#tag for this fucking awful school system?

[pensivespacepirate]

hi wheres the we're asian and we just watched everything everywhere all at once (everyone in various states of despairing in the parking lot outside of the cinema) twitter post i need it for time still turns the pages (2023)

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[kissami]

HEAVEN AND BACK

sum. after a tough breakup, you find comfort in things you never thought you would do.

fem!reader with she/her pronouns

warnings: drug usage, very rushed, angry katsuki but the usual, y/n is a mess lol and kinda a crybaby srry I was pmsing when I wrote this…

inspo: heavily inspired by Heaven and back by chase Atlantic I love that song sm gn

not proof read sorry I’m lazy I’ll edit it later, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

She was always dealing with the devil

She was always into taking those chances, yeah

“Thank you, have a wonderful day.” You smiled at the customer as they grabbed their cigarettes and left the convenience store you worked at.

It was currently 7:47 PM, and all you wanted to do was be at home with your cat and sleep.

But it’s never sleep when it comes to you. It’s always work, study, work, work, repeat. Living alone was stressful, especially when you didn’t have a support system like you used to.

Your support system..your precious katsuki. Gosh how much you missed him. That night of your breakup was one of the worst things you had ever experienced.

It wasn’t like the time when you lost your pet turtle and it crawled into your father’s work boots, leading to its awful death.

It wasn’t like the time you lost the charm bracelet your best friend had gotten you for your birthday in 7th grade.

No, nothing could ever compare to the way you felt like your heart was yanked out of your chest and tossed aside like a rock.

“Being in a relationship with you is exhausting.” You remembered saying to him as he was ranting about god knows what. You didn’t remember why you two argued, or how you two got in that position.

“Are you fucking serious?” You finally realized what you had said, going up to him to apologize.

But all you remember is him scoffing with tears in his pretty ruby eyes and yanking his jacket off the coat rack, slamming the door harshly. That was the last time you seen him.

“Hi is your lane open?”

You looked up, seeing three girls who were dressed in tight dresses, fur coats with huge smiles on their faces. You caught a whiff of the familiar green plant many would find relief in and their bloodshot eyes as they looked at you in excitement.

“Yes of course. Is this all?” You scanned the bottles of Pedialyte, chuckling as the girls began to ramble.

“You’re really pretty to be working at a place like this?” One girl with brown hair and pink highlights said, holding onto her phone.

“Oh uh thanks?” You blinked at her, looking back down as you scanned the Tylenol.


“We’re going to a party later, you should definitely come! When does your shift end?” You sighed, looking at the clock. These girls didn’t even know you and they wanted to party with you?

“It ends now, but look I don’t really go out at all though so-“

“Even more reason to come! Come on! It’ll be fun!” The shorter girl with curls said as she shoved her pixie stick in her mouth.

“I don’t even know your names.” You tried to explain, shaking your head in disagreement to this idea of theirs.

“I’m Yei, this is Lumi and Honey. We already know your name,” Yei the girl with blue hair pointed to your name tag giggling. “So there’s no other excuse. Please come with us.”

“I think that’s an amazing idea.” You felt a soft shove, looking over to see your coworker Ley looking down at you smiling.

“But I-“

“Go, Y/N. You’ve been working too hard and I know Layla asked for you to cover her shift for tonight but I refuse. As your boss and your friend, go have fun.” You sighed, nodding as you handed Ley your work apron.

Some would say it was pretty weird to have a boss who treated you this way, but you’ve know Ley since middle school. He was basically one of the reasons you still had a job here.

“I don’t even have anything to wear though.” You walked next to the girls as they dragged you along.

Said she met a couple other women

Who were into going late night dancing, yeah

You side glanced at the numerous people that were dancing along with the loud music, smoke overtaking the air as you clenched onto one of the girls’ hand, following them as they led you in further into the party.

You sighed a deep breath, feeling anxious as you watched everyone pushing and grinding on one another.

Gosh you wished you could call Katsuki to be here. Or even to just take you home.

“Hey, have a drink you look stressed.” Lumi laughed as she passes you a red cup. You gulped, smiling as you clenched it in your palm.

“Hey leave her alone, she said she’s not one to party so maybe she’s just not used to this environment.” Honey gave you a side hug and rubbed your shoulders in comfort.

‘I want to go home.’ You thought as you started to sip on the drink, making a small face at the sweetness of the alcoholic beverage, but still not putting it down.

“Mina said she was coming over with her friends.” You tensed up as you heard your old friend’s name from Yei who put her phone back in her small clutch, going back to downing the small shot glasses that were scattered around the counter.

“Mina as in-“ before you could finish, you felt warm soft arms grab your hands, squealing in your ear as you turned around to see the familiar pink girl looking at you in excitement.

“Y/N what are you doing here?!?” She asked, grabbing her hands tightly again smiling widely.

“Oh I was just-“ you looked up for a second and took a double take as you saw him.

Katsuki, standing in all his glory. His large arms in full display in that black wife beater tank, the chain that hung on the side of his loose jeans and your favorite gold chain that laid so gorgeously on his neck. You saw that he got an eyebrow piercing along with two more ear piercings and with pretty gold rings that hugged his fingers perfectly.

The fingers that were wrapped around a girl’s waist tightly.

Your breath hitched as you watched the way he smiled smugishly into the heated kiss with the girl who looked like an angel.

She was the complete opposite of you. So perfect.

You stared back at Mina with wide eyes, making her frown as she slightly turned around to see what you were looking at.

Her deep sigh of disappointment was all you needed to know.

You pulled away from Mina, walking to the bathroom as a loud sigh escaped out of your chest.

“Stupid stupid stupid.” You kept repeating to yourself as you started to put cold water on your face to cool down.

A loud knock interrupted your mini crisis. “Hey we need the bathroom!” A girl yelled, twisting the doorknob annoyingly.

“Sorry.” You whispered as you walked out, seeing two girls drag in a boy with blond hair with a lightening streak who was smiling dumbly. You now realized it was Denki who was dragged into the bathroom.

Good for him. You thought with a small smile. You began to make your way out, only to be caught by the wrist.

Looking back, you saw the face you were dreading to see now.

“Let me go, Katsuki.” You spoke sternly, yanking your arm away. You saw a small glance of hurt in his eyes that was quickly overtaken by the look of anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, looking over your shoulder and back at you.

“Who are you with?” You rubbed your face in annoyance and frustration. “That’s none of your business.” You heard a small huff from him, seeing the way he licked his lips in irritation.

A habit you used to love because he looked so good doing it.

“It is my business when you-“ you felt another pair of hands grab your shoulder, being shoved back into a rough chest.

“Is this guy bothering you?” You looked up, feeling your breath hitch at the gorgeous man that stood before you.

He had a tight compressed black shirt with gray sweatpants. Pretty green eyes and raven black hair as he looked at Katsuki.

“Uh what?” You asked to yourself, looking back and forth as you soon realized you were in a muscle sandwich.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Katsuki barked, feeling a vein pop out of his forehead.

“Katsuki.” You spoke softly, looking up at him as he laughed softly.

“Whatever, Y/N. Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m sick of worrying about you and your stupid decisions.” He brushed you off, walking back to the girl from earlier as he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the party.

You felt your heart hurt a bit, gulping at the way he tenderly talked to her as they left, without a second glance.

“What a crappy ex huh?” The guy joked softly, looking back down at you.

“You seem like you need something to get your mind off things.”

Then she fell in love with a pill, that could take away all her pain, yeah

“What is this?” You twirled the pastel rainbow pills in the small shot glass, looking up at the guy whos name was Kyle, in curiosity.

“I like to call them my happy pills. Come on, try it. Let it course through your veins as all your worries leave you.” He sat back in the raggedy couch that was in the basement as he smoked a joint.

You scratched your neck, feeling a bit tense and bothered as you saw the gray sweatpants that hugged his waist as he man-spread.

“I’m not gonna die, right?” You never did anything like this before, and you had no idea why you were even trusting this man with anything he was giving you.

But you were a whore for a man in a tight black shirt that showed all his good..qualities.

Then she fell in love with a whole new drug

That could fill her veins

And then

An hour later, you were laughing hysterically as you drank, looking around the room.

You felt like you were floating, never had you felt so alive before. This was a new sense of happiness you haven’t felt in all your years.

You started to feel addicted to this feeling.

She's high

She lives in the sky

Tonight, she's satisfied

Rolling back her eyes

You put your hand up, turning it as you inspected it in curiosity. Giving a side glance, you saw Kyle talking to his group of friends, smiling over to you.

You fell on the couch face first, groaning as you felt your vision start to blur.

“What?” You asked, seeing blobs looking down at you, shaking for you to stay awake.

“I’m having fun, leave me alone.” You giggle, pushing one of the face’s away, humming a song softly.

“Katsuki, please take her home.” Honey was looking down at you in worry, wiping your sweat off your forehead as she spoke in the phone.

There were incoherent voices in the background that you happily blocked as you sipped on another drink that was passed down to you.

“Get up.” After a good fifteen minutes of pure bliss when honey hung up the phone, you looked up confused to see him staring down at you completely pissed.

You looked around as Lumi helped you stand, seeing the girl who Katsuki was with looking at him annoyed but she was now sitting on Kyle’s lap drinking.

“Huh?” You asked, pushing his face aside when he tried to help you walk.

You limply looked up at him, seeing him even more mad than before had you sober up a tiny bit.

But then she starts to cry

Everything is turning to black

He lead you outside to his car, his keys jingling around while he helped you to sit inside.

You nuzzled up to the familiar texture of his seats that you used to sit in countless times before.

It was silent the whole ride and you began to cry.

Not just a normal sniffle cry. But a gut wrenching wail, the endless tears falling down your cheeks.

“Don’t be mad at me. Please I’m sorry.” You said clearly extremely intoxicated, watching him clench the steering wheel.

“I’m not mad!” He yelled, making you tense up and cry again.

“I-I’m not mad at you…okay? Whatever happened before….i forgave you for it. I’m mad at myself because I fucking left you!” You could hear the way his voice sounded so distraught and upset that it made you scotch closer to the car door a bit more.

“And what the fuck did you take?! How fucking stupid are you to do something like this? Did you even know that fucking guy?? You’re fucking smarter than this, Y/N what were you thinking??”

You felt your cheeks burn from the alcohol, the embarrassment, and the frustration.

“I wasn’t okay? I wasn’t thinking.”

“Fucking clearly. What the fuck happened to you?” You sat up, looking at him completely heartbroken as he spoke those words to you.

“It’s you! It’s all you!” You cried out. Katsuki looked at you, extremely pissed now as he slammed the car breaks which made the car shriek.

