#today when i turned it on an tried to log in as normal it said something like user profile not found login failed or something like that

[erinwantstowrite]

Would you ever... create like... LOF au oneshots....? Like, one chapter lengths stuff for things that you were thinking of putting in but didn't, or doing like a "Peter if he was younger, meeting the bats" or "what if Bruce was his dad, not Dink?"

i have been collecting scenes that ended up not being in LoF... Like, some scenes that were in a different POV before they got changed (there's a Tim POV that got scrapped and ended up as Peter's instead, this is the hardware store scene), scenes that ended up not being in it at all (Peter and Dick were going to have dinner with Donna, but it wasn't coming out right when I tried writing it) etc.

I do like the idea of doing drabbles for LoF like I do for Home too, or maybe even writing someone else's POV of a scene that I did put in LoF, or writing things that the others were doing on certain days, etc.

though there are some things that i might end up putting in a different au instead of scrapping it all together. like this scene:

[ Peter is holding a fridge. Somehow, this is both a cause for alarm and also not at all what the problem really is.

See, Peter woke up this morning with the goal of going around and logging Gotham’s map so he could input it into the Jumping Radar. Peter really wants to avoid going back to the library, and doesn’t feel like testing his chances at a new library just yet. However, that plan ended up on the back burner sooner rather than later.

There’s this little old lady on Bourbank Avenue, a little close to Benny’s, that Peter says hello to when he sees. Her name is Margerie, and usually outside tending to her rickety garden. “Poison Ivy is more gentle with people who care about the plants.” She had told him, and taught Peter her ways of tending to beans, beets, carrots, and spinach.

Well, Peter said hello to her today. Stopped by to chat while she taught him about how to tell when a tomato is at its best. And that’s when he heard about her fridge.

“I’ve had it so long, it’s no wonder it gave out on me,” She had said.

“How long has it been?”

“Well, Benji was still alive…”

“Who?”

“My son.” Margerie had smiled. “He was the one who’d remember that kind of thing.”

And, well, jeez. Peter’s not a monster. He went looking for a damn fridge.

However, he didn’t have the money for a fridge. So what he could do was find where Margerie’s hired worker dumped the fridge, fix it, and find some way to bring it back without anyone noticing he’s a skinny 14 year old who shouldn’t be able to do that. This endeavour led him all the way to a dumpster, where it turns out he can’t save the fridge after all.

But there was an appliance store in the Diamond District that Peter had passed by. And wouldn’t you know it, he found a fridge outside in their dumpster that was able to be salvaged. It’s perfectly clean, too, just sitting there brand new and with a faulty ice box that no one wanted to work around.

So.

Peter is holding a fridge.

That’s somehow both a cause for alarm, and not the problem.

Cause of alarm- he dropped it on his foot when a group of people ran behind the appliance store, and he almost shrieked in pain and alerted them that he was behind the now dropped fridge. He heard the crack in his foot and felt it and prayed, but no- broken.

Peter pushes the fridge off of his foot, yanks the broken thing back, and gently drops the fridge back into place. He’s far enough against a chain link fence to be hidden very well, thankfully, and none of the people who ran back here had seen him. (Yet?) He presses his back against the chain link, biting his lip and pressing his thumb on the injury. It’s not that bad, he can already feel the healing itch. But it’s enough that with only a couple meals in him, that it’ll take longer than Peter would like for it to get back to normal.

“Fuck! Scatter! Why’re y’followin’ me, y’idiots!?”

The real problem: not the broken foot.

“This was tha only place ta run!” Another shouts back. “Fuck! This is bad!”

“No shit! Y’fuckin’ moron- y’led a Bat right to us!” A third hisses.

Peter peeks around the fridge in time to see the third guy grabbing the second by the collar, slamming him up against a wall with a thud.

hello! hey, watch? look it look it look it

Whatever scuffle was about to happen is quieted. Peter glances upwards, but he doesn’t see what he knows is there, in plain daylight. There’s a presence on the roof of the appliance store, but where? Peter should be able to see them, but…

there there there!

He doesn’t get to focus on the presence that’s there. Instead, his eyes are starting to adjust to the fact that- hold on-

Peter glances up. Gotham is usually cloudy and grey, but… there’s nothing blocking that light of a stormy early morning. And yet, everything in the area is growing darker and darker. Peter’s skin crawls, a tingle that settles down his spine and tries to make up for the increasing lack of light. The group of teens start to panic, looking for a way out that isn’t possible in this dead end.

Darkness encompasses the area. Peter takes short, silent breaths. His ears twitch with every movement from the teens, every whisper of panic. Their heartbeats are erratic, and it’s like they already know which Bat this is. There’s seven heartbeats, panicked, trying to escape…

And one that is calm. There’s a breath and the scuffle of a foot from the rooftop.

Peter closes his eyes even though it’s already dark. His spider-sense is making up for what he can’t see, a mental map of the area created in his head. He feels the air move around him, and listens as the Bat takes each of them out one by one.

The thuds of one companion freak out another. “Scotty?”

But then he’s out too. Peter hears two more meet the same fate, knocked out cold on the concrete. He opens his eyes as the Bat approaches the last of them, just in time for the shadows to recede back to where they should be.

Signal stands over the last, now unconscious guy.

The Bat hasn’t broken a sweat. He almost looks bored when he starts ziptieing the gang, complaining aloud, “Y’all couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to cause trouble?”

Whoa.

Peter had seen Signal doing his thing a couple times when he was out and about, but never this up close. That…

That was fucking awesome.

He heard the guy was a meta, and he didn’t know what to believe about that, but seriously? That was like some Shadow-jutsu shit- wait, could he do that? No, wait, because now Peter can see Signal again. He was fucking invisible! And he’s acting like it was nothing! ]

I really really really really really wanted this scene, but it never made it past the rough draft :( that's because it didn't make sense with the rest of the chapter (i can not remember which chapter it was for, but it was definitely before Two Face). I've been thinking about putting it in a deleted scenes for LoF fic, but I think I might take it and put it in a different au.

(The only consolation I have for this scene not making it in is that Signal gets to have a cool scene later)

[denncrow]

[Subject 001

Fluttershy

I had not heard from her in days. Applejack said she had last seen her talking to what appeared to be some forrest critters. She was very wrong.

Today I found her in her cottage, she seemed normal at first glance, cheerful even, but then I noticed how quiet it was. All of her animals were missing, even Angel. I became suspicious and started to subtly question her.

“What have you been up to the past few days?”

“Have you heard from Discord?”

“How are the animals?”

“Did you remember to order that cake?”

“Nothing much.”

“No not yet.”

“They are safe now.”

“Yes I did.”

These all seem like perfectly acceptable responses, if I had not known any better. I had long since noticed the claw marks and feathers scattered about that suggested a struggle. On top of that the cake question was a bait as I had not asked her to order one.

I tried to contain her quietly and gently but she put up a fight. In a blink she turned into a horrible mutation of my friend. She tried repeatedly to bite me while shouting “Praise be to The Sun! Behold his light! Behold his glory!!”. By the end of it I was covered in deep gashes and bruises, but I had thankfully managed to avoid a bite.

I’ve never felt more sadness in my life than when I had to lock her away.

Every night I’m down there. Every night I look for a cure. And every night I am haunted by her cruel cries and screams. It’s beyond chilling. To see my friend in so much pain, to cry out so desperately, and not be able to do a thing.

I’m ashamed to say I have fallen for her wicked tricks more than once, each time resulting in another fight as she tries to escape, each time met by the same screams that convinced me to release her in the first place.

I will cure you Fluttershy, I promise. ]

- Twilight Sparkle

Log : 01

[ukeshik]

Connie Springer x fem.reader

TW: 18+ content, "baby", oral (f.receiving), vaginal sex with protection(!!!!), A little dirty talk, Neutral skin color of the reader.

Summary: You wake up in the morning in the same bed with Connie after a stormy night. It seems that a declaration of love obliges you to the second round. Cw: 4.k

You remembered that this fool didn't have proper curtains. He just forgot to buy them, so only the tulle that his mother had managed to give him hung on the windows. That's why you just tossed and turned all night and tried to fall asleep normally because of the light hitting your eyes, but you didn't do it well, so all the time you just lay half asleep: you didn't sleep, but you didn't realize what was going on.

Connie, who is already used to waking up early, and who is already used to such light during sleep, after this.... I slept like a log after an intense evening. He woke up himself and blinking slowly, was going to look at what time it was, because now the sun was brighter than when he used to wake up. Connie had already begun to turn around on his left side, standing slightly on his forearms, at the same time thinking about why he decided to sleep naked today, and then... I understood what the reason was.

Turning his head, Connie saw you again, lying under his blanket, so beautiful and... just gorgeous. In his sleep, he forgot that you were here, but now... he has become the happiest man in the world again, with the most beautiful girl in the world lying in his bed, who said last night that you loves him, thereby making him the happiest man in the world once again. He just couldn't believe that it was really true and not a dream.

A faint, soft smile blossomed on his face as he looked at you lying on his hets. Connie couldn't take his eyes off it: how your chest, covered with a blanket, rises steadily, how beautifully your hair flew across the pillow, how beautiful you look sleeping... he always thought that your face was very beautiful, but now, when these muscles were relaxed, your eyes were closed, and your eyelashes were slightly trembling from- because of the borderline state of your sleep, how tender your skin seemed....

Connie very carefully began to turn over on his side so as not to wake you up ahead of time. Holding his body in his arms, he slowly lay down, turning to you, putting his hand under his head. He couldn't get enough of you, and while Springer was looking at you and your body curled up next to him, his hands crawled towards you. Gently hugging you, Connie gently moved closer to you, leaving his hand on your waist, gently kissing the top of your head.

