#my parents are mildly terrified but eh it's fine

[undergoing-mitosis]

so i bought a cheap wig for mello. and it was blonde online but then it arrived and it was fucking???? white??????? so i googled how to dye synthetic wigs and it turns out that you can use sharpies and rubbing alcohol so i did that and now my wig is literal sharpie yellow instead of blonde and i cba to buy a new one

so now im just wearing this full on leather slutty outfit with chains and a fake burn and. highlighter yellow hair. and honestly i can't decide if i absolutely love it or if it should burn in hell

i cropped myself out for obvious reasons but for reference here's the colour. it's very bright irl.

[albdodaze]

blooming. y.itadori

‘i’m going to fucking cry’ (chapter four)

warnings: cursing, real slight mention of death (only in one sentence, don’t worry!)

context: IN WHICH kami gojo, younger sister of certain powerful jujutsu sorcerer, meets an idiot who makes cold barrier around her heart melt.

A/N: PLEASE READ! i'm talking a bit about japanese culture in this chapter, most importantly, about kimonos and i'm really new to this stuff so if i got something wrong, please, please tell me and educate me, i would really appreciate it! enjoy the chapter!

"We're going where!" Kami's loud voice rang out across the room where she stood with her brother.

"Kami—"

"Don’t Kami me right now! Why couldn't you say no?!” She cried out, throwing her hands in the air.

"You know I couldn't," he added. Satoru sighed and stepped closer to his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"This is some fucking bullshit,” muttered Kami and leaned her head against his chest.

"When are we going?"

"Tomorrow."

"Wait," Kami broke off and looked at Satoru seriously. "But tomorrow is Itadori and Nobara's first major mission!" She yelled, terrified that something might happen to her classmates. "I can't leave them like this, Megumi can't handle them alone, after all, there's no telling what grade the curse is!"

"Kami, everything will be fine, they can handle it," Satoru reassured her. "Yuuji might not know much about it, but I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But what if someo—“

"No one will die, Kami," Satoru laughed and pushed her out of the room, leading her to her room. "Go pack, we're leaving early in the morning, our parents want us to make it in time for breakfast."

"Parents my ass,” Kami muttered and went into her room, closing the door and leaning against it, sighing heavily.

‘Couldn’t be any better,’ she thought and finally ducked under her bed to pull out the pink suitcase she kept there from underneath it.

“So that means I can say goodbye to wearing any trousers for a whole week,” she sighed, opening her wardrobe and selecting clothes from it that her parents would approve of.

You see, the Gojo Clan was very traditional. Women weren't supposed to wear trousers, though mostly women, men and children wore kimono, anyway. But, however, when there was a time where the clan membership did not have to wear it, women were not allowed to wear trousers.

It was the same with the care of the home and family. Women were there to serve, to clean and cook, and men to protect their family and their clan. Well, unless there was an attack by the curses or another clan, then the strongest women were chosen to fight for their clan too. But mostly women were supposed to be a good showcase for their clan, their family. They were supposed to look beautiful and look the same at the side of their men.

Over time, this was regulated somewhat. Women were finally allowed to attend clan meetings, and not only to sit and listen, but also to talk. But clothing and other things remained.

Kami opened one of the large drawers and looked at several boxes, tied with pink and red bows. With a sigh, she looked into the first one, checking if her Komon didn't need any adjustments and if it wasn't damaged anywhere. Once she was sure everything was fine with it, she re—cubed it in the box and placed it beside her, checking the second box.

'I don’t have any idea if I need Iromuji, but I'll definitely take the Yukata,' Kami thought and pulled out another kimono, looking it over carefully.

Just as she had everything packed and was about to sit down on her bed for another sweet sleep that day, Kami heard a knock on her door. The girl furrowed her eyebrows when, a moment later, no one entered. After all, Satoru and Megumi immediately enter when they knock. Kami sighed heavily and walked to the door, opening it slowly.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise when she saw the pink—haired boy in front of her, nervously standing in front of the door and scratching the back of his head.

When Yuuji saw Kami in front of him, he panicked and jumped up, a scream limp in his throat.

"Jeez, calm down, it's only me," Kami said AND leaned sideways against the door frame. "Is something wrong?"

"Eh, um... I—I was just—I was just wondering if you would want to go and eat with us in the kitchen," the boy began, blushing softly.

"What do you mean by 'us'?"

"Kugisaki and Fushiguro."

"Megumi? Megumi’s with you, guys? What an asshole! He told me he can't do anything today because he's busy!" Kami was pissed off, throwing her hands in the air.

"Um, actually he was, apparently he's been practicing all day, he came to the kitchen because he ran out of water and decided to stay," Yuuji explained as Kami walked into the room to grab her phone.

"Don't make him excuses," the white—haired girl looked at the boy with a threatening look as she closed the door from her room.

"That means you're going?"

"And what does that look like to you?" Kami rolled her eyes and started walking towards the kitchen. "Are you coming or not?"

Yuuji shook himself out of his trance and ran up to the girl, matching her pace.

The path to the kitchen wasn't long, so the awkward silence didn't last long when Nobara suddenly ran out of the kitchen, throwing herself at Kami, who caught her to keep her from knocking them to the floor.

"Oh, thank gods! I thought I was going to have to stay here alone with them," she said quickly and grabbed Kami's arm, pulling her towards the table where Megumi was already sitting.

The first thing Kami did was walk up to him and slap him on the back of the head.

"Liar."

"It's nice to see you, too, my dear best friend."

The dinner was nice, at least for Kami. She thought it was nice to get away from reality and at least relax for a while, just talking to her friends. Well, or listening to them, as Kami was doing.

The girl didn't speak much, listening to the conversations between the three and every now and then nodding or smiling softly. And it wasn't that she didn't like it. In fact, she liked it a lot. The food Yuuji had prepared was really good and was a nice change from ordering pizza or sushi every day.

When Megumi and Nobara left after a while, saying that they had other things to do and thanking Itadori for the food, an awkward silence formed between Yuuji and Kami again, and the only sound that could be heard was Kami's chopsticks tapping against the plate.

"Don't you like it?" Yuuji asked suddenly, distressed when he saw Kami playing with the meatball on the plate. Kami raised her gaze to him and furrowed her eyebrows.

"What? no, absolutely not. The food is very good, I was just thinking," she replied quietly, looking at the boy who didn't dare to look her in the eye.

"You've been awfully quiet since the beginning, are you sure everything is okay? I know we've only known each other a few weeks and all, but if you need to talk—"

Yuuji interrupted his speech when he felt a cold hand on his palm and lifted his gaze to see that Kami had leaned gently over the table so that her and Yuuji's faces were closer together.

When Itadori looked into her eyes, Kami smiled softly and squeezed her hand over his.

"Everything's fine, really," she reassured him. "I just don't feel well because I have to go to my family."

"You don't feel your best because you're going to your family? Shouldn't you be happy?" Asked a surprised Yuuji, unconsciously intertwining his fingers with Kami's fingers.

At the gesture, Kami flinched slightly, and goosebumps appeared on her back. The girl frowned slightly, not remembering ever reacting this way to someone else's touch.

'I never feel it when Megumi or Nobara touches me, then why would I feel like this with Yuuji? And why does it feel kinda good?'

"Uh—“ Kami shrugged and let out the air she had unconsciously held in. "I don't have the best relationship with my family." Kami smiled and Yuuji looked at her sadly. "Don't make that face," Kami began. "I don't care about them, I go there because until I turn eighteen, I don't have any right to cut myself off from them. In theory, I'm forced to continue seeing them."

"Oh." Yuuji replied, not knowing what else to say. "I'm sorry."

Kami laughed softly, at which Yuuji got goosebumps and his heart started beating even harder.

The two teenagers sat in the kitchen for two more hours, talking about all sorts of topics as if they had known each other for years. Their hands stayed in the same place the whole time.

