#i miss my partner and i miss some of my old coworkers

[racingmiku2018]

i like my job and i like having money but remembering that i have to work makes me feel like a baked good deflating immediately after being removed from the oven. work takes up so much of my energy that i barely have enough for the things i like to do outside of it like drawing and crafting and reading and gaming and i need to spend like 90% of my weekend just recovering from the work week and by the time im up to doing literally anything i have to go to bed bc i have work in the morning

[faerygrant]

Ultraviolence - Carmy x Reader

Summary : An interaction between Claire and Carmen leaves you questioning his loyalty to your relationship.

Carmy was a complicated man, that went without saying. He was a man riddled with untreated trauma that stemmed from an absent father and an alcoholic and unstable mother. Not to mention the complicated and for a very long time, codependent relationship between he and his brother. The only constant and non-toxic person Carmen Berzatto had in his life was his sister Natalie, well that was before he met you at-least.

While he had become a changed man and confronted his demons from the past, there was no denying that Carmen still had lots of issues he still hadn’t addressed in therapy. The sleep walking had stopped almost a year ago, which you were thankful for, especially after a night in which he accidentally woke up and nearly lit the house aflame. The anger issues however still persisted, as well as the avoidant personality and constant feelings of angst.

You could tell Carmen was happier, he now kissed you goodbye in the mornings and goodnight before bed, he smiled more, he cooled off on the self deprecating remarks and most of all, he let you in. The old Carmen was hard as rock, made of brick wall, refusing to allowing anyone into those walls he’d spent all those years building up in self defence. Yet now he was willing to talk things through, slowly but surely.

Like most winter nights when the city got dark by 5, you’d walk over to the bear from work so Carmy could drive the two of you back to your place. It made the both of you feel safer and you weren’t opposed to any extra time you could spend with you partner. It also didn’t hurt to see his coworkers, who you’d come to see as friends of your own.

Tonight however when you’d come into the restaurant it seemed the only people here were Natalie and Sydney who were out back doing stock count. They both greeted you, however their odd attitudes weren’t lost on you. The two of them were usually so happy to see you, friendly. Yet upon your entry into the restaurant they had both gone frigid.

“Where’s Carm?” You’d asked, pulling the slipping straps of your tote back onto your shoulder.

“T-the office.” Sydney motions awkwardly to the office and your brows furrow. Why were they both acting so off?

“You probably should wait-“ Natalie tries to say but you’re already bursting into the office, curious as to why they were being strange.

-

“You know I just missed you Bear.”

You’re not prepared for the site of what you walk into, Carmy’s “ex” who’s not his “ex” but is his “ex” stood with her arms wrapped around his neck trying to kiss him. Your heart all but sinks into your ass as you watch her lips meet his.

“What the fuck” you scream, and immediately the brunette is clambering away from your man. She innocently tucks a piece of hair behind her ears and then looks at Carmen before she pushed past you. Not even an ounce of guilt on her face.

“It’s not what it looked like, I promise.” Carmen says walking over to you, trying to grab hold of your hand.

“Then what the fuck was that, she kissed you Carmen!” You yell at him and both Sydney and Natalie are now stood in the doorway watching everything go down.

“It was nothing, she just…” He holds his hands in his hair as he paces back and forth between the office. Refusing to complete his sentence.

“Are you going to finish the sentence Carmen, man up and tell me why the fuck your ex girlfriend was in here just now, kissing you” Your shouting has Carmen exasperated, he wants to tell you but can’t even figure out how to start the conversation.

“Carmy just talk to her.” Natalie tries intervening but is met with Carmen throwing a staple gun against the wall.

“Sugar get the fuck out of here and give us some privacy”

“Carm!” You yell at him all at once Sydney screams “Carmy what the fuck” Both of you appalled at his childish display of violence.

“Can I have five fuckin minutes alone with my girl now?” They both roll their eyes and walk out of the office. “Asshole” Natalie mumbles before slamming the office door shut.

“So she calls you Bear, is there something you’re hiding?” You question as you walk closer to him, tears falling from your eyes.

“No baby, she just came here trynna sweet talk me about all this fuckin shut but I didn’t wanna hear it.” He tries taking you into his arms but you push him away, not fully ready to give into him.

“Don’t fuckin pull away from me baby, you know it drives me insane” he sighs defeatedly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Carmen just tell me why that girl was here, why she was kissing you.” The head from his head against yours somewhat calms you down, so does his smell and gentle touch.

“I told you, she wanted to talk and because of all that shit Dr. Murphy said in therapy about confronting your past not running from it, I thought I’d give her a chance to say her piece but she just took it as a chance to make a move.” He looks into your eyes, searching, no- hoping you’d believe him, he hated the feeling of losing your trust especially when he’d never lie to you.

“I just hated seeing that, her hands all over you and her mouth on yours, it hurt me Carm.” You finally allow yourself to fully give into his touch and he pressed a kiss to your lips, your manicured hand cupping his face, relishing in it.

“I know and I’m sorry, I only want you okay, you’re the only girl for me.” He whispers, causing you to whimper.

“Promise?”

“Hand on the fucking bible, I promise”

[copperbadge]

Oh geez, is that where the “I have harnessed the secret powers of my ADHD” stuff is coming from? I mean, good work, but maybe don’t put that on your resume.

What, the "how your ADHD is a superpower" thing? I'm not really immersed enough in that niche to know, but it's certainly possible. YouTube I think is a more vocal place when it comes to clickbait about how your neurodivergence is really a neuroadvantage.

It's not objectively bad. I think there is space to both acknowledge that life with neurodivergence can suck, but also that there's nothing wrong with being a different kind of thinker. The problem is with the way our culture treats that difference. Like yeah I wish my brain was different, and even if our culture was different I'd still probably do that, but being old enough to see the ways in which I'm advantaged by it is very validating, and makes up for it.

Despite being terrible with details in my own work, I often catch stuff my neurotypical colleagues miss, both in the work we do and just like, out in the world. Last time we were traveling, one of them said, "Man, I wish there was a bakery around here," and I said "Oh, we passed one two blocks back -- well, not really a bakery, they do mini cheesecakes." Once we backtracked, it was evident that we'd all walked past it but I was the only one who clocked it, because it was tiny and didn't have much signage. My coworker asked me, "How did you even notice this was here?" and I said, "That's the ADHD!" with amusement.

Mind you, I was with two colleagues I trust, one of whom has a kid with developmental struggles, so I was okay talking about it. It shouldn't be something that you have to hide, but yeah it's not something to put on your resume, or in your cover letter. It will make you less employable, which sucks, but also unless you're asking for accommodation that's not something your employer needs to know. I won't advise on when to notify an employer that you'll need accommodation, because I'm not well-versed in disability law, but I've seen it go very badly even with people who have been with an employer for years. And during an interview, anything that's not directly about the job (faith, partner, kids, disability, allergies, etc) should be kept to the absolute minimum, if only because some people in hiring really get put off by any mention of it in a discussion of job skills.

And I think truly the issue is that there was probably a brief moment of about three weeks where "your disability is a superpower" was actually a meaningful, validating statement, and then the Employment Industrial Complex got hold of it and realized that they could shift the messaging to validate anything that contributed to the capitalist work ethic and ignore or dismiss anything that didn't. It's shocking how fast "hey, ADHD has some upsides" became "if you can stop fidgeting your hyperfocus will make us millions."

[randy-inks-writing-blog]

Lonely (Lucifer x Hellborn! GN Reader)

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Just some fluff with sad boi Lucifer for fun. Tell me what you think and what I can improve on!

Edit: You can read the fanfic on Ao3

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Succubuses and incubuses are known for their sexual activities. You, however, choose a distinct career path. Instead, you use your skills to comfort people. Give them a little massage, or a talk too. Many people are surprised to find lots of sinners have parent issues. On rare occasions, customers just want to pretend that their partner is still with them. Your coworker walked up to you with a smug smile. She stops at your desk and says “Guess who just asked for your services, (y/n)” you till your head, surely must be someone important if she’s bothering you. “Who?” you ask softly. The coworker smiles wide and answers; “the king of hell, himself!” Shocked at what your coworker says, you stood up and said “Lucifer Morningstar? Do you know what he wants? Oh, dear Satan, I gotta look good for him!” Your coworker grabs your shoulders and holds you still. “(y/n) chill, he just wants someone to talk to. Just wear something comfy, your appointment is at 3 tomorrow, ok?” You nod your head. That’s enough time to calm your nerves, hopefully.

You walk up to the doors of Lucifer’s manor, quietly you knock on the door. A small old imp opens the door for you. He bows his head and tells you to follow him to Lucifer’s room. As the two of you walked, you looked at all the portraits of Lucifer’s family. Most of them were of the missing queen and their daughter, Charlie Morningstar. The butler stops right in front of Lucifer’s room. You stop right next to the imp as he knocks on Lucifer’s door. “Sire, your guest is here.” You heard a response but could barely make any words out. The butler opens the door for you, and you slowly walked in. The room is positively a mess, rubber ducks everywhere as far as you can see. You walked over to the king’s bed and gave a small bow to him. Looking at the fallen angel’s face, he like his room looks like a mess. Small tears fall down the king’s face, looks like he’s been crying for days. You sat next to the king, being mindful of your wings and tail. Lightly, you place a hand on the king’s check and softly rub it. With caution, you spoke to the king; “Your highness, is there anything specific you need?” the crying angel answers back “call me Lucifer please. And no, I just- I just need someone to hold me like Lilith once did.”