“Oh so it’s my fault now?!” Katsuki now turned his whole body to you, pushing the driver seat back so he was more comfortable as he faced you.

You scoffed, trying to open the car door only for him to reach over and slam it shut, along with putting the child locks on.

“You’re not fucking leaving. We’re going to talk. What the hell is going on?”

You looked at him as your head limply fell back, lightly hitting the seat as tears streamed your face.

“I was doing fine. Then these girls picked me up after my shift and then I went to that stupid party! Then I see you there, making out with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I was so upset i ran to the bathroom but then denki and some girls came in so then I left only to bump into you! After that you started being a fucking asshole which made that dude come over! The-then he gave me these pills. They made me feel fucking incredible!!”

Katsuki’s mouth opened like a fish out of water, his eyes wide as you rambled.

“So there! That’s what’s wrong with me!” Reaching over his lap, you unlocked the car and got out.

As soon as you did, the cool fresh air hit you instantly, making you hunch over as you started to throw up everything in your system.

You heaved, throwing up even more as you clenched onto the tree that was on the side of the road.

You heard the door slam and a comforting rub on your back the more you threw up.

“It’s okay. Let it out.” You turned around, feeling your legs get wobbly as you pushed his hands off.

“You said you could care less about me so leave me alone.” You spoke drunkenly, only for your head to roll back and everything going black for you.

Katsuki sighed as you plopped on the dried orange leaves that luckily saved your fall.

All in one night

She just went to heaven and back

You slowly opened your eyes, seeing that you were in the back of his car, laying across the seats with his jacket that used to be your favorite to steal.

You watched him skip through songs, groaning at the annoying stations that played.

“Who was she?” You almost laughed at the way he jumped, turning to see you sitting up now.

“Jesus fuck, you scared the hell out of me.” you could practically hear the way his heart was racing and ponding from the tight grip he had on the steering wheel.

“Answer my question.” Katsuki stayed silent.

“Just…a girl I started talking to.” Humming in response, you leaned your head against the car window.

“That’s why I did it. As pathetic as it sounds, I took those pills to forget about tonight. To get that imagine of you kissing her so lovingly out of my fucking head.” You didn’t realize just how much you started to cry, only seeing your tears landing on your hands that were laying on your lap.

“Y/N-“

“It’s my fault though. I was so stressed with school and making sure I had enough money for the week that I was so mean to you when you tried to talk to me that night. I’m sorry I said you were exhausting. I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty girlfriend to you, I’m sorry for everything.”

Silence.

You wanted to bury yourself in embarrassment at the way you had rambled your apology, overthinking that maybe he didn’t give a shit about you or your relationship anymore.

“I can see you having a fight with yourself, stop it.” Katsuki gave you a deep sigh, thinking for a bit before he gave himself a small nod.

“Don’t…apologize. I was being an asshole too and pushing your limits when you were saying you weren’t in the mood to speak. I should’ve given you your space. I’m sorry I fucking kissed that girl.”

Before you could respond, he parked the car and you finally realized where you were at now. You were parked right outside his apartment.

The door opened and Katsuki sat next to you.

“Look at me,” he grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry. We both were…really shitty with each other and I’m sorry. I want…to work things out. Maybe it isn’t our time yet, but I just want you.” Katsuki looked down at you, wiping your cheeks.

“I love you. So much. But I can’t…not right now. Not when I have so much regret and resentment with myself for letting this shit happen to you.”

You hum, looking down at your hands as you were thinking of what to say.

“It’s crazy how much shit can happen in one night huh…but can I ask a favor from you?” He looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Can we stay like this? Just for tonight like old times? Before I lose you again?”

[lakesbian]

ok Worm Bigotry Breakdown in more detail for @silverflyingpikachu

tl;dr: author is Cishet White Guy From Canada In 2011. he ostensibly thinks he is progressive. this does not change his proclivity for tossing his Cishet White Guy From Canada Biases into the books and then saying even more bigoted things in defense of those writing decisions on forums. wildbow is just some cunt on the forums with bad opinions on wildbow's writing. the book is 1.7 million words long but i believe in my ability 2 categorize this shit with decent accuracy. everyone who has ever said worm's CWs can't be categorized, including wildbow himself, is a lying ass bitch. this will include some vague spoilers, because i can't really go in-depth without a few examples, but i'll stay away from anything too plot-critical.

racism:

- worm is fundamentally a book abt systems of power and the ways in which they suck. some of the critiques worm issues--e.g, its depiction of how school systems enable bullying, inspired by wildbow's own experiences w/ the school systems as a deaf kid--are viscerally accurate and incredibly compelling. but wildbow fundamentally doesn't understand how certain systems of oppression work--e.g policing--and subsequently, his attempts at depicting them occasionally fall flat onto their face and land in racist territory. this gets particularly nasty when combined w/ the White Guy Author propensity for racist stereotypes--for example, his chosen face of police brutality is a black girl portrayed as predatory & animalistic.

- who is also one of the only black people in the book overall, alongside--for example--an addict portrayed as having less interiority & being less deserving of empathy than A Literal Fucking Nazi. also, the main characters have to team up with the nazis "for the greater good" (defeating the mean asian villains) at one point. it is a mercy to the readers when this part of the story ends. - there are two black characters in the main cast. for the first, wildbow just Straight Up Forgot to include the most compelling aspect of their background + characterization in the text (it was provided via WoG instead, which i provide to all wormreaders like a fuckin' DLC patch when they get to where it's relevant) & entirely forgets they exist towards where the end of their character arc should have been. the second is introduced w/ the most misogynoiristic description on the planet but blessedly has a largely compelling and well-written arc as the book goes on. - depiction of china is just like. fox news level sinophobic "it's all a brainwashed indistinguishable evil cult" shit. not relevant for very long relatively speaking but insufferable to read. asian characters are also like. we got Brutal Yet Honorable Asian Man. we got Fiery Asian Girl With Blue Eyes. it fucking blows it's not good

- oh yeah forgot this one someone mentioned in the tags. #it's an insignificant paragraph and nobody talks about it but the part where it goes #“yeah literally EVERY cape in South America is with a cartel and the heroes are barely distinguishable from the villains” #fuck you #not that the others aren't bad the fatphobia gets really gross but nobody mentions this and that one got me so yeah typical Insufferable Awful Imperial Core Author Understanding Of What Other Countries Are Like - i could make this section one million bulletpoints long but the gist is summarized i think--wildbow's varied racist biases leak fucking everywhere, into character design, into narrative assumptions about who's deserving of interiority/empathy or not, into attempts at Saying Anything About Society, into which characters he prioritizes, into who he offers validity via the narrative, etc etc etc.

homophobia: - theres a girl named amy dallon in it and she is the worst lesbophobic stereotype ever known to man. no other Problematic Lesbian™ you can think of has anything on this girl. the worst part is that she genuinely has a decently compelling character concept and arc, which her being awful is integral to, so you might accidentally find her interesting anyway and then she'll move into your brain - wildbow kept accidentally writing characters that scan as massive dykes and then got really mad about f/f ships for the book being popular in the fandom. he responded by making a deranged forum post involving the phrase "pandering is pandering" insisting everyone (but the bisexual "hedonist") is straight and writing a scene into the book where one of the characters literally turns to the camera and tells the readers "not to get the wrong idea" about her hugging her friend. - over the course of 1.7 million words he finds excuses to loudly inform you that all of the relevant female characters are straight and it's sooo shoehorned in you can always tell when he's doing it - basically worm is like if naruto was about homoerotic teenage girls who do violent terrible things, in terms of levels of unintentional homoeroticism, and the author responds to ppl going "lmao gay" about the unintentional homoeroticism with poorly restrained seething rage

fatphobia: - generic brand of fatphobia you'll see in p much all mainstream media where only side/bg characters are fat and it's obliquely used as a descriptor to indicate that someone has negative personality traits or should be viewed as sort of gross

anti-addict shit: - wildbow generally likes writing about how social circumstances--i.e neglect from society, oppression, failure on behalf of systems--causes crime. he generally likes demonstrating the ways in which the villainous main characters are traumatized teenagers failed by society fumbling to keep existing & holding each other up through The Horrors. unfortunately all of this intelligent writing flies out the nearest window when addicts are involved. there is a gang comprised entirely of addicts, all of whom are portrayed as disgusting, violent, dangerous, and of course often racially stereotyped. it is a mercy to the readers when they're no longer relevant to the story. - on a more subtle level, characters are every so often just like. a little more anti-drug than they would realistically be and you can tell it's wildbow's opinions leaking into their characterization. this is largely what the anti-addict writing is kept to after The Addict Villains leave the story iirc.

if youre wondering wellwhy does anyone read this book then. to that i would say that unfortunately despite it all it'sa fucking excellent book. so we all carry on reading the parts that suck and thinking about how they suck and then reading the parts that fuck and going "ouuugh my god" and rolling down 20 flights of stairs about how hard they fuck.

[dancingtotuyo]

Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

[madamtrashbat]

I was chatting with a friend recently about the ways antis operate and how damaging their ideology is and I wanted to organize my thoughts about it.

It's one thing to be like "I wish minors wouldn't interact with my work because it's got adult content" (which is not something you can 100% control short of paywalling) but it's another thing ENTIRELY to be like "minors should never look at anything sexual ever and people who think it's okay that they do are secret pedophiles."

Teenagers need to have the safe space to explore their sexuality and figure their shit out and sometimes that place is fandom. Sometimes teens are trying to deal with the fantasies they have about their hot history teacher so they consume teacher/student smut in order to work it out. Sometimes they're wondering what gives them their jollies and are just reading whatever they can to wank to, including incest and rape and other "unsavory" things just so they can get it all figured out.

Sometimes awful things have happened to teens and they're using the avenue of art and fiction to take the power back from their rapist and create a narrative they control where they are working through it safely.

And antis would see all of this and want it fucking destroyed.

I was brought up in fandom by a few of the sweetest older women (adult women!) who took me under their wings and showed me that what I was thinking and writing wasn't bad or wrong or shameful and it was all perfectly sane to have these sexual feelings because nothing makes sense when you're a kid and if you want to write Frerard where Gerard is the hot teacher to Frank's catholic schoolboy in order to deal with your feelings about the sexy sub you just got at your school then that's totally fine.

These trusted adults also comforted me when I was afraid, taught me what boundaries were (please do not actually pursue the sub!), told me what were normal interactions and what I should be wary of (do NOT let the sub pursue you), and they were proud of me as I made my way into the world as a reasonably well-adjusted adult.

(Hi, Gaja, can't wait for your Christmas card!)