When they finally both went back to their rooms, Kami threw herself on the bed and started looking at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen when something hit her. She was laughing all the time when she was around Yuuji.

Kami groaned and hid her face in the pillows, screaming into them and hitting the bed with her feet.

"Are you kidding me right now!" She screamed into the pillow and turned onto her back again, her hair tousled and her face mildly red from the temporary lack of oxygen. "No fucking way I have a crush on my damn classmate! I know him for a few weeks, for fucks sake!"

Yuuji didn't feel any better.

As soon as he closed the door from his room, he ran into the bathroom, turning on the cold water in the sink and washing his face with it.

The boy sighed heavily and leaned his palms against the sink, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Damn you and your little cute laugh," he said.

He sighed and his head hung down.

"Damn you and your cute fucking face," Kami groaned and hit the pillow with her fist. "I'm going to fucking cry.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

tw/venting

ayo the thought of having to go back to school in a little over a month is fucking wild. like.....i feel like i just got out of school and binge watched invincible for the first time. IT FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY. it’s extremely scary thinking about how fast time is passing by because i keep doing the same thing everyday. there’s barely any change in anything. not allowed outside. my IRL friends arent vaxxed yet, and even if they were, my mom’s suspicious of my intentions when going out. and lets not get into the fact that school doesnt stress me out as much, but i’ll be damned if i dont have awful test anxiety still. i feel like everything is fucking passing me by and that sucks ASS. my classmates are going out to beaches and shit, and posting on insta (good for them, i probably need to touch some grass) but like?? i feel like im just being robbed of my life. and teen years and all that. 

i know the pandemic has been hard for LITERALLY everyone. (if you said 2020 was a good year, hush, you’re alone in that regard bestie, dont wanna hear it) but i just......im finally recognizing feelings and all that (shit’s scary man) my thoughts dont match my body whatsoever (not dysphoria, its derealization, or something similar). thats so scary to me. sometimes i catch myself in the mirror and im talking and im like...”thats not me.....oh fuck, it is me.” so i dont look in the mirror and talk aloud, is what im saying. i’ll have a breakdown. but im extremely extroverted. i love people, and seeing people and hugging people. and not feeling like every day that i spend inside of my fucking house is a waste of time because time travel doesnt exist and i cant get any of these days back. at all. it is a never ending cycle. i just want a hug, dude. i’ve never experienced cuddling before either. i would love to platonically cuddle someone. but i got rid of toxic friends (still not over it) and got very radicalized...but for what. my own knowledge and betterment.....but eh. plus i traumadump, nobody wants to hear my sob story, i need to hush. and get in contact with my therapist. and discuss my anxiety issues. and possible depression. and PTSD and so many other things because it’s really not cute. anyways.

also heyy, my body issues are back. like?? hello. not that they ever went away, they just steep for a bit, then start boiling back. and that’s torture for me. having a generally okay body is fine, but then i realize that when i do wear pants, they’re either my overalls (comfort and queerness) or jeans. and yay those are tighter than they were last time. and i know weight fluctuation is a thing that happens, but i really feel like i could do more to not feel as bad. (i mean, sure, i could, but exercising makes me feel horrible mentally so). i see classmates thin and everything (i know thin isnt always healthy, but a part of me wishes that i was bone thin, we wont talk about it) and i know “every body is a bikini body” and i support that initiative 1,000 percent, but A. i have no idea if my parents would even let me get one if i wanted one (i dont) and B. i dont have the confidence to wear something like that. i even hate the fucking swimsuit that i have. i want the fucking full length victorian swimsuits with a shirt and fucking shorts because i cant stand being exposed. my stomach pokes out too much. my arms arent muscly like they were some years back. i just feel....so weird. and the “oh she’s smart, she cant be hot.” one or the other type shit that my brain keeps trying to tell me is real ia NASTY. like heyyy i have a brain, and i use it most days, but my body also shouldnt be fuckshitted like this. this collection of skin and bones keeps me safe (but not from my brain, its on some different shit)

another thing is that i can not wear exposing things. ugh, i would feel so just....out in the open. im literally scared of someone coming behind me and fucking groping me, or slapping my ass. (valid fear) but i literally fucking HATE feeling like that. one, I AM UNDERAGED, and two, ITS NASTY EITHER WAY. and if i went to school, and wore something mildly form fitting, i’d be pushing my body forward to look less noticeable (i dont trust seniors), or pulling my jacket down (i always wear jackets in school) so people arent looking at me. that sucks. and i wish i didnt make my anxiety that bad as to where it just sucks to exist. with a human flesh prison that looks a certain way. i kinda just want to hide my body. permanently. (not dysphoria related, my tits are fine, if they stay, cool, if they don’t, cool) but like...ugh.

and this is where it gets EXTREMELY dark, trigger warning for suicide mention.

yeah last year on the first week of school (virtual) i really wanted to kill myself. which like..isnt okay. i havent really told anyone about that either. because it was an extremely low point for me. i just didn’t think that i could fucking make it through the entire year. all those assignments, and all those days, wasted. im not learning anything valuable (besides maybe science and finance)...i dont know what the fuck i want to do with my life. there’s no such thing as ethical consumption so i’m gonna be contributing to something fucked up, no matter what i do. im weird. and political. and opinionated. and into so many different things. which, y’know, should be cool and fun and fresh. but it terrifies me to know that other people arent like me. that they many never understand my interests. and i feel like this with EVERYONE in EVERY class. unless i see a similar interest. or a tiny flag. but the thought of introducing myself again and again. to more people. who i may never fucking see again. who probably dont care about me. kinda discourages you a bit. so yeah, i really wanted to off myself. it seemed so impossible to get through everything. and then heyyy, near the end of the year, something really shitty happened. was depressed. told my mom i may be autistic... “okay...well....getting diagnoses takes a lot of money. so unless you have 700 bucks laying around....then no.” (who says the person who may ALSO be autistic along with me) few weeks back, talking about my therapist who wanted to talk through the DSM-4 with me “you really think you’re autistic huh.” of course mom. why else would i have written a paper about it, followed actually autistic accounts, and done research on it.

then near the next year, i sucked even more ass. friend shit broke me down and i felt....like i fucked up. which i did. and like i cant keep people in my life. (which is partially true) and i felt more physically exhausted than i had in literal years. i feel very deeply, and especially with negative emotions. so that really fucked me up. (may be something more serious, i have no idea) so there’s that. i just....i’ve never felt like i had been so awful in some time. like i let everyone around me down. so no more of /those/ situations. i dont sleep correctly when my hair is wet, so you can imagine how my dreams were THAT night.

but yeah, i dont feel like wanting to kill myself again. because i know it’s not worth it. but something just keeps pulling me deeper into these disgusting pits of awfulness. like there’s no other way out. (wrong) and gritting my teeth and willing myself to do things is going to hurt, but it’s quite literally the only choice i have. i cant give up. so there’s that. my thoughts and everything. yeah.....it’s 5:10 in the morning, im going the fuck to sleep.

[sml8180]

About Me Tag

Tagged by: @deputyoneill

Tagging: ....I have no idea who has/hasn’t done this, so, do it if you want to, I guess???

How tall are you?

5′ 4″

What colour and style is you hair?

Medium/Dark brown (sometimes I have blonde highlighting/peek-a-boo on the left of my part), and short enough that if I went any shorter with it, clippers would be involved.

What colour are your eyes?

Dark brown (to the point where my family occasionally jokes that they’re black, they’re really dark)

Do you wear glasses/braces?

I’ve always had glasses, and had braces from roughly 3rd or 4th grade until about a week before my 8th grade year started.

Fashion sense?

Next to non-existent. I literally live in jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies most of the time. Occasionally I’ll be kinda like, business casual? But mostly just jeans and “Eh, this one’s cool/clean/comfy, I’ll throw this on” and sneakers.

Full name?

Susan Marie L. You’re not getting my last name. Given, if you look close enough at some of my drawings, you might figure it out, if you can figure out the mess I sign it with.