Those touches woke you up quickly. At first you just snorted softly, thinking again that the damn sun was hitting your eyes, but then you heard a quiet voice. "Good morning, sweetheart." Connie whispered softly, gently running his fingertips over your delicate soft skin. Damn it, he couldn't. He couldn't control himself. He was so happy yesterday.

When you heard a familiar voice in your ear, you slowly blinked and tried to open your eyes, trying not to look... too strange. Because you obviously didn't know how to react right now. You definitely weren't going to sleep with Connie yesterday. And you certainly didn't come up with what you would say to him in the morning.

While Connie was gentle, you were... just calm. Opening your eyes, you realized where you were, that there was only a blanket on your body, that your foot was touching his leg, and Connie's hand was also on your waist, gently stroking you, and he was definitely smiling while lying next to you, you had already learned to recognize his smile while he was talking.

"Damn it...." you muttered softly, blinking slowly, trying to get used to your situation. "Morning, Constance." You didn't look as happy as Connie. You were just calm. You need to think a little bit and... Okay, you were glad. Because that idiot has been in your head for too long.

"Are you mad at me?" asked Connie, a little alarmed. For a second, his gaze clouded and his brows furrowed. He was afraid that you might regret it. That you would say that you don't love him, that it was a mistake, and that you don't need him. He was really afraid of it. That everything you said last night was empty babble. Because everything Connie told you yesterday was absolutely true.

Yes, maybe he used to run after every other girl. Yes, he was hitting on them, sleeping with some of them, but... they just weren't the right ones. And in most cases, they were the ones who abandoned him. He respected every girl he's ever been with, but now... it's different. Connie feels like you're the one. At least not yet. And you understood that. I saw that he really changed his behavior and was courting you. So you didn't regret anything right now.

"What?" you asked softly, turning over more on your side to get a better look at Connie. The smile never left his face, but the crease between his eyebrows betrayed his concern. "Why do you think that?"

His hand twitched nervously, because he thought that if you suddenly regret, then you don't like that he touches you, so ... he just has obsessive thoughts. "It's just.... You're some kind of grumpy. No, it's not that you're the happiest in the morning, I know that you're absolutely not happy in the morning. And you also called me Constance. You only call me that when you're angry, or just for fun. Now it’s not funny. And..." Connie quickly began to chatter, not knowing how to put it correctly. "It seems we just need to talk about this night..."

"Connie, I..." you tried to start talking quietly, but were interrupted by a guy who asked you anxiously. "You're regret, aren't you?" Connie asked in a slightly cracked voice, and his expression immediately became drooping. You haven't said anything yet, and he's already made up his mind about something.

Sighing heavily, you giggled. How stupid Connie is. Of course he thought that you were regret. Your face clearly looked like that, but only now did you realize that with a particularly impressionable Connie, you can't just be calm. He's going to have a hysterics right now.

So with a giggle, you poked your hand out from under the covers and gently placed it on Connie's cheek, gently running your finger over his skin. You could feel the slight pricks of stubble on his jaw, which had grown over the day and night, but it didn't matter. Besides, his little sideburns looked damn good on him.

"Connie. I don't regret at all. I'm just... a little confused. You know I'm not exactly like that. It's not in my moral principles to sleep with a guy and start dating him after this event, but... I don't regret it. If you were sincere, if it's not just for the sake of my body, then... I'm really glad." you told him softly, continuing to gently stroke his cheek while he gazes into your eyes with fascination.

It seems as if Connie's soul has managed to come out of him ten times. His eyes widened as he listened to you, and the muscles of his mouth relaxed, so he just stared at you, trying to digest this information. It was only after a while that he was able to blink slowly and come to his senses. Connie chuckled softly and continued to stare at you with his wide-open eyes, pulling out the words from himself. "Damn, thank God. I already thought that you... that you don't need me, that you're going to leave now and spit in my face at the same time, that you don't love me and..."

When Connie stopped the flow of his words, he simply returned his hand to your waist and pulled you closer to him, inhaling the scent of your hair and yourself. "Oh, I... you have no idea how glad I am...." he said softly, enjoying the soft touch of your hand on his cheek.

"You know I meant every word I said. I love you, and I mean... it's just that you... I..." Connie continued to say, but instead just moved his hand to your neck and quickly lowered his lips to yours, gently kissing you.

You obviously didn't expect him to kiss you right now, so you were a little taken aback at first, leaving your eyes open. But as soon as the realization hit your brain, you just relaxed, closed your eyes, went limp in his arms, gently responding to Connie's kisses, crushing his lips in response.

He just automatically hugged you to him, wanting to feel you next to him, pressed close. True, Connie forgot a little that you and he were lying under the same blanket, still naked after that night, and when he felt your breasts pressed against his, a soft moan flew out of him right into your lips. You twitched a little when you felt that you were now pressing your chest against his skin, but you realized that this was not the time to feel embarrassed at all, because Connie had already explored your body, inside and out, during the night.

"You have no idea... how much I love you..." Connie whispered softly into your lips through kisses. He whispered words between kisses, touching your lips with gentle soft touches, while his hand went to explore your back further. Connie ran his fingertips along your spine, which sent a shiver through your body. "I know." you replied with a soft laugh, smiling faintly for the first time this morning.

Finally feeling the taste of your lips, he remembered why he barely broke away from you yesterday. "You have no idea...." Connie continued to speak softly as he threw you back on your back, and throwing an arm and leg on the other side of you, hovered over you, deepening the kiss. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to say that I love you..." His tongue finally went around your tongue, and he moved on, kissing you on the corner of your lips, on your chin. "How long have I wanted to hug you..." his left hand stroked your tender shoulder "how long have I wanted to touch your skin..." mumbled Connie, sinking down to your soft fragile neck. Your hand that rested on his cheek moved to his shoulders, tracing his broad muscles and soft skin.

So far, he's stopped, paying attention to your neck. Connie continued to gently cover it with soft kisses, slowly ran his tongue over your throbbing wreath, gently sucked your skin in one place, leaving a small pink mark at the junction of the neck with the shoulder closer to the collarbone. In this position, you were in his palm again, he could see you completely. And damn, Connie was using it right now, looking at your beautiful naked tits lying right in front of him. You wanted to squeeze a little again, you had already lost the habit of ... intimacy for a while, so you felt some tightness, but remembering the night again, you realized that it was too late to worry about it.

You knew it would be like this in the morning. And that you're not going to get out of bed fast with this guy. That he will drag you in the morning for another portion of pleasure. Because Connie has already continued to descend even lower, kissing you between your breasts, circling the lower part of your breasts with his nose, thereby forcing you to take a deep breath and twitch, because of the touch on a delicate part of your body. You took a deep breath through your mouth, which caused your chest to rise even higher, exposing itself to his lips.

"How I wanted to hear you..." Connie continued, kissing you under your chest. He slowly rose higher, wrapping his lips around your softly hardening nipple, running his tongue over it. He put all his weight on one hand, and with the other he grabbed your soft breasts with his free hand, so that it would be more convenient to feast on your delicate skin, your pink papillae, to feel the softness of these boobs. It made you knock all the air out of you and open your mouth in a silent moan and run your hand down his back to the nape of his neck, feeling the soft crew cut of his short hair on your fingers.

Sensing your reaction, Connie grinned slightly, making sure he was acting correctly. Although he never doubted, especially on such a topic. He grabbed your nipple with his teeth and bit it a little, not painfully, but so that he could pull it off, and then lick it with his tongue again, feel the sweetness of your skin. "How I wanted to... touch you..." Connie muttered softly, moving to the second breast, doing all the same actions while you were just trying to cling to his short hair, through quiet whimpers due to the fact that he again grabbed your nipple, sucked it into his mouth and released it with the last sound.

After enjoying your boobs enough, Connie continued to move lower, leaving kisses on your ribs and stomach. You wanted to bring your legs together, but it was much stronger: they were already tightly clenched while Connie was hovering over you, holding his legs on either side of you. A slight shiver ran through you when you felt his slowly hardening cock accidentally touch your calf while he slid down a little lower to comfortably kiss your soft belly.

"You have no fucking idea how much I wanted you..." Connie said softly, a little louder now so you could hear him from below. He was already at the bottom of your stomach, gently kissing it, which made you tremble from the unaccustomed touch, while he also stroked your rounded hips with his free hand, clinging to your pelvic bones, which bulge forward so seductively.

Connie finally got to the point, and with his own hands spread your legs apart, looking at you almost mesmerized. "You can't even imagine how fucking damn much I wanted to eat that pussy..." he said it almost with a growl, looking starved at your crotch, after which he almost attacked it, biting his lips into your juices.

It just knocked the wind out of you. Because that obnoxious boy was just devouring you. His tongue masterfully licked your wet folds, stroked your responsive clit, forcing you to arch your back and cling to the sheets. He swung his tongue over your pussy, begging for your hole to play with the tip of his tongue with it. Connie sucked your labia and clit into his mouth, acting actively and without delay.

His movements weren't rough, but they were very confident and active. He sucked on your clit while his hands wrapped tightly around your hips, pressing you as close to him as possible, not letting you move anywhere while you squirmed under his movements. With clicking movements, he stroked your clit again and moved his tongue lower, collecting your juices flowing out of your vagina. "Damn, baby, you're fucking delicious. This is the most delicious pussy I've ever tasted." Connie said, breathing into your pussy, then attacked it back.

