but it’s kinda late and we’ve been drinking so would you want to stay over and continue the fun? I could also just call you an Uber if you’d rather go back to your place?”

I said, “I’d love to as long as you have a spare toothbrush cause I wasn’t prepared for this at all.” He said he had some and gave me another quick kiss before telling me to head to his room and that he’d be there in a sec after cleaning up the glasses. I headed to the room he told me was his and laid down in bed after stripping off my top and I started to work on my skinny jeans when he came in and shut the door, already working the last few buttons of his shirt open and tossing it aside before coming over to help tug my pants off. I sat up to help him with his belt and pants in return while he reached over to unhook my bra and once I had managed to pull his pants and boxers down enough I took a second to marvel at his size (which in dream-land was definitely bigger than the two other guys I’ve slept with before) before licking a strip up the length of the underside of him.

I scooted back to lay down against the pillows and waited for him to strip down fully and join me while I kicked my panties off in the process too. He positioned himself between my legs and resumed the grinding from earlier but now without any obstructive layers and his mouth could roam freely over my tits. Eventually, he got the hint that I was ready after trying to position my hips enough that he could maybe just slip right in, and between kisses to my neck he mumbled “ya think you're ready for me to fuck you babe?” And I told him I definitely was as he got himself all lined up and started to push in. Despite being super turned on and in the mood I was having a bad bout of dryness down there which I hadn’t realized yet and since he’s bigger anyway it was a real struggle for him to get in and he could notice my grimacing face twisted up in discomfort. He asked if I was alright and I responded by asking if he had any lube around, to which he said “no. Is that a problem?”

“I was hoping not but I guess I was wrong” I said before he pulled out and sat back on his heels. I explained that my birth control sometimes causes me to have literal dry spells down there and when it happens lube is the only thing to make it any sort of pleasurable for me and I wasn't expecting the hookup so I didn’t come prepared in case it happened. He felt bad and said he’d make sure to have some on hand for the future. He also said that sex is off the table since it made me uncomfortable which was sweet that he was all considerate of my feelings like that, but he still wanted to try and make me feel good since I told him I was still mentally very much in the mood.

I told him he didn’t have to but he insisted and told me to just lay back and relax and that he’d take care of me before stepping down to the side of the bed and pulling my legs over his shoulders so I was right at level with his face. He went to town exploring me with his mouth and as good as it was I still needed something else so I grabbed his hair to pull him away and told him I needed more. He asked what I needed and I said I wanted his fingers, but he still wanted to check and make sure I’d be ok. He started with just his middle finger and sucked it into his mouth to get good and wet before working it in which made me groan embarrassingly loud at the sight of it. He eventually worked a second in as well and I was falling over the edge pretty soon after. Once I had caught my breath he helped me sit up at the side of the bed before he retreated to the bathroom to find the spare toothbrush. Once he came back with it I asked him if he wanted me to repay the favor, but he assured me that he just wanted me to feel good and relax and that he still thoroughly enjoyed himself during it all anyway. I got up to brush my teeth and I could hear him rummaging around in his dresser and he had a cozy t-shirt in hand for me to sleep in when I came out of the bathroom. Once we both redressed ourselves, he hopped in bed and patted the spot next to him in bed so we could cuddle for the night.

It was just very sweet and adorable and respectful of something that happens to me sometimes that I get self-conscious about easily but this was fantastic.

A sweet sexy Sammy would be so nice rn, I wish i had that kinda dream, that was very hot and very cute.

[sistrrrenchantress]

6 Questions Tag Game

Thanks @dwellerinroots for the tag! I haven’t actually ever done one of these so here goes nothing.

1. Last Song?

Ughgh I think Malibu by Hole. I last listened to a podcast and I only use Spotify so I’m like 98% it was Malibu. Anyways I love that song. It’s hopeful and sad and when I was in high school I really wanted someone to whisk me away and we’d go live somewhere by the beach in like a van. You know like those kinda romantic, hazy dreams of van-life before you realize that it’s not realistic.