Well, that’s a bit awkward. How long has the queen been gone for again? Seven years, who knew the king of all of hell was just a lonely guy? Hey, you’re not going to judge you’re the one who took this job. You laid down next to the king and pulled him closer to you. Lucifer’s head laid right on your chest as you wrap your wings around the king. The king cried into your chest. Good thing this is a gender non-specific fanfic. “I miss my wife; I miss her a lot. Why? Why did she have to leave me? Was I not good enough?” he sobs, making the situation more awkward for you. You ran a hand through his blonde hair with a smile before you whispered. “I think you’re good enough, Lucifer. Maybe you should stop thinking about the past and think about your future.” Lucifer looks up at you with hopeful eyes quietly he ask, “Like my daughter?” You nod your head yes, but Lucifer just looks away from you. “If only it was that easy. All I can think about is the past. I’m the one of the doom of all of humanity. I’m the one who convinces Eve to eat that fruit.” You cup Lucifer’s face and make him look at you again. “While that is true, you also help make hell, and without hell there wouldn’t be imps, hellhounds, succubuses and incubuses. And those loan sharks that have those weird Italian accents yet don’t know a single word from that language.” Lucifer listens to your talk, feeling a little better. The king nuzzles into your chest once again, finding your body heat comforting. You snuggle closer to the king; this is something you’re going to brag about to your coworker. “I guess you’re right, in a way. Thank you for doing this for me. I’ll double your tip when this is over.” Lucifer softy spoke, now feeling a little sleepy. You nod your head and lightly pet Lucifer’s hair.

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[scvrmqueen]

His Final Girl - Danny Johnson

Pairing: Danny Johnson / Ghost Face x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, blood, gore, trauma

Premise: You survive a brutal encounter with the Ghost Face. After revealing himself as Jed Olsen, your former coworker, Roseville is finally free from the killer’s grasp. Little do they know his work is far from over - and he doesn’t leave survivors. 

AN: Hi y’all! So pleased to introduce my first Danny Johnson piece. This was loosely inspired by the song The Perfect Girl by Mareux. Please like / comment / reblog if you enjoy, your interactions keep me writing! 

They tell you it's a miracle - a true blessing to have survived. To be a final girl.

Final girl. At least that's what the articles have painted you as, no one dared utter the blood-soaked moniker to your face. You became headline news, a gruesome tale reminiscent of the finest slasher movies. "Ghost Face Unmasked," the Roseville Gazette headline read, "Killer Disappears Leaving Only Surviving Victim."

You clenched the newspaper tighter, head swimming as the droning tone of your heart monitor continued to climb. His mask taunted you from the front page and the fresh wounds littering your abdomen throbbed incessantly at the sight.

Five stab wounds to the abdomen - those had been his killing blows. A jagged slice on your throat just beneath your chin. That scar had been incidental, a result of your futile struggling against his unyielding hold. Whispers of astonishment floated around the hospital, shocked that an otherwise meticulous killer completely missed your jugular vein and carotid artery. They didn't understand that it was a calculated move on his part.

"Can't have you bleeding out on me yet, doll face. We haven't even gotten to the good part yet."

You shivered at the memory, fingertips ghosting the gauze on your neck.

Prior to his deliberate unmasking, the Ghost Face was more ghoul than man. He was transcendental, a horrific concept derived from the most sinister ghost stories. He was the dread that permeated moonless evenings, spreading paranoia like wildfire in the inky depths of Roseville. He was the smooth, sultry whispers that promised death and suffering over static-laden phone lines.

But just as Ghost Face had been an entity, Jed Olsen had been just a man. A charming, carefully crafted persona - all effortless grins and placating quips. Roseville adored Jed, hanging off his every word as if the city would collapse without him. Perhaps that was why his enthusiastic interest in the Roseville murders - in Ghost Face - had been overlooked.

Unlike the rest of the Chronicle staff, something about Jed's amiable disposition perturbed you. His wide smiles never quite extended to to his eyes. Those chocolate irises always seemed to conceal something sinister, a darkness that you couldn't quite grasp.

Once when Jed was still shiny and new, before the murders, you had mentioned your strange observation to a coworker. You were met with eyerolls and condescending coos that Jed practically embodied good old American values.

If only you had trusted your instinct.

You had kept Jed at arms length until you couldn't. After the first handful of victims sent the city into a frenzy, the chief editor informed you that the star headliner required some assistance. Evidently, Jed had requested you as a partner specifically. After all, your previous coverage of the Night Stalker conviction had earned you the reputation of an excellent profiler at the Chronicle. 

The phone calls began shortly after your first article with Jed was published. Unlike his other victims who expired within a week, your game of cat and mouse had been dragged out over the span of several months.

“Oh, I like you, kitten,” he had said, his dark low chuckle still echoing in the recesses of your mind. “Let’s see how feisty you still are when I spill those pretty guts.” 

You were a shell of your former self when you returned to work. Though medically cleared, your coworkers seemed to share the sentiment that your recovery was too expedited. 

“You know, Y/n, you can take more time,” your editor had quietly advised, voice barely raised above a whisper as if his words would shatter your fragile existence. “No one will blame you if you’re not ready.” 

Fuck that. Fuck Jed Olsen. You’d be damned if he took this away from you. 

So here you sat, poised at your desk, alert eyes carefully scanning the outline of your latest article. Your coworkers had long since departed, an eerie silence coating the office as the natural light dissipated from your cubicle. Despite your can of mace and pocket knife, a staple of your wardrobe these days, you never felt safe alone anymore. But you couldn’t go home now. You had a deadline to meet, and you worked better without the sympathetic glances of your peers weighing you down. 

And yes, you were aware that working late in the desolate building wasn’t the best decision. In your defense, it had been a month since the incident. What paranoia lingered in your chest was quietly sated by the reminder that Jed was gone. If he wanted to finish you off, correct his unusually sloppy execution, he would have done so by now - your survival was headline news for Christ’s sake. 

Still, you recalled the note he left at his desk following the attack: Don’t worry, I’m not done. 

I’m not done. 

I’m not - 

The shrill ring of your desk phone swept you from your apprehensive trance. There was that familiar sense of dread. It coated your tongue and lingered on your lips, stinging your wounds and clutching your rapidly beating heart. 

It’s just a phone, you reminded yourself, it’s not him. 

Taking a moment to regulate your breathing, your hand paused over the white receiver. You could let it go to voicemail, you reasoned. The small defiant fire that still raged within you, the flame that refused to be snuffed, argued that he would win if fear controlled your every action. 

“Hello?” You answered, sounding more tremulous than you cared for. A familiar static responded. Attempting to compose yourself and appear unaffected, you asked a bit more firmly, “Hello, may I help you?” 

“Hiya, Y/n.” Click. You slammed the phone down, nearly hyperventilating. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. The authorities had expressed with finite certainty that Jed had skipped town, a hypothesis only further confirmed by his pattern of sporadic relocations. 

When the phone sounded once more, you were determined to ignore it. Sure, it would infuriate him, but if death was knocking at your door, you refused to play his sick game of cat and mouse. Still, a growing rage melded into the tendrils of fear curling around you - a wrathful affliction that accumulated venom in your throat. 

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” You spat. The phrase ‘seeing red’ suddenly made perfect sense, as if your fury had extinguished your survival instincts. 

A mirthful chuckle followed in response. Before he could retort further, you ground out through clenched teeth: “We’ve played this little game before, Jed. Couldn’t think of something more original?” 

“Oh, dollface,” he sighed, “keep talking like that and I might just reconsider slicing you from chest to sternum.” 

Your breath hitched, an involuntary reaction at the memory of his steel blade. Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he added, “Ah, who am I kidding. Leaving survivors isn’t really my style, Y/n.” 

“Guess you’re not as good as you thought,” you sneered, determined to give him a taste of his own twisted medicine. Experience reminded you that Ghost Face was protective of his meticulously designed reputation - he had to be taken seriously, feared like the boogymen before him. If he was going to get under your skin, then you would be damned if you didn’t do the same. 

“Oh, I think you’ve felt just how good I can be, kitten,” he hissed, voice dripping with a suggestive venom. “Maybe I should refresh your memory? Remind you of just who you were screaming under, begging-”

“Fuck you.” Your interruption lacked the bite you intended, dimmed by the hot tears cumulating over your flushed cheeks. “Fuck you, you psychotic piece of shit,” you rasped, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. 

He groaned - groaned, and the sound churned the pit of your stomach. “So mean, kitten, and after all we’ve been through together.” The spiteful remark you prepared died on your tongue as he continued, “but try as you might to wound me, not even you can ruin my good mood tonight, Y/n. Because I get to watch that pretty blood spill again, I get to hear those delicious little cries of terror again.” 