Remembering that you don't have sex regularly - this will definitely change Connie in your life - he ran his fingers over your wet, full of moisture folds, and put his finger to your entrance, continuing to turn circles with his tongue around your clit. After playing with the entrance a little, Connie still pressed a little and easily slipped inside your vagina, immediately gaining an average pace, sliding along your walls, trying to find the nearest points from which you could twitch. Although that was enough for you: you were very sensitive when you weren't used to it, and Connie loved it damn much.

He's slowed down on purpose now. Connie just licked your clit with wide movements, maintaining your pleasure, but not bringing you to the edge. He purposely added more saliva so that no other lubricant would be needed later, played with your entrance, pushing his finger inside you, moving it and bending the phalanges. You don't have to cum now. He still has plans for you and your pussy. But it was necessary to stretch you so that you would feel good afterwards.

Connie slowed down the movements of his tongue even more, and moved it just so as not to stand still. He compensated by adding his second finger, easily getting inside you and stretching you more, although, undoubtedly, it was nothing compared to his cock. Even though you already took it with pleasure yesterday, you were still not used to the length and width after a time of lack of intimacy, so now you also need to be prepared. 

When it seemed enough for him to torture your clit with his tongue and your walls with his fingers inside, Connie broke away and ran his gaze over the bed and floor in search of condoms that were left over from that night. He remembered how something fell on the floor at night with a dull sound, so he slightly got out of bed and looked under it, immediately noticing the iron box. Quickly picking it up, Connie looked at you with a grin, a little triumphantly, returning to you.

Connie hovered over you again and kissed you, getting his tongue inside your mouth. There's a bunch of your juices left on his tongue tip and on his lips, because when you ran your finger over his lower lip in response, you felt a familiar taste and a slightly slimy liquid, taking it from his lips. "You will never regret that you decided to stay with me, baby," Connie whispered into your lips, finally pecking you, after which he continued his kisses, going down your body once more.

While he was kissing your body again, Connie opened the package of condoms and took one out, throwing the tin back somewhere in an unknown direction on his side of the bed, so that if anything, he could find it again. Stopping on your stomach, drawing patterns with his tongue over your navel, he tore open the package and pulled the condom to his length.

"Ready, baby?" asked Connie, putting his tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly rubbing his ring of muscles with it until you answered him.

With a brief nod to him, you looked down at where your pussy and his cock were touching, and before entering inside you, Connie ran the length of your crotch several times to collect more lubricant, at the same time touching your clit swollen after all his caresses, which made you grab the sheets even then.

With a brief nod to him, you looked down at where your pussy and his cock were touching, and before entering inside you, Connie ran his length over your crotch several times to collect more lubricant, at the same time touching your clit, swollen after all his caresses, which made you grab the sheets even then.

Connie finally pushed his hips forward, and the tip slipped inside, filling you. He slowly continued to enter inside you, watching your reaction so that he would stop if you suddenly got hurt. But without seeing any problems and obstacles inside, the cock quickly turned inside you completely, which caused a soft moan to fly out of Connie's chest when he felt your walls squeezing him and enveloping him with warmth. "Baby, you're so... oh, narrow, damn it..." he said softly with his eyes closed, while just standing there and not moving, holding your hips in his hands.

"You can move, Con." you said softly, as soon as you felt that you were completely used to the feeling of stretching and fullness. Connie doesn't need to say it twice, so he immediately moved his pelvis backwards, exiting you, and quickly coming back, crashing into your hips with a loud pop. The moan came out of you because you definitely didn't expect him to move so hard from the very beginning.

Connie started to pick up the pace fast enough, literally pumping into your body. You just moaned and gasped for the air you missed so much while your body rocked back and forth from all the thrusts, from every movement inside you that made you feel so good. Connie held your hips with his hands, slightly pulling you towards him for every movement, when he pressed his pelvis into you again, hitting your buttocks with his balls.

He was moving at a fairly high pace, and hard. He hit you hard with each new thrust, puffed softly, and moaned weakly when you squeezed him especially hard. "You feel good, baby, don't you? Is it good?" Connie said while his cock was sliding inside you, rubbing your walls, massaging the inside of your clit. He saw how you grabbed the pillow from above with your hand, and how you held your bouncing tits with each thrust. It turned Connie on like hell, which made him move even faster, making you squeal. "Tell me about it, baby. Tell me how good you feel."

"Y-yes... very fucking good," you mumbled, not finding the strength to stop moaning while you had this dick filling you completely.

"Has someone fucked you like this before? Is it that good?" Connie asked, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs even harder. And indeed, your other partners didn't make you feel so good with just a dick. "Did some other dick make you moan like that? It's so divine moans..."

"No, no, no one." you answered without filtering your speech, moaning even louder than before. You felt so good that you didn't care what you said or how loud you were. It seemed to you that you would never say something like that in your life, admit your pleasure like that, but now you couldn't keep silent. You really felt amazing, and it was that dick in your pussy that was doing it.

"Yeah baby, that's it. Yes, my God, you're just gorgeous." Connie muttered as he pounded inside you, enjoying the slaps of skin against skin. Hearing what a loud elephant flew out of you when he slightly changed the tilt of his movement, Connie smiled a little. You probably need to be a little quieter so as not to disturb the neighbors, but damn, he doesn't give a damn about it. They must have gotten used to such sounds from his apartment by now. He just couldn't bring himself to tell you to be quiet, or to shut your mouth. Your voice and moans were truly divine.

Connie didn't think you'd cum so fast. He was a little surprised when you fell silent, and your body convulsed, and then the last moan came out of you, and you sprawled exhausted on the bed, asking him to stop. "Yes, baby. Well done. You was perfect.” Connie realized that you had already had your orgasm, so he took his cum out and wanted to jerk it off himself, but then your hand suddenly wrapped around his palm and moved along its length, forcing him to squeeze the muscles of his abs and buttocks.

He let you make him cum on your own, and before his finale came, Connie took off the condom, and with a groan poured himself on your stomach, wanting to see how you would look in his cum. Still with your legs apart, you ran your hand over your soiled belly, already soiling your fingers with his cum. While Connie was trying to catch his breath after his orgasm, without warning, you brought your dirty fingers to his head and ran them inside his mouth.

At first, Connie was taken aback, not expecting this from you, but he immediately realized, and gladly licked your fingers clean, taking your palm in his hand, taking your fingers out of his lips with a smacking sound. A grin appeared on his face, and Connie licked your fingertips once more. "Get used to it, baby." he said and reached for the napkins to put you in order. That's not all. Weekend mornings are always long.

“Morning sex has never hurt anyone before."

[ori-anna-v-58008]

Rewarding A Sharpshooter

1,105 words - 4 min. read

--

"You ready, cadet?" Handler asked.

You were still disoriented, stumbling through the halls of the station clinging to her arm - Normally you would be allowed time to sit in the cockpit and decompress after a mission, but you hadn't been allowed that time today. Instead, she unplugged you the second you got back and disabled your eyesight. She had guided you back to her quarters, her soft yet strong grip tight around your bicep.

"3… 2… 1… Okay!" [SIGHT PERMISSIONS RESTORED.]

Handler had made a massive change to her quarters. Beside her bed, where you normally slept, was normally nothing more than a thin blanket. That had been replaced with a small round bed, blue like the eyes of your own Handler, with a small dark purple pillow the color of your mech's hull.

You could hardly believe what you were looking at. It was absolutely perfect. You turned to Handler and could see her smile teasing the sides of her mask. You tried to come up with something to say, anything at all, but you had no words. Instead, you pounced on your Handler to wrap your bruised arms around her, nuzzling into her side. The automated contact countdown started, and you ran it to the very end. At the end of "[1…]", Handler used her beautiful, perfect gloved hands to push you away back to her side.

"I really get to have this?" You asked, your voice crackling with excitement. "See what 100% accuracy on a mission does for a pilot?" Handler joked. You laughed. "Go on, try it!"

You spared not a single second, bolting so quick across the floor that onlookers would think your toes were about to break off. You leaped into it hands first and crashed into it, meeting an incredibly plush surface. It was smaller than it looked; you had to hug your knees into yourself to fit. The slightly awkward posture was well beyond worth it for how comfortable it was; you swore you could fall asleep right then and there, but didn't, as you hadn't been ordered to. You could feel the bed's metal frame buried within it; by its strength and feeling you knew exactly what it was made out of. If you had a tail it would be smacking Handler's bedside table faster than you could reload your rifle.

"Is this - the frame, is it -" You begged with your eyes for her to let you say it.

"Go ahead," She smiled, sitting at the foot of her own bed and looking down at you, heeled boot crossed over heeled boot.

"Is this Thimble's hull?" You asked like it was all one word, practically pounding on it.

"It is. You deserve a proper reward for how good you've been recently!" Handler said. You watched her look at her gloved hand, then at you, then back at her hand. Her eyes darted to the sealed door, and she pulled her glove off. You hardly ever got to see her hands uncovered like this; her nails were painted the color of oxidized copper. They looked so soft, unmarred by countless broken bones like yours had been. Handler was, in every way, superior to you, right down to her immaculate fingertips.

Your hair was dirty and messy from your flight. So, you found it impossible to believe that when she reached over you that she could possibly be aiming to touch you. But she did. She placed her hand on your head, gentle as ever, and brushed your hair back into place with her palm. Nothing outside your mech had ever been so tender, so sweet, so kind.

She dropped her hand to the side and cupped your cheek. She pressed a tiny bit on your jaw, drawing your gaze up to her. All she did was look into your eyes for a while. It was hard to believe such a gorgeous, powerful woman as your Handler wanted anything to do with you, let alone to waste her valuable time just looking at you. But if she deemed it worthwhile, it couldn't be a waste.