Sexuality is weird and messy and whatever makes our pants tighter is all individual and equally weird. Telling teenagers to not seek out porn and to not even speak to adults is just a one-way ticket to growing fucked-up people who don't know how to operate without shame and then we have a resurgence in Catholicism and NOBODY needs that.

And the way that antis rally against this, like teenagers are Pure and Sweet Babies who are being corrupted by the Awful Adults Like Me (who are secretly child diddlers obviously) is just. So fucking damaging.

Imagine trying to handle the way your hormones are firing off at everything and you're just not sure what's going on and instead of a kind adult going "hey we were all freaks at 16 and it's totally normal to be like 'this strange thing is turning me on' I promise" you have some sniveling puritan asshole going "YOU ARE ACTUALLY A SEXUAL PREDATOR IF YOU LIKE THESE THINGS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED AND PUNISHED BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HARM PEOPLE."

Like. Y'all. I have seen antis claim that people who wrote about/drew rape in order to deal with their own assaults DESERVED IT because they chose to deal with it in this way. I have seen antis tell people they hope they get raped for the fiction they create. They wish death and harm against people who make fiction. Antis literally have a body count over this shit. And yet they want me to believe they're the good guys? Bye.

Antis will argue that it's not normal for people to think about gross and icky things. I argue that Holocaust survivors had sexual fantasies about actual fucking jackboot Nazis.

No one says you have to like everything everyone else does. We have a robust tagging system for a reason. But to behave as if what YOU like is the only thing that is acceptable and everything else is Bad and Wrong is not the business. Kink Tomato exists for a reason. We are all individuals who like different things. Get with it.

Teenagers are in a precarious time of development and if you want to shame them for whatever is going on in their heads then you are the problem, not the solution. Be the kind of adult you needed as a teenager, not some shaming, screaming Puritan trying to pin scarlet A's onto everything because it's sinful. Goody Proctor is just trying to rub one out in peace.

Get with the way fandom has always operated or go away. ACAB means fancop, too.

[pinkiepartypopper]

「 INTRODUCTION 」

Name's Jimmy. I'm the new Host of this Blog.

Any pronouns, I don't give a shit.

We are a diagnosed System with mixed Origins.

I'm a Factive, sorry not sorry for my existence. I am NOT the fucking real Guy. I'm myself. Don't compare me.

English/German/Dutch

On Discord we're called just like here "pinkpartypopper" hmu

I'm mean, don't cry. I warned you.

PROFICTION. Hating to refer to myself as this because I just exist, but it's just what I am according to definition.

Pro Art Freedom.

Anti-Censorship/Anti-Harrassment/Ship and Let Ship

Inform yourself about what the fuck Anti-Harassment means before you go cry about it.

If you call me a Pedophile, you're not better as the people that say "That's so Autistic of me". It's a Mental Illness. Don't throw it around like an Insult or a Vibe.

Be against the Abuse, not the Disorder.

You don't fucking know if I am diagnosed with it or not. I am not. And my diagnosis shouldn't be your fucking Business, unless I trust you and tell you.

We are a Psychology Student btw.

I repost alot, I engage in lots of fucking Discourse (If you don't wanna see it, leaveee︎︎♡)

DNI-(Do not Interact) if:

You are fucking judgemental, mean, rude or just outright an awful person. No harassment. Come at me for some bullshit and I will block.

DNF if you are under 18 !!!

If you are and I follow you, sorry. Block me!!! I made this Account recently 18+ because I am now, so Minors shouldn't be here.

I block freely

So if I don't like you, you just get blocked for no other reason. Nothing Personal or.. yeah. Personal.

I encourage you to do the same if you cannot fucking handle me.

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Rosi's stuff is under here. Too fucking lazy to transfer it to the other Blog.

↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

If things are tagged on this account with #thanks man i love you , it was Rosi answering on their loved ones.

You looking for the Rosi's Selfship Blog? Click this fucking Text! She's gonna post her stuff there.

Interests of Rosi:

I am Multifandom so I only list what comes to my mind. I am in way more fandoms. Feel free to ask for informations about which/the Fandoms I am in! Some are rare/underrated/unknown and don't really have a Fanbase!

✰ current hyperfix!

English Fandoms:

✰ Fallout (Series & Games)

• Gotham

• The Batman

• Stranger Things

• Misfits

✰ Parker Lewis Can't Lose

• Malcolm in the Middle

• 8 Simple Rules

• Invader Zim

✰ Disjointed

✰ Superstore

• Eddsworld

• Ninjago

• Lego Monkey Kid

• Black Butler

• Code Geass

German Fandoms:

• School for Vampires

• Binny and The Ghost

✰ The Three Investigators

If you have recommendations for Sitcoms please hand me some over 🥺 I love Sitcoms, especially 2000s ones!

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Rosi's Selfshipping:

I have no solid Self-Insert/Persona.

My "Persona" has different Names, Ages, Looks and Backstories, they are all based on the F/O's Source that I am adding them in.

The gender and pronouns are based on how I feel at the given moment or stay with specific sources.

I have an Sideblog basically for all Selfshipping based posts, there you can see my Self-Inserts!!!

——————————︎︎♡︎︎♡︎︎———————————

︎︎♡ Rosi's F/O's ︎︎♡

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

By questions, feel free to ask!

I know I made it pretty hard to understand 😅 I just love labeling things kdfmdm

type:

🧡 - platonic | 🌹- romantic | ❤️‍🔥 - sexual | ❤️‍🩹 - familiar

fambond:

🩸 - related family

(if not placed, it is found family or just familiar bond)

feels/facts:

✨ - parental | 🌟 - sibling | ⭐ - cousin | 💫 - step/half | 💛 - otherfam |

💥 - unhealthy |🫀 - yandere |💖 - comfort

side of type or feel/fact:

🌚 - f/o | 🌝 - s/i

Sharing everyone except for the Pink ones, you can still interact if you are open to share them tho... I will squint.

#Fallout (Series)

Thaddeus 🌹❤️‍🔥💥🫀💖🌚🌝

The Ghoul/Cooper ❤️‍🔥✨💥💖🌚

Bud Askins 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸✨💫💥💖🌚

Norm 🧡❤️‍🩹💖🌚🌝

Maximus 🧡🌟💖🌚🌝

#Fallout (Games)

Nick Valentine ❤️‍🩹🌹✨💖🌚🌝

#Gotham

Jerome Valeska 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸💫🌟💥🫀🌚🌝

Jervis Tetch 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌟💥🫀🌚🌝

Jonathan Crane 🧡❤️‍🩹✨💖🌝

#The Batman

Edward Nashton🧡💥💖🌚

#Stranger Things

Jonathan Byers🧡💖🌚🌝

Argyle🌹🫀🌝

Billy Hargrove ❤️‍🔥💥💖🌚

Steve Harrington 🧡❤️‍🩹🩸⭐💖🌚🌝

#Parker Lewis Can't Lose

Parker Lewis 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌟💖🌚🌝

Frank Lemmer 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸⭐🌚

#8 Simple Rules

C.J. Barnes ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🩸🌟💥🌚🌝

Bridget Hennessy 🧡🩸⭐💖🌝

#Disjointed

Travis 🌹❤️‍🔥💫💖🌚🌝

Pete 🧡❤️‍🩹🌟💖🌝

Tord 🧡❤️‍🩹🩸💫🌚🌝

#Superstore

Bo 🌹❤️‍🔥💖🌚🌝

#Eddsworld

#Black Butler

Drocell 🌹❤️‍🩹🌟🫀💖🌚

#School for Vampires

Oskar 🧡❤️‍🩹🌟🌝

Stoker/Fletscher 🌹🫀🌚

#The Three Investigators

Jupiter/Justus - 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌚🌝

Skinny Norris - 🧡🩸⭐🌚🌝

Dylan Parks - 🧡❤️‍🩹✨🌚

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That was all.

If you reached to this point: Thank you so much for reading!

I appreciate your sacrificed Time! ︎︎♡︎︎♡︎︎♡

Stay Safe & Positive !!!

Or just fuck off. - Jimmy

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Original Fiction

Wildflowers of Deliverance (three-part series)

Red, like my bleeding heart in your hand - 25k (complete--editing) novella prequel (the childhood years) - Follow Nash, his sister Jo, and his best friend Teddy in Deliverance, TN as they take on bullies and grow together, only to be ripped apart before they reach their potential

Blue, like don't forget about me - 60k (complete--editing) queer romance - Twenty years after Nash and Teddy lost touch, they reunite at a funeral and find all of the too-big feelings from childhood are still there, bubbling under the surface

Violet, like these delights - 50k~ (outlining) sequel to Blue - Jo's POV, coming of age in your 30's - Jo gets the freedom she thought she always wanted and finds, it kind of sucks actually

Woolen Hollow - Drafting Percolating - fantasy, magic systems, found family, accidental chosen one; a story about choice, family, and that weird forest kingdom girl who's obsessed with fortune tellers

Hot Air Balloon Town (working title - percolating) - In a small town famous for their hot air balloon museum and annual festival, a young woman decides she's going to break the world record for highest altitude in an open basket. However, the ghost in town is complicating things.

FanFiction

Spideypool (Peter Parker/Wade Wilson)

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) -- slowburn soulmates au where friendship is magic (or the one where Peter and Wade are literal soulmates but don't realize it for literal years because they're literal idiots)

The Little Barnacle -- Peter panics and botches Wade's proposal by proposing first like the babbling disaster man he is. He also turned out hella aro and this was his choice.

GwenMJ (Gwen Stacy/Michelle Jones)

michelle.mp3 -- Michelle breaks up with Peter and retreats to her grandma's house in the country to lick her wounds and meets Gwen, her insufferable neighbor who also happens to be the drummer and songwriter who upended her perfectly adequate life and is apparently back for more.

Parkner (Peter Parker/Harley Keener)

*deep breath*

Freak Out 'Verse -- It starts with a kidnapping, evolves through a summer romance, and ends with a portal to another dimension, team dynamics, and... shit tits? am i reading this right? ...really? Yeah folks it says shit tits what the fuck

Peaches 'Verse -- It starts with Abbie and Harley. It starts with leaving. It ends with Abbie and Harley and Peter and May. It ends with a room and choosing to stay.

The Distance Between (You and Me) -- Harley struggles to get a grip on his PTSD while his kidnappers are still out there, the board of directors at Stark Industries are looking for any excuse to deny him his future right to inherit the company, and his "bodyguard" drives him up the fucking wall.

For the First Time, Eye to Eye -- Peter and Harley have a lot of shit to work through and Harley's family reunion (while they pretend to be boyfriends of five years rather than workplace rivals), is not the time or place. And yet...