“Oh, and Y/n?” His voice dipped impossibly lower, his words caressing your ear and sending waves of chills through your body. “It’s Danny, not Jed. Be a good girl and scream that for me while I’m gutting you like a fish.” 

Ice coursed through your veins as the dial tone wailed in your ear. There was no time to spare contemplating the harrowing Deja vu that washed over you. Danny hanging up only meant one thing - 

He’s here. 

But this time, you were prepared. You moved to dial the authorities, reasoning that you could remain put and hold Danny off until their arrival. The police station was only ten minutes away. And if you didn’t bleed out in 30 minutes previously, ten minutes was child’s play. 

That was the plan until the phone line went dead, promptly followed by the office lights cutting out. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, Danny certainly hadn’t lost his flare for the dramatic. 

Fight or flight was a fickle thing. You had always been more inclined toward flight, reasoning that overpowering a killer who had managed to subdue men twice your size wasn’t feasible. Remaining in your cubicle awaiting a gruesome fate was out of the question, you had to at least attempt an escape. 

More knowledgeable after your first brush with the reaper, you knew Danny was out there, poised with that gleaning hunting blade. Concealing the canister of mace in your palm, you stepped out into the darkness.

Death didn’t frighten you anymore, you decided. If anything, death would be a reprieve from the horror he afflicted. Still, you were starved for revenge, determined to tear into Ghost Face just as he had you. Any hope for survival was minimal at best. But if you were going down, well, you would drag Danny to hell with you. 

“Come on, Danny,” you cooed, impressed with the smooth, taunting lilt of your voice. “Come fucking get me.” As you approached the entrance to the stairwell, eyes flittering around each shadowed corner, an inky figure emerged. He nearly would have blended into the night if not for the white of the phantom mask. 

Panic briefly seized your chest, though you remained rooted to the linoleum tiles. His head tilted, a mocking wave greeting you as his other gloved hand raised the signature knife. You were certain a gleeful grin was concealed beneath that damned mask. 

“Hi honey, I’m home.” You were briefly jostled by the lack of his voice modulator, taking a moment to soak in the previously comforting voice of Jed - no, Danny. 

There was no one coming to save you this time. The devastating realization nearly strangled you, burned your lungs with a vicious rancor. Danny stepped forward slowly, as if testing to see if you would flee. He was close enough that you could smell the thick leather of his gloves muddled with the coppery waft of previous victims. 

Cautiously, you raised the hand not preoccupied with pepper spray, extending it toward his mask. Further closing the already miniscule distance, your hand grasped at his hood, tugging it down when he made no move to stop you. Holding your breath, you pulled off his mask. A tense silence permeated the air as your gaze scanned his sharp features, heart fluttering at the reveal of those dark, hooded eyes and crimson lips. 

“Why?” You asked, voice barely a whisper. He cocked a perfectly manicured brow, chocolate orbs piercing through you. His face twisted into an expression that reminded you of a lion prepared to devour its prey - a sort of ravenous hunger that made your scars pulse. 

“Because I can,” he responded simply, as if that were all the justification required. You didn’t flinch as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you impossibly closer. He towered above you, head dipping lower so his breath could ghost along your jaw. 

“Because you’re mine.” As if possessed by the intensity of his confession, you didn’t struggle as his lips claimed your own. A guttural moan vibrated through his chest, hips digging into you. The slow ache building in your core prompted you to contemplate that perhaps if things had been different, if you weren’t the final girl of this story, you would willingly follow Danny to the depths of hell. 

Your reverie was interrupted by cool metal piercing the scar tissue of your abdomen. Blinding pain enveloped your senses, a strangled gasp escaping you as those crimson lips continued their bruising course. He allowed you a brief reprieve if only to lower you gently to the cool tile, moving to straddle your waist. The blade retracted before slowly digging in, once again targeting a previous wound. You couldn’t prevent the tormented scream that slipped from you. 

“That’s it, kitten. Let it out, let it all out.” He was taking it slow, dragging out your torture as if punishment for surviving. His knife remained embedded in your stomach, the sting becoming unbearable as a strained giggle tumbled from your lips. Danny’s eyes briefly widened before narrowing, his hand moving to the twist the blade. Hysterical laughter bubbled within you, hand clutching around the mace he had yet to notice. 

“See you in hell, Danny,” you chortled, teeth stained with blood. Sporting the psychotic expression, crimson smeared on your torso and lips, Danny couldn’t help but acknowledge that you had never looked lovelier. His amusement quickly faded as you raised the canister, releasing the toxin into his uncovered eyes. 

“You fucking, bitch!” Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, you gripped the handle of the blade, tearing it out of you with an animalistic scream. Before he could recover, you plunged the blade into Danny’s chest. It took the remainder of your strength to push through the taut muscle, your opposite hand clutching the back of his shoulder to lodge it further in. 

Twin crimson streaks pooled on his lips, a harsh cough spewing the liquid over your face. Ripping the knife from his heart with renewed ferocity, you rolled Danny off you, reveling in the way he slipped to the floor beside you. Blood descended freely from the wound, staining his suit and dripping languidly to the ground below. 

He laughed, the sound fading into a gurgle as blood pooled in his lungs. Unable to move from your spot, you turned your head to bask in the gory scene. Danny was already staring at you, lips upturned in a twisted grin as his hand reached for your own. 

“I always knew you would be my final girl, Y/n.” You smiled, real, genuine, pride swelling in your chest as you lay bleeding out. You did it. Though you would die for this victory, you relished in the knowledge that it would not be in vain. 

You prepared for the ebony tendrils of death to consume you, welcoming the endless expanse of eternal slumber. As your eyes fluttered, consciousness fading, a thick fog enveloped the office. It creeped steadily toward you, wrapping around you and Danny in a suffocating haze. 

You gripped his hand tighter, heaving your final breath. Unprepared for the inevitable realization that your story with Danny was far from over. 

[flamingo-writes]

Hello Flamingo!!! how are you? I hope ok.

This is an idea that came to my head a few weeks ago, if you'd like to write it, it's up to you! I hope you like it💕

Reader who was generating a great addiction to the medications that were prescribed for his anxiety and depression, adding other types of addictions such as cigarettes or alcohol, meets Hobie/Spider-Punk and helps they with this problem, empathizing with their situation, Hobie would visit Reader from time to time to ask how things are going or develop some kind of relationship with they.

I think it's an essence of Hobie that you don't often see and I think it's something he would do quite often.

I am finally replying to this! Jesus, I am so SORRY for the delay!

I absolutely loved this request! And I learned so much about addictions during my research. And got google constantly concerned offering me hotlines every google search.

Flirting With An Addiction — Hobie x GN!Reader

Title based of the song Particles by Nothing But Thieves. Love this band, love this song, helped me set the mood for the angsty parts. Especially any live or acoustic version 😭

A/N: i have to clear some stuff first, because some of you are too quick to feel victimised. I do not specify colour nor gender of the reader. I do mention the reader looks pale at some point. Now, because it happened to me once, that someone tried to get sassy with me because dark skin can’t get pale, yes, yes it can. If you have a heartbeat you can get pale, period. Pale is not only a synonym for white, paleness is a medical term used to describe the loss of normal colour in skin or membranes. Pale is a way to describe someone who presents paleness. If you have dark skin, you can still get pale when you’re sick.

Warnings: drug consumption, needles, depictions of several withdrawals symptoms like stomach issues (emetophobia), depression, anxiety,

Word count: 2.7K

Hearing from your parents first hand that you had gone missing was the worst that could have happened to Hobie Brown. You were his favourite person, his best friend, his go to confidant, his partner in crime. And hearing you had gone missing felt like the ground on his feet started crumpling down. His lungs ran out of breath as he mouthed:

"What?”

And your mother explained, drowning in her own tears. And even as she did, he couldn’t understand what was coming out of her mouth, as a horrendous buzz was drilling his brain. He simply heard: "drugs" "weed" "ecstasy" "used needle" "gone". His stomach turned, making him feel nauseous as he couldn’t find anything to say to your parents other than:

"I’m so sorry" he said. "I could’ve helped them" he said. "I wasn’t there for them," he said. And with that, he was gone. Somewhere along the line, he put his mask back on and took off.

Pav and Gwen were there with him when it happened. What started as an innocent hangout at his place, turned into a search party. When Hobie thought of inviting you over as well and realising you weren’t picking up the phone in your house, he decided to look for you. You weren’t at your place, you weren’t at his, your coworkers said you hadn’t showed up for work in three days, and that’s when he went to your mother.

"They’ve been gone for the last five days…" were the last things he heard before that painful buzz started echoing in his head.

He took off. And he’d never swung so fast in his entire life. Pav and Gwen didn’t even have the chance to exchange glances when both of them were running after him. "Running". Between not being familiarised with Old York’s building distribution, nor being familiarised with the streets, they had absolutely no clue where Hobie was heading. They simply guessed Hobie knew where you were.

Boy, we’re they wrong.