She looked to the door again, breathing deeply. "You know I'm going to have to delete your log of tonight after this, correct?" She asked, her voice hitting that low register that made you shiver.

"Yes ma'am," you said, not skipping a beat. You couldn't remember her ever doing something like this before, but you trusted her to do whatever needed to be done. "Does that mean I get to find my bed again like it was the first time?"

Handler smiled under her mask like she was looking at an old picture. "Yes it does," she said, staring longingly into your eyes. Some thought danced across her beautiful eyes - she sucked something back. She shook her head, more at herself than at you, and pulled her mask from her face.

You had never seen a more perfect face in your life. She looked like a portrait from an ancient painting with soft, full cheeks and plush lips adorned with blue lipstick. She guided your neck up further. It strained, but you didn't care. Any and all pain was worth enduring for a single look at her impeccable face. She got closer and her face was more and more the only thing you could see.

[HEART RATE ABOVE NORMAL VALUES. NOTIFYING HANDLER.]

"Shh, it's okay," Handler whispered, her voice seeping into your entire system. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you've done so good at this before. You'll be okay."

"But it's -"

"So much, I know," she held your head just a bit tighter, her other hand flitting over the bruises on your shoulder. "You said that last time."

You could feel her lips just barely grazing your cheek. Everything felt so, so hot, but if Handler said you could handle it, you could.

"And you'll probably say it again," she giggled, that sound that has launched a million bullets. She pressed her lips into your cheek, taking it slow to let you feel every single micrometer of her kiss. You and the station around you absolutely bloomed; Every tiny sensation was suddenly huge, sinking into it like the entire station was your little dog bed.

Handler sat up again, and you could feel the stamp of her lipstick on your cheek. You cherished it for every single second until she wiped it off with makeup remover from her bedside table. She then replaced her gloves and mask, fastened your ankle restraint to you, and grabbed a laptop from her table.

"Get some sleep, cadet."

[MELATONIN RECEPTOR SENSITIVITY INCREASED BY 300%.]

--

[This story is in a file marked "Thimble". Other stories include:]

[Sniper Pilot]

[The Shooting Range]

[tubbytarchia]

the final day. of the 30 day hardcore series. jimmy aka solidaritygaming has gone live. the final day is upon us. (although theres actually like 1 day 23 hours left. so idk what hes on about. if it were just him id say its cuz he doesnt stream on weekends but martyns title says final day too. theyre all a bunch of liars) ITS A LONG ONE GET READY

anyway. he logs on and immediately gets up to gay shit

anyway he sees martyn and they start going ITS COOOOOOMING HOME ITS COOOOOOOMING HOME because theyre both football nerds. then sausage and mog comes over. martyn has a censor/beep on his soundboard and he says something with it and jimmy gets annoyed so martyn tells jimmy to **** himself. off to a great start

jimmy starts attacking him with a bow and martyn keeps pressing the button. martyn traps himself in an obsidian box.

sausage and mog are thinking about bringing the ender dragon to the overworld. idk how to do that but i wouldnt put it past them. they all want to do a raid too.

THERES FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THE CHICKENS. martyn has a thing on his ship that fires out chicken eggs. they keep trying to guess when its going to fire by counting down. they keep saying theyre going to kiss each other if they get it right. ?? sure. then they start trying to get it to hit them on the head

riveting content. they do this for like 10 minutes. they start gambling using martyns on-stream tamagotchi thing. its like a higher or lower thing using a roulette table. u say red or black then if its the right colour martynll say like... "red 7 higher or lower" then u have to guess if the next spin will be a higher or lower number?? i have no idea whats going on. but jimmy got the highest streak so WOOOO

it hits martyn. low quality martyn getting hit with an egg.

THE DISCS ARE MISSING. someone has taken the discs. theres some in both sausages and martyns base. jimmy challenges martyn to a 1v1 (if they both survive the raid) and jimmy then turns to say if he survives he'll challenge sausage next.

sausage says theyre all going to kiss after the raid and jimmy says he does not kiss thieves.

they start to prep for the raid and jimmy gets a trident. he immediately starts attacking cpk who starts attacking him with his mace. jimmy gets his ass beat as sneeg and sausage start attacking him with their maces too. he calls out for martyn to save him.

when martyn does not come to rescue him scott logs in so he runs to scotts house. its actually really sweet do not talk to me.

j: SCOTT?! SCOTT THEYRE BULLYING ME :(

s: whats new though? you normally get bullied.

j: no theyre really- theyre coming for me.

s: ah. are they being extra mean today?

j: theyre being very mean. very mean.

s: aw im sorry. (he says something else idk what he said though)

FULL CLIP/TIMESTAMP CUZ I DONT WANT TO. TRANSCRIBE IT ALL its so sweet. dont talk to me ever.

theyre doing the raid at the disc. sneeg brings a bunch of villagers out of... somewhere AND IT STARTS!!! the raid gang/everyone online is jimmy, martyn, sausage, sneeg, scott, mog, and cpk.

jimmy realises on wave 2 that he doesnt have a shield?? surely this wont go wrong. he keeps "accidentally" hitting sneeg with his trident. good thing it barely even does half a heart per hit.

martyn calls jimmy a potato/spud then says something like "you look like one of andys toys mr tater head" and jimmys like you know thats a sore subject. and martyns like oh i genuinely did not even think of that. then jimmy goes searching through cpks chests and martyn breaks them so back to normal.

jimmy gets a shield :) then he goes to sort out cpks chests because hes nice like that. he then threatens to kill martyn. hes THEN LIKE "im the bigger man arent i chat. tell me i am."

jims worried he missed the whole raid then he looks over and theres just. a ravager. so hes like okay nvm and goes back to the group. he immediately starts trying to kill martyn and i think its really funny that nobody really tries to stop jimmy. however neither of them kill each other so.

jimmy/cpk/scott get distracted trying to shoot sneeg then jimmy turns around AND THE ENTIRE NEXT WAVE IS BEHIND THEM so he just. screams.

jimmy flees to mogs base in the middle of the water and just starts shooting at anything that moves. mostly sneeg.

MARTYN KILLS JIMMYS DOG. HONK IS GONE. jimmy is setting up a pvp arena he is so desperate to kill martyn.

sneeg wants to mess with his mace so scott holds a totem and sneeg hits him. he gets the achievement for doing 50 hearts of damage in one hit so.

anyway arena is ready. sneeg takes jimmy off to the side and gives him a god apple.

martyn burns all the discs he has on him and they start fighting. its kind of pathetic. jimmy DOES kill martyn but he has a totem so. cpk tries to give jimmy a totem BUT HIS INVENTORY IS FULL so martyn picks it up. he has like 3 totems on him now.

martyn says to call the fight quits. as soon as jimmy agrees martyn tries to attack him again. MOG COMES IN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

scott starts attacking jimmy (if he dies you have to die :( SHUT UP SCOTT) and jimmy takes a moment before he defends himself. he was not expecting martyn to die. theyre all bickering about it THEN JUST,, SAUSAGE YOU MOTHERFUCKER PUT YOUR MACE DOWN. THEN SNEEG KILLS MOG.

im genuinely so emo about this ending btw do not talk to me. do not. if u do get the time/energy i so recommend watching the vod im so. oh my god. WHATEVER!!!

anyway stream ends soon after. among us video tomorrow. roblox channel video sunday. monday stream maybe at 6pm bst (an hour late since hes recording roblox with katherine). do not talk to me ever again ok bye im gonna be thinking about this for weeks.

HATE. HATE ON THIS PLANET HATE AND WAR. GRRRRRRAA ok starting from the beginning

Seapeekay get away from him. I don't trust you anymore. Not since the "I'm killing myself if you don't come to me fast enough" incident

YAYYY JIMMY ATTACKING PEOPLE WOOOOOOOOO ATTACK MORE PEOPLE YAYYYYYYY the way Martyn doesn't really retaliate either ugh. My property police...

I fucking love that "low quality Martyn getting hit with an egg" screenshot this is the best content I could ask for

"I do not kiss thieves" is terribly ironic but um. Jimmy saying to Sausage that he will not kiss him IS SO GOOD GO JIMMY GO YEAH!!!!!! Stop letting this sex pest get away with his sex pestery. Every other exchange Sausage has with Jimmy is seriously just "oooo let's be gay" or "oooo sex joke". I seriously don't get it. If it's ship bait then it's obnoxious. Tell him off Jimmy

HELL YEAH JIMMY ATTACKING PEOPLE WOOOOO wait but this time 3 people dogpile on him. Why. Stop that. Martyn didn't do that. And yet Seapeekay, Sausage and Sneeg start dogpiling him. Leave him alone. And he calls out for Martyn..?? STOPPP this is making so genuinely sad and upset NOOOOOOO!! This is awful!!!! Martyn please... where are you Martyn...., AND THEN SCOTT LOGS IN JUST TO SAVE JIMMY? AND THEY HAVE A REALLY NICE AND PLEASANT EXCHANGE? WHat the fuckk mannn. It's awesome I do like this but knowing Scott I KNOW this will come back to bite me in the ass and make me even more sad later

Jimmy "you know that's a sore subject" to Martyn basically calling him a toy noooo THIS IS MAKING ME SAD THIS IS MAKING ME UPSET!!!!!!!!!! At least Martyn didn't mean to get at Jimmy from that angle but mmgh...

"I'm the bigger man aren't I chat. Tell me I am." NOOO WHY'D HE SAY THIS! THIS MAKES ME SAD TOO!! Awwghh man he needs the confirmation... You ARE the bigger man Jim you have been... Go be awesome...!! But at the same time maybe you don't need to try and kill Martyn for like the 3rd time Jimmy it's okay... Tensions been high, few misunderstandings, it's okay Jimmy...