Lemon Boy -- Post-Endgame (sorry) Harley takes in Peter as a roommate to help with expenses while he remodels his deceased uncle's house. Both grieving in their own way, they eventually learn to see the other clearly--through the mask and despite the barriers.

Parkner One-Shots

Heart (in hand) Home (in you) - 2.5k - Harley-centric sick fic

An Insignificant Problem - 1.2k - De-aged!Peter; Fed-up!Harley

Wouldn't Dream of It - 2.3k - Harley-centric alien goo induced trip down memory lane

The Human Kind - 3.7k - Spidey and Laddie play hide and seek :) (mind the tags!)

Undercover? I thought you said under covers... - 3.7k - what it says on the tin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peter, no - 3.4k - Peter is an awful outdoorsman. Harley is in love with him.

Rhythm and Blues - 1.3k - Flash POV! He's stuck late at school and sees something he isn't supposed to.

No Need to Rush - 5.3k - It's simple: Harley loves Peter. Yet complicated: Peter loves Harley.

Second Chances for Second Guessers - 3.7k - Peter is a flighty little whimp afraid of falling in love

Pete, I'm Fake Drunk and Wanna Go Home - 2.9k - Peter needs a night off and Harley has a fool-proof plan to make him take one

The Devil is a Hopeless Romantic - 2k - tried to write angst. it's only okay

Completely and utterly devoid of sex appeal - 1.7k - Peter has the hots for Harley when he wears a certain outfit. Unfortunately it's his work uniform. And they work together.

Fake Romance Crap - 3.4k - sure he fake married me an hour ago, but do you think he likes me?

Apeshit - 2.1k - A Freak Out 'Verse one-shot written for the prompt: You know what, maybe they ARE tired of being nice. Maybe they DO wanna go apeshit.

adventures with hair dye and feelings — In Space! - 8.7k - 5 times Harley and Peter don’t kiss +1 time they do (in space!) Written for the combined prompts: 8) every single kiss so far has been a disaster but it's really funny and 46) don't have a one night stand with your coworker on the spaceship

Put in the Work - 54.7k - Rated M - fka the nasa au, now with minimal nasa (sorry). Harley built his whole life around two things: his daughter and his career at NASA. It's nothing but bad luck that he's laid off at the same time Hazel is pushing for independence. To cope, he falls back on his usual stress-relief, hotel sex with a hot stranger, but bad luck arrives in threes and it's definitely bad luck to fall in love with your one-night stand. If only he had a friend to vent to other than his sister, his daughter, and his strange quasi-friendship with Spider-Man via twitter…

Come on, take a joyride - 6.8k - 5 times Harley takes Peter for a ride +1 time Peter takes Harley

Free Pass - 9k - Rated E - a smutty New Year's Eve one-shot that got plot in it somehow...

another time, a difference place (I have loved you before) - ??? - In-progress (I'm posting as I go for once) - Endgame parkner fix it fic. Peter and Harley were together inside the soul stone. Unfortunately, neither of them remember anything and these frequent bouts of deja vu are getting weird.

Coming Up...

Baseball Smut - Rated E - parkner one-shot. Baseball uniforms are sexy, okay?

Your Mom Freaked Out - ??? - An addition to the Freak Out 'Verse that occurs sometime before the final scene of You're Freaking Out's epilogue. Harley gets blasted with temporal rays when Peter and Tony's time machine experiment goes wrong. It's just his luck that he wakes up handcuffed with Officer Benjamin Parker sitting at his bed side...

Not Spider-Man 4: Bring it on Home (working title) - ??? (LONG) - Gen fic (no romantic parkner), Harley-centric, trans ftm!Harley, canon compliant, post NWH - Harley built his own Iron Man armor and he uses it Robin Hood style to keep Rose Hill from blinking out on the map. Abbie thought she was helping by sneaking off to meet with reporter Betty Brandt and her photographer, Peter Parker, to shed some light on the dire situation in small towns like Rose Hill post-blip and the extremes people like her brother go to to keep people fed and healthy. But getting kidnapped is rarely considered helpful.

Spider-Man 4: Bring it on Home - ??? - Peter/Michelle - Sequel to Not SM4: BioH - Michelle POV (maybe with some Peter POV too--i'll decide when I actually get to writing it hah) -- Inspired by the events of Not SM4, Peter sets out to Boston get his friends back. Meanwhile, Michelle is trying to solve the mystery of why she and Ned have gaping holes in their memories. Ned has it worse than she does and has the therapy and medical bills to prove it, which is all the more reason for her to get to the bottom of this before his episodes get any worse. She's positive she could have solved it by now if not for the universe throwing constant distractions in her face--like the cute guy that recently started frequenting the shop where she works. And what the hell is Spider-Man doing outside of New York. One mystery at a time, Em. You'll figure it out. You always do.

We Were Gods (we were kids) - 100k~ - parkner childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to superheroes fighting on opposite sides to reluctant allies to lovers (this is the OG OG Blue like don't forget about me, back to its roots)

[longeyelashedtragedy]

For the send a character ask: Granit Xhaka XD

@perfectpiety here you go!!!

favorite thing about them: HOW to even answer this??? i think granit might be as close to "perfect" as a human can get. first of all let's get out of the way how stupid gorgeous he is and has been for basically his entire adult life--my personal favorite granit aesthetic era is his early bratty twink time at arsenal (if he's wearing 29, you know he's extra fine) but he's stunning in any era. his cheekbones should probably be arrested. the side dish to this is how fucking awful he looks in his selfies 😂 he's way too young to take such bad photos of himself. there's some legend that quilters would purposely make a mistake in their quilt to show humility--that only god can be perfect--while i don't know if this is a true story, maybe granit's selfies are the contemporary version of this 😂

as for the REST of it...

who the fuck is this man? he's so strong and solid while not being an asshole, toxic man with no emotions. he operates on a value system that feels almost archaic sometimes, but in a good way, like he'd probably lie his nice coat over a puddle for mikel to step on in the rain. he truly seems to have the most golden heart. But he has a heart of molten gold—more lethal than the hard form.  More alive.  Overtaking everything it touches. His natural leadership and charisma are truly insane. My sister is a little like him in this way, and it's always truly fascinating to watch--someone who just naturally commands the attention, leads a conversation, even the most experienced and hardened team captain seems to defer to granit for the team talks. while "taking over everything and commanding the attention" is often a really annoying and unlikeable quality, for people for whom it comes that naturally you can't even hate them for it because they're not trying to be pushy or an asshole. they're just a born leader.

i also used to think he was kind of a himbo, but i feel like i owe him an apology because he actually seems quite intelligent and serious. he's one of those footballers who can give an actual academic subject answer for "what was your favorite subject in school" (math lol)

least favorite thing about them: that he DOESN'T PLAY FOR ARSENAL ANYMORE

favorite line: anytime he calls mikel a "freak, in a positive way"? in his open mic video during covid season, where someone scores and he goes "FUCK ME! THAT'S FOOTBALL GUYS!" uhhh...his entire "if you don't have the balls to play, stay home" speech in 2022? when he told alex iwobi "i only listen albanian music" in his #29 days cause that was such a lie lmao. in terms of international duty: when he was hyping up the team before the penalties vs france in euro 2020 and yelled "WE ARE CLEARLY THE BETTER TEAM HERE". or...most iconically...looking at the serbian bench and mouthing "Ta qifsha nonen ne pidh"...thanks to my scholarly pursuits of albanian i did not need a translator for that ;). or wait...in colney carpool...whatever the fuck that weird thing he said about giraffes was 😂

brotp: well...granit and his actual brother taulant? hahaha. i love him with anyone he was friends with at arsenal (gabby j modelling his clothing line, anyone?) with carlos cuesta, with ricci rodriguez, xherdan shaqiri, and breel embolo (always ready to throw down with vs the serbian nt). his history with yann sommer...i love granit's Friendships

notp: ok...please don't hate me. i don't mean "notp" as in like, eww, i hate this, i'd never read about it, i'd block the tags, etc. i just don't personally ship granit and martin. i think they were a great influence on each other as like...captain and vice-captain, and i loved seeing their interactions there. i just didn't really see sexual chemistry between them, if that makes sense. i certainly have read some granit and martin fics and enjoyed them! i just don't ship it really.

otp: i mean...

X H A K A R T E T A

do i need to stay more? two hearts that beat as one. one's heart is the other's home. mikel saving granit, shaping and transforming him, understanding him...sometimes it makes me think of the story in plato's symposium (don't worry everyone--i got a C+ in classical philosophy this is the only thing i remember or understood) from aristophanes where he talks about how zeus cut ppl in two and they have to roam around looking to find their "other half" so they could be complete...Xhakarteta be like that.

and also. how they both own each other, dominate each other, submit to the other. granit in charge in bed yet all in service of mikel. granit's utter, wide-eyed devotion to mikel in interviews. the way mikel saw the beast and the angel within, and loved the beast and showed the world the angel. UGHGHGGHGGHGGHG

random headcanon: i don't think granit would like, label his sexuality as anything? i think he just does what feels right.

unpopular opinion: i've definitely expressed this before but i do not--sincerely do not--agree with the popular view that granit would "lose control" when he got physical. for example (sorry veronika hahaha) when he chokes ashley westwood. if you look at his body language there--or even in like november 2022 vs chelsea where he kind of flung chalobah around--it's honestly a body that is very IN control of itself. he just came at these games from a very different mindset. he's naturally aggressive, goal-oriented, here to both win but also defend the honor of both himself and the team, so-- confident in his value system, he didn't care what he had to do to make it happen.

i've genuinely never seen granit appear "out of control," and i've watched a lot of aggressive granit compilations hahaha. i think mikel did help him find maturity about this, and i think putting him in a less defensive role really helped. granit defending = license to Murder

(frivolous bonus: i think he looked hot with the bleached hair! like he looked kind of deranged and so it grew on me...it definitely doesn't suit him hahaha)

song i associate with them: i don't really have one...maybe kangë e shahirav by mc kresha/lyrical son, and/or future lovers by madonna, but only bc i've listened to these songs a lot when writing fics about him lol

favorite picture of them: hOW do u expect me to do the impossible!!!!! how about these 2, the first with granit in my two favorite colors of course (and i love the 2nd one because he looks like he just woke up lol)

[crumchycow]

a get to know you better meme

thanks for the tag @thestrangeillusion

do you make your bed?

Nope never, if something doesn't need to be tidied it will not be tidied, have left a bucket in the middle of my room for 9 months because of this.

what's your favourite number?

Don't have one

what is your job?