When were you born?

November 2, 1999 Fun fact: I was supposed to be born on December 1, and after my parents were out to dinner with my older brother (who was 10 at the time), he said “Wouldn’t it be cool if the baby came now?” and my parents responded “Not right now, but tomorrow would be fine.” That was November 1. Guess who arrived the next day? Where tf did my mildly comedic timing go?

Where are you from and where do you live?

Born in Massachusetts, and I still live here.

What school do you go to?

None, currently. I graduated from my local high school almost a full year ago, and I’m looking to go to college in the fall, if things work out.

What kind of student are you?

I was an okay student until like, middle school, and things went downhill. I almost failed freshman year, even though I was trying hard. After we found out I was dealing with ADHD and put on medication, I went from like straight D- grades, to A and B marks. Last three years of high school, I was a great student.

Do you like school?

I fucking hated school for most of my time. I’m not a people person for the most part, and everyone was always too loud and immature. My last three years of high school (again, after being diagnosed with ADHD and getting it under control), were pretty good, though, and I didn’t mind it. I honestly loved my Junior and Senior years.

Favorite TV shows?

Doctor Who, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Carmen Sandiego (2019), Pit Bulls and Parolees, and Untold Stories of the ER (I have an odd mix of tastes, but oh well)

Favorite movie?

It’s a close tie between Zootopia, Coco, Deadpool, Black Panther, and Iron Giant. I literally can’t pick just one of those, because it’s a constant battle between them.

Favorite book?

Again, a close tie between the ASoUE series (with Hostile Hospital way up there), Ghost Ship by Clive Cussler, and Deck Z: The Titanic by Chris Pauls and Matt Solomon

Favorite pastimes?

Drawing, writing, making props, listening to music, and playing video games (at least the ones that’ll run on my laptop)

Do you have regrets?

Doesn’t everyone?

Dream job?

Something along the lines of an animator or video game designer (likely on either the story or character design end, I hated programming in my game design class)

Would you like to be married?

Someday, yeah

Would you like to have kids?

Maybe? Probably.

How many?

One or two. I think that’s all I’d be able to handle.

What countries have you visited?

I’ve been to Canada, but I was really young (like, still a baby young), so I don’t remember it.

Scariest nightmare?

Might sound cliche, but losing my family and friends. Though I prefer to be on my own, I’m terrified of being completely alone.

Or being stranded in the middle of the ocean. Deep and open water scares the fuck out of me. You never know what could be down there, and you never know if help will arrive.

Any enemies?

None specifically. Just people who, if I had the option of saving them from falling off a cliff, or saving a backpack that had my laptop and sketchbooks in it, I’d save the backpack.

Any significant one?

Not really. Unless my own brain counts because it doesn’t let me get one thing done at a time. ADHD is fun some days.

Do you believe in miracles?

Kind of? I do but I don’t, if that makes sense. I believe that just about anything can happen, even if you can’t explain it, but I don’t know if I really believe in miracles.

How are you?

I’m alright, at the moment. Not great, but not bad, either.

[kuromantic]

Whumptober Day 2: Bloody Hands

“For the Fukurodani boys!” Bokuto popped open a can of orange soda, clinking drinks with his teammates.

“For the Fukurodani boys!”

Laughter echoed inside the bus, bouncing off the windows as the entire team began ripping open snack packets and trading them excitedly, making more noise than they needed to. They had just won a practice match all the way over at Shinzen, and celebration was ensuing inside the bus.

“Bokuto, dammit, stop hogging the doughnuts!”

Konoha threw an empty jagariko can at Bokuto, who swerved to dodge it while chewing the chocolate-covered doughnuts that made his cheeks swell up. “Then eat faster, Konoha! Finders keepers, losers weepers!”

“I don’t think you’re using that term the right way, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pointed out calmly, but his face failed to hide a smile while he shoved pocky boxes up his jacket.

“Akaashi, don’t think for a minute I didn’t see you there! Give me one of those!” Konoha wriggled around to tackle Akaashi, while the coach roared at them to sit down and keep their seatbelts on. “Here, Sarukui, help me out!”

Sarukui gave a shrug, throwing caramel popcorn into his mouth. “I don’t know, Konoha. I’m a little busy here.” He gestured towards Komi snoring on his lap. “And keep it down. Some people are sleeping.”

“Oi!” Konoha rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and huffing dejectedly. “Fine. I’ll just stick with Washio! Right?” He shuffled into Washio until he was almost sitting on top of him, his arm curling around him. “He’s on my side. And I’m sure Onaga is too!”

“Eh? Me?” Onaga looked up from his phone, shocked. “S-sure! I think,” he mumbled, shoving a handful of doritos into his mouth. Bokuto snorted with laughter, smacking Akaashi’s back as he giggled.

“Konoha-san. Please refrain from dragging Onaga into your problems.”

“Akaashi, you-!”

Konoha’s dramatic, anguished screaming echoed in the bus, as Bokuto threw his head back laughing and smacked his head into the back of his seat. The bubbly atmosphere was comforting, like family. The whole team appreciated everyone’s presence, and some team members were beginning to get into a cuddly mood.

And then, their cosy world turned upside down.

Nobody knew what was happening at first, but the screeching of brakes and the bus rapidly tilting to the left was enough for the realisation to dawn on them. Something was very, very wrong.

It didn’t make a difference whether they knew what was going on or not. A crash that deafened the entire team sounded as the bus collapsed, terrified screams being the last sound that Akaashi heard before his world turned into nothing.

When Akaashi realised that he was lying down on a cold, hard surface, he attempted to lift himself up, which proved much more painful than he anticipated. And then, he remembered what had happened. The crash, the shattering glass, the smile on Bokuto’s face disappearing.

Bokuto. He needed to find Bokuto, or anyone else for that matter. As he dragged himself into a sitting position, he became increasingly aware of his own condition. His left ear throbbed with every heartbeat, and a piece of glass was lodged into his arm. He could feel bruises starting to form on his body.

“Akaashi?”

The first one to find him was Sarukui, whose eye was badly bleeding but very much alive. “You’re okay,” the third year limped over to Akaashi, leaving a trail of blood that came from his hidden wounds. “You’re alive. I thought-“ Sarukui broke his sentence with a sob, wrapping an arm around Akaashi shakily.

“Is- is anyone else there?” Akaashi stumbled over his words, almost tripping as he made his way over to another part of the wreckage. He swept away glass with his foot, clearing his path. His legs stung as he walked, but he didn’t feel like rolling up his clothes just to see his wounds.

“Komi’s concussed, but he’s not in critical condition. At least, from what I’ve gathered.” Sarukui followed, urging Akaashi to follow in his steps to avoid stepping on more glass shards. Akaashi still needed to find Konoha, Bokuto, Onaga and Washio. His concern only grew when he saw Komi.

“Komi, Akaashi’s okay. He’s here.” Sarukui lifted Komi into his lap gently, warm blood leaking onto his palms as he supported his head. “How are you both feeling?”

Komi groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment, then opening them to check Akaashi’s safety fir himself. “So- so glad you’re okay.” He choked out, before clutching Sarukui’s clothes wincing. “I feel sick,” he whimpered, hand reaching up to hold Sarukui’s arm.

“I’m mildly injured, but I can move. Let’s find the others.” Akaashi nodded determinedly, sucking in a breath. The wreckage was even worse ahead, but he knew that it was virtually impossible to escape unless they were as small as Komi. They had to be trapped in the one spot, or too injured to move.

Sarukui set Komi down, taking off his jacket to let him lay on a soft surface. “I’m coming with you. We’ll be back, Komi. I promise.” He whispered, comforting him like a parent would. As much as he didn’t want to leave Komi, he needed to check for himself that the others were alright.

The glass became too much to cast to one side after five or six steps forward, and a large part of the bus protruded towards Akaashi and Sarukui at an irregular angle. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Sarukui warned Akaashi before bending down cautiously, squeezing himself under the metal and cursing as he stumbled forward.