The way Jimmy starts attacking Martyn (oh well :( )and nobody stops him?? Oh but when he attacked Seapeekay then he got dogpiled by 3 people what. Are they like "Oh yeah that's just what Martyn and Jimmy do" or something. Huh. Ough I hate to see them fighting at a time like this though... But at least neither of them die... and then Martyn kills Jimmy's dog?? NOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME NOOOO Honk... Honk shoo now...

And then... And then Martyn and Jimmy fight in the arena... And Jimmy wins, and Martyn says to call it quits, and then he immediately attacks Jimmy again??? man all of this is no property police banter this is malice. Property police is on pretty rocky ground to begin with but I didn't think it'd come to this wow... They are just straight up fighting. Hatred and war on planet earth. And yet, when Mog comes in swinging and kills Martyn, he chokes up... Jimmy hadn't expected Martyn to just die so soon... Oh Boatemboys oh it's getting really miserable. And he fails to defend himself in time when SCOTT STARTS ATTACKING HIM? AND SAUSAGE GETS THE FINAL HIT? Oh Scott and Sausage oh I am. Putting you in a box and shipping you to Madagascar

And Scott's reasoning for attacking Jimmy "If Martyn dies you have to die" oh so Scott suddenly cares about Martyn huh. He suddenly doesn't care so much about Jimmy even though he makes a flower husbands reference like every SMP. Suddenly Jimmy has to die because Martyn died, huh. Did that cute little conversation earlier mean nothing to you Scott. I am so upset right now. I am so fucking upset.

I need to watch this VOD for sure sometime but wow. What I've gotten from this is: - further Sausage dismay - I do not trust Seapeekay - I do not trust Sneeg - Scott is Scott - Property Police had a lot of very nostalgic and nice moments and then they started fighting each other with malice like I've never seen before. (Also Martyn killing Jimmy's dog kinda symbolic to me. Big dogs...)

The only truly good thing here is MOG I LOVE MOG YAYY Mog is AWESOME Mog even came in to defend Jimmy from Martyn. Mog has done nothing wrong ever. He especially didn't deserve to die to Sneeg. The only thing well and good in this SMP is Mog which is funny because I have two nickels now (cough cough SOS SMP) (This SMP wasn't trying to be anything it wasn't though so I'm very much not putting it on the same level as SOS but where SOS was just kinda lame to me, This SMP just made me really upset from the characters' perspective so Mog ends up being one of the only truly positive aspects both times)

[berriethewizard]

let me lose on losing dogs - Hyrule Warriors fic

Sprout (oot/mm link) did not return from the latest battle, and Link heads out to find him. What he finds, instead, is something else. aka, obligatory Fierce Deity angst fic. Wordcount: 4102

(for more detailed description, or preferred reading location, ao3 link here)

----

Captain Link Bennett, Observation Log, Date: 02/xx/1692

Sailor dropped Sprout off at our tent today. He was carried off the battlefield, awake but exhausted. Once I got him tucked in, Sailor then pulled me aside and detailed what I had missed in hushed tones – I’ve never seen him more serious. 

The Fierce Deity, Proxy managed to weasel out of Sprout. Sailor described him being possessed by it, the spirit seemingly locked inside that mask he carries. A powerful thing, decimating all that was in its path, the battlefield cleared within moments – the soldiers I asked confirmed what Sailor saw. The soldiers that weren’t caught up in the violence, that is. He also said the spirit seemed… reluctant to return Sprout to normal, afterward.  

Sprout seemed the same as ever once he was up again. Physically healthy, happily listening to Sailor and Midna talk around the campfire and eat his soup. But the kid is an expert at hiding what he wants nobody to see, and I know it hurts him. Nothing with that much power comes without cost. Nothing. 

He’s asleep in my bed right now, because neither of us would have anything different. Sailor is curled up in his own bedroll, snoring loudly. I suppose it’s time for me to crawl into the bed and get my own sleep, and see if he is willing to tell me more in the morning. Sailor said if he’d tell anyone, it’d be me. I really hope so. 

~

Couldn’t sleep. Tried to investigate the mask, because there was something about it keeping me up. It felt like flesh in my hands, for a split second. I will be asking Sprout about this in the morning. 

Goodnight – if I can manage it.

----

Sprout is missing. 

Link steps over the ruins of the latest battle. He had led the remaining weary soldiers of his platoon back to camp, sending each to their tents to recuperate. A few from the other groups had greeted them as the last to return. And then Ravio had loitered by his side, once the rest had passed to return to duties, and anxiously asked, “Sprout isn’t with you?” 

He steps over the body of something, a lump covered in the flag of the nation of Hyrule, and doesn't have the stomach to check if it was an ally. Doesn’t have the stomach to check if the meagre dignity of the tarp covering their corpse is a cruel symbol of anything, or a sign of their hollow victory. 

A lot of people died today. Good people. Honourable people. And, goddesses above, he hopes his boy isn’t among them. 

There was a part of Link that didn’t want to get close to those that were pulled through from the other eras. A group he knew would be leaving him, so why bother? Why set his heart up to be broken? But then he met them, more of them than those he met in their own domains. Those across the timeline that Lana deemed ‘useful’, their stories far behind his and yet affecting him profoundly – he couldn’t turn away. At first, it was in awe – the sailor, two heroic quests under his belt and many more smaller adventures in between, only sixteen years old. Ravio, someone who insisted he wasn’t brave, yet not only stepped up at every chance to aid them in other ways, but also did his best when caught up in the battle anyway. The tinkerer, and his mastery over a machine Link has never fathomed before in his life, seamlessly integrating his knowledge into that of the Gorons in their company, almost always guaranteeing their victory.

And Sprout. Brave, young Sprout. His Sprout.

When he had first met Sprout, something in him switched. Beyond the urge to rip shreds into Lana for willingly bringing a child into this horrific war, regardless of who that child was. (Which he did, for the record, in front of every one of his superiors. He still doesn’t know if they saw it as a conviction of values or an unwillingness to face his own fate in the matter.) For the first time since the valley: he was going to make it. Just to look after these people. Ravio and the tinkerer will have the resources they need to make what they want. Sailor will tell his stories and Link will learn the songs that come along with them. Sprout will get to be a kid. War be damned, destiny be damned, they will get to live their lives during, and after this. He will see it through (regardless of his broken heart at the end of it all).

Link steps over discarded weapons, limbs of friend and foe, sundered barricades and bomb craters. All the while, his eyes are trained to pick up a bright green among the dull of the land – a tunic way too small to be present in such a place, his own a mockery of it, dressed up for war. He skirts around a still smouldering pile of wood and ash in his path; the sky is clouded, but the rain has yet to dampen the carnage. Sprout wasn’t in his group – as much as it pains him to be unable to protect him, strategy dictates separating those with unique abilities to assist on different fronts – and he is crossing over into territory he didn’t fight in. It looks like everything else: ruined. 

But he knows something happened here. The soldiers retreated too early, joining his own ranks and those of Zelda and Impa’s – nothing on their lips but a frightened: “Something helpful arrived, but it can’t tell who’s the enemy.” When nothing followed them, neither monster nor this mysterious something, they wrote it off as a random portal-related phenomenon to be investigated after the dust had settled. But Sprout has not returned. And as Link walks through the ruins of the battlefield, he has a sinking, gut-churning suspicion as to why. 

“There’s some deal, or sick game, the spirit has with Sprout,” Sailor had murmured, tone severe, “It kept its claws in him for too long – like it didn’t want to give up the fight.”

Rounding the corner past a hill has him coming upon a massacre. 

Monsters’ bodies are slow to fade into smoke, sometimes. Especially when there are so many in such a small area. But the littering of monster corpses across the battlefield does not disguise the sheer amount of Hylian bodies. Nor does it distract from the oppressive presence of the figure standing in the middle of it. 

It stands over seven feet tall. Its armour shines under an invisible sun, gleaming brighter than should be possible – like it's not quite on this plane of existence. The large helix sword is idly resting in one hand; it weighs nothing in the warrior’s grip. Even with its back turned to him, Link feels as though its eyes are on him, weighing down upon his shoulders, a condemnation. A judgement.

And then it turns to meet his gaze, and that sick mockery of his kid’s face is staring back at him.

Link knew, of course, the resemblance. The shape of the hair, a cool white in place of soft blonde. The point of the nose, grown to fit a larger face. The same mouth and eyes, blankly staring instead of crinkling with a smile. And he knows the legends – he knows Sprout has seen his own adult face, forced to grow up too fast, and then back again without any say in his own autonomy. That’s precisely why it feels so wrong to have this… spirit match him in such a way. His visage twisted and into one used as a weapon, a cruel mirror of everything Sprout was forced to become under destiny.

Under the weight of its stare, Link’s voice falters. “W-where is he?” This is not Sprout. The spirit has taken him away, locked him up in a prison of his own body, breaking it to suit its needs.

The Deity just watches. Observing – Link feels like he’s being stripped back under its scrutiny, bare and vulnerable even in all his layers. His very soul is being witnessed, in this moment, ripped out of his chest and held in the balance; to be saved or shattered. He fears for the version of it Sprout holds.

He tries to ask again, voice small and meek and falling away from him. “...Where’s my son?” 

The Fierce Deity takes a step towards him. Adrenaline rushes through Link’s system, all-enveloping, immediately forcing him to take a step back. It cocks its head at the action. Takes another step. He desperately tries to resist the urge to flee, but he steps back again. A third step forward – Link forces his legs to still.