Hobie had not the faintest clue where you were. He had a notion of where you could be. But with every fibre in his body he wished he was wrong. "Used needle" was perhaps his best clue, and possibly the one that terrified him the most.

He had a pretty decent notion of where the most famous crack houses were. He’d grown in the streets, of course he knew. More than once he’d been in them, not to make business, but because he was looking for something or someone, or doing Spider-Man duties. And truth was, the very last person he thought he’d ever go looking into a crack house was you.

As he arrived to the first one and kicked the door open, the few junkies there flinched, expecting to see a copper. But instead they saw Spider-Man. He looked around. Pushers, burnouts, and crunched junkies passed out on the floor. Some, Hobie wasn’t even sure they were still alive. He walked around looking for you.

Pav and Gwen caught up with him, and soon realised what was going on. Hobie did not know where you were, he was looking for you. Gwen didn’t have much experience with the darker side of her New York, she was creeped out. Pav, on the other hand, was the youngest of the gang. And he’d been Spider-Man for so little, he hadn’t had the misfortune to end up in the lower parts of Mumbattan. Pav was terrified.

"Hobie?” Gwen asked as he quickly walked out of the flat.

"Not ‘ere" He mumbled, more to himself and took off again.

It went on like that for the next few hours. Crack house after crack house. Desperately looking for you, whether you were baked out of your mind, or simply OD. But the fact that with every place he went to, his chances of finding you grew narrower and narrower, he didn’t know what he preferred. To find you dead on the floor of one of those nasty places, or not finding you at all. With each location, Hobie’s anxiety grew, his movements became clumsier, rougher, even more aggressive.

"Hobie, wait—" Pav yelled after the fifth crack house.

But Hobie didn’t stop. He listened, but his mind was rushing with adrenaline, hyper focusing on his task at hand: finding you.

The guilt accumulated in his chest, weighting more and more with every passing minute. Why was he even feeling guilty for? It’s not like he’d given you the drugs, and forced a needle up your arm. But he knew you had problems with loneliness, he knew about your consuming anxiety and your seasonal depression. He knew you had a strange relationship with your medication. He knew you were picking up a liking for recreational drugs. Harmless stuff like weed and shrooms. Acid at most. He should’ve imagined you’d eventually try to stray into the drugs you swore never to mess with. Ice, dust, junk…He should’ve guessed something like this was going to happen. But he was busy. He was busy being Spider-Man, he was busy jumping between universes. He was busy helping others, but not helping you. Not when he knew you had it rough. That guilt consumed him. He was busy helping everyone else, but you. He was busy helping people from another universe, but not that one person who he considered his family, his world. And boy, that guilt was drowning him.

Was it good luck or bad luck when he found you? He couldn’t tell. He felt his blood turn cold the moment he saw you.

Despite the pale look on your face, and the dark circles under your eyes, but you looked so peaceful. Lying on a dirty mattress, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, relaxed face. You looked so beautiful in the most disturbing way. Thinner than what Hobie remembered. And so terrifyingly still. Were you alive and lost in some euphoric dream? Or were you dead? It was hard to tell. You didn’t seem to be breathing.

Hobie rushed to your side, and he quickly checked your pulse. He called your name, almost in a desperate cry as his eyes quickly teared up behind his mask with the most suffocating feeling of powerlessness and incompetence that he’d ever felt washed over him. You groaned in response, unable to form coherent words and simply stuck to noises, your mind was far too dissolved, drowned in heroine, trapping you in a haze.

He checked your pulse. He checked your breathing. Your eyes of course were almost completely black due to the high. And you had a couple of marks on your arms from needles. Hobie didn’t even dare to count them, the less he knew about your newfound addiction the better for him, or so he thought. He looked around and next to the mattress there were various classic heroine use paraphernalia, making Hobie’s throat close.

"No, no, no, no baby…" Hobie whispered as he stared at you as you lied there, relaxed and heavy in his arms. He pulled his mask off to better look at you. For you to look at him if you were there by any chance. "Not heroine, why heroine…" He whispered as he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. "You knew heroine wasn’t to be messed with, one time is fine, two makes you an addict, sweet’eart…" He purred with his lips pressed against your skin.

"Hobie…" Gwen said gently touching his shoulder.

"We have to go," Hobie said at once as he carried you.

Once in his boathouse, Hobie gently set you down on his bed as he sat on the edge and stared at you attentively. His eyes looking miserable, as he caressed your cheek delicately.

"Hobie?” Pav said, slowly walking inside his room. "We’re very sorry…"

"I am too…" He murmured in response.

"Can we help?” Gwen asked softly.

Hobie was ready to tell them to leave him alone for a while, when he actually thought of something.

"Yes…"

He then gave them a short shopping list with food and over the counter painkillers and some medication for stomach issues. It seemed very random to them, but in that moment Hobie thought he’d keep you in his boat and help you through your detox. At least as long as he could. A week or two, to start, and from then, he’d improvise along the way.

His impulsive and spontaneous thought of keeping you there over the period of detox didn’t really prepare him for the absolute torture it turned out to be.

To him, it was terribly, awfully, agonisingly painful. Watching you suffer like that. The way you whined and curled up on his bed, crying in silence from the pain, dealing with the tummy issues. The nausea, the not being able to leave the bathroom, looking weak, constantly upset, the shivering, and awful ups and downs in your anxiety and your mood.

Everything hurt, your head, your limbs, every muscle in your body, your stomach, even organs you couldn’t exactly pin point where they were, now you could because of the sharp pain. Even the smell of food made you excruciatingly nauseous, and puke green bile across the room, even feeling nausea was painful. It was hell. You were dying, you were sure your entire body was shutting down and you were going to die in this aching hell. Too anxious to sleep, to weak to move, too nauseous to do as much as roll over on the bed, too shaky to even be able to hold things in your hands. Sometimes you didn’t even feel your limbs at all for hours.

He could only imagine how it was like for you. How it was going inside your head. But sitting and watching was awful for him. He wanted to help, and from an objective point of view he knew he was helping, but he didn’t want you to hurt. He wished time and time again that he was able to take that pain away from you. The first three days were the peak of your suffering. And there was nothing Hobie could do other than keep an eye on you and get you what you needed.

When the physical symptoms started to subside, when you were able to keep food in your stomach, and when you stopped complaining about everything hurting, the psychological symptoms began. The consuming guilt and anxiety, the fear of showing up at work or at your parents’ house, the fear of the disappointment. Pitying yourself, pulling yourself down into that depressive hole you’d been digging.

Crying every night before going to bed became a recurrent event. You crying your heart out as Hobie held you tightly in his arms, comforted you until you’d fall asleep. You cried several times a day, but the one before bed was always the worst.

And soon, it became a recurrent event. Hobie keeping you all in one piece, as you cried and your heart broke all over again. His long yet strong and warm arms managed to hold you together every single night. Soon, sleeping together became a habit. And more than a habit, soon, Hobie’s company became a better painkiller than the pills you took. His scent managed to soothe the nausea which was thankfully decreasing with every day. His warmth seemed to help you control the shivers and the goosebumps. His voice quieted down the mean anxious thoughts in your brain. His company drifted you to sleep for several hours without waking up with tachycardia and short breath.

Falling asleep in his arms became just the right medication, although the long term effects were still there. But they were much bearable. The mornings were the best time of the day. First thing in the morning, drowned in the aftermath of that sleepy haze, you’d always find yourself staring at Hobie.

He didn't like mornings, he wasn’t a morning person. But something about seeing him sleep, his face relaxed, thick lips slightly parted, and the dim sunlight hitting his face, making him look absolutely gorgeous. Had he always been this attractive? Easy, yes; he had always been an attractive lad. But had you always felt that feeling in your heart? That was new. And you were sure it was not the usual tachycardia you’d get from the drugs, but something Hobie did unconsciously.

"You know it’s real creepy that you stare at people while they sleep…” He whispered softly as he woke up slowly, opening his eyes slowly and seeing you staring at him with a subtle and sweet smile on your lips.

"Shut up" You chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was low and raspy, still creeping with sleep.

"Better…although that might change in a couple of hours" You sighed, already getting mentally ready for the awful up and downs in your mood and anxiety.

"I’m sorry"

"That my life now, I guess"

"It’ll get better…it’s been getting better hasn’t it?" He immediately added as he looked at you, slightly more awake, taking in the details of your face, as you were snuggled next to him, most of your body touching his, sharing the same comforting heat.

"Yeah I think so" You purred.

"Hey, I’ve got you, okay? Not letting you fall again into that dark place"He whispered, leaning forward, bumping his forehead against yours, as one of his hands caressed you cheek, making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you" You closed you eyes, as you savoured this sweet intimate moment with Hobie.

"Don’t mention it, luv"

"But I mean it…" You whispered. "You’ve been basically the entire time here…keeping an eye on me…ignoring your Spider-Man duties…I’ve heard you argue with that Miguel guy over your watch…"

"He can fuck off," He said with a cheerful whisper and a chuckle "he’s got another hundreds of spider-people at his service, he doesn’t miss me, he just likes to be patronising…"

"I still appreciate it very much…" Your eyes opened slowly with your statement as you stared into his eyes, and he seemed to immediately get lost in yours.