Currently just a student I kinda need to get a job but studying and working is a lot for me and acquiring a job is annoying and hard so uethggghhhh

If you could go back to school would you?

Um will I continue studying? Maybe....

can you parallel park?

No

a job you had that would surprise people?

None? Probably the most interesting way I have earned money is the only commission I've ever had, which was my mum commissioning me for her work (kindergarten) because they needed 30 little icon drawings that each kid has at like their bag hook and on their stuff to identify them, she didn't like the person who used to do it because they were weird about it for some reason and the designs were kinda cluttered and ugly so my mum was like my child can draw? Yes! and this way I can be really fussy and specific with it.

(dw she paid me quite well)

do you think aliens are real?

In the sense of any life existing outside of earth? yes 100% would be weird if there isn't. In the sense of complex or intelligent life? probably. In the sense of there are human equivalent creatures that have achieved space travel and are equally or more technologically advanced than us, unlikely but possible. Just thinking about how much time life has existed without humans and how long humans have existed before any ideas of space exploration and the very specific technologies and discoveries that were necessary for space exploration I wouldn't be surprised if we are the only ones. Also just like how incredibly difficult space travel beyond our solar system is I think it's unlikely we will truly know or make contact.

can you drive a manual car?

No :) do not care to learn. fuck cars and driving is boring i only learn to drive because its kinda necessary where i live :( get me good public transport government please

what's your guilty pleasure?

im guilty about alot things like drinking milk, eating too much sugar, spending too much money, doing literally anything i will find a way to feel guilty about it but thats just my general state of being since i was a child and i mostly ignore it or work around it.

I guess in the more traditional sense of things i like that are embarrassing and i wouldnt want people to know, it would be reading fucked up smut. Particularly my fondness for incest ships? Don't know why I suspect it is the codependency. but yeah umm...

Tattoos?

Not yet but I wanna get a spider (not decided which) on my back soon.

favourite colour?

Peach

favourite type of music?

Um I mostly listen to kpop because uh autism? idk, but I genuinely like a lot of music. Some of my favourite music is like objectively awful and difficult to listen to, I think I often like music that is complex and has lots of things.

Some of my favourite artists trying to include multiple genres I like:

Mamamoo

Stray Kids

Taemin

F.T. island

Jeff Satur

S3rl

Enaria

Chopin (I'm learning one of his preludes atm it's v pretty)

Vivaldi

BabyBeard

GHOST (vocaloid producer)

also gregorian chants slap (not christian, vocal harmonies just make me feral)

do you like puzzles?

Yes! I just recently was like y'know what I haven't done in years but suddenly really need to do:

But also just generally like I LOVE maths and figuring out things and patterns and stuff so fun.

any phobias?

Nope

favourite childhood sport?

Um not that into sport, I guess I wanted to play netball when I was like 8 (but that might've just been because that's the thing you do) but I missed the trial periods 2 years in a row but kinda glad I didn't I know multiple people with permanent injuries from playing netball as a kid/teen and my joints are not the most functional in the first place. Do still enjoy playing casually every now and then.

do you talk to yourself?

Yes my favourite hobby, I have the best conversations with myself, will stay up for hours just talking to myself. Also great for preparing for real conversations. I love it when a topic I fully thought about and talked to myself comes up in conversation and it's like fuck yeah gonna ace this one.

what movie(s) do you adore?

Hmmm not the biggest fan of movie as a story format but uh have seen how to train your dragon at least 20 times and I need to watch it again sometime soon, been craving that animal/human enemies to deep emotional connection best buds.

coffee or tea?

Love coffee, but over half of my daily water consumption is through tea (usually multiple kinds)

Would be less alive without tea also its just like so diverse, green tea!black tea! rooibos! masala chai! rosehip! liquorice! peppermint..... camomile! and so much more with sugar! with milk! with honey! or lemon! hot! cold! literally my favourite, shoutout to whoever invented plant in water. Also soup different kind of plant in water but still absolutely banging humans peaked at plant in water best things invented.

and caffeine doesn't affect me like at all? so i only drink these things for taste.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

Idk the first but I know at some stage I wanted to be an author or a marine biologist (why is this so common who put it in our heads? Actually maybe David Attenborough....) probably the first was an animal or something

egh its rambly and may not make sense but whatever, also revealing any information about myself on the internet scares me even though literally nobody could do anything with this information like guys pls dont dox me through knowing my mum is a kindergarten teacher

tagging @gaylittlepieceofsh1t @mousydentist @mr-bazongos @wildelydawn @thestarscanalwayslookatus @fiddlepickdouglas @ae-azile and any one who wants to, no pressure tho <333

[fenharael]

15 questions tag

I was tagged by @girlvinland :) I tag @mrslittletall @moniesmonsters @bizzyfish and anyone else who wants to join!

Answers under cut.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes, my great-grandmother.

2. When was the last time you cried?

A few weeks ago. Pre-period + anticipatory grief.

3. Do you have kids?

No. I don’t really want kids, I think I am too selfish and there are other things I want to do. I don’t really want my identity to become “parent”, and I don’t want to be responsible for psychologically damaging a child, or having them grow up to hate me, or becoming a serial killer or something. I think that your child hating you or becoming an awful person would be too horrible. I would want them to have a good life and to be the best parent I could, I don’t think I could do it well enough. I definitely never want to be pregnant, it freaks me out a lot and sort of disturbs me conceptually. If I ever did have a kid I’d probably want to adopt one, and I’d want to be 100% financially secure and have no debt and own a house.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Yeah, when it feels appropriate or funny.

5. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Their general sense of style. Usually what outfit they are wearing, jewelry, hairstyle, shoes…etc.

6. What is your eye color?

Brown :B

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

It depends on my mood. I guess I like ambiguous endings for the most part, or bittersweet endings.

8. Any special talents?

I’m pretty good at copying things. Like certain sounds, melodies, or art styles. I’ve never really tried to imitate a writing style before so idk if I can. I had a piano teacher who said I might have perfect pitch, but I think it was just the ability to mimic something I already heard.

9. Where were you born?

The Unholy Swamp

10. What are your hobbies?

Art, writing, video games. I did figure skating for a little while but I stopped because I don’t have access to a rink anymore and it was pretty expensive.

11. Do you have any pets?

I have two kitties :)

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

I did sports roulette throughout pre-school and grade school…soccer, tennis, swimming, figure skating, ballet, gymnastics. None of them really stuck except when I wandered back into skating for a while. I’d honestly like to learn pole dancing in place of it, it looks really fun and like a more engaging way to exercise.

13. How tall are you?

5’3” 😔

14. Favorite subject in school?

Art, English, History, Biology. I was planning on going into medical illustration but I ended up going to a different college because they gave me more scholarship money lol.

15. Dream job?

When I was little I wanted to be an animator at Pixar, now I don’t really know. I’ve sort of been trying to worm myself into Art Direction, but I feel like I’m just getting more specialized in UX/UI for enterprise level systems… which is sort of boring, but it’s predictable. I’ve been sort of waffling for the past few years about going back to grad school for Art Conservation, but from the research I’ve done I need a lot of chemistry prerequisites to even apply and there are only 4 schools in North America that are accredited. So I’ve sort of just…stagnated on it because I’m a weenie. I’m sort of at the point where I’m like: “should I just stay at my boring, stable job and use my free time for what I’m currently doing? Is just fucking around and having silly fun fulfilling enough? Who am I, What do I want” etc etc and then get into the Identity Mirror Spiral lol

[oswednesday]

waa @proceduralbob tagged me! thank youu

name: wednesday

pronouns: they/them

where do you call home?: without the right to roam, in a planet with boards and states and nationalities, this is kind of a faulty concept, people ask this sort of thing to judge your worth, sometimes i poke fun at people for like what state or city they live in but know its kind of in a post-ironic or whatever sort of way, i live online! but i suppose the geographical answer is the usa equating that with home feels gross, home feels personal and all encompassing, doesnt it?

favorite animal: im like, rabbit themed, so there's that of course i love so many animals i feel like i have a fave per genre of animals, im really into jellyfish , my fave owl is great horned, i also love flamingos and giraffes and bats and cockatoos

cereal of choice: i only eat cereal as intended like two months out of the entire year max, i like applejacks (with banana slices) and cocoa bunnies from the annie's brand (with strawberries) (cereal feels really naked without fruit on it!)

visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner: im pretty sure this is something that gets taught in schools in conservative states cause no one gives a fuck whether its junk science or not, i Prefer someone to show me how, then walk me through it and then ill do it a bunch with assistance until i get it, but thats often so taxing to be vulnerable with someone else and not everyone has the patience for me so maybe like visual/kinesthetic/auditory in that order maybe? maybe thats just self fanfiction

first pet: fish! like the first animal i was aware of like, the concept of a pet like we have a pet in the house were two box turtles but those were like, my parents pets, they did not take good care of them! the first pet i consciously was like i want to keep and take care of them were fishes

favorite scent: (oops i forgot to remove the previous answer and fill this in)i have a lot of scents i like but rn i think murphy's wood oil soap!

do you believe in astrology: i think there are three "categories" of astrology

there is the math; the history and the culture and the arts and how much it like is apart of human history like that's real and inseparable from understanding the world around us you cant be like well thats astronomy because its also people folk lore and mythology of their cultures and belief systems and that kind of math was not separate from each other, it was used and is used as aid to make complicated numbers more digestible, as a way to memorize and to pass along oral traditions, its also a form of a people's wealth, so thats real yes

then there's social/economics/psychology of it like time periods coincide with ups and downs of wealth in a place like historically and its also like how the seasons impact people, what food is available, what sicknesses are more easily transmittable during certain seasons, which impacts somewhat the way we interact with the world as early age roles are set in by family, society, so on, thats real

then there's my cringe fetus in the womb is an aries i can feel the energies, that shits fake, but that feeds back into like point two and this point isnt any different than the other awful ways parents can interact with their children about 'metaphysical' matters

so i suppose yes i do, like, in a social science and a traditional art sort of way

how many playlists do you have on your music service of choice: i have a lot i like to make playlists a lot, maybe ill share them with the internet more often

sharpies or highlighters: highlighters are cute! sharpies have more use though, highlighters might win simply for the cute factor

song that makes you cry: once the pokemon 2 movie starts its ON <-the tears, from the ost for some reason

song that makes you happy: i listen to a lot of vashti bunyan and haruomi hosono for that feeling, oh maybe im not answering these correctly, i know nobodies got me like still alive (portal 2007)

and finally, do you write/draw/create: i do all kinds of gay stuff

[alovesongshewrote]

Is There a Doctor on this Plane? (Yes, yes there is.) - P1 | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot:  Eddie runs right into danger like an idiot. Luckily, you just so happen to be a doctor- or a med student, at least. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader]  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word count:  4,103

Warnings:  SPOILERS FOR STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR, VOLUME 2. blood and violence, mild gore, descriptions of medical procedures, brief, brief character death

Disclaimer: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: This is a fix it for the end of season four. It's also the first of three parts. i would've made it one part, but i get the sense that one big part exceeding like, 5k words would be a teensy bit too long, y'feel? anyway, PART 2 IS OUT NOW

Tags: @twistedhistory

Eddie Munson was a menace, but he was your menace, so you let that slide. Every single time you talked about getting into medical school, he would gently make fun of you. Of course, his jokes were rarely at your expense. Instead, he usually chose to make fun of the medical world- and honestly, most of the time he had a point. The medical system was (and is) fucked up and very easy to make fun of.