2. Last Show?

I was gonna say The Last of Us, but actually I watched Modern Family last night. TBH my partner likes TLoU a lot more than I do, but it’s got some scenes that melt my heart a bit. Anyways Modern Family always acts like a personal pick-me-up since it’s kinda nostalgic. Plus sometimes I wish my family was more like them. It also kinda helped me realize what wasn’t healthy about my own personal relationships and know that life goes on even if your family sucks sometimes so even if it’s a mess it kinda has helped me? Idk why I’m trying to explain myself here lmao. I had a class where everyone said it was problematic and I don’t want people thinking I agree with everything in the show or whatever.

3. Currently Watching?

I just finished watching Wakanda Forever so I think it counts since I started this before it ended lmao. Anyways I thought it was okay. Not good, but not terrible. But I also think it was closer to terrible than good. It just felt confused, like it didn’t know what message or arc Shuri was supposed to have so idk idk. I’m not a movie critic so… yeah

4. Currently Reading?

I’m still reading Hyperion. I know it’s been a month, but in my defense the blues have hit me like a truck and I’ve solely been focusing on keeping my GPA. I have one more short story left, which is the Consol’s. Also, I should’ve mentioned but it’s a collection of sci-fi short stories (Canterbury Tales style) taking place eons into the future after Earth has literally imploded. It follows a group of people brought together on a pilgrimage to travel to the mysterious Time Temple on the planet of Hyperion. There’s more but I really don’t wanna spoil anything for anyone who might want to read or was already planning. Anyways the priest’s tale is my absolute favorite, because I like it’s spooky vibe and other spoiler-filled reasons. However they’re all written really well and I would recommend this to just about everyone since I think it’s just a really fun read.

5. Current Obsession?

Oof I don’t really have one because I’ve been feeling down. However Cyberpunk 2077 was it for a while, then TES again, and I’m just floating now. Anyways I’m always interested in TES, the Witcher, Dragon Age, etc. It’s just not as intense as other people though. I feel kinda boring now. Well, at least I’ve been getting back into art and blender and messing around with trying to learn my father’s language again. And I love writing and creating generally so that’s really that.

6. Unrelated Stuff I’ve Been Doing?

I already talked about this a little I guess. I’m learning Polish again and watching more shows with the dub in Spanish so I don’t lose it since I just don’t talk to my family much anymore. I’ve been messing with blender and unreal engine. I re-started this art-schedule-thing that I got from a yt video. I really want to improve my digital art. I also have like 10 billion tabs open with videos on blender and unreal so maybe I’ll post what I’m working on one day. I kinda gave up on my NaNoWriMo because I’m too moody and I don’t know what’s wrong with my executive function but we haven’t been on the same page recently. However, listening to podcasts (like Unresolved Textual Tension or You’re Wrong About and Rotten Mango) has kinda helped my mood a little. But if I’m being real here, real life kinda takes up most of my time. So school (gotta love deciding for a dual degree really late in my undergrad) and all the volunteer/internship things I have to do kinda just take up most of my life. That’s a little depressing lmao, but it is what it is.

Anyways, thanks for the tag! I don’t feel like I’m active enough to tag anyone and I’m shy so anyone who sees and wants to do it, feel free.

[mx-ryder]

Commission Sample

700 words from a 3k word commission. M/M pairing with some fun dynamics that I really enjoyed being able to explore.

Ben snorted, not quite a laugh. “I’m not going to die from scraped knuckles. The other guy got it worse, anyway.” He flexed his hand as he spoke, impressed despite himself. Angel had done a good job. His knuckles hardly even hurt any more. Still looking down at his bandaged hand, he reached for Angel again, catching the other man’s hand as he moved to step away. “That’s why I came back. I need more.”

He didn’t need to specify more of what. It was the only reason he ever came to see Angel.

One of the only reasons.

To his surprise, Angel didn’t pull away. Instead, the other man stepped closer again. His hand came to Ben’s cheek, the gentlest of touches. Ben leaned into the contact; even if it was a literal demon, it had been a long time since someone had touched him with such gentle intent.