"No problem…I’d do anything for you…"

You both stared into each other’s eyes. And something about his eyes was slightly different. The eyes you grew up looking at, those eyes you knew how to read perfectly, almost being able to read his thoughts, now had something slightly different about them. Something that made your heart race and your cheeks grow hot. Something Hobie saw reflected in your own.

And you both read each other’s minds. And you both leaned forward without having to be told. Closing your eyes, you felt your breath leave your lungs when you felt his warm lips against yours.

Hobie wasn’t by any means a slow tender guy, he was the passionate dude who knew how to use his tongue. Not this time. This time he felt the world stop, time stop, and all there was, was you. And he wanted to savour it. He kissed you slower than he was used to. The kiss was gentler than what he was used to. He was used to kissing strangers, perhaps someone he shared chemistry with, but never really someone he cared for as much as you. This felt far more special, far more unique. This felt like something he could get addicted to, and something he wanted to relive often.

As he broke the kiss slowly, catching his breath, he opened his eyes and stared at you as you remained with your eyes closed, still processing what you’d felt. He smiled and bumped his forehead against yours.

"I promise you, you’ll be alright, okay? I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound…even if it kills me" He reassured you.

"Please don’t say that," You murmured.

"What?" He chuckled.

"Anything that’s in some way related to you dying," Hobie chuckled, thinking your concerns were very cute, although very understandable as well.

"Fine…" He replied "I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound even if…it’s a near death experience…better?"

“No, not really…" You chuckled, "but I appreciate the effort

"Hey, you mean so much to me, you know that?"

"You mean mean so much to me too…"

[mychlapci]

Taking a break from beating my head against my google docs to say that I think single mommy Sentinel Prime would probably stop after the third bitlet. It’s the perfect number, after all! The have siblings to play and squabble with, but not so many that he can’t lovingly dedicate himself to them completely the way a good mommy should. And this is probably fine, what with him being on reduced hours and cumming his brains out on the regular—until his youngest is old enough to go to daycare. Then he’d go back to his old, irritable, irritating self pretty quickly. His coworkers would quickly get together, scheming behind his back and coming up with a plan to get that mech pregnant again and KEEP him that way.

I imagine there’d be some kind of government sponsored fertility campaign after the loss of the Allspark… Maybe even benefits for carrying. And I imagine there’s probably some baby fever thrown into the mix, after having Sentinel running around pregnant and with bitlets nursing off of his tits. The office would agree on who would knock him up first, the lucky mech ‘hesitantly’ asking if Sentinel would maybe consider being a surrogate carrier. And Sentinel, missing being pregnant and probably gloating internally about how everybot must know what a perfect carrier he is, would agree.

It wouldn’t even be difficult to get Sentinel Prime pregnant again. He’s dripping at the mere thought of being round with another bitlet, and his slutty, fertile spark would split one off in no time. The applicator, of course, would be necessary for home-use. They aren’t in a relationship, after all. But it’s simple enough to load cartridges for that. In the office, however, all his coworkers are pleased to note the return of the soft, pretty carrier who begs so sweetly for spike. Of course that valve belongs to the sire and whatever partner(s) they may or may not have for the duration of this pregnancy, but hey! Free show. Mommy Sentinel needs transfluid and he is GOING to get it, panel opening enticingly to let him waggle his dripping valve at the sire when and wherever. Begging for another load as he drools onto his desk, clutching at the edge as that spike fills him just right. Constantly simmering with charge, desperately aroused at the idea that other mechs think he’s so good a mommy that they want him to carry for them. Overloading hard when the sire cups his belly or pinches his swollen, sensitive nipples.

And when this pregnancy is over, his coworkers will be drawing lots to be the next lucky bastard to pump their spike into that plush, needy valve. Anything to keep Mommy pregnant, since Sentinel gets unbearable otherwise. His days of doing field work are well and truly over, but he can’t be too mad about it. He’s too charged up all the time to really even notice.

mhmm Bots are falling all over each in a race to impregnate Sentinel. It's not just the financial bonus for adding to the population - the thing is, a pregnant Sentinel is a happy Sentinel, and not happy in that annoying, gloating way, but really happy. In the way where he’s mellow and mostly focused on rubbing his pregnant belly and topping up on transfluid. They need to keep him pregnant to make him bearable. Sentinel definitely misses being pregnant, so when bots approach him asking him if he would like to be a surrogate, he’s more than happy to smugly announce that yes, of course, he’s got a very good gestation chamber, as can be seen by his three beautiful, well-behaved sparklings (I think they would be such menaces, but Sentinel wouldn’t admit that to himself)

Soon enough, all is right in the world once again - Sentinel is at his desk, his pussy squelching around the applicator as he dutifully does his job without bothering anyone. He's easily distracted by a spike now, meaning that if he mouths off, the sire just has to whip it out and pound his valve until he's dazed and rubbing his baby-bump constantly, staring at his work dumbly <33

When he goes home he takes care of his kids like a good, attentive mommy and then later at night, he makes sure to top up on a little more transfluid....

[alicepao13]

Here we go again, Hudson and Rex S01E01!

God, I love 1080p.

Oh, Diesel. He's so young in this episode.

Okay, what is going on back there, the show has only just started lol

I forgot this show's only colors for S1 were blue and... blue. And some yellow.

Charlie in his suits. I could say I've missed it, but it gets old fast. You get more options with casual clothes.

Charlie verbally sparring with Mankiewicz is so good. I don't know why they didn't find more opportunities to get him back on the show, he's a good villain.

The part where Mankiewicz says Evelyn's name, I always thought that was intentional, judging by the way he looks up, like if he's waiting to see whether Charlie will pick up on it, which he does. He's probably judging his foe's intelligence.

Is it just me, or was John Reardon's voice even deeper in S1 (I remember I'd thought that before, it's not just this episode)? Or if not deeper, different somehow.

Rex displaying his intelligence as he "infiltrates" the bad guys' hideout. Also, I'm kinda curious about his screentime in this episode. If I'm right, it's significantly lower than other episodes.

I now remember than Kevin Hanchard had said he filmed all his scenes of S1 at the same time or something like that. I will be looking for hairstyle discrepancies lol

Ah, the old house. And Charlie looking at Rex's empty dog bed. And the first hints of whump as he's shot with a tranquilizer dart. I appreciated that.

Doesn't everyone get their forensics expert with them when looking for a missing kid?

Calm down, guys, it's the first episode.

Not much skill in the henchmen who had kidnapped Evelyn.

Hilariously, Sarah doesn't enter her lab once in the first episode.

I also do notice a not so subtle effort from direction/editing of making sure that Sarah gets in and out of the boat without Charlie's help, I guess they're making sure that Charlie is not doing any of chivalric things a man could do for his female coworker? He does later say that the perp should point the gun at him but it's after he's questioned from the woman herself and after Rex's timely takedown, Sarah is the one point the gun at the woman, while Charlie does the arrest.

Charlie hugging Rex after being separated from him for a whole day.

And Charlie shooting the guy, which apparently no one remembers lol

Jesse getting shot! More whump! I don't think anyone believed for a moment that he would die, though. Also, can someone shoot Charlie? I've been asking for years.

"He's not a dog, he's my partner". Ah, the corniness. I'll allow it.

The ending scene. I can clearly tell that John Reardon has some snack for Diesel in his hand after we've been shown the trick.

I honestly never thought that episode was a good pilot, not because of the quality of the episode itself, I consider it above average for S1. But you give the audience the wrong idea about how this show is going to be. Personally, upon my first watch, I was given the impression that Rex would be alone doing his own thing quite often. Also, it doesn't give the audience almost anything in terms of Charlie and Rex's partnership. And they promoted this show with lines like "good detectives, great partners", etc., focused on the partnership, which is the whole point of the show from its origins anyway.

[singaporesainz]

Multiple hot takes in this one:

I think people who keep up with wags are weird especially those who make fan pages and defend them like they know them especially for the wags who literally never interact with people so you don’t even know their personalities. I think it’s also weird when you see a photo of a driver with their partner ie Oscar and lily and people go oh she’s Barbie and he’s there I guess like you can compliment her but putting down a person to compliment another is crazy to me. It’s just icky because if someone said that to my partner or about them I’d be upset. It’s just weird 😰 obviously there are exceptions for if they’re in their own field and you genuinely like their work then that’s okay. Like Alex’s gf lily who’s a pro golfer, but only liking their stuff when it’s attached to said driver and them being a wag is the weird bit.

Speaking of Oscar, this is more Charles fans, I love Charles a lot but those Charles fans who come out of the woodwork to use Oscar to put lando down is insane. Lando will have a bad stop and Oscar will do a good thing and I just see all these Charles fans saying Oscar finally showing lando he’s washed or I bet landos pissed Oscar won before him, which has been proven wrong on many occasions he’s proud of Oscar and does everything to bring it up knowing Oscar won’t really brag about it . Like you guys should be more worried about what war Ferrari is brewing over there instead of trying to make it seem like lando and Oscar hate eachother.