“The same can be said for you.” Akaashi made himself as small as possible, a difficult feat considering his height. Sarukui stopped in his tracks once Akaashi came through, scanning the area for a sign of their teammates.

“Konoha? Washio?”

A meek, fearful voice reached them from below. “Senpai, is that you?” Onaga was curled up tightly in a spot beside a bunch of steel bent out of shape, narrowly missing him. “Akaashi-senpai, Sarukui-senpai! I need your help! Washio-senpai is stuck with Bokuto-senpai, and I can’t get out of here-“

“Hey, hey. You’re okay, take a breath.” Sarukui brushed Onaga’s cheeks with his fingers that were the least bloodied, avoiding the cuts on the first year’s face. “You said Bokuto and Washio, right? We can go help them. Are you hurt bad?”

Washio nervously extended his leg, with his hand applying continuous pressure on it to prevent blood from spilling out too much. “I think I tore something. I can’t walk at this moment, but I could hear Washio-san and Konoha-san calling for help. Konoha-san is trying to find a way to get out right now, but he’s also stuck with them.”

“Okay,” Sarukui tore off a part of his own shirt, tying it tightly around Onaga’s thigh. It wasn’t going to be able to stop the bleeding too long without damaging the leg, but it was better than nothing, he assumed. “If we somehow get the rubble away, they’ll be able to get out of there.”

Getting to the three others was easier said than done, by far. “Stand away from there,” Akaashi had warned, but the cries of “Okay,” were too far away even from there. Every time a beam or a piece of window was taken out, a torrent of glass and rubble would come crashing towards Sarukui and Akaashi. By the time they had managed to make enough space to squeeze themselves in, their arms and hands were covered in scrapes and cuts, stinging miserably.

“Konoha? Can you hear us? Is Washio and Bokuto there with you?” Sarukui called out, heaving a sigh at the ground. It was even worse than where he was shortly before, if that was even possible. The pieces of steel made unstable ground, near impossible to walk on. Akaashi and Sarukui resorted to walking as close to the edge of the wreck as they could, still tearing their shoe soles to bits.

“Akaashi, Sarukui.” Washio was the first to march towards them, when Akaashi and Sarukui finally spotted the last three missing members. “We need your help, right now.” Akaashi almost froze upon glancing at Washio. A long gash spread across his face, from the corner of his lip to just below his eye. He didn’t seem to care about the glass crunching at his feet, despite blood dripping with every step he took.

“Shit,” Sarukui muttered, while Akaashi’s lip curled into a tight frown. If nobody was tending to Washio’s wounds, it had to mean that Konoha and Bokuto were worse off. “What’s happened, Washio? What do we need to do?”

Washio led the way to where Konoha and Bokuto were, and relief immediately set into Akaashi’s heart when he saw the both of them in one piece. He’d assumed the worst when Washio didn’t say anything except that he needed help. “Bokuto-san, Konoha-san, I’m glad you made it.”

“Akaashi,” Sarukui nudged the second year, pointing at Bokuto’s arm. Or rather, where it was supposed to be. “Look at him.” The captain’s right arm was almost entirely buried in rubble below the elbow, and Konoha was ready to burst into tears at the sight of his two teammates.

“We need to pull him out,” Konoha said weakly, prying open Bokuto’s eyes. “Come on, don’t pass out on me, Bokuto! You’re gonna be okay, just hold on! Don’t close your eyes!” Ignoring his own lacerations and split lip, Konoha cried out desperately to keep his friend barely conscious.

Akaashi wanted to panic. His captain’s arm, the arm that swung to spike his tosses, under rubble. He couldn’t imagine what it looked like underneath the steel. “We will get him out. Konoha-san, make sure to keep a grip on him.” He slid his hand under the slab of metal that trapped Bokuto’s arm, Sarukui and Washio combining their efforts to lift the metal just so that Konoha could pull his arm out.

“This thing is heavy as fuck,” Sarukui swore audibly, straining against the heavy metal. “Try again. On the count of three, lift it as much as you can.” He glanced at Akaashi and Washio to get a nod out of them, then counting “One, two, three, lift!”

The metal didn’t budge at first, until it slipped out of place for a fraction of a second. “Now! Lift it up!” Washio called out, and little by little, the slab started to slide away enough for Konoha to pull Bokuto’s arm out. Akaashi had painful imprints on his fingers and his cuts opened, but he didn’t care. What he saw stopped his heart.

Blood. Bokuto’s hand was more red than it was skin colour, and everything below the elbow looked less like an arm and more like the inside of a fruit. His fingers weren’t meant to be pointing in all those different directions. Everything above his hand was bloody or discoloured, with bones visible to the naked eye.

“Akaashi, my arm hurts,” Bokuto whined, and Konoha was quick to stop him from looking down at his mangled hand. “What happened to it? It hurts so damn much…” he was half delirious, but he wasn’t blind. His hands lifted slightly to roam around, looking for Akaashi’s comfort.

“Bokuto-san, listen to me,” Akaashi lifted Bokuto’s fringe, looking for signs of a head injury. “Your arm is hurt, but we’ll be getting help for it. What else hurts?”

“My neck,” Bokuto blinked, and tears freely flowed down his bruised cheeks. “Guys, why’s my arm so red? Am I gonna- gonna be able to play again?” He asked, his voice getting panicked. “Are we gonna get out of this place soon?”

Akaashi nodded, although a look of uncertainty was passed along the others. Bokuto’s concerns came from a place of reason somewhat, even if his responsiveness wasn’t perfect. “It’s going to be okay. This location isn’t too remote. This is Tokyo, someone should come.” Konoha assured Bokuto, relieved that he was too far away for Bokuto to see how unsure he was.

“I guess,” Bokuto rasped out, face scrunched up with pain. “Just- just tell them to be quick. I don’t want to stay like this.”

Akaashi stroked Bokuto’s hair, shushing him comfortingly. “I know, Bokuto-san. You’ve been doing great so far. Stay awake, okay?” He swept the tears away, reminding himself not to spill any of his own. Bokuto had to pull through. He was strong, but no match for a bus falling on its side. The only thing he could do was prevent him from passing out.

[beckytailweaver]

[FIC] Coco - What the Xolo Dragged In  (Part 3)

Here is more fic, please enjoy!

Coco - What the Xolo Dragged In

Part 3 - Origin

Héctor had no idea what to do with the living child ensconced in his hut, any more than he knew what to do with the strange alebrije-dog that was glued to the boy like a long-tongued magnet or the multitude of startled eyes they’d passed on their way into Shantytown, or the alarmed whispers and curious questions of his neighbors.

Oh, he knew how to care for a child—it might have been many decades since he was last a parent to a youngster, but there were some things you just never forgot.  He’d gotten little Miguel out of sight into his hut and set the boy to stripping out of his sodden clothes while Héctor hung them up to dry and scrambled around to find a clean(ish) shirt or something to dress the child in.  He had no heater or stove (cold or wet wasn’t a concern to skeletons, other than a matter of comfort, but a living child could catch his death!) and nothing to burn for warmth.  In the end, Miguel sat on Héctor’s own rickety cot, snuggled up to the alebrije-dog and enveloped in a raggedy wool poncho even older than Héctor that had been doing duty as a window curtain of sorts.

What Héctor didn’t know was how he should handle the discovery of a living child in the Land of the Dead.  He’d never heard of anything like this before, and he’d heard some strange things in his afterlife.  He was pretty sure he should tell someone, perhaps the officials, or maybe try to locate the boy’s deceased family somewhere.  He wasn’t even sure if a child turning up in the Land of the Dead should still be considered alive, or if the boy was actually dead and just...hadn’t come in through the right check-in station to end up a skeleton like the rest of them.

Or something like that.  For the moment, Héctor’s primary concern was getting Miguel dry.  At least the shivering had stopped.