Angel’s voice was soft when he spoke. “This is unhealthy, Benjamin.”

Ben blinked. “Unhealthy? You’re taking chunks of my real human soul, and you’re worried about my health? Just . . . give me what I came for. And I’ll get out of your hair.” Until the next time his luck swung in the wrong direction.

“You sound like an addict.”

Angel clamped his mouth shut the moment the words left, wishing them unsaid. When Ben looked up at him, he could see the hurt in his eyes. Humans displayed so much of their emotion in their faces, their body language, their voices when they spoke. Everything in Ben’s posture and expression said that Angel had hurt him, and angered him.

Angel moved away, dropping his hand, backing away from Ben.

Ben followed him, hauling himself out of his chair in a series of pained movements. “No shit I sound like an addict.” He practically whispered it, his voice coming like poison. He advanced on Angel as he spoke, still limping with every step. “I am addicted. You changed my luck, and I got everything I’ve ever wanted. Money, sex, success. And every time it goes to shit I have to crawl back here to you and beg you for another fix. Even though I know it’ll just all go to shit again eventually.”

For an instant, Angel was nearly afraid. He was centuries older than Ben, worlds more powerful, and had his two living shadows besides. But the anger, the desperation on Ben’s face, and the way the larger man loomed over him, was nearly enough. He shrank away from Ben, realizing an instant too late that he’d come up against a wall.

“Do you know what that’s like, Angel?”

Angel gasped. That might have been the first time Ben had ever said his name. And he’d said it with such disdain.

Ben continued, still advancing, pressing Angel against the wall with his looming frame. Though Ben didn’t touch him, Angel shrank further away. He couldn’t take his eyes from Ben’s face, frozen under his searing gaze.

He seemed to want an answer, so Angel whispered a soft “no.”

“Of course you don’t. Because you’re Mr. High-and-mighty Demonspawn. You hold all the power in everything you do. You get people hooked on you, and you wring every bit of humanity out of them until they–” Stopping, Ben pressed a hand to his mouth and pulled it away bloody. He’d re-opened the split in his bottom lip. “Fuck.”

The change came over him suddenly. Blinking as though waking up from a dream, he looked down at Angel where he had pressed himself as close to the wall as possible. His face twisted, expression shifting from anger to something surprisingly close to shame.

“Fuck,” he said again. “I’m–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

Without quite knowing why, or that he’d intended to do it, Angel pushed forward. He curled his fingers in the front of Ben’s shirt, pulling Ben down to his level so he could kiss him.

Ben reacted with a fervor that surprised Angel. He brought one hand up to Angel’s cheek, and closed the few inches of space between them again, crushing Angel between himself and the wall. Angel tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, but ignored it.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Sometime last month (or the one before, as it’s now December, which is fucking ridiculous and I don’t know how it got so late in the year so fast, but that’s not the point), I was on a night of just clicking through different stand-up clips on YouTube, and I came across some Alun Cochrane. I’d heard him before on the Stewart Lee Alternative Comedy Experience, and I’d really liked his material there, so I figured I’d look for more of it.

I ended up enjoying a few clips, and then finding more of the trajectory he’s been on recently. Then my night of watching different stand-up clips on YouTube turned into a night of working out where the hell Alun Cochrane had gone. As far as I can tell, from stuff I looked up that night, for a very long time he was a mostly observational comedian, but the edgier side of observational, if that’s a thing. Going a little darker than one would expect from the term “observational comedian”. That’s the stuff I really liked. But it wasn’t political, as much as anything can be apolitical, and I generally argue that nothing in the world is completely apolitical, but to be fair, material about whether he’s accidentally eaten the sticker on an apple is in fact pretty apolitical. He did this on stand-up shows and one four-episode Radio Four series in 2013 (which I haven’t heard), and very occasionally did things on panel shows too. He was also on a radio show with Frank Skinner for about ten years, which I’ve also not heard, so I can’t claim to know him well.