Which brings me to my third take, I love c2 content it’s great but people who are deluding themselves into thinking they’re besties is crazy. It’s okay they can just be teammates no one’s gonna die. I feel like people use the excuse oh well would you laugh with someone you hated? Uh yes especially if I have to work with them, you can also have good times with someone you don’t like. Plus they get paid for this so obviously theyre gonna laugh and do whatever to secure their seats. I’m not saying they hate eachother either I’m just saying they’re coworkers atleast and at most friends but those type of friends you make in certain classes so it makes time go faster ya know.

Also Carlos needs to muzzle his mother because lord I would not let my family members have twter accounts or social media accounts. The way you could literally lose your seat over something a family member likes is crazy. Like why was she beefing with Ferraris long standing driver you’d think she’d want her son to keep his chair especially since Carlos’ sponsor backing is leaving the team. I’d be all up on twter liking c2 content and even some Charles posts congratulating him on doing good like cmon. Shit talking your competitor isn’t gonna work with Carlos like it did his dad in rallying but that’s neither here nor there

One last thing which might be so controversial but like I gotta say it. Checo hate is ridiculous, Yes he made the woman should be in the kitchen statement but you have to understand that was a long time ago and after that incident he apologized profusely and he even has an organization to help young women in motorsports and always mentions the women who work in motorsports. Yes he shouldn’t have said it in the first place but he has learned and grown and showed that he grew from that. It’s a lot more than some of the current drivers who have said or laughed at jokes at women’s expenses and never apologize. hate him for cheating, like honestly there’s a few drivers I don’t like because of cheating that’s just a moral thing on my end but I think the unnecessary hate is unneeded.

This just came to me while rereading this but also those people who compared Bianca being ableist to lando moaning in stream are mad weird. So obsessed too like yall are missing the whole point of why everyone’s upset just so you can whine about how you don’t like lando like he’s not a 25 year old man who can do what he wants. Lando being silly and horny on stream is not the same as using autism as a derogatory word towards another driver who is doing your dream job ((finishing 27th in your championship while your teammates all finished 1-2-3 is embarrassing) (don’t even get me started on her exploiting her brother))

Anyways just wanted to get that off my chests sorry for the essay 🤞😺

girlie pop this is an ESSAY, and im glad you decided to get it off your chest on my blog fr. though i will say that i do not have it in me to respond to every point to great detail so, sorry.

keeping up with wags -> i've been saying this and i agree. wag obsessed people are fucking weird i could go into heavy detail and i have.

oscar -> i didn't think charles fans were doing that thought it was just people who had a general distaste for lando. i've seen the discourse about how lando is probably hurt/salty/angry but people like to make something out of nothing. theyre bored.

c2 -> my personal take is theyre strictly work friends. like neither of them would go out of their way to try and hangout beyond the track, but they get along fine when they need to. i dont think there are any ill feelings there btjm

carlos's mom -> yeah don't know what to say about this except she's a mom being a mom, and not realizing that her likes are public. can't speak to reyes and her ways, as i've said before i try not to pay too much attention to watch goes on outside of carlos really.

checo hate -> i know it exists but i havent come across it to get into detail. but wild loud hate on any driver i think is fucking ridiculous. like the haters who are loud and proud and harassing the driver?? theyre gross and pathetic.

bianca discourse -> didn't know people were comparing??? girlie idk what side of social media you're on but it sounds like a weird and scary place. and people who are doing that are just trying to find a way to diminish her and validate their burning desire to just hate on her.

[unkat]

i am playing around with the idea of naturally ending chilchuck/his wife as a narrative, with a lot of headcanon interpolation of events. this is led by my fanfic brain which is looking at a different end game. i am marcilling it.

canonically he did not contact his daughters or wife for those years after she left. i struggle to imagine how it must feel for your life partner to let you disappear from his life and stopped contacting your shared kids at the same time, diving even more headfirst into his work that made you feel abandoned in the first place.

i think chilchuck thinks he is doing what is best for them by working hard on improving the respect for half-foots and not telling them about his work life. i can see him thinking that this is too much for them to worry about, so he can protect them by not disclosing anything but a censored version of events, minimizing the danger and death he faces whenever he leaves. i think before he started working in the dungeon, he was a lot more open about it with her, back when the complaints were just shitty customers.

but its not like she wouldnt notice, once he started advocating for higher safety regulations. like. what if each time he came home, he had some new frightening clause to add to his contract, and brushed off her attempts to get details as to why he put it there? and that feeling is not something their kids would be able to overlook once they get old enough to go from parent-child caretaker to parent-child friendship/advisor.

so yeah! when she actually meets his coworkers and realizes how much he has been leaving out about his life, its like he is a totally different person than the man she has been living with for the past 13 years. she has been lied to through omission, and he cant read the room that she needed him to trust her. so, she does something drastic to get his attention (and, very importantly, give herself fulfillment). and then he never calls, never writes, never reaches out for years of her life.

personally i think it would make sense for her to find something of her own, like a hobby or job, after her children have grown, and through that there could someone who can give her enough emotional support to fall in love again.

by the time he returns, he was a good man and great father, but a lousy husband, and she does not want to throw away the happiness she found without him. i think they loved each other for so long that it would be easy to fall back into that fondness after they both had a serious couple of conversations. but the ship to go back to how things were has sailed, and neither of them should try to go back to how things were. there is still love there, just in a different form than it was before.

i guess i kinda like the idea of growth that is staggered from each other due to their communication problems, if i had to make them lines moving in parallel. they fell out of sync understanding each other, and by the time they caught back up, they have missed the window to be as close as they were before. kinda a "right place, wrong time" by the time chilchuck has finished canon. i think there is beauty in the imperfections of damaged relationships, the fallibility of human nature, healing by falling apart.

could they have both been that loyal to the commitment and still work hard to fall back into love? i think its possible, but it should be as difficult as it needs to be for both of them to feel like this is a real change. chilchuck retiring might make that easier or harder for her- less stressful job, but he needs to actually put aside time for them and not fixate on his career, which would be hard if he is still a driving force behind civil movements on top of starting his business.

[not-quite-normal]

You said you worked on tmmt 2012 for a bit, do you have any stories from there? What it was like working on it, workplace stories, etc? It’s one of my favorite shows, (and literally my entire childhood) so i would love to hear anything you have to say about it :D

hey! i'm happy to hear that, tmnt was a huge part of my career. it taught me a lot about workflow because of the sheer amount of action shots we had to animate in such a short amount of time. i wasn't about to work for free in order to finish my shots on time (bardel, the studio i worked at on tmnt, didn't and still does not pay overtime) and i wanted to go home every day at 6, so i made sure i had the cleanest and most efficient workflow possible to make that happen lol

i was on tmnt for about 5 years (seasons 1-4) and honestly one of the best things about it was the crew. i've crossed paths with a bunch of old tmnt coworkers throughout the years after it finished and we still consider each other old tmnt bros, no matter what we've gone on to work on afterwards haha, we were a tight crew

the number one best thing about tmnt though, is it's where i met my partner, who i've been with for about seven and a half years now. he's also an anim lead on across the spider-verse :)

tmnt was a really fun show to work on! i always looked forward to watching new animatics when they came in, there was always a great mix of acting and action stuff to work on, i loved the designs of the turtles and splinter (they made really appealing shapes when posing them), their weapons were really nicely rigged and had lots of controls to make them do cool graphic smear shapes, and the storyboards were always super clear and easy to work from

my favourite thing i animated was actually after i had finished on the show; i left when season 5 started but came back for a special tmnt music video that i worked on with one other animator for a few months. when we were done, i had some free time so i did a bit of an alternate ending that the showrunner ended up posting publicly on his instagram. you can see my username cgratzlaff in the bottom left of that video lol

sometimes i wish i could open up one of the turtle rigs again just to play around with it haha i miss those turts

[touchoflaughter]

IRL-Tickles:

(Means In-real-life-tickles/tickle memories I’m comfortable sharing with you) 💜

Help! My Boss knows! Beware of embarrassing content!!

The ticklish Start-Button my bf being curious about how much my navel can endure

Giggle Button Love another one for my sweet Tummy Lovers

„Still ticklish?“ Met an old friend of mine after a long time…

Gang-Tickling 3 Friends fighting over the only place to sleep.

Only one finger everyone knows the sentence “It’s only one finger”… like- okay?! It still tickles!!

Tickle hug nothing better worse than a tickle attack while being trapped in a tight hug, right?

Sunday Morning Tickle Fight it ended with a bloody nose y’all

„Don’t move!“ my bf tricked me to stay still until I couldn’t get away anymore…

Family Tickle Fight (my 5 cousins plotting against me)

„Give them back!“ stealing something from a Ler- what could go wrong in the first place?

Flattered Raspberries my partner admiring my tummy in the most adorable way 🥺

Cold hands, warm tickles Just a casual tickle fight between childish grown-ups

Public Tickles pt. 1 my classmate discovers my ticklishness and doesn't miss any opportunity to rub it in my face...

Public Tickles pt. 2 well- the embarrassment continues…

Public Tickles pt. 3 It's getting worse...