“...and everybody was kinda mad that Rosa an’ me followed Abel, ‘cause I’m seven and not twelve like him, but then there was this really loud scream, kind of, and everybody just ran all of a sudden, then I guess I fell in the river an’ I was really scared, but then Dante tried to save me.”  Cuddled with poncho and alebrije-dog, Miguel was chattering—shyly but with growing confidence—about his terrifying adventure of the evening.  “Then I think I saw something, while I was swimming.  Like a white ghost chasing us in the water.  But then we sank and I thought I was gonna die, but then I was here and you came.”

“Chased by a ghost, eh?” Héctor commented lightly, even as he frantically rifled through his belongings in search of something for the boy to eat.  So far, all he’d found were sticky, empty liquor bottles, which he’d quickly dumped into a box and shoved out of the child’s sight.  “That’s an interesting way to end up in the Land of the Dead.”

The boy went quiet for a long beat.  “...this is the Land of the Dead?”

...whoops.  Damn it.

“Um, yes!”  Héctor turned to grin encouragingly at the wide-eyed child, wincing again when Miguel’s lip started to tremble.

“Am...am I dead?” the boy quavered.  “The river—Abuelita always said—”

“Oh no, no no no!”  Héctor frantically waved his hands, though he couldn’t really be sure of the answer himself.  “If you were dead, you’d be a skeleton like me!  You’re just a little lost, I think.”

“Oh...”

Miguel sniffled and clung tighter to Dante, but the tears didn’t come and Héctor heaved a relieved sigh.  He really couldn’t take it if the child started crying again; it was a cruel trick of fate the boy’s eyes reminded him so sharply of his daughter’s, and the bittersweet tug of looking at them was bad enough without adding fear and weeping to the picture.

“Yeah, see?  You’re just fine,” Héctor hurried to reassure the child, abandoning his search for edibles in favor of coming over to sit on the cot, near the boy but not too close.  “I used to be alive like you, but now I’m dead as a doorknob, so I’m a skeleton.  You’re still alive, so you’ve got skin and everything.”

“Okay.”  Miguel looked mildly reassured, but not much less worried, and his small voice was tremulous.  “Héctor?  Can I go home now?  Please?”

“Don’t worry, chamaco.”  Héctor’s mouth ran away from him, ready to promise the moon to the boy with Coco’s eyes.  “I’ll find a way to get you home.  We might have to talk to some people, but I’ll figure something out!”

“You don’t know the way?”

“Well...” he hedged, cringing a little.  “It’s kind of ridiculously easy to get into the Land of the Dead, but it’s not so easy to get back out.”

It’s really God-damned difficult, actually.

“I came here from the river,” Miguel volunteered hopefully.  “Maybe if we got a boat...?”

“Oh, I wish it was that simple, kid,” Héctor sighed.  “Trust me, I’ve tried.  But you could row forever out there on the Water and I think there’s nothing but mist.  There’s a couple of places up in the city we can go to ask, where they take care of people coming and going from the Land of the Dead.”

“People come and go?”

“Sure, as long as you’re remembered and you have a photo on an ofrenda, you can go back to the land of the living on Día de Muertos, to visit your family and take your offerings.”

“So that’s why Abuelita wants all the offerings to be just right,” Miguel realized, eyes widening.  “And the path of marigold petals, and all the photos...!”

“Sounds like you have a good abuela.”  Héctor smiled wistfully.  “She takes care of your family.  So you gotta get back to them.”

“Yeah,” Miguel agreed.  “I’m already gonna be late.  Mamá’s gonna be so mad when she finds out I followed Abel...”

“That’s right, no more sneaking out at night, okay?” Héctor nudged.  “So, chamaco, can you tell me where you live?  The state, the town?  Do you know your address?  That way we can go to the right Department office, and they’ll be able to send you home faster.”

“I live in Santa Cecilia,” the boy replied easily, hopefully.

“Really!”  Héctor’s brows climbed.  “Well that makes things easier, I know the guys at the Santa Cecilia Department.”

Or it could be really awkward.

Small world indeed, to run into another Rivera from Santa Cecilia, even as common as the name was.  He tried to ignore the strange feeling that coiled into his non-existent stomach.

“Do you think they know the Rivera Familia de Zapateros?” Miguel asked him innocently, looking hopeful.  “Everybody in Santa Cecilia knows it.  That’s where I live.”

Wait, wait, wait.  What?

Héctor turned his head to stare at the boy so fast he almost lost a couple of vertebrae and nearly dropped his jawbone into his lap.  “Rivera Shoemakers?” he gulped, suddenly numb.  “You’re...?”

“My house is on the Calle del Paraíso, with a big sign on it shaped like a shoe.”

It was an effort to get his slack mouth to work.  “Do...do you know...Coco?”

“Mamá Coco?  Yeah!”  Miguel was honest and enthusiastic.  “My abuelita is her daughter.  Mamá Coco’s my favorite grandma!  I always play with her, and sometimes she even...”  The little boy trailed off, blinking wide eyes when bony fingertips traced his round cheek.

Coco’s grandson...!

Héctor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the small face, stunned shock robbing him of all other thought.  Whatever passed as his heart had leaped into his throat, whatever remained of his stomach had dropped to the floor, and whatever essence of brain that still rattled in his skull continued to spin like a dizzying tornado.

Coco’s eyes—they really were Coco’s eyes.

You’re Coco’s.  You’re family.

It hit like a crashing ocean wave.  He had a great-great-grandson.  And he’d missed his daughter’s entire life.

It felt like the first years of his death all over again.  The grief and bitterness, the self-hate and regrets, and he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to rail and weep and shout and throw things like he had decades ago.  He’d never felt like more of a damned fool for leaving than this moment, looking into the small, innocent face of all that he’d missed.

Miguel didn’t recognize him, staring up at him in confusion with Coco’s eyes.  Héctor’s heart broke.

“Just—I need—wait here...”  He pulled away from the uneasy child, stumbling over his words as much as his own feet as he all but fled.  “Stay—stay put, I’ll...be right back...”

Mind spinning, Héctor ducked out of his hut before he could fall to pieces.

(tbc)

I really hope this is staying in character enough...

[smoaking-greenarrow]

How about 13 and 15 for the out of context prompts? Thanks!!

Arrow Out of Context prompts! 

“There was probably a better time to tell you that.”

“Probably not.”

William raised his eyebrows at Felicity as she stuck her head around the corner, looking into the kitchen. He pointed a finger at her, “No. Out.”

She frowned, glancing at Oliver. Her husband just shook his head, “You heard him.”

“You guys are being really unfair.” She complained.

“Felicity, you burned the chicken.” Oliver said. He was no help.

“I got another one.” She grumbled.

“Yes. That we now have to rush to have ready on time for Aunt Thea and Roy.”

Felicity frowned some more, doing her best to make her husband feel bad. “I was just trying to help.” She said sweetly.

Oliver gave her a look, “You tried, honey. Now let us do it.”

“Then why does Lydia get to stay in the kitchen?”

“Because she’s two,” Oliver said, smirking as he glanced at his wife still hovering in the doorway, “and I’m not letting her anywhere near the stove. A rule that now applies to both of you.”

“Hey,” Felicity said, crossing her arms, her brows furrowing. Oliver chuckled, putting his knife on the counter and abandoning the vegetables to cross the room. He leaned into her, kissing her pouting lips. “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asked.

He smiled down at her, kissing her one more time because he loved the way her mouth looked. “Just relax.”

With a groan, Felicity wrapped her arms around him. “Fine,” she relented, “but I’m taking the kid with me.” 

Felicity took a step into the kitchen so she could get her daughter, but William stepped in front of her, “Eh!” he warned, pointing to the masking tape he’d put on the floor and written on it in sharpie, “No Felicities past this point.”

She grumbled under her breath, backing up over the tape again while Oliver laughed, finding it much too amusing for her liking. He turned to scoop Lydia up and place her in Felicity’s arms. And then he kissed Lydia’s forehead and Felicity’s before waving his hand towards the living room. She rolled her eyes again, “Yeah yeah, we’re going.”