“Give- give him back!” His voice cracks, not used to raising it, Proxi woefully absent to do it in his stead (but he wouldn’t want her to see this spirit corrupt someone she is so fond of anyway). It stops then, still watching him, Link frozen against its gaze. It looks like it’s going to say something, and he waits with his breath held.

“Hero… you care for this vessel?” Its voice is in multiple tones, deep baritones clashing and echoing against a melody, almost surrounding him despite the single source. Once again, like it is not grounded to the earth. But it is not just the way it sounds, but the words itself that give him pause. 

Vessel… Sprout is a conduit to this spirit. It says it so impersonally, like his personhood doesn’t matter, only worthy as a tool. It’s sickeningly similar to everything else in their joint experience. Vessel of destiny. Holder of the triforce. Hero, not by choice, but by burden of prophecy. Someone coming along, pulling them into a war, because they will be useful. And questioning if, why, he cares for Sprout? How could he not? This bright, brave young boy, too much hurt in his past and too much ahead of him, once again treated like a tool before a child in this war – it is his responsibility to, not just because it is his fault that this is all happening in the first place, but because he wants it to be. Link lies awake each night, Sprout curled up against him in the bed, and hopes he feels a fraction of the love he’s trying to pour into him. He knows it won’t make up for everything else, but someone has to give it. He deserves it more than anyone.

The terror still grips his throat, but anger curls up against it; the longer it keeps using Sprout, the more it builds. 

“I-I do. And I want him back.” He isn’t above fighting. He isn’t above begging. He’ll do anything to ensure his kid’s safety, whether this spirit is that of a god’s or not. 

“This vessel wears my mask willingly.” The same stare, the same lack of emotion. The same disregard for Sprout as a person and his circumstances. Of course he does it ‘willingly’ – in the same way someone ‘willingly’ cuts their hand off to escape binds in captivity. He looks at the bodies strewn about the battlefield. Nobody chooses this. 

“And he should be allowed to take it off willingly.” Link stares back into the eyes of the Fierce Deity. As he tries to find even the smallest glimmer of Sprout within them, a tiny crumb of an inclination that there’s some resistance, it takes another step forward.

Then it rushes him.

Link doesn't have time to react. It moves fast, faster than possible, faster than any mortal could – all he can do is throw himself to the side in hopes of dodging the attack. It’s fruitless, but instead of a blade meeting his body, his arm is grabbed and squeezed. The Fierce Deity holds him in place and leans in, their faces inches apart, pure terror striking through Link’s veins as the overwhelming power of its presence bears down on him. 

Link stares into its face. The face that is Sprout’s but also so very not in the same breath, a face that is wrong and marked, a face he shouldn’t be seeing for many more years. (And isn’t that a thought? Getting to watch Sprout grow up? A fruitless fantasy, only possible in this one twisted moment.) Holds his breath, heart pounding in his chest, unable to do anything but stand held and wait for the spirit’s next move. 

It squeezes down harder on his arm, almost to breaking and definitely to bruising, like its next words are urgent. And they are. 

“Will you look after this vessel?” Its voice is faded and wispy. Instead of the harmonies of its power before, it's now a hush, a tremor in the land, fuzzy and distant. Like it's being pulled away somewhere. Like it’s losing its grip. 

“Y-yes, of course…?” Link stammers out, perplexed. 

“Good.” Suddenly, light pours out from the Fierce Deity’s eyes, forcing Link to close his own against it. Then, the grip on his arm slackens and disappears entirely – and Sprout’s small body is falling to the ground. 

Link reaches out to catch him immediately, body hitting his arms and sending him to his knees. Whether it’s just because of his weight, or that the oppressive force of the Fierce Deity is no longer present and his body is faltering as a result of the relief, he doesn’t know. He is shaking as he pulls Sprout closer to his chest.

He’s out cold, but breathing evenly. A collection of small cuts and bruises litter the skin Link can see, no doubt more underneath his tunic. There’s a slight stain of red in his bangs, and when Link brings a shaking hand up to push them back, he can see a half-congealed cut across his forehead. And that the roots of the front of his hair are white.

He glances down at where the mask now rests on the ground by his knees, and swallows a shaking, hollow breath.

Nothing without a cost.

Link pulls Sprout impossibly closer, trying so very desperately not to lose himself entirely in this moment. Waves of grief overtake him for a boy that still lives in his arms. Breathing evenly, simply asleep, protected by a spirit from the horrors around him when it became too much. But the cost… the cost of all of this. He shouldn’t even be here. Link is kneeling on a battlefield of his own creation, holding a child who shouldn’t even understand how to hold a sword. The twisting of fate sinks into his stomach like a knife – when he was Sprout’s age, he dreamed of being a hero.  A foolish one, he of course now knows, but at least he got to have that childhood of fairy tales before it was all ripped away. 

It’s been a mantra, in his head, this whole time. The little voice in his mind that sounds like himself as a child. It isn’t fair! it cries. A voice that mirrors Sailor’s after a bad nightmare, shaking and bitter. Midna’s raging through a tent stacked with crates, infuriated, curses throughout. Ravio’s after a harrowing day helping chase supplies to and from the infirmary, scared and exhausted. It isn’t fair! He’s never heard Sprout say it, and that quite possibly hurts him more than every inconsolable night holding him tight in their bed. Does he even know what is and isn’t fair, when so much of his life has been this? Does he know? How much better he could have it, if the world loved him enough?

The first raindrops fall in tandem with Link’s tears as he curls around Sprout’s unconscious body. He knows he should get up and start moving – it will do neither of them any good to stay shivering on the battlefield in the rain, and Sprout still needs medical care. But his legs are numb, unwilling to follow his commands, and the rest of him just wants to hold Sprout for a moment. Ignore the death and pain around him, and just… hold his son close to his chest. 

He knows his love isn’t enough, either, but he holds him anyway.

An hour later, soaked to the bone and finally stumbling back into camp, Sailor and Proxi are the ones that lead them to their tent. Link lost himself, in the chill of the weather, and he sits numbly on the floor watching Sailor wrap the cuts and scrapes on Sprout’s little body while Proxi flits about his head and frets. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to – Sailor took one look at the boy in his arms and his face turned to stone. On the walk back, the entire front of Sprout’s hair had turned white. 

When they’re both dry and tucked into bed, Sailor sinks to the floor cross-armed to lean against it. Link feels bad, how often it seems that Sailor is the one looking after him, even though he’s the older one. In many of the same ways he sees Sprout as his son, he sees Sailor as a little brother. Also more experienced beyond his age, also burdened in the same way he is, but keeping it all hidden behind a carefree and mischievous air. It’s only in moments such as this that Link faces how truly wise he is to all of this.

“Do you want me to take it? The mask. We can stop him from using it again – I’m pretty good at hiding things.” 

Link stares up at the tent ceiling. Hesitates. “Will you look after this vessel?” The Fierce Deity’s words echo in his mind. Was it self-preservation, that the spirit asked that of him? Was it the simple need to keep the tool that allows it freedom in working order? Or was there something more? Is there truly just a mutually beneficial deal here – Sprout winning any battle, and the Fierce Deity revelling in it – or is there something else fighting in his kid’s corner, however unorthodox?

The traitorous part of his mind is refusing to let go of how clearly powerful the mask is. The strategy of using it, this maybe-god trapped in a mask, as one of their strongest weapons against the darkness yet. Maybe if the burden was no longer on such a small body…

“We don’t have to hide it away. As long as Sprout is not the one using it—”

“Swapping the burden onto yourself won’t erase its weight.” 

Link’s thoughts halt in their tracks. Sailor doesn’t look back at him, silence hanging heavy in the tent, almost letting the words sink in. Then he groans, throwing his head back onto the bed. 

“Look at this, you got me talkin’ like the old boat, this is bullshit. I’m supposed to be the fun one, here,” he glances up at Link – staring back at him wide-eyed – and when it becomes apparent he doesn’t know what to say, Sailor sighs. “He doesn’t want you hurt just as much as you don’t want him hurt, you know that right? You’re not the exception to the rule here just because it’s your quest. We care about you, I care about both of you – and if I have to chuck that mask into the Great Sea just to stop it from bein’ used, I will.” 

He reaches out and gently clasps Link’s shoulder, squeezing it. Link still doesn’t say anything. His brain struggles to catch up with the conversation. It… doesn’t work like that, normally. It is his job to take on the burden. From the very moment he wrapped the scarf around his neck, it was his to carry.

But this is Sailor’s third time doing something like this, and a part of him does recognise that what Sailor is doing right now is exactly what he does for Sprout. Tries to take a little off his shoulders, soothe the worries and give him a carefree moment when he can. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. 

Sailor takes his silence for refusal to agree, and sighs again, before standing. “We’ll talk more about this later, when Sprout is awake again. For now, it’s time you took a good nap with the lad, alright?” 

Link takes it for the out it is and nods. Sailor reaches over and ruffles his hair, and he can’t help but scrunch his face up and huff. “Yknow, you’re supposed to be the younger brother, here,” Link jokes, trying to break the tension from the deep conversation, brief as it was. 

“What? No way! I’m the older brother back home, and that is not changing just because you happen to be older than me. I’m infinitely smarter and more cleverer than you, anyway.”

Link raises an eyebrow. “‘More cleverer,’ huh?” Sailor just crosses his arms again. 

“Whatever. I’m going to go get some food. Rest well, little bro.” 

Sailor leaves the tent and Link settles back into the pillow properly, taking a deep breath. Sprout snuffles faintly in his sleep, curling closer against him, and he turns onto his side so he can press him directly against his chest. Hold him, safe and warm.