But that was why you wanted to become a doctor, as you had explained to him so many times. You wanted to change the world of medicine for the better. More than that, you wanted to do better; to protect and care for the people that the medical system failed. You wanted to do good for the world- you wanted to save some part of it. To save the people left behind.

Whenever you talked about it, Eddie would always crack a smile. Not a teasing grin, but a genuine smile. Of course, he would continue to tease you after, but he had to admit, your desperation to save others was one of the things he loved most about you. You were so optimistic and so borderline naive, and you wanted to do good so badly.  You were nothing less than a hero to him, and in his eyes, you were worth so much more than he could ever be.

He couldn’t tell you that, though- not unless he was super fucking high, which he rarely was around you. Instead, he teased you lovingly, supported you silently, and always let you play healers in DnD.

And you loved it. You loved him. He genuinely believed in you, and he understood you in a way almost no one else did- and you believed in him.  You encouraged him in all things. You took his side in almost every debate, almost every argument. And he was so loud and so weird, and you fucking loved it. Even when he made fun of you, he did it differently from everyone else. To you, he was perfect, and he was worth the world itself.

But you didn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t tell him that unless one of you was on death’s fucking door, banging on it, and trying to get in. Yes, that is foreshadowing, but you didn’t think it was at the time. Instead, you supported him loudly, loved him silently, and played DnD even though you despised how much of the game was left to chance.

You spent your years in high school like this, happy and quietly in love. And then, when you did graduate (and when he didn’t) he made one last joke about you going off to become a doctor- which, of course, you were. You can’t remember the joke, but you can remember that you laughed, and told him that he would regret teasing you one day.

You fucking hated being right.

Two years after you graduated, you went home for spring break. Things went to shit surprisingly fast. You thought the worst things waiting for you in Hawkins would be judgy conservative relatives and neighbours. Alas, things were a little worse than that.  

Within hours, you learned about the existence of alternate dimensions, bloodthirsty monsters, and supernatural serial killers who were out for the blood of teens. That was already an awful situation, but of course, it had to get worse. Eddie, your beloved menace, had gotten himself accused of murder. What’s more, he had also become the target of a town-wide manhunt! Delightful! Just fucking delightful.

Not long after your worldview was flipped, bent, and broken, you found yourself in the Upside Down, distracting demobats with Eddie and the freshman he’d apparently adopted. For a med student, a metalhead, and a high schooler, you actually put up a pretty good fight. Or at least you were until the demobats broke into Eddie’s trailer.  

He shoved you and Dustin behind him, slamming the door to his bedroom shut before hurrying the two of you through the gate and back into the normal world.

“Come on, Eddie,” your voice shook in several places, but you ignored it, “Get up, come on.”

His hands were on the makeshift rope. He was so close, so close- but he stopped.  Why did he stop?

“You’re so close, Eddie, let’s go!!!” Dustin yelled, jumping up and down beside you.

With a last look to you and Dustin, Eddie let go of the rope. Then he cut it down.

“Eddie! What are you doing!?  Eddie, no!”

“Eddie-? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you fucking asshole!” your hands carded through your hair as you watched Eddie move the mattress on his side of the gate, effectively trapping you and Dustin.

“Eddie, stop! Eddie, stop! Stop, stop!” the kid was losing his mind at your side.

You genuinely couldn’t blame him- especially when Eddie turned to the both of you and said, “I’m buying more time.”

Trash can shield braced on his arm, he ran out of view as you and the kid screamed after him.

“Shit, that idiot!” you pulled yourself and the kid back, looking around frantically for something to help you get back into the Upside Down. Thinking quickly, the kid grabbed a nearby chair and got ready to jump through the gate.  

Before he could, you grabbed the back of his shirt, “Hang on, kid, if anything happens to you, Eddie’ll kill me.”

“HE MIGHT NOT LIVE TO KILL YOU, LET ME GO!”

“Let me go first!” you yelled, “You can follow me after, just let me put the mattress back, okay?”

Dustin nodded, and just like that, you were making your way through the portal. You fell hard, probably spraining your ankle on the way down. You bit your lip to muffle your scream of shock and pain. Your lungs pulled in the foul air around you desperately as you tried to control your breathing and numb yourself to the pain. You had to get up- Eddie needed you.

With some difficulty, you pulled yourself up from the ground and manoeuvred the mattress into position. Once you gave Dustin the all-clear, he jumped, landing safely and with a dull thud. You gave him a hand up, and without another word, the two of you ran out the door after your dumbass metalhead.

He wasn’t hard to find. A hurricane of bats swirled before you. A sickening cacophony of screeches and shrieks filled the air. Above it all, you swore you could hear him screaming. He must’ve been in the eye of the storm, stranded behind a wall of monsters, separated entirely from you and Dustin. You and the kid ran for the swarm, screaming Eddie’s name as you went. The bats paid you no mind, choosing to focus on their current prey instead. With no other choice available to you, you shoved Dustin behind you.

“STAY THERE, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!”

“(Y/N), NO!”

Taking a page out of Eddie’s book, you sprinted into danger, running through the demobats until you found what you were looking for.

Your voice cracked when his name left your lips. He was pinned down, all of his limbs held in the tails of those fucking bats. He struggled, but there wasn’t much he could do- he was trapped. Your screams joined his as more monsters descended on him, tearing into his skin. They were going to kill him if you kept standing there- they were going to kill your best friend.

You weren’t about to let that shit fly.

Picking up the weapon he dropped, you ripped into the bats, taking out as many as you could. You pulled them off of Eddie, stabbing, striking, and sending the bats into the endless abyss of death. One by one, the bats turned their attention to you. Scratching and tearing, they attacked without mercy- but you were no different. You were ruthless, a violent beast, slaughtering monsters left and right. You felt nothing as the creatures ripped into your flesh. You felt nothing as they bit down into your shoulders and arms. What you did feel, within every part of you, within every cell of your body, was pure blind rage.  

You were almost inhuman- a monster to some, and a god to others, but at the end of the day, you could still be taken off balance. A lucky demobat got the best of you, knocking you to the ground and shredding your skin. You cried out in surprise, landing on your side in a weird way- if your ankle wasn’t sprained before, it definitely was now.

You put your arms up as the bat attacked your face. It pushed you further into the ground, and you screamed as you tried to fight it off. Another bat attacked your thigh, ripping another pained yelp from your throat. You could feel them breaking you, now- and thanks to your medical knowledge, you could tell exactly what they were doing to you.

As the bats swarmed, you started to wonder if this was the end for you. Honestly, dying here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You would go out on your own terms, and at Eddie’s side. You couldn’t complain about that.

Dustin and Eddie could, though! The former burst through the torrent of bats and tore the creatures off of you before helping you to your feet.  

“KID? I TOLD YOU TO STAY PUT!” you yelled over the screeches of the swarm.

“THAT’S A WEIRD WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU!”

With a laugh, you and Dustin turned, standing back to back at Eddie’s side. Together, you fought off every single creature that even dared to try to attack your small group. It was rough, but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, the bats stopped mid-air, struck down by something none of you could see. They fell to the ground, creating a rainstorm of monster corpses. You pulled Dustin close to you, shielding both him and Eddie with a combination of your own body and one of the makeshift shields.

The moment the corpse rain ended, you dropped to your knees. A small cry escaped your lips, but your own pain was put out of your mind the second you saw Eddie’s face. You were slowly going into shock. Your hands shook. You felt sick.  

“Eddie!” Dustin cried, kneeling at his friend’s side, “Eddie! Oh, god, Eddie-”

Red covered Eddie’s face, his neck, his stomach. He was losing blood fast, and from your place at his side, you couldn’t even take in all of his injuries. From the weak wet sounds he was making, you had to assume that there were worse wounds that you couldn’t even see. He struggled to move, to breathe, to live, 

Dustin took Eddie into his arms, holding onto him as the older boy choked on his own blood. You felt helpless- of course you did, you were watching the person you loved most in the world die in the arms of a friend. Your heart was breaking in a million places, and you didn’t know what to do.

And then, you remembered.  You were supposed to become a doctor.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie asked, his voice catching slightly.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, you’re gonna be fine, we just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?” Dustin tried to reassure both himself and his dying friend. 

You, however, took a different tactic.  

“Yeah, it’s fucking bad, Eds, you tried to take on a horde of monsters on your own,” your voice shook as you spoke, but you tried to ignore it. Turning yourself slightly, you gently took Eddie from Dustin’s arms, lying him flat on the ground so you could work.

“Dustin, I need you to go get my bag, I dropped it before we ran into the bats.”

“I- But- but I-” the kid stuttered, hesitant to leave Eddie when he was in this state. You understood completely, but right now, you needed him to act.

“It’ll be fine, kid, I’ll take care of him, just go get my bag,” your confidence was growing by the second, and Dustin could hear it in your voice.  

With a final, “I’ll be right back, buddy, just hang on, okay?” Dustin ran off to get your bag for you.

And then, you and Eddie were alone.

You started peeling his jacket away from his bloodied skin, clearing space for you to examine and patch up his wounds. He was far from silent, groaning through gritted teeth as you worked over him.

When you looked at his face, though, he was smiling. Tears pooled in his eyes as he asked, “I didn’t run away this time, right?”

“No. No, no, no, baby, you didn’t run away. You ran straight into danger like a moron, but-” your voice cracked, “I’ll admit, it was brave. Real hero shit.”

With the blade of a nearby spear, you tore open his shirt. At another time, and in another place, you may have blushed at seeing his chest. Now, though, you had to hold in your gasp at the state of his body. He was torn up just about everywhere. Blood pooled in deep wounds, and for a second, you wondered if you could actually save him. You shook the doubt from your mind- it wouldn’t help anyone now. You needed to stay focused on one thing, and that one thing was saving Eddie.