Let me help you sleep I didn’t know my ribs are THAT ticklish…help

Tickles at work we could get seriously injured but so what?

Gang Tickling is the worst so y'all love all those gang tickling fics right? Irl it's pretty tough for a lee that blushes whenever someone say the word 'tickle'...

Raspberries are against the rules! My bf tests how tough of a martial artist I am- by cheating of course.

The big cheat Let’s play football they said. It will be fun they said…

Story Dump 3 ticklish situations from the past weeks

Struggle for power The moment two Ler‘s collide…

Pressure Points While discussing the effectiveness of pressure points with some fellow martial artists my bf decides to present a way more effective alternative...

Summer Story dump pt.1 Just a bunch of stories with our beloved secret Ler aka. Phil. Got me good again.

Summer Story dump pt.2 the story dump goes into the second round full of tickle fights

Stuck in Traffic What happens when I‘m stuck in a three-seater with two of my cheekiest coworkers? Torture. Straight up torture.

„Just swallow it!“ Ever been tickled while you‘re trying to drink?

“Don’t even think about that!” When a trip with some friends end in endless tickle opportunities…

How to punish a sore loser when a game of Mario Cart turns into a tickle fight

Foot Fetishists and sore muscles two little stories from the past days

„I‘m ticklish all over!“ my nephew discovers my little weakness and has way too much fun with this new knowledge

Arms up! It‘s the work buddies again and this time it was a really close call…

The MMA cousin Q&A the often requested story time about my experiences with Aiden and his sadistic tendencies

Danger Of Confusion what happens when you start a tickle attack… but you mistake the wrong person for your partner?

Sometimes you gotta cry an old story from my childhood when I got really scared of a group of girls

[shinwoonoh]

it’s ep 4 of the eighth sense and i still don’t believe jaewon is in therapy. 

i asked myself why? why, when it’s getting quite obvious that jaewon is in therapy, from the woman accusing him of just being here for the drugs and to jaewon stating his parents forced him to come here 10 years ago. he sits there on a couch for four as a silhouette. the water is clear and glowing behind him. she essentially tells him to spit it out for god’s sake, says he has depression, and jaewon tells her i’m getting sick of myself wearing a mask when I’m dealing with others.

(or a deeply personal piece about my experiences with being asian and the idea of therapy, all prompted by the privilege of getting to experience the eighth sense) 

[tw: depression, suicide ideation, ptsd]

i’m first generation chinese canadian and queer. my sister has depression, had thoughts of suicide, all while i myself was being emotionally and verbally abused at work. it’s been 5 years but when i drive by a white toyota 4runner (because that’s the car they drove), i’m still gripped with fear. i can only stare straight ahead hoping to god it’s not them it’s not them it’s not. i want to drive the other way onto oncoming traffic 

i told my mom then, that my sister needs help - a doctor, therapy, - call the goddamn pastor from church - anything. 

she told me, what use is therapy going to do?

my mom was a registered nurse. when i was a kid, she used to bring me with her on her night shifts and i’d eat tuna croissant sandwiches with the seniors in front of the biggest television box i’ve ever seen in my life. cross legged on the floor because the po po’s and gong gong’s took all the chairs. she told me if old white ladies ask for kleenex and you give them toilet paper, they’ll be mad. it’s different here. 

so it’s ep 4 of the eighth sense and i don’t believe therapy exists in the minds of asian people and culture

i took a new job. vowed not to make friends at work. clock in clock out. gave limited info when coworkers asked questions. smiled and giggled. i observed and mimicked behaviour that would let me fit in. i learned how to hug someone when they were upset (tight and long, soothe their backs with open palms) even though i didn’t want to hug anyone, let alone have anyone touch me anywhere that was soft

i was masking. 

been masking. for a long time.

i fit in so well, everyone likes me. i’ve been told i’m the favourite by pretty much everyone. hell, i’ve had coworkers fighting over me, told i can do and say no wrong. i’m not trying to brag. i hate being the centre of attention. i steer conversation immediately to the other person so i don’t have to talk about myself too much. just enough to seem normal, to look human - to be liked. 

(even as i’m writing this, there are too many words and paragraphs about me, why would anyone read this? y’all are here for the eighth sense but i’m going on like a celebrity writing their autobiography about their tragic childhood and how they were able to rise above - so, okay, i should start sprinkling in some actual t8s content analysis, for god’s sake)

jaewon says i want to free myself from human relationships

what happened to jaewon? we don’t know entirely yet. but everybody loves jaewon. the teacher will give him a good mark because he likes jaewon. everybody in class wants him to be their project partner and everybody’s missed him since he’s been away in the army please hang out with us jaewon let’s go drinking jaewon you better show up jaewon or it would be a shame, jaewon you are so likeable loveable cool lucky don’t worry about jaewon he’s got everything going on for him

then he meets jihyun and i think jaewon has a hard time finding the right mask to put on to deal with the freshman. and he slips a lot. when he starts to talk about his brother, after eunji shows up because of taehyung’s scheming, when jihyun repeatedly corrects him that it’s jaewon that wants to be friends - not him. and finally when he kisses jihyun

he’s having such a hard time and he slips up so bad, that the next safest option is to mask right back up

oh jaewon was drunk he has a habit of kissing and yeah he’ll join them after he helps yoon won wrap things up he’s the new best friend so let’s have a meal together with jihyun and his roommate next time

3 years into my new job, someone returns to the company and we become friends, on a soulmate level. i think i was in love with her - i definitely had a crush on her. but anyways, somehow i see her and i was suddenly all sorts of things because of her. i start to look forward to work. i add my coworkers on facebook and ig. we go to parties with our bosses and a few of us go on a couple of road trips even though the pandemic is blazing in the background  

she saw me, even when i didn’t want to be seen. i remember getting a particularly anxiety-inducing email from my previous job. i’m in the staff room sitting quietly, staring at my feet. i try to breathe. 

i’m alone for the whole of it but i emerge from the room again. ready to leave for the day and somehow, my friend sees me. asks me what’s wrong?

how did she know? i didn’t cry. i looked in the mirror before i came out. i didn’t even say anything to her. but i tell her, quietly at first and then easily and then finally with so much - so. much. honesty.

she tells me i get it. of course you feel that way. why wouldn’t you feel that way? it’s completely understandable. i know you. 

we hug. it’s one of the best hugs i’ve ever received. 

she leaves for another job. i try to go on, all open and soft parts exposed. but little by little, i go back into my shell. 

why would i want to show the entirety of myself? all the bits of me are all the ways i can embarrass myself, expose myself, show myself to people who will take what i show and twist and move it all in a way that becomes unrecognizable and uncontrollable

so i mask

but it’s goddamn tiring and exhausting. jaewon is exhausted. you see it in his eyes as he stares off out into nowhere when jihyun tells him his name. when they’re sitting in the train, and he’s smiling at jihyun at first and then jihyun’s smile falls open, and we see jaewon’s expression: there’s a downward movement to his lips. it’s so miniscule. maybe i’m imagining it

but that’s the moment i think jihyun sees when he tells aeri he ran into jaewon sunbae yesterday, and he didn’t look okay.

what was i talking about? oh yes, therapy and being asian and how disconnected that is to me. nobody asian goes to therapy. i can hear all the aunties and my popo saying sometimes doctors are wrong and medicine isn’t going to help. my grandma didn’t believe my grandpa had dementia and alzheimer’s even to the last minute of his death and past it. she said he was annoying and stupid when he forgot where he put his ring or when he would leave the stove on until a hole burnt through the pot.

in the farewell, a story about a chinese family that lied to their aging matriarch that she didn’t have terminal lung cancer. all of them flew back to china for a rushed and premature marriage, used as an excuse to go tearily say goodbye to their soon-to-be dead grandma/mom/mother in law, etc. the juxtaposition of them celebrating a happy marriage while crying on stage to her about her for her as she claps with happiness and pride, but also with confusion, is funny. they never tell her. and she miraculously is cured of cancer. it’s like she never had it. they lied to her because they wanted her to be happy. be happy so she wouldn’t die. 

so what good will medicine, let alone, therapy do? just be happy. easy, right?

i hope jaewon continues to open up. i hope he finds that soulmate of his, maybe in jihyun, maybe in himself. i know opening up and unmasking is scary. but also masking is so uncomfortable that i want to crawl out of my skin. it’s alienating and lonely. 

even writing all of this out, i still don’t think jaewon is in actual therapy. i’ve never seen it personally in asian media. so i think it’s so sad that when i’m being given a beautiful example of a korean person in korea going to therapy or whatever type of appointment relationship agreement this is where jaewon gets asked what’s bothering him and he answers truthfully and almost painlessly. like he’s been doing this for 10 years. 

and i don’t believe it. it’s so fucked up that i don’t believe it. i keep thinking when will the rug be pulled out from under me? surely there’s no such thing as an asian person going to therapy. fuck, evelyn travelled through the multiverse and there’s not one of her in therapy 

but it’s right there in front of my own eyes: jaewon getting counselled and advised, she has a notebook, an aquarium to look at when you’re nervous, big round metal balls to stare right back at you when you need a distraction and it’s been 10 years. i watched it all with the same eyes that saw my parents fight and punch holes in the wall before going to couple retreats at church and coming back stronger than ever. the last time i saw them fight, i was in high school. even as my sister finally spoke to her doctor and she saw a therapist, then a psychiatrist and now she’s on medication and she’s doing better. i’m not afraid she’s going to hurt herself anymore. my soulmate sees a counsellor and messages me randomly and it’s so eerily weird when she knows i’m struggling even when we’re a mountain apart

it’s all in front of me. but i don't believe it. 