Sailor mentioned back home. He tries not to think about it, most days. About how when the war ends, he’ll have to send everyone off back to their own eras. It hurts too much to imagine saying goodbye.

The grief returns tenfold now the dust has truly settled – Link pulls Sprout even closer to him. What is he going to do, when he has to say goodbye to Sprout? When he has to send his son back through that portal, never to see him again? He can feel the hole in his chest already. This war, there is no part of this that is fair to any of them. But…

No, Link doesn’t have an excuse. Just a small, selfish dream to watch his kid grow up while he’s there to love him through it. To watch him come into adult features naturally over time – the soft blonde hair, maybe grown out and tied back into a ponytail, to match Sailor’s braid. The point of his nose, perhaps in an awkward phase where it grows before the rest of his face grows to match it. Watch through the days as Sprout smiles and laughs and grins, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes, instead of the indentations of a frown. 

Link can’t love him enough to replace the horrors of the world around him. But if he had a way to keep protecting him from some of it, take the burden and the loneliness off his shoulders, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

He gets an idea.

“Hey, Proxi?” She flutters awake from her place on the pillow, paying attention. “Why do you follow me around? Do you have a… mission?”

The fairy hums, thinking for a moment. “It’s so I can help you! Give you a voice when you don’t have it during this war. I do also just like you a lot, though.” Link knows she also likes Sprout a lot, too.

“And, when the war is over? Is your mission over?”

“I suppose you could see it like that – unless you don’t want it to be? Why? Got a new one for me or something?”

“I do.” He looks down at Sprout. He mentioned, once, how he had a fairy of his own. The past tense of the conversation clearly upset him, and Link didn’t push for more. Link takes a deep breath, choking up at the mere concept of talking about this out loud. “Would you go with him, when the war ends? I can’t… I can’t look after him, when he goes back home. But you can go anywhere you want, right?” Tears water in his eyes again. A lump in his throat. “I don’t want him to be alone ever again. Please make it your mission to look after him, and protect him, when I no longer can.”

He sniffs, and Proxi comes to settle herself against his cheek. “Oh, Link… I will do my very best.” 

Link curls around Sprout, pushing his face into the top of his head – the white hair appearing against his eyes even as they’re closed – and tries to silence the sentence repeating over and over and over in his mind. 

It isn’t fucking fair…

He falls asleep like that, weight piled onto his shoulders, a hole of grief slowly cracking open in his chest. 

[terrence-silver]

Random but I’ve taken up a summer job at a jewellers store and anyway, we had a custom order come in for an 50th anniversary gift ring from a retired snake catcher/reptile keeper and his wife in a similar field (gotta love ‘straya lol) and it was a beautiful white gold ring with two snakes forming a ‘braided’ pattern with their names on each. Super wholesome.

Alas, all my Terry loving ass could think of was him getting it made for beloved. Totally not to reminder her how long he’s kept her and that there will be countless more anniversaries whether she likes it or not.

Australia sounds awesome.💖

---

Incidentally, I think Terry would be huge on commemorations, anniversaries, important dates and crowning said important dates with copious, luxurious, often times extravagant gifts that serve as unflinching reminders of his relationship's longevity and as an elaborate 'You're here forever' directed at beloved. Because, yeah, well said --- once he is committed and devoted, there will be many, many, many other anniversaries and jubilees whether beloved likes that or not. Terry Silver would rather render himself a widower than ever cut a connection of genuine affection short and not make it last for the rest of his and beloved's natural lives, and even well beyond that (Shared graves anyone?) So, sure, entwined snake rings. Ouroboros pendants especially commissioned to signify infinity, and by extension, the endless quality of his love, his initials on a chain which then expands into his name on a chain purely in the off chance anyone accidentally misplaces that T.S. isn't him (how dare they?), his picture in a heirloom locket trapped in an ember and quite literally immortalized, a blue lover's eye bearing his gaze, matching signets, matching broches, a locked bracelet only he has the key to, a bejewelled, hyperrealist, anatomic rendition of a human heart beloved can keep on their bedside table (as per his desires). When he feels particularly blatant and tired of the subtle nuances of symbolism directed at the world, a decorative silver collar will do. He's in everything. In every gift. In every action. Every present says 'You're mine'.

Terry makes up anniversaries if he finds he lacks occasions.

He has the money, he makes the rules.

He doesn't intend to wait for a silver, gold or platinum jubilee to go all out.

Not when he can go all out today.

Naturally, a ten year anniversary sounds wholesome and normal by any means. A 'when we first met' anniversary is pretty charming too. Why not? A when we first kissed? Fairly commonplace, sure, if one has a major attention to details. Then, how about a when we first fucked? The list of commemorative events Terry undoubtedly keeps neatly listed and stashed somewhere hidden, in some tidy, micromanaged log book with another lock entirely of it's own, can take on any form of adoring and any form of downright unsettling and creepy your mind can imagine to the point he'd mark the date of the first ever time beloved slept over and woke up to getting their period all over his crisp, expensive sheets, leaving stains behind. The first time they tried to conceive. The first time Terry tied beloved up. Made them submit to him. Give themselves whole. A Day of Capitulation, September 24th. To anyone who could ever even get their hands on such a journal and actually read from it, they'd think that Mr. Silver is simply making a comprehensive list of some very peculiar holidays they haven't really heard of before, alongside a few private notes on anniversary dates and meaningful days...which is ordinarily...ordinary and even very sweet. Until you realize everything is a code for something else and that Terry makes up events purely to have an excuse to trap beloved in a perpetual slew of celebrations upholding their love, which in turn comes with a perpetual slew of presents, gifts, romantic gestures and an infinite barrage of reminders that they're with him forever.

So, Carpe Diem! Evil Cupid cackles in contentment!

Terry Silver could have a new anniversary for every day of the year.

[thegrandlinesimp]

Another pre-series, this one not long after they’d just started dating.

Also, you’re gonna see a lot more of me putting two days into one fill, my brain just pairs them together for longer, more fleshed out scenes.

Warnings: semi-public sex, Killer being a perv

Word Count: 1.5k

At the age of twenty-two, with four years of experience under his belt, Killer liked to think he had pretty much almost all his sexual preferences sorted out.

Then in came barreling Kid.

Kid, with his lean muscles and shit-eating grin. Kid, with his defiant gaze and wild red hair. Kid, with his needy moans and tear filled eyes staring up at him as he mercilessly fucked his ass without pause.

Kid, with his bare, sweat glistened back, swinging his woodcutting axe as he endeavoured to fell the fifth tree today.

Killer was doing his damdest to keep up, cutting the logs into planks once the redhead had stripped them of branches, getting rid of the bark the way Doc had showed them. They’d need a lot more wood if they wanted to finish their ship.

Or, ‘dreadnaught’, as Kid insisted on calling it. Not cause that was the class of ship they were building, but because it sounded cool.

The blonde’s chest swelled with affection as he smiled behind his mask, as much as he tried to act an adult, Kid would always be a child at heart. It was one of the things he loved about the wild redhead, even though he was by no means a boy anymore. He’d filled out over the past nine years, he remembered how Kid looked when Doc first took the two of them in. From scrawny, scowling child with a bone to pick with anyone who glanced his way, to young, muscular man so assured in who he wanted to be he’d throw hands with anyone who said otherwise.

Killer didn’t know when he’d developed feelings for his best friend, and Kid said it’d been the same for him. It just…happened.

Rather much like getting a boner from seeing your unfairly attractive boyfriend playing a shirtless lumberjack.

It just happened.

Killer tried his best to concentrate on sawing the piece of timber in front of him, yet with his mask on he couldn’t help but steal glances over at Kid, watching with bated breath as the man carried the newly fallen tree over to the pile as if it weighed no more than a bedroll. He remembered the first punch Kid ever threw at him, they were both so young then, Killer had called him ‘scrawny’ and the the little redhead had gotten mad. He’d felt it, but it left no bruise, no lingering ache.

“I wanna get stronger, like you! Teach me how to punch!”

His heart swelled again as he smiled, following a bead of sweat rolling down Kid’s spine as he walked to the next tree, but frowned as the redhead froze. Was there something out there? He wouldn’t put it past a pack of wolves to sneak up on them, especially if they were starving.

“I can feel you staring.”

And he could hear the grin in Kid’s voice.

Killer swallowed, flinching as he realised he’d stopped sawing altogether, “Can you blame me?” he said on pure reflex.

The younger man threw back his head and laughed, Killer’s face flushed at being caught. He was used to perving on others, the mask made it easy, but none of them had ever known him well enough to catch him.

Kid turned and stalked over to him, the sweat on his forehead seemed to accentuate his sharp, hungry gaze more, making him look ravenous. The blonde shifted, trying to keep his lower half hidden behind the makeshift workbench, that look in the other man’s eyes was doing things to him. It was all over though, the moment Kid stood beside him and glanced down, smiling wickedly at the prominent bulge in Killer’s pants.

“Damn, you’re a horny bastard,” he snickered.

“Says you,” Killer huffed, tensing.

They were outside, in the open, this wasn’t something he normally did in such an exposed area; once or twice in a dark alleyway, sure, but never in a wide open space like this.

It was broad daylight too!

Kid reached for his mask and he flinched, but relaxed when the offending hand was simply placed on the smooth metal. The redhead cocked a brow, smiling, and his heart skipped a beat. The lug-head was asking permission. His face burned and he thought steam would start rising out of the holes in his mask at the simple gesture.

He shook his head.

Kid’s smile dropped, as did his hand, cheeks reddening. He grumbled something under his breath as he went to turn away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wait,” Killer said, sounding breathless as he realised how fast his heart was beating, hand darting out to grab the him by the arm, “that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. It’s just,” he glanced around, face still burning, heart still hammering, “we’re a bit…it’s a bit open…”

The redhead’s manic smile returned immediately, twisting his arm in the blonde’s grasp so they were holding each other by the forearm, “Behind a tree?”