She left the kitchen, mumbling to her daughter as she headed for the couch. “It wasn’t my fault that the timer never went off.” She told Lydia. When the two year old gave her a disbelieving look as if she knew what Felicity was talking about and she knew it was a lie. Felicity snorted, “Okay, forgetting to set it was probably my fault. But it was an accident. You forgive me, don’t you?”

Lydia nodded enthusiastically, “My forgive you, mommy.”

Sitting on the floor with her daughter, Felicity waited while Lydia roamed through her toys. She seemed to be on a mission for something, and Felicity knew that she was looking for her favorite book. 

Once found, Lydia climbed onto her lap, and Felicity read it four times before the doorbell finally rang.

Her daughter’s head spun around to look at her, and Felicity smiled raising her eyebrows and giving her a wide eyed, excited expression. Lydia mimicked it, “Roy!” she screamed, scrambling off of Felicity’s legs and charging for the door.

Felicity laughed as she followed behind.

Thea was opening the door and Lydia did not bother slowing down at all as she gracefully dodged her aunt and flung herself into Roy’s arms. Thea sighed, looking at Felicity with her hand still on the door. “That still hurts my feelings.”

Felicity lifted her shoulders, “I can’t control it. He’s her first crush.”

“And we all know how Ollie feels about that,” Thea chuckled as Lydia finally gave Thea some attention, leaning out of Roy’s grip to wrap her little arms around her aunt’s neck. “I’m the one who’s related to you!” She joked, tickling the toddler’s sides as she hugged her back.

The giggles that came out of Lydia would never get old, and Felicity smiled as she watched her daughter laugh. Oh, she loved that sound.

Roy closed the door behind them, handing Lydia over to Thea. He gave Felicity a hug. “Hey,” he greeted her, “I heard you almost ruined dinner.”

Felicity groaned, “Oliver!”

“It was too funny not to text them, honey!” He yelled from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes, “I’m exiled, but William and Oliver are cooking if you want to go say hi.”

After dinner was successfully saved and enjoyed, everyone sat around the table. Lydia begged to sit on Roy’s lap the moment she was done eating, and he and Oliver told William some of their stories about when Roy was on the team. William had heard most of them before, but he loved listening as much as Roy and Oliver loved reminiscing. It was so strange to her, the way they talked about those memories. The way they remembered them. It was like all of the pain and stress they’d experienced together was irrelevant, and all that remained was the pride. The friendship. 

Felicity and Thea still didn’t hesitate to interrupt when they tried to exaggerate their heroic wins, though.

Thea smiled, watching as Lydia stood on Roy’s thigh, moving her fingers through his hair feverishly and ruining the perfectly styled locks. “You know, I remember John and Lyla saying years ago…how everything about what we do changed when they had a baby. Did you guys feel that way, too?”

Felicity shrugged, “Yeah.” Oliver nodded in agreement. “As soon as we had William to take care of, the things we had to think about shifted. It wasn’t just about us anymore.” She said, looking at her son. “And then when Lydia came along, everything changed again. We were just getting the hang of being parents to a young boy,” she said, winking at him. “but a baby was a lot more difficult to work with than this kid. It was late night feedings and constant attention. We had to learn how to do both, and it wasn’t exactly easy to get used to that change.”

Her husband smiled at her, leaning over to brush his daughter’s hair out of her face. “I think we handled it pretty well.”

“She’s a happy girl.” Thea sighed, staring down at her niece with all of the love that Felicity could hope for Lydia to get in her life.

“Thea’s pregnant.” Roy blurted.

Everyone’s heads turned to look at Thea, even Lydia’s hands froze in his hair, probably sensing the tension in the room more than she understood what it meant. Thea just leveled Roy with a look that was mildly annoyed and extremely unsurprised. “I knew you would end up doing that,” was the first thing she said.

“Aunt Thea…” William trailed off, glancing between her and Roy. “You are?”

She nodded, finally looking at her brother, who sat in his chair with his mouth hanging open. She raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her eyes focused on his face as she leaned towards Felicity, “I can’t tell if he’s going to yell, cry, or laugh.” She whispered.

Felicity analyzed Oliver for a moment, “He’s happy. Just give him a minute.” And then she pulled Thea into a hug. “I’m happy! That’s amazing Thea! How did you…I mean, when…”

“I’m about ten weeks.”

“Wow,” Felicity sighed, pulling in to hug her again.

“Thea…” Oliver finally broke out of his shock, shaking his head. “That’s…incredible. How do you feel?”

“I’m good.” She said, nodding. “We wanted to tell you guys tonight.”

Oliver smiled, reaching out to hold his sister’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. For both of you.” He said, nodding to Roy.

“There was probably a better time to tell you that.” Roy cringed.

“Probably not.” Oliver said with a grin.

Later, since Felicity had failed the chicken, William stuck her on dish duty, and she gladly agreed. Roy helped to dry them while she washed, and Lydia danced in and out of their legs where they stood side by side at the sink. “So,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “You were kind of quiet in there. The thought of being a daddy a little overwhelming?”

“It’s…exciting…” he said, glancing at her, “and terrifying.”

Felicity smirked at him. She knew the feeling, she and Oliver had both had their fair share of nervous freak outs after they found out they were having Lydia. “Do you see the crazy child attached to your leg?” She asked. “I think that should tell you enough about how great you’ll be at this.”

Roy sighed, “I just never…never imagined myself as a father. I don’t know how great I’ll be at it,” he admitted, setting a plate on the counter. “I can’t picture myself being as amazing of a dad as Oliver is.”

Felicity paused, looking up from the forks she was washing to see Roy’s face. She could tell how serious he was. And her heart just melted. “Oh…Roy…” she mumbled, feeling her eyes fill with water.

He pointed a finger at her, “Don’t you dare. Felicity, pull those tears back in right now, I swear to god. I take it back. He’s an awful dad. He sucks. Why’d you ever marry him?”

She laughed even though the tears fell anyway. 

“Daddy!” Lydia screamed, sending Felicity jumping into the air, the forks she still had in her hand going flying. Roy caught them out of the air easily, giving her an irritated look. 

“Daddy!” Lydia yelled again, and they both looked down at her. Her voice was high with panic, making them both hesitate before she screamed, “Roy make mommy cry!”

“Oh, Lydia, no sweetheart,” she said, leaning down to her as she wiped her face.

Oliver came running into the kitchen, skidding to a stop in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Felicity, seeing her red eyes. He glanced at all three of them, confused. “Roy say you’re not good daddy, daddy. And he say mommy not should marry you.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side. “He was kidding,” Felicity chuckled, smoothing Lydia’s hair. “If you’re gonna be my kid, you really need to get a sense for sarcasm, baby.” She teased, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

“I am your kid, mommy.”

“I know,” she said, picking Lydia up. “But Roy didn’t mean that. He was just joking.”

“Then why you cry?” She asked, crinkling her little nose.

Felicity carried her over to Oliver, “Because Roy said he wants to be a really good daddy, just like yours. And it made mommy super happy to hear that.”

“You happy cry?” She asked, her voice raising in high-pitched disbelief.

She laughed, kissing her daughter’s cheek. “Yes.”

Oliver laughed once, putting his hand over his heart, “You scared me.”

“Roy and mommy both think you have the best daddy.” She said, looking up at her husband. His eyes softened as he pulled her under his arm.

“My too.” Lydia agreed, reaching for Oliver, and then all three of them turned to Roy with smiles on their faces. 

He rolled his eyes at all of them, “I’m so out of here.” He said, shaking his head as he tried to leave the kitchen.

“Not without hugs, Roy!” Lydia objected.

Seeing that they were all standing in the doorway, he knew he wasn’t about to get past them without cooperating. With another irritated sound that Felicity saw right through, he hugged them.