Then, starting, as far as I can tell, with his 2019 Edinburgh show, he went in some new and strange directions. Directions involving: “it’s political correctness gone mad!” and: “Why do all those cultural bullies get so mad when you say bad things about trans people?”, and: “You’re not supposed to say this, but why can’t we criticize Islam?” (oh shit you are the first person to ever think of that, I mean I coach a lot of Muslim teenagers who all have complex and individual relationships with their faith and ethnicity and I’ve been privileged to know some of them well enough to have them share with me their personal thoughts about how they reconcile the good and the bad of that religion, and how it fits into their personal and political lives and into their families and into larger society, and how it can be struggle at times but other times be a blessing, but yes thank you we definitely need white men to have the groundbreaking realization that they should be the first person in the world to say “Islam Bad!”, and sorry for the tangential rant but holy fuck when I think of the varied and thoughtful opinions of so many different individual Muslims I know, I have so little tolerance for that line of “I’m just being the reasonable white person here, bringing up what no one else will talk about" thought in particular), and: “Those cancel culture oppressors are trying stop me from offending people, well facts don’t care about your feelings!”

This led me to listening to his 2021 BBC Radio Four stand-up special, which is called Centrist Dad?, and it’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect based on that title. You know, it’s about how he’s oppressed for just having normal, centrist opinions, by all those far-left extremists who do things like be vegetarian and tear down shrines to mass murderers. Rise up, silent majority – that sort of stuff. The words “silent majority” actually appear in it. There’s also literally a “blue hair and pronouns” joke. Not just that style of joke with different examples, he actually says “blue hair and pronouns” without a trace of irony. I mean there’s hackneyed material and then there’s straight-up plagiarism; surely there’s some Reddit user from the now-banned Tumblr in Action forum who can make a case for joke theft there.

Now, I did actually try to listen with an open mind, because he’s not gone full right-wing extremist, and I am genuinely interested in how the other side justifies their views. In my younger years, I spent too many hours letting disingenuous racist misogynists waste my time with “debate” that was never going to go anywhere, and I don’t do that anymore. But if I believe someone is talking in good faith about something I disagree with instead of just spouting the same rhetoric that’s been done to death, I will tentatively try to understand.

There was a fair bit of done-to-death rhetoric in that BBC special, but there were a few points that I thought were a somewhat new angle on things. A few points that I disagreed with, but thought a reasonable person could agree with. And about 1.5 points that made me actually say… you know what, I think that one’s valid. Along with a lot of points that I could, like I said, literally have found on the dregs of Reddit five years ago. Not many jokes, incidentally. A couple of okay points and a lot of bad points, and very few jokes among them. Which I’m just pointing out for the irony, given how many people say left-wing political comedians make points instead of jokes.

There were several times when he pontificated about whether society’s changed or whether he’s changed – Have I drifted right or has everyone else has lost their minds? And I’m just like… it’s the first thing, dude. You got older, you got defensive about how difficult everything is, and you drifted right. Mystery solved, next question.

It looks like COVID may have exacerbated that drift, as it did for many people. This year he lost his decade-long job of doing a radio show with Frank Skinner, for reasons that might involve him being unvaccinated, though they also might not and I guess I shouldn’t throw in unconfirmed rumours about a show I haven’t even heard, but it says something that people who have heard the show would even think that could be true. There’s a YouTube video of something he did for one of those comedy nights that was billed as “free thinkers unite” or some shit, in which he did some anti-mask stuff, and some “the lockdowns aren’t really about safety, they’re about the government controlling the population” stuff, that the crowd fucking loved.

In that YouTube video, he goes farther than he went on the BBC with the right-wing jokes. There’s a bit about how the state should not subsidize lunches for low-income children over holidays, which seemed pretty bold comedy to me, and I guess at this sort of thing, “boldness” is the point. You’d think even a curated right-wing crowd might balk a little at the “we should take food away from poor children at Christmas” material, but it seemed to go over fine.