[runwayrunway]

No. 26 - Copa Airlines

Over this weekend, I had you all fill out a questionnaire. Now, every question that's on there was on there for a reason, but some of those reasons are a bit more straightforward than others.

This one, for example, was something I had already been using a survey for, and I figured using my followers would meet a higher standard of science than using my coworkers and a few discord chats. If anything, it is needlessly biased in favor of the airline in question, since my followers include many Airplane People. And boy do the results speak volumes.

I removed the wordmark from this picture of an airplane and asked you all what airline she flies for. (Let's pretend the title of this post doesn't spoil the answer.) The answers were overwhelmingly consistent.

32 out of 77 responses, a stunning 45%, identified this plane as flying for United Airlines.

I mean, not hard to understand why. The only things that are different are a slightly darker shade of blue, minor tweaks to the logo on the tail, and the easy-to-miss detail that the mystery plane is registered in Panama. (In fact, the only way to recognize what airline it flies for, in my own opinion, is that the airline's ICAO code is in the registration. Again, not something the average person would spot, or indeed should be expected to.)

The second most common response was either not responding, or saying that you don't know. (Actually, a lot of people expressed unsureness, but these people outright refused to guess.) The third most common response was AT&T. The phone company. In a similar vein, another respondent guessed Euronews, the news show.

Then we have four people who guessed Continental.

This is completely reasonable, since their livery is just the old United livery - rather, United's old livery is stolen from Continental during their merger. I get the sense that the difference between people who immediately assume United and people who immediately assume Continental is whether they were over or under a certain age in 2012.

A handful of other specific airlines were guessed. I'm not going to touch on all of them, including the ones I've already reviewed - I'll just leave a little collage of the miscellaneous guesses.

Okay. So the answer is obviously that this is, as it says in the title, Copa Airlines.

Three people actually guessed this correctly, and two of them live in Latin America. Copa (Compañía Panameña de Aviación) is the flag carrier of Panama and one of the largest carriers in Latin America. I find Copa's livery to be almost powerful in how tragic it is. It wasn't always like this.

Back in the day Copa had its own livery, its own branding. And I'm not going to linger on the fact that these are Iberia colors, because a lot of airlines use similar colors but this says COPA on it in huge text in two places.

This might seem like a weird case of self-sabotaging plagiarism, but it actually came about in a way I find far worse. Copa and Continental had a marketing alliance, with Continental having a 49% stake in the company until 1999, when it was increased to 51%. Immediately, Copa, in addition to partnering with Continental, began to use the same frequent flier program and - what I care about - the same livery.

I don't even have it in me to care about how the livery is boring and the font is ugly, how it's a far worse version of it than what Continental and then United wore. That is like seeing a corpse and being disturbed that it has a bad haircut. This airline is wearing a livery almost universally recognized to be that of a different airline. What is even the point of painting your planes with your name if you care this little about having an identity? You might as well be operating as United Express.

The worst thing is that United has changed their livery now. They don't have a majority stake in Copa, and haven't for well over a decade. Copa has its own fleet, its own routes, its own holding company, its own frequent flyer program, its own history, its own name. So why is it still wearing a livery that was never its own to begin with?

Maybe they don't want to commit fully to the retro look. But there is so much room in the world for this vibrant color scheme, this large legible wordmark, and this adorable little airplane underline logo. If only they hadn't committed to having planes that, if identifiable, are identifiable as a completely different airline.

And that makes me angry. That defeats the entire point. It makes me feel a potent mix of disgust and pity. This is an empty, broken thing. Not even a husk. A little shriveled creature inside of a very large, empty, cold jar. Any life would be better than this, if it could just be alive again.

F.

I have opinions on its overall appearance, sure. And I am not factoring them into this final rating. You copy Continental's homework and change it a bit, you get failed for plagiarism.

Just...you're allowed to do more than breathing. You've had Continental's livery for decades. At any moment, you could say 'no more', and you could decide that you care about being Copa Airlines. I really hope you do that soon.

[no-stupid-questions-official]

About how many people make it to their 30s being virgins? I'm turning 30 in a few months and I've never had sex or even dated. I think dating the right person would be nice, but between my introversion, anxiety and just being more focused on other aspects of my life, it's never been a priority for me. Still, all around me friends and coworkers are moving in/having kids/getting more serious in general with their partners, it looks like everyone has someone, and I know I'm too old for this but it's making me feel like I'm missing out on some vital part of life, so-- am I, statistically?

-

[goodnightmemes]

BONES SENTENCE STARTERS / s01e12 - s01e14

❛ Don’t use your charm smile on me. ❜

❛ Every family has its secrets. ❜

❛ Are you a nerd? ❜

❛ Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you from - What are you doing exactly? ❜

❛ You know I gotta tell you, I never bought all that English 101 stuff. Sometimes a river is just a river. ❜

❛ Could you please, maybe just for once try not to piss everyone off around you? ❜

❛ My God, it’s like we lead parallel lives. ❜

❛ You’re just one of those guys who’s way too good at lying. ❜

❛ I’ll see you in the comic books, buster. ❜

❛ So what you’re saying is that reality falls far, far short of the fictional. ❜

❛ I was just using it as an excuse to make conversation and reestablish our connection. ❜

❛ Great, how he’s ignoring us in two languages. ❜

❛ You know that book I’m reading, about getting along with your coworkers? It says that sarcasm is never helpful. I could lend it to you if you want. ❜

❛ Did you hear what I said about sarcasm? ❜

❛ I call shotgun. ❜

❛ I called shotgun. What does it mean to a society when the niceties are no longer observed? ❜

❛ Is anybody here? You don’t have to be afraid. ❜

❛ Of course they’re gonna be afraid, I have a gun. ❜

❛ I am asking you as a favor not to make me do this…to scare her. Please? ❜

❛ Interesting or horrible? Because sometimes, it’s the same thing with you. ❜

❛ Mega tough old bastard. ❜

❛ I’ll tell you what, because I like you so much, if I find out who did it, I’ll kill him. ❜

❛ You think you can intimidate people into doing what you want? ❜

❛ How do you handle someone who isn’t afraid of you? ❜

❛ That’s gonna hurt in the morning. ❜

❛ I know you’re all about self-reliance and fighting your own battles and standing up for yourself, but now, as your friend, and knowing how much you hate psychology here, you need therapy. ❜

❛ Later I found out it was three days. But, I thought it was a week, maybe more. ❜

❛ He came in every day and made me believe I was going to die. ❜

❛ I promised myself if I ever had the chance, I’d get even. ❜

❛ You put a hit out on my partner? ❜

❛ If anything happens to her, I will find you and I will kill you. I won’t think twice. ❜

❛ Come here, look in my eyes. Look at my face. If anything happens to her, I will kill you. ❜

❛ Should I keep talking as though you are paying attention? ❜

❛ The information that I’m about to tell you must not leave this room. ❜

❛ I am philosophically imposed to institutional secrecy in all its forms. ❜

❛ So now politics are more important then murder? ❜

❛ Next time you know, you miss me, pick up the phone, call me, we’ll do lunch or something. ❜

❛ He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, you do. ❜

❛ You want to back down a jot there buddy? ❜

❛ Well maybe he discovered that being pushy is how you get cops to pay attention. ❜

❛ What are you hawking at me for? ❜

❛ Ugh, you’re so sweet, honey. You really are. ❜

❛ We get it. You’re a rebel. ❜

❛ Yeah, I know at times like these not to get hopeful, but on the other hand you’ve got to have hope. ❜

❛ I’m not really interested in bonding over the loss of my parents. ❜

❛ Ah, good one sir, very droll. ❜

❛ Never. Freeze. On. Me. Again. ❜

❛ Well, I’m never trusting any of us again. We’re that good at lying, huh? ❜

❛ Some people find it harder then others to get over the loss of a loved one. ❜

❛ Either talk loudly enough so I can hear all the way or whisper so I can’t. ❜

❛ No, we are going to keep doing what we are doing behind [name]’s back. ❜

❛ Oh, I’ll do that! Was that overly enthusiastic? ❜

❛ You just want to see what happens when you toss some frozen pig into a wood chipper. ❜

❛ Your primary job is to do what I say, failing that your job is to fool me. You failed to fool me. ❜

❛ I can be vindictive and petty. I will take you down even if it means striking at you through your friends and co-workers. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like not to know what happened. I know how painful that can be. ❜

❛ Even if you don’t believe it, I know your parents are somewhere proud of what you do. ❜

❛ Hey, you know, your people are my people. ❜