And then Thea and William weaseled into the doorway, pushing their way into the hug too, once they noticed all the love happening in the kitchen.

[walkinsauce]

Becoming Poly- Chapter 14: My Turn

Sorry I didn’t blog last week. Do you know how hard it is to write about polyamory under the same roof as your parents? I was scared one of them was going to pop in and ask,

“Christina, why do you need that bottle of wine in your room?”

“Paper weight.”

So, ya, I’m sure hundreds of self help books would call that an “excuse” for not writing, but trust me: it felt TOO CREEPY. You try to write about sex while your parents are in the next room watching My Three Sons. See how you feel.  I would, however, like to thank all my Tumblr readers for hitting the heart button on all my blogs. Quick shout outs to:

ilove-seductive-mature attractive-milf-girls hot-elder-chamber fat-milf-foxy-imgs bimbo-slutty-girlz fuck-sexy-fat-pussies fucking-amazing-fat-cunts jugs-nice-pictures

It’s good to know I’ve found my audience. Though I do wish you guys would put some capital letters in your names. You’re better than that.

I’ve calmed down from my boyfriend’s first “other sex” in our relationship. I’m pretty lucky that I have so many people reaching out to me, who are better versed in open relationships than I am. A particular comic friend in Florida always sums it up so well:

“Your primary is your home. These other people are the Disneylands and carnivals of the world. Fun day excursions, but you don’t want it every day.”

I think that’s my problem: Part of me would prefer to be the Disneyland. And good news for you, I’m way cheaper.

I still have a crush on the one guy I texted at O’Brien’s the day of my breakdown. I know he’s wary of the poly thing, and knowing my boyfriend, but I can’t help it. I’ve known him for years. I’ve had a crush on him for a year. I can’t help it if I’m a coward, and don’t know how to approach him. (Especially considering the circumstances.) Me sending him Snapchats that he’ll never open is enough of a rush for me.

It’s Friday night. I’m sitting at Ollo, as I often do during happy hour, wondering what I’m going to do when all the regulars go home at 8pm. It’s not a party city. We could use a Malibu’s Most Wanted reboot out here. But with the tiny bit of confidence I get from deep fried zucchini sticks and house wine, I decide to text my crush:

“Do you ever open Snapchat anymore, or am I sending things to an archive…?”

(With a smirky face emoji, obvi.)

He writes back minutes later.

“Hahahaha! I just watched the snaps! They made me laugh!”

It was at least a month’s worth of events, even capturing his own roommates. It must have been quite the montage.

“Thanks for sending them! I’m sorry I’m the worst. They were really funny. How long have you been sending them?”

Oh months. They’re my favorite seed I’ve ever planted.

“You might have just gotten something from me.”

I open Snapchat and see his name light up in full arrowed purple. I’m ridiculously excited for a girl my age. I’m starting to tune out the old man beside me bragging about how he gave Rosie O’Donnell her big break. That’s how you can tell I keep it real in this town- I’d much rather chase romance than my own career. (GOOD MOVE, EH?)

He writes again:

“I just finished a show in Hermosa Beach and I got to watch a lady heckle another comedian by saying, “we’re never going to be friends.”

Wow. The edginess of Hermosa Beach hecklers. What’s next? No tip? Shocking. I’m walking home, past people sleeping in their cars. At least my career is going better than theirs. But it’s a good reminder there’s no parking restrictions on PCH. Man, if any road needs some street cleaning…

It takes us another 18 texts to finally figure out we should meet up, but when he writes,

“I’d be down to meet up somewhere!”

I’m immediately wet. (It happens fast at my age.) He suggests the exact two bars in Santa Monica I was going to suggest. Power of the Leo and Sagittarius. (I probs just lost nine readers by referencing astrology.)

I get to Rick’s on Main Street slightly before him. I don’t have my real glasses on me, cuz I’ve been wearing my prescription sunglasses all day. Didn’t expect to be out past sunset, cuz that’s Malibu “night life.” So I’m going to be mildly blind all night. People always tell me,

“You should get laser eye surgery.”

Why the fuck would I do that? My glasses cover at least a dozen lines on my face. I’m thinking about getting a new pair, with thicker rims. I’m growing out bangs next. The date will be fine as long as I don’t send him into the kitchen when he asks where the bathroom is.

Now here’s the grey area…

Do I tell my bf right now that I’m going to meet this crush? I don’t know anything is going to happen. There’s a good chance we will just be two (ASTROLOGICAL PERFECT MATCHES) drinking buddies in a bar. Two comics, talking shop. Do we really need to set off the alarm before there’s a fire? As per my communication skills, I think def not. Like this blog, I will leave it till the last minute. (Typed at 3:13am, 4:45am after proofreading.)

I’m pretty sure I look like shit, but the good thing about somebody knowing me through comedy, is they always see me looking like shit. I’ve never been super comfortable looking “good” on stage. Maybe this comes from starting stand up 19 years ago, and always fearing women wouldn’t like me if I looked pretty. Most of the women in a comedy club are on dates, and I would literally get glares as they gripped their men. So early in my career, I started to wear hoodies on stage, and cover as much skin as possible. It was my passive aggressive way of saying,

“Don’t look at me. Listen to me.”

(Also, “I’m not here to steal your boyfriend. I’m here to make forty bucks.”)

This is another reason I love the rise of feminism: I pray it means the death of catty-ism. (An energy I sadly grew up with.)

So ya, back to the poly stuff: I’m on an impromptu date with my crush, my bf doesn’t really know, I look like shit, but can’t see that cuz I left my glasses at home. He walks in the bar and I’m almost in shock that we’re together. I think it’s been months since we’ve been in the same room together. And since when did I start going after things I want…?

I’m shockingly comfortable around him. That’s a plus about bonding with someone while you’re in a relationship. You don’t try as hard to sell yourself as when you’re single. You’re just you, and if they don’t like it, who cares? (I admire people who are like this all the time.)

He suggests we go to Chez Jay next. Ooooooooh, I love a new bar. Never been. So excited. Even more excited that he’s ditched his car, and will get it in the morning. I love a man who drinks responsibly. (Is this how I book a MADD commercial, or do I still need to have babies?)

Chez Jay is great. I like having bars like this on my radar. The conversation is going steady, tho I’m praying my primary and polyamory doesn’t come up. I just want to enjoy this night, as it is. The same way I did as a single person. I really don’t want to dive into the politics of it all. I think I’m more terrified that talking about it will scare him away…

When Chez Jay closes, he asks me if I wanna come over for some porch beers.

Yup. You know I do.

Again… is this the moment I text my bf and let him know I’m going over to a guy’s house? I mean technically, there’s a good chance nothing will happen. Seems too soon to ring the alarm. And if there’s one expression comedians know, it’s “too soon.”

He gets us an Uber/Lyft, whichever- most cars in town have both stickers. When we get to his house, I hit the bathroom. Every girl’s most investigative move in a dude’s house. Is his hand towel also his bath towel? Is this a one towel wonder situation? Does he own toilet paper? I don’t make it that far, because I’ve sprayed surprise period all over my undies. (If those Tumblr names didn’t scare you away, this surely will, eh?)

I search the cupboards for anything remotely handy in this moment. There’s nothing. Maybe I should hit the kitchen, and look for coffee filters. Those should work, right?

Nah, I’ll just do the ol’ “tie toilet paper around my underwear” move. It’s the move you do when you first get your period, in case you don’t know. (I FEEL SO YOUNG AGAIN! MAYBE I DON’T NEED BANGS!)

Porch beers are the best. I’m a fan of his roommates. We’re all having a great time, but then… 

Something more unexpected than my bloody kitty happens. This beautiful, young blonde chick walks up to the porch.

“Hey, I live across the street. All my friends went to sleep, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.”

Holy. Mother. Trucker. It’s 3:00am. This isn’t the moment I was expecting competition…

But here we are.