In fact, most of it went over fine. It was up and down a bit, and I think he lost some of them when he talked at length about his atheism, but based on the audible crowd reactions and the YouTube comments, they by and large liked it. He got applause for a few of his points, including the COVID conspiracy stuff. Which again brings me to the hypocrisy, of all those people who say left-wing political comedians are out there to get applause from audiences that agree with them instead of to do “proper comedy”.

That does make me wonder whether that is, to some extent, the point. Maybe he spent years watching his colleagues get audiences that loved them for the way they articulated those audiences’ views, and he wanted some of that. Because no one applauds a joke about an apple sticker, and maybe he wanted to say something that would make people agree so hard that they clapped and cheered.

I see three broad possibilities for what happened to Alun Cochrane, and I genuinely don’t know enough about him to guess which it is.

1) He’s always held certain political views and avoided sharing them for a long time because they could get him labelled negatively, so he stuck to mostly apolitical observational stuff. He did this until a year came when he decided there probably was a market for it, and/or just stopped caring.

2) He used to have no real political views at all, and/or just be vaguely centre-left or whatever, but then there came a time when the internet was awash with right-wing propaganda that moved many people’s political views. He was one of the people who fell into that, and he genuinely believed this was groundbreaking stuff he’d figured out and he needed to share it.

3) His actual political views are [anything but what he’s been saying recently], but he spent years trying to achieve the fame he wanted with apple sticker-based material and that didn’t work, because there are so many comedians doing that sort of thing and it’s hard to stand out from the crowd. So he cynically decided to enter the less competitive market of right-wing comedians, as there are fewer of those but a growing audience for it, and he’d have a better chance of getting noticed. I mean - that’s worked on me, hasn’t it? I haven’t listened to his 2013 radio series (though to be fair I think I’ve heard a lot of what’s in it from other clips I’ve seen and heard him do), but I listened to his 2021 thing. Am I part of the problem? Shit, I might be part of the problem.

I realize I’m preaching to the converted here, and I don’t need to say this because no one on this website doesn’t already know this, but God I hate the “how dare you judge people by their political views?” crowd. In some ways they’re worse than the people who just go properly alt-right (which, by the way, I don’t think Alun Cochrane has, for all his claims that people like me will label anyone we don’t like a Nazi – he isn’t one of those, but I don’t think “not as bad as Nazis” is a high enough bar for morality). Not in practical ways, obviously. From a practical perspective, it’s much better to have a world of centrist dads than a world of people who are willing to actually identify as alt-right. But from a “what annoys me most on the internet” perspective, sometimes part of me thinks at least the alt-rightists believe in something. At least they’re not making me the bad guy just because I think politics matter. They’re making the me the bad guy because I’m a woman and a queer and a feminist and a Muslim lover and I think poor children should get food at Christmas, and some of my best friends have blue hair and pronouns. But God, sometimes I’d take that over the people trying to say we should all just get along, and not judge each other on any of it.

Political views are the best reason to judge people! Politics are about how society should treat its people, from the most powerful centres of corporations to the most vulnerable and marginalized. And the best reason to judge someone is on how they think people should be treated. Okay, maybe it’s the second best reason, after how they actually treat people. But your political views are how you treat people, because if you live in a democracy, you vote for people and parties that will treat your fellow humans a certain way, and by doing so, you are by proxy treating them that way too. Or you don’t vote, which means you’re saying you don’t care how people are treated, and I will judge you for that too.

Not every single political issue indicates a major value difference, and not every disagreement makes me think someone’s a bad person. Many issues have lots of reasonable sides, and I might be on one but be able to get along fine with people who are on any of the others. But some political issues - even many political issues - do indicate fundamental values about how people believe others should be treated. If you're on a side that disagrees with me about the best way to treat people well, I'll try to understand that. But if you're on a side that doesn't care about that, then yes, I’m going to judge you.