“Well, here we are again,” he sighed, “The hero and the healer. Roll for initiative.”

You laughed, through your tears, frantically trying to blink them out of your eyes. Hearing Eddie, who was usually so loud and full of life, sound so quiet, so scared- it made you want to cling onto him and sob. You reminded yourself that you would have time for that later. For now, though, you had to-

“I love you, y’know? I want you to know that.”

That did it. You stifled a sob as you replied, “I know. I know, baby, I love you too-”

“And I love all your weird doctor shit. I-I know you’re gonna save so many people. And I know your handwriting’s gonna go to hell, so maybe take a class-”

“You’re gonna regret making fun of me, Munson,” you said through a mix of laughter and tears, “I swear to god. Now shut up and save your strength.”

“You always say that,” he whispered. His eyes closed for a moment, and although he was still breathing, it scared you out of your mind.

“DUSTIN!” you screamed, “HURRY IT UP, WILL YA?”

Just as you yelled for the kid, he ran into view, your bag slung over one of his shoulders.

“Hang on, baby, hang on,” you murmured to Eddie, clinging tightly to his hand, “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m gonna help you.”

He simply hummed and continued to lie still until Dustin slid to a stop at his side, tossing your bag to you. You all but tore it open, extracting gauze, alcohol, sterile needles, and thread. As you got to work, Eddie turned to the kid.

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself,” Dustin was crying, now, and you would’ve joined him if you didn’t have a job to do.

“Nah, man-” 

You cut Eddie off, handing a bit of gauze to the kid, “Dustin, take this and put pressure on his wounds, you need to put pressure on it, ok?”

The kid shakily took the bandages from you and held them to his friend’s side. A strangled noise came from Eddie’s throat. He thrashed slightly, trying to escape the pain, but that wasn’t really an option for him- especially not with you around.

“Stay put, Munson,” you pushed him back to the ground, continuing to clean and bandage his wounds at a rapid pace.

“They’re always so mean to me,” he joked, somehow finding the strength to smirk in Dustin’s direction. He continued, “Now, promise me you’re gonna look after them. After the sheep and after-”

“Shut up, and save your strength,” you hissed.

“Y-yeah,” Dustin stuttered, “Shut up, Eddie. Just stay with us, stay with us.”

Eddie sighed, finally shutting up for a second. His fingers tapped against your thigh gently. You could feel him staring up at you. He looked as if he were memorizing your face- as if he were taking you in for the last time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said as you prepared to stitch up the first of a few deeper wounds.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re never gonna see me again. You’re gonna make it through this, Eddie, I’m not going to let you die. Tell him, Dustin.”

“I- they aren’t gonna let you die. You’re gonna make it, you can do this.”

“You guys are too good to me,” Eddie blinked a little too slowly, scaring you once again.

“Yeah, you aren’t gonna think that in a minute,” you and Dustin shared a glance at the needle in your hand, “Hold onto him kid, make sure he doesn’t move.”

“Wait, what-?”

Dustin did as told, and before Eddie could ask any more questions, you took the needle to his skin. You didn’t think Eddie had enough energy in him to scream. He quickly proved you wrong.  

The next few minutes were pure agony in a condensed form. Eddie’s fingers dug into your thigh as you stitched up his wounds. He screamed and thrashed at first, writhing in Dustin’s arms as the needle pierced his skin again and again. You honestly weren’t sure who you felt worse for; the wounded man, or the kid who had to restrain his friend or risk watching him die.

You almost didn’t notice when Eddie went quiet.

Almost.

“Eddie? Eddie, stay with me baby, I’m almost done-”

“Please,” he wasn’t talking to you. It was almost like he didn’t hear you at all. Instead, he turned to Dustin, “Say you’re gonna look after them. Just say it.”

“I’m-” Dustin started tearfully, trying desperately to keep his hands still, “I’m gonna look after them.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m actually gonna graduate. I think it’s my year, Henderson,” he struggled to get the words out, “I think it’s finally my year.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you murmured, feeling Eddie’s pulse slow beneath your fingertips, “Dustin-”

“I love you, man.”

Dustin hesitated for a moment, looking between you and Eddie. When he said, “I love you too,” it was through tears. He turned to you, next, tears streaming down his cheeks, “(Y/N), do something, please!  Help him!”

“I will, I will-”

As you panicked, Eddie’s eyes unfocused. His pulse came to a stop. He was gone.

But you weren’t fucking having it.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT- okay, okay, hang on-” 

Without wasting a second, you positioned your hands at the centre of Eddie’s chest. You moved so your shoulders were over your arm, and you locked your elbows before you began chest compressions. You pressed down over and over again, pushing two inches down every time. Tears ran down your face, but you couldn’t stop to wipe them away. You could feel his ribs cracking beneath your palms. You had to keep going.

Thirty compressions later, you moved his head into position and brought your lips to his, giving him two breaths before you resumed with compressions. You repeated the cycle once, twice, a third time. Your heart sank deeper with every second that passed. You felt as though you were losing your mind- as though the world was slowly slipping away from you. In a way, it was.

“Come on, Eddie, come on, come on!  Please, god, don’t leave me,” you paused to give two breaths, “You’ve gotta stay, man! You can’t leave me, or Dustin, or your Hellfire nerds, come on!”

Dustin joined in on your desperate pleas, “Wh-what about your uncle? Come on, Eddie, don’t do this, please don’t do this!”

Your begging didn’t bring him back. At least, it probably didn’t. Maybe, somewhere in his mind, he could hear you and Dustin, and maybe it got him to run away from the light. Scientifically, though, it was probably the CPR that brought him back to you.  

Honestly, in your mind and in Dustin’s, the “how” part of how Eddie got resurrected didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he was alive. Not necessarily okay, but alive.  The second he took a breath, both you and Dustin burst into tears.  

Dustin clung to Eddie’s body, his own body racked with sobs. You tried to quell your own sobbing- you had to keep your hands steady to finish the stitches.

By the time you were done, the three of you were covered in tears and blood. You held onto them, clinging tightly to your boys as they held tightly to you. You were all drained, exhausted by the day’s events and emotions that still burned through your veins.  

You weren’t sure what to say next. You could’ve said, “All done,” or “Eddie should be fine, now,” or even, “How about we get out of here?”

Instead, through tears, you said, “I fucking told you you’d regret making fun of me.”

Eddie was a little too shocked from his brief death to respond at that point. You took full advantage of that.

“You’re so fucking stupid, y’know? You ran right into danger, right into danger- I mean, what were you even trying to do? Buy more time? Be a hero!? You- you- yOU GOT YOURSELF KILLED, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. God, you’re so stupid, so fucking stupid, you fucking dick.”

By the end of your triad, you were full-on sobbing into Eddie’s chest. Your composure was gone now that your job was done. You were a wreck- a complete and utter mess of tears and blood. Under your breath, you repeated the words, “So stupid,” over and over again until you couldn’t anymore.

Your boys really didn’t know how to respond to that.  

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dustin said, patting your shoulder in a somewhat awkward fashion, “Things will be alright now, okay? You saved him- you saved Eddie. You did such a good job, it’ll be okay, now.”

Eddie was quiet, which was fair enough. He was tired and traumatized. His throat was horse from screaming, and his ribs were badly cracked if not broken. He didn’t say much, but he did take one of your hands in his, gently squeezing it as a silent form of comfort. When you finally caught your breath, you squeezed back.  

After that, you and Dustin had to discuss how, exactly, you were going to get Eddie back through the portal. Fortunately, you didn’t have to do it yourselves- Steve, Nancy, and Robin appeared in the distance just in time to avoid the absolute angst fest that had transpired over the last few minutes. 

You supposed it was an odd sight for them to see- Eddie cradled in Dustin’s arms, and you practically cradled in Eddie’s, the three of you surrounded by dead bats and medical supplies, tear-stained and looking like absolute garbage. True, they’d witnessed stranger things, but it was still a pretty strange thing to see.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” Steve asked as he helped Dustin pull Eddie off the ground.

“Eddie decided to be cute and went all heroic on us,” you replied as Robin helped you off the ground, slinging one of your arms over her shoulders, “Then he died.”

“He WHAT?” Robin yelled, making you wince just a bit. Of course, it wasn’t really her fault, she just happened to be next to your ear.

“Hey, man, I told you not to be heroic,” Steve sounded so hurt- you could practically hear his puppy dog eyes through his voice, “No being cute, remember?”

“Yeahhh, I can’t really help that,” Eddie joked weakly, wincing as Dustin brushed against his ribs, “It’s just part of my charm.”

Steve didn’t argue that point.  

“Hang on, I’m still processing the fact that Eddie died, how is he-?” Robin cut herself off to make some vague gestures with her free hand.

“I did CPR on the idiot. I swear to god, the second he gets out of the hospital, I’m going to kill him again.”

“Oh… ok.”

“Shit,” Nancy hissed somewhere behind you, “Eddie’s still being hunted, how are we going to get him help?”

“Let’s just focus on getting him out of here first, okay?” Steve asked, eyeing the trailer door cautiously.

“Actually, I kind of have a plan,” you raised a hand, “But I’m gonna need to borrow someone’s car.”

[st-louis]

15 questions; 15 tags (thank you @goodsticklehky as always please consider this a tag if you wanna do it)

were you named after anybody? my first name is after one of my maternal great-grandmothers and my middle name is after one of my paternal great-grandmothers. it’s jewish tradition to name kids in honor of a dead relative, so. it was pretty much a given

when was the last time you cried? yesterday because my husband was being such an asshole and this has been such an awful fucking month. burst into tears at the arboretum. lmao.

do you have kids? i have a four-year-old future supervillain. yesterday she pointed to a diagram of the male reproductive system and said, “that looks like a TERMITE face” and she wasn’t wrong.

do you use sarcasm a lot? not really honestly. more online than in person. i am pretty serious irl.

what sports do you play/have you played? i played soccer as a little baby, softball through middle school, and sabre fencing from age like ten until i graduated high school. i’m sure you guys have all heard about how i came in last at the final junior olympic qualifiers

what's the first thing you notice about someone? the very first thing is probably height and whether i could fight someone unfortunately. i’m sorry this is how i am as a person

eye colour? gray

scary movies or happy endings? neither or happy endings i guess. the happy ending isn’t important to me necessarily. i just hate scary movies.

any special talents? i have a really high pain tolerance and can be a basically functional human being even though i haven’t gotten one single night of good sleep in over five years (and i mean uninterrupted eight hours. i usually get like 4 a night). once my intestine ruptured and i went through a whole day of work like that before i went to the hospital

where were you born? a small suburb in pennsylvania. i’m still here

what are your hobbies? writing, reading, researching things i’m interested in, hockey, cooking i guess. i’m pretty boring. i like to organize things and collect things and categorize them.

do you have pets? not yet...i promised my kid i would get her a dog when she stops sucking her thumb but i am dreading it.

how tall are you? 5′ 4″

favourite subject in school? i always liked english and history best. in law school my favorites were criminal law and criminal procedure.

dream job? my absolute dream would just be to write full time in a cabin in the woods and never have to see anyone ever again. my actual job is pretty close to a dream job in that i get to write, research, and never have to actually appear in a courtroom and i have good health insurance.