The guys grab her a beer. Now again, I am not into “catty-ism.” BUT- I am a share holder of “insecurity-ism.” And if I were any one of these guys on this porch, I would def hit on this chick instead of me. She’s legit extremely cool. There’s a part of me that wonders if this is fate’s little way of saying,

You’re not ready to pop your poly cherry yet.

I never rang the alarm. I can still get out of this… innocently?

Either way, I think she might be might be my personal savior (another word I spell wrong cuz I’m Canadian and think there’s a “u” in it.)

“Do you have a tampon?”

“Of course! Come on over!”

She takes me over to her apartment, and literally gives me all her pads cuz she doesn’t use them. Bonus. My favourite sleep aid. I fucking love this girl.

We head back over to the boys, and I know I’m drunk, bleeding and tired. I ask my crush if there’s a place I can crash. He escorts me to his roommate’s room, and tucks me in. (Don’t worry- the roommate wasn’t there. That would have been the real poly, eh?)

As I fall asleep, like a loser at a slumber party who goes to bed first, I can’t help but think,

“He’s a great guy. She’s a great girl. If they hook up, I’m fine with it.”

PRACTICE COMPERSION! Why is compersion so much easier when you’re not dating someone? I fall asleep/pass out- which ever you like to believe at this hour. In the morning, I wake up in a super funny comedian’s bed. Alone. I make the bed, as a sure fire way to say “a chick was here” and text my crush.

“Oh I wanna say bye, but I don’t know what room is yours.”

I can’t just knock on random doors… Plus he might not be alone. I def don’t want to interrupt kinky times with the pad donor. All of a sudden, one of the roommates pops out of his room. I ask him which room is _______’s and he shows me. In this moment, I know I’m risking becoming a piece of gossip my boyfriend might hear… 

And not through me…

I lightly knock on the door. When I hear a groggy “come in” I open the door.

There’s NO hot, cool, tampon savior chick in his bed. He’s just sleeping, post drinking style, alone.

“Oh, I just wanted to say goodbye…”

And then, without saying another word, I crawl into bed with him. 

[askauradonprep]

So, I was thinking about my whole ‘what if the school was trying to keep the crew split up’ thing and I thought about how they’d shuffle around the roommates and here is what I came up with.

Gabe - Pin (this is pretty decent. They’re both pretty mellow and Pin doesn’t mind if Gabe goes off to chill with his friends he’s not supposed to be seeing - he’s more than a bit mischievous too).

Desiree - Lonnie (Desiree HATES THIS. She has to pretend to be sweet and ditzy ALL. THE. TIME. Lonnie bought it hook, line, and sinker and so now she’s trying to be a good friend and protect her from jerks. And if she ever finds out she’s rooming with the daughter of Shan Yu, that will be awkward).

Zeke - Sleepy Jr. (Eh, they’re probably fine, Zeke doesn’t talk much anyways so he just sits there doing his thing, looking intimidating).

Raphael - Herkie (Herkie is obnoxiously happy WHY. Raphael is so done. He’s snuck out of school so often just to drive off and get some peace and quiet).

Gonzo - Carlos (They COULD be good at working together but Gonzo’s more of a rivalry guy than a collab guy. He doesn’t hate Dude though so there’s that. Carlos misses rooming with Jay).

Yamato - Aziz (Aziz is super chill but also takes it seriously that Yamato is not supposed to see the crew and so he’ll guide him away like ‘hey, bro, look at this’ and Yamato is so done. Stop trying to ‘bro’ up when you haven't earned it).

Jonas - Chad (Oh god. There’s a ton of tension here. Chad got Jonas hauled up to the Fairy Godmother’s office his second day there because Jonas choked him. Jonas would like to know why he hovered over him when he was sleeping! He was trying to wake Jonas up because he slept like a log but aha, boundaries).

Uma - Audrey (They occasionally like to dish about Mal but mostly they don’t interact. Audrey’s more than a little suspicious after the cotillion and Uma can’t really blame her so she’ll roll her eyes and mess with her a little). 

Morwenna - Jane (Jane tries to be sweet and Morwenna thinks she’s adorable but mostly finds her really easy to mess with and evade. Jane knows sometimes Morwenna sobs for hours after a nightmare but has no idea why).

Lex - Doug (They’re mostly awkward. Doug’s tried to reach out but Lex is still adjusting to being able to have feelings aside from when he’s with the crew and has some seriously stunted social skills thanks to his restrictive parents ONCE AGAIN, THANKS MOM AND DAD). 

Micah - Gordon (There’s a fair bit of tension because Micah has a bad temper and little respect for authority. He’s mostly behaving because Uma doesn’t want them sent back to the Isle). 

Vince - Happy Jr. (It’s a little disturbing. Vince has his frightening temper and nowhere to fish now. Happy Jr. is a bit emo and kinda disturbing. This is a fun room). 

Gil - Ben (Ben gave the school a coronary by rooming with one of his kidnappers. But he doesn’t want to make his friends and girlfriend do things he won’t do so here he is. Mostly they’re mellow. Gil occasionally talks about stuff his dad said about Ben’s parents and that’s it). 

Zhao - Artie (Zhao has kept Artie up a good deal with his projects and it’s infuriating. And Zhao once socked him right in the mouth when Artie woke him unexpectedly. He was mildly apologetic actually - it’s his reflex for being woken unexpectedly because it’s how he survived his mother. But that’s the Isle version of apologetic and so was probably hopelessly inadequate and Artie no longer likes him, no matter how chill he is during the day). 

Bonny - Mal (MAL. HATES. THIS. Bonny’s always climbing everywhere and skulking around and you can’t go to her, you have to let her come to you or she’ll skirt away like a cat. And she MUMBLES all night until she sleeps about names and dates and it’s the worst). 

Malachi - Bashful Jr. (Malachi scared him stiff when he tried to wake him during a nightmare. Malachi came at him SWINGING and terrified the poor kid. They don’t talk much since then. Bashful’s scared to). 

Drey - Ally (Ally asks a lot of invasive questions and keeps chattering and Drey is super irritated. Where’s the off button?!? Drey sometimes likes to mess with her by talking about the most horrifying stuff on the Isle and watching her get uncomfortable but also curious). 

Rosita - Evie (Rosita plays nice but she actually hates Evie so much - she thought she was supremely annoying on the Isle. Evie has no idea and thinks they’re good friends while Rosita is pumping her for info on Auradon. There’s the time she threatened to punch Evie when she guided her away from someone else on the crew, but Evie chalked that up to being upset). 

Harry - Jay (Hello, 911, help, there’s only a matter of time before there’s a murder. These two are riling each other up and taking cheap shots at each other all the time and Jay is so done with reminding him he’s not allowed to see the crew - if he wakes up to find Harry snuck into Uma’s room one more time he will hurt him. Harry’s all about making Jay uncomfortable too)

[redravenapts]

Today was... long. And complicated. But not in a necessarily bad way. 

But just in case you’re interested in an update: good news is, the doctors say I don’t have to keep taking corticosteroids (so long, methylprednisolone - at least for now, they’ll discuss it again in November). Bad-ish news is the immunosuppressants are staying but eh, I expected that, what with it being an autoimmune disease. And as long as people fucking vaccinate their motherfucking children, I’ll be fine. 

I also got a strange job offer? Like, parents from my nephew’s school are asking me to teach their children a summer weekly class to better their English? But I have, like, zero teaching experience??? People don’t understand that being bilingual is wildly different from actually knowing how to explain grammar. Just because you use a car, it doesn’t mean you know the mechanics of it? Right? And the prospect of working with a bunch of 14 year-old kids is mildly terrifying? I guess I’ll evaluate the cost VS benefit, meaning how much I’d get paid lol People, the internet says I’m Thanos, I might be a bad influence on your kids. Just saying.

So, in not so short, that was my day. Now I’ve got a mild headache but it seems to be going away, so I’ll slowly work on drafts. Please bear with me and appreciate the fact that I’m not drunk out of my wits to celebrate the lack of corticosteroids in my near future.