No one’s perfect and there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, as discussed in communist Tumblr, and NBC’s The Good Place, and, a topic he covered surprisingly well, Alun Cochrane’s 2021 BBC special. That’s fine. I don’t hate you for not being vegetarian, Alun. I’m not vegetarian, because I like eating meat more than I feel compelled by all the ethical reasons to stop. But I do recognize that people who go vegetarian or vegan have made a more ethical choice than I have, and I don’t need to yell on the radio about how they didn’t.

I came across all this a while ago, and I thought all those things, and I thought about writing a post about it, but I didn’t, because I have spent lots of my life and lots of this blog going on about that sort of thing already, and I didn’t feel like re-hashing it again. But I just re-listened to some of this stuff because I thought I might cut up bits of it and put them into something else, and listening to it made me think all these things, and I thought I’d rather write out 2.5 pages on the subject than just be annoyed about it and not write 2.5 pages.

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Mini-Solo 31: 'Downward Spiral...Revisited'

[This is an alternate version of my very first RP solo...'Downward Spiral'...hence the title for this one. The original was based on a SL that I had going at the time...and this one just kind of...popped into my head. I kind of like this version better. The ending of this one gives Sarc a 'much' better reason for shutting off her humanity...just saying. Please excuse any repetitions...that's just how Sarc thinks and talks. All mistakes are mine. Be gentle. I haven't posted a solo in like 'forever'.] I glance over at the blood bag on the bedside table...for about the millionth time...in the last half hour...then back over to my boyfriend...who is perched on a chair in the corner...just staring at me. It's 'way' too quiet right now...the only sounds coming from my own breathing and the ticking of the clock on the wall downstairs. I lower my head...looking down at my lap...fidgeting with my hands for a few moments...then drag my gaze back over to the blood bag yet again. It's just sitting there...almost like it's mocking me...and...also for the millionth time...I wonder if this wasn't all a 'horrible' idea...and I wish that I could take it back...although...I realize...it's too late for that. Now I know why Josef and Mick never wanted this for me...why they kept trying to talk me out of it multiple times...even when I kept insisting...over and over again. Wanting to become a vampire...and actually ending up hovering over that line between life and death...are two totally different things. What would they think of me now? I'm not sure I'd want to be there for that particular conversation. I've already suffered through enough interventions...thanks...but no thanks very much. Yeah...this was a 'huge' mistake...and...also...what in the 'Hell' was I thinking...giving the okay for my boyfriend to 'kill' me...in the bathtub? Okay...the sex was 'awesome'...not to mention the sex before that...in the bed...and the sex the night before...also in the bed...obviously...but...having your neck snapped in the bathtub?! 'So' not romantic. It's also 'not' how I pictured my first time ending up. Losing my virginity to a vampire though? Deep down...that was always the plan. Drinking my boyfriend's blood though? One word...ewww. Of course, I kind of 'had' to...with how many times he'd been feeding on me in the past two days. Anyways...back to the bathtub...at least he was nice enough to dress me after...you know...putting panties...and one of his over-sized T-shirts on me...though...how he managed that while I was...'out'...I have 'no' clue. The minutes tick by...but still I refuse to budge...even though already my stomach feels like it's on fire...along with every other nerve-ending in my body. How much time do I have left? It's hard to say. My gaze flickers back to my boyfriend once again...noting the narrow set of his stormy blue eyes...and the permanent frown tugging down his lips. I glare back at him...before swinging my head towards the mocking bag of plastic...filled with the dark red liquid...once again. He gave up arguing with me after the first 10 minutes...knowing that he wasn't getting anywhere. 'You have to feed on human blood to complete your transition...or you'll die'...blah blah...blah. Yeah. I get it. Geez...is this what Josef and Mick went through when they turned? I never got around to asking...and besides...they never wanted to discuss the topic with me anyways...so there wouldn't have been a point to even bringing it up. More minutes crawl by...I can smell the blood inside the plastic...I'm practically drooling...finally...I can't take it anymore. I reach over...grab the bag...pop the little tab thing off of it...and take a large gulp. I immediately gag on it...choking and sputtering...forcing the little bit down...and hoping that it stays there. Okay...again...ewww...I can already tell that this is 'so' not going to work. What kind of a vampire feeds from blood bags anyways? And...again...what in the 'Hell' was I thinking?! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ [The Mystic Grill...a few hours later...] I stare straight ahead at the literal carnage before me...mouth open in a silent expression of shock...frozen in place...feet completely unable to move...my vampire face no longer on display. Tears stream down my face...dripping off my cheeks...merging with the blood as the droplets finally fall. There's blood all over me...my face...my shirt...as well as everywhere else...gathered in huge puddles over every available space on the floor...splattered on top of tables...on top of the bar...and even on the walls. What have I done? I've become a monster. How did this all go 'so' wrong? 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It had all started out innocently enough. My boyfriend had brought me here to teach me how to feed...'supposedly'. Is it 'my' fault that I had to use the restroom at the time...and someone just 'happened' to walk in while I was still in there? The moment I saw the woman...my face instantly changed...black veins rippling across my cheeks...eyes going blood shot...fangs extending. Without another thought...I leaped at her...sinking my fangs in deep...tearing at the flesh of her neck. As soon as that first mouthful of warm...fresh...delicious blood touched my tongue...sliding down the back of my throat...I knew that this was it...I'd never be able to get enough. I managed to drain her of every last drop of blood...within a few minutes...before I even realized what was happening. Still...that wasn't the worst part. No. The worst part was when someone discovered the body not long after...which led to a chain reaction of screaming to take place throughout the restaurant. Some got up and ran away...but most stayed right where they were...like they were glued in place...with total 'deer-in-the-headlights' looks going on. Nope. 'Not' good. To say that my boyfriend was unhappy...would be a total understatement...judging by the glare of disapproval shooting in my direction...arms folded across his chest. Wow. It wasn't my fault. I couldn't control myself. It's not like I 'planned' for that to happen or anything. Thanks for making me feel even worse. Awesome. And what was his solution? He told me to 'compel' everyone who was still in the building...make then forget what they saw...basically told me to 'clean up my own mess'...and then he turned around...and just left. 'Compel' everyone? How in the 'Hell' was I supposed to do that?! I mean...I knew 'what' it was...but...explaining how to do it...would've been helpful. Ass. Besides...there were like...what...20 people left? That would've taken 'forever'. So...I did the next best thing...I decided to kill everyone...problem solved...moving around faster than anyone could see...sinking my fangs into necks...shredding flesh beyond recognition...basically gorging on blood. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now...staring down at the bodies scattered everywhere...I realize what I've done...and the guilt is already starting to smother me. How am I 'ever' going to get over something like this? How can I live with myself...forever...knowing that I killed all of those people...for no other reason than I was pissed off at my boyfriend for being an insensitive dick? I just...I can't handle this...more tears pool in my eyes...running in rivulets off of my chin as I hang my head...totally disgusted with myself... ...Suddenly...I start to experience an odd sensation...I can't quite tell what it is...it's just...weird. It's almost like...all of my pain is already starting to fade away. Huh. This is...different. I don't think that Josef or Mick ever experienced anything like this. With each passing moment it ebbs more...and more...and more...until...I don't feel anything anymore. There's nothing at all...nothing except for a deep, black void. I raise my head...the tears no longer flowing...my lips beginning to curve up in what can only be described as a sinister grin. I can pretty much do whatever I want now...kill anyone I want...and not worry about anything. This will be freaking 'awesome'. Giving one last look around...now actually admiring my handiwork...instead of inwardly cringing at it...I make my way toward the exit...stepping over bodies as I go...head held high...paying no mind to the sticky crimson coating the bottom of my beyond ruined sneakers...which are now no longer white...obviously...leaving all of the unnamed casualties for someone else to clean up later. I can't 'wait' for Damon to see me now. I doubt that he'll approve of what I've done...between the killing...and the 'other' thing...which just sort of...happened...again...totally out of my control...but...both are pretty much his fault...so...screw him...I also wonder what Josef and Mick would think of me now...what I've become...not that I care anymore...I don't care about anything...I could totally get used to this... [END]