[ibyte13]

I keep seeing posts about how awful biden is and that we shouldn't vote for him blah blah blah. The problem with this is that there is a misunderstanding happening on how our political system is currently functioning and whatpart of its life span we are in. I went off in the tags of a post earlier and i apologize for that I'm just gonna make an actual post about it now.

Right now we are at a tipping point in old politics vs new politics. Old politics being that the majority of important shit that matters is happening behidn the scenes. You don't get to see that as the general public for a number of reasons. The things going on are delicate political maneuvering, anyone whose played a political intrigue game knows this. It's a lot like a game of chess except the pieces you are playing with are also other players and you are also a piece on their board. This makes control of information very very important, so keeping it out of the public eye is tantamount to success. These are the rules biden is playing by. The man is an old school politician and he's very good at it. He's a repair man, not a hero.

What trump is doing is playing new politics rules where he's essentially shattering the screen that hides all the pieces and moves that are happening from the public eye and dragging them into the light. People are reactionary. The public as a whole are awful at playing chess and cannot see even three moves down the line from where they are now. So when someone playing by old rules, who speaks vaguely in order to try and placate the masses without revealing their hand is faced with someone who plays with half a deck up their sleeve and their hand face up on the table, now the ones holding their hands close look suspicious, even though you can see the other guys sleeve has a distinct card shaped lump in it and he is not subtle about pulling cards out.

New school politics is the equivalent of a high school popularity contest. "He said this and she said that, then this person did this and can you even imagine the audacity they had to even thi k of saying such a thing" that's new politics. It's an excellent manipulation tactic in the age of social media where the distraction is the key. "Here look at this flashy thing of a politician not being in the know about queer people" or some such while the same person who said that is actively making it so that queer people can't marry or what have you. This is just an example.

So back to Biden v Trump. Biden is old school. Trump is new school. The fact that they are both old dudes matters not. The thing about both is that they are just people and people are not perfect. Biden is not condemning Israel's actions in Gaza which is fucking terrible and worse is bending over backwards to give supplies to israel in fact which is double fucking terrible. We will face the consequences for this. Problem, he's operating under the fact that we have a treaty (i think don't quote me on this and in fact feel free to correct me here) with israel. We are their allies and as their allies we cannot just condemn them outright. Not by old politic rules. But new politic rules are making it a necessity and using it as a manipulation point. What Biden is doing is about a hundred other things that will not make news but ultimately improve our lives here in the states, for example he's working to make marijuana a schedule 3 drug instead of schedule 1 meaning it'd be federally legal for recreational use much in the same way ibprofen or aspirin is from my understanding. No more piss tests, veterans would be able to use it if they're reciving VA medical care etc. Not making headlines. The rail workers strike, Biden forced a stop gap resolution to save infrastructure and critical economic functions, then kept working to get the union members everything they wanted. Again, no headlines about that second part. Airplans are being required to be more disability friendly and required to have bathrooms large enough for an on board wheel chair if need be. Again not making headlines, and these are just the things I've had to dig for recently.

Trump did nothing like that. He made capitol hill the laughing stock of the modern world for all four years he was in office and tried to stage a coup on live television. There is a maifesto circulating called Project 2025 and if you haven't heard of it go look it up. It's 90 almost 100 pages detailing what will happen should trump or another republican be elected president in this coming election cycle. The long story short is that if that happens, we will not have another election and US democracy as we know it will die.

Now rag on Biden all you want, critcize him, let it be known that you are not happy with how he has handled Israel and Gaza. But don't pretend for a second that Trump would handle it any better or any republican for that matter. They'd've handled it worse most likely plus a whole lot of other shit to boot.

Another tidbit you might have pop up into your mind: but ibyte! There's more than just Trump and Biden to vote for! And to that I say yes, there is, but let me let you in on a secret about American politics: if you do not vote for Biden, you are voting for Trump even if you are voting for a canidate that is arguably better than Biden and here's why. The democratic convention and democratic party have thrown their weight behind Biden as the incumbent President so any third candidate already won't have the backing of one of the two major parties. The republicans are throwing their weight behind Trump or someone slightly left of trump (i haven't had a chance to keep up with that the past month or so). Problem is that the democrats and republicans tend to be so.e of the most right leaning parties in this country, so people who hate democrats and will not vote for them sure as shit ain't gonna vote for someone more left of democrats which is where a majority of the small but better candidates lie on the spectrum, they're gonna vote for Trump or whatever Trump replacement republicans have on deck. Thus is you vote for someone more left than Biden, all you are doing is taking vltes away from Biden because everyone more right wasn't gonna vote for anyone but a republican anyway. This is why it's important that you vote for Biden.

This election period is not about Biden vs Trump: round 2. This election is about Democracy vs Dictatorship. A friend of mine likes to say that history doesn't repeat itself, but it sure as hell rhymes. We are quite literally watching a rerun of the events leading to World War II right on schedule. The US will become the fourth Reich if we do not take this election seriously and the facist corners of this country know it and are doing everything in their power to be loud about how badly biden is fucking up the israel gaza tragedy.

Yes be critical, but do not pretend for a minute that Biden and Trump are equivalent choices.

[pussyhoundspock]

got tagged days ago by @landslided to post something from a wip so i guess under the tag something from my never to be posted entirely self indulgently silly cobra kai better call saul au

“This guy? Are you kidding me? This guy, this guy is lower than dirt, I mean you put dirt on the ground, it’s full of bugs, it’s just disgusting, and this guy? This guy is lower than all that and then some! This guy is lower – oh, hey Your Honor! Look at you, getting those coffees. I wish I could afford ‘em personally but you know kids. I mean, not mine, I’m as barren as the desert, heh, but I’m helping out this guy – technically a client, sure, but a real friend from way back! No, your honor, I’m not kidding – honest, we go back to high school, dig out the yearbooks, if you wanna – no? Well, like I was saying, real good friend of mine, bailed me out from no end of trouble, going so far as to round a whole gang just to get little old me out of trouble. Yeah, he’s a prince. And he’s got this whole mentorship program for bullied youth, which I’m taking over while he’s sorting out this misunderstanding with the county, but they won’t stop crying and I can’t get ahold of the mom, and I really don’t want these kids turning up in the foster system, especially not after that case last – oh, that was on your docket? Horrible business. I had no idea. Just awful. I mean, that’s why I’m trying to get this kid in to see my client – his name? Oh, yeah, it’s Johnny. Johnny Lawrence.” 

Daniel can tell, before he even gets to the end, that he’s in. Judge is buying this crap, and nodding along and – 

“LaRusso, enough. Why don’t you bring the kid down, we’ll get a meeting set up with him and this, this Johnny Lawrence of yours?” 

“Oh, Your Honor, that sounds wonderful! You won’t – bring the kid in? To here? Wouldn’t it be better getting Johnny out of here, back with the kid? Listen to me, I swear on my life he’ll –” 

Judge Cohney held up a hand. “Can’t. Bail court just got out.” 

“But surely –” 

“No, no but surely, LaRusso. You’ll get your visit, with your client and your kid, but you’re going to have to come back tomorrow if you want to try and get him out on bail. He’s facing some pretty serious charges, you know?” 

“All a misunderstanding, I assure you.” 

“Be that as it may, the only thing I can get you this late is visitation. Bring the kid tomorrow morning, I’ll get them twenty minutes.” 

“Absolutely, your honor. You won’t regret this.” 

Judge Cohney makes a face that sort of implies he already is, but Daniel doesn’t take it seriously. Judge Cohney almost likes him, he’s pretty sure, even if he might be about to blow all of that to get Johnny Lawrence outta jail. And to top it all off, now he’s gotta find some kid for tomorrow. 

Fuck. What was he supposed to do, cruise on down the highway, asking if any kids want to hop in his van, visit an alleged felon? Yeah, and get sent to a private concrete cell of his own – no thanks! 

Maybe Amanda will know. Norouzi Norouzi LaRusso was always running some student outreach program to law students, or mailroom workers, like Daniel used to be, studying night school correspondence class for his law degree, before he went and blew it there like he did everywhere. Now here he was, making less than four dollars an hour trying to get assholes like Johnny Lawrence out and contemplating child abduction. Legally speaking, a class a serious felony – 

CRACK 

Daniel jumped. There was – some asshole was banging on his window. “Hey!” It’s a teenager. “Do you still do repairs around the building?” 

Not since Mister Miyagi left, Daniel thought sourly, and then thought: “Hey, kid, you want a job?” 

“Um,” said the kid. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “And I’ll help you fix the sink. And pay you. Fifty dollars now, fifty tomorrow.” 

The kid thought about it. “Okay,” he said. 

“Great,” Daniel said. “What’s your name?” 

“Um,” the kid said again, and Daniel hoped he was going to be more articulate in court, “Miguel.” 

“Great, Miguel, you take this,” he reached through the car window and handed Miguel a business card, “that right there?” he pointed to the card. “That’s my number. Give me a call around seven in the morning tomorrow, we’ll head on over to the courthouse. It’s easy. I just want you to meet with a friend of mine, talk to him for twenty, thirty minutes, then I give the next fifty. Can you do that?” 

The kid – Miguel – nodded. “My Yaya needs me home by six for dinner,” he said. “Is that okay?” 

“Totally fine,” Daniel assured him. “And, hey,” he added, before pulling away, “do me a favor? Never – never do this crap again, okay? I could be some kind of pervert. Or freak. Or serial killer.” 

“You’ve lived next to me for five years,” Miguel said. 

“Especially then!” Daniel pointed at Miguel. “Neighbors are the worst, okay, neighbors are the bed bugs of serial killing perverts, okay, they crawl around all invisible and no one knows it’s them until! Boom! It’s an infestation and everyone’s gotta move and everyone has trust issues and no one ever wants to talk to their neighbors again.” 

“Is that what happened to you, Mister L?” 

“What? No! No, that’s just – it’s an example. Never mind. Get – get to bed, alright. And don’t forget – 7 tomorrow!”