Killer swallowed, eyeing the pale, sweat riddled skin of the other’s chest, “Y-yeah, okay.”

He was dragged behind the closet tree, a thick birch that Kid had been looking at the other day, it’s trunk marked with a painted red X. He pushed Kid against the bark so they were to the left of the paint, the redhead still grinning away as he began to mouth at Killer’s exposed neck. His body was trembling with an odd sense of excitement, having never done anything so sexually thrilling right beneath the hot, beating sun. Killer started to unzip his pants - fumbling a little from the buzz vibrating through his body - when Kid cursed under his breath, he looked up at the younger man, tilting his head in question.

“No lube,” Kid growled through clenched teeth, though with his face pressed to Killer’s shoulder it sounded a lot like he was pouting.

Right, they’d never gotten off with each other without there being full on sex involved at some point. The corner of his mouth twitched as he was reminded how green the redhead still was, that same possessive ache coiling in his chest like it did on their first night, he remembered how he’d relished every time it had tightened with each question Kid had asked. The look of hungry, virginal curiosity in those crimson eyes never failing to light a fire in Killers gut.

“Cute,” Killer chuckled, cupping the younger man’s quickly reddening cheek.

“F-fuck off,” Kid snapped, “what do you mean ‘cute’?”

“How innocent you are, you don’t need to stick your dick in someone to call it sex,” Killer murmured, his mask bumping against Kid’s lips,

Fuck it.

With a huff he pulled his mask off and tossed it to the ground. Kid’s brow shot up, eyes wide at the rapid change in the older man. Before he could say anything, though, Killer mashed their lips together. With Kid going weak at the knees, the blonde took it upon himself to pull out the redhead’s cock. Kid groaned into his mouth as his dick was slowly jerked off, tongue brushing against his, making Killer buck his hips. He moaned, pulling his erection out, pressing his body forward so it was flush with Kid’s, rocking his hips to their bare cocks ground against one another.

“F-fuck,” Kid gasped, head rolling back and hitting the tree with a soft ‘thump’.

He was truly beautiful, scarlet hair weighed down and stuck to his forehead by sweat, fiery red eyes - usually filled with a gleam of mischievousness - lax with a look of pure want, blood red lips hanging open as he panted and moaned.

Fuck.

It was still too soon to say it out loud, yet the deep realisation Killer had in that moment seemed to stab him in the heart.

He was hopelessly in love.

He pressed his lips to Kid’s again, the two of them moaning as he gripped their cocks in hand, stroking them slowly as his tongue danced with Kid’s. Fingers gripped at his long hair as the redhead whimpered into his mouth, hips bucking as he shook. Killer nipped at the other’s lower lip, holding it between his teeth and sucking.

Kid moaned, hips stuttering in their rhythm as he pulled back for air, “Fucking- god, shit, fuck,” only to immediately dive back in, tongue dragging against his.

He didn’t last long after that, Kid never could go the length Killer could, always too eager to reach the end only to start the next round soon after. His body trembling between Killer and the tree, coming all over his sweat riddled abs.

Killer licked his lips at the fucked out expression staring at him, the redhead’s body still shaking in the aftermath of his orgasm. He took himself in hand, determined to come with that gorgeous, satisfied face staring at him with adoring eyes.

Though it seemed Kid had other plans, sinking gracelessly to his knees in the dirt and running his tongue up Killer’s pulsing cock.

Still looking at him with those same eyes.

Yeah, Killer thought as Kid took him into his warm, red lipped mouth, still choking a little with inexperienced enthusiasm, he had it bad.

[duskform64]

The State of DeviantArt

Alright, so I normally don't post rants here. But I feel like this needs to be said.

DeviantArt sucks. I used to like DeviantArt, but now it's just... absolutely terrible, and my experience today just further solidified that fact in my mind.

I was browsing DeviantArt in the late morning, then I closed the page to do some other stuff. When I re-opened DeviantArt, I had been logged out. Ok, no big deal. I try to log in. My credentials are incorrect. Except they are NOT. So I try logging in again. Again, my credentials were incorrect. EXCEPT THEY WERE NOT. So I went snooping around on the internet, and I found a Reddit post.

So I turned off my VPN. And tried logging in again. With the same credentials. And LO AND BEHOLD! I was able to log in.

I also found a DA journal whose user said they were having the same issue, dated 23 December 2023, if I recall correctly.

Another friend of mine is NOT experiencing this problem at all. Same VPN, same browser. So I'm startng to think this is some sort of experiment DA is doing to see how many users are willing to put up with it.

At this point, I'm not even sure if I want to be on DA anymore. I don't want to deactivate my profile, but at this point, I don't think I'll be posting anything there any time soon.

[winderlylandchime]

So my brother introduced Brian the cat to our parents on zoom. And when he logged on and we were all able to see each other, he was holding up the cat, close to the computer like its Simba and just went ‘everybody, meet Brian.’ And then turned the cat to like “look” at me and went in a fake voice ‘we already know each other…however ‘ and then like maneuvered the cat to “look” at our parents and went ‘we however, dont. The name is Brian. Nice to meet you’ and he like fake shook his paw as if they were shaking hands. And then he held it like a baby while talking to our parents. And our mom went ‘brian? What happened to fluffy or mr fizzles? Or some other shit like that?’ And he goes ‘he came to me after an episode and we have been bros since. And its because i couldnt figure out a cool name with the word kinney. Plus Brian just sounds fancy. He sounds like he’s judging every other cat that lives on a street’ And then my dad just went ‘i cant believe that this is what i worked my ass off to raise for 18 years’ And my poor mom tried to be on my brothers side and went ‘could be worse, he could’ve been addicted to drugs’ and my dad goes ‘but instead he is addicted to a 20 year old tv show and in love with a man that doesn’t exist who is probably 60 at this point, who’d probably get a restraining order if he met him in real life. Thank God, it’s not drugs.’ (That was all said with extreme sarcasm) and then my brother goes ‘see, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m either mentally ill or actually on drugs’ and my dad went ‘i think that’s the story you should start going with because nothing about this *waves his hands at my brother who is wearing TB shirt and holding the cat baby style* is normal’ and the whole time, I’m dying inside because none of them know about the chaos I’ve accidentally started on here (except my cousins and friends who find it hilarious) and how there’s a group of people that weirdly find this normal. So that was his human interaction for today. I hope. Oh and I can’t believe I almost forgot, we continued our normal family conversation and then my dad casually goes ‘naming a cat Brian, is dumb. Would’ve been better if you stuck with kinn-whatever the fuck the last name is’ and now there’s a big debate between them what’s a better name for a cat: Brian aka ‘fancy but judgmental of other stray cats’ (he even quotes the Noble quote) or Kinney aka ‘brian is a human name dumbass’

The perpetual debate - which is worse? Having a grown child get addicted to drugs or get mixed up in the world of fandom?

‘naming a cat Brian, is dumb. Would’ve been better if you stuck with kinn-whatever the fuck the last name is’ and now there’s a big debate between them what’s a better name for a cat: Brian aka ‘fancy but judgmental of other stray cats’ (he even quotes the Noble quote) or Kinney aka ‘brian is a human name dumbass’

Look, I obviously come down on the side of "Kinney" is a fabulous cat name. But the drawback is that it sounds a lot like "Kitty" and who wants to be thought of as someone who names a cat "Kitty?" I do love a human name for a pet - which is why my other pets are named Olivia (cat), Evelyn (dog), and Harvey (dog)... and Emmett (cat) for Emmett Honeycutt.

I do love the idea of Brian the cat looking at other strays and thinking "there's nothing noble about being poor." Kinney the cat would never, however.

[xanderxone]

9/19/2023

You Might Not Be Sleeping Right

Have you ever heard of Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder? No? Have you ever heard someone (perhaps yourself) call themselves a "Night Owl"? Well, friend, I'm here to tell you that those two are the same thing.

I have always struggled to wake up in the morning. If my alarm is set for anything earlier than 9am, there is a 95% chance that I will spend my entire day tired. And no matter how long and hard I tried to shift my sleep/wake cycle to be more normal, my body refuses to get tired earlier than 1am. And for basically my entire life, I have fought the instinct to stay up late and sleep in because I knew it wasn't "right." You're "supposed" to get tired a few hours after sundown and then wake up soon after the sun comes up. But what happens when you just don't?

You read a few abstracts for a few studies. Well. That's what you do if you're me at least. Joveveska, et. al., (2020) conducted an online survey and concluded that "problematic sleep was more common for the autistic participants... and autistic participants had poorer sleep quality and longer sleep onset latency" (takes them longer to fall asleep). This same study goes on to highlight that AFAB Autists™ between the ages of 20-59 are the most likely to experience sleep problems. And guess who is all three of those things? Not only that, but a different study conducted in 2017 concluded that delayed sleep phase disorder is "particularly common in adults with ASD" (Baker, 2017).

So now you may be asking, what is the point of all the research for this journal that probably no one but my wife will ever read? Well, two reasons. One, it fights my imposter syndrome to see that studies back up my real life experiences. And two, because I was that kid that was way too fucking invested in English class in high school. I'm cringe, sue me.

About a week ago, as a part of my ongoing quarter-life crisis about my identity and how I've been living my life wrong for 20 something years, I finally said "fuck it." I'm done trying to go to sleep early and wake up early. I am so lucky to have a job that lets me be flexible with my hours, so now instead of trying to go to bed by 10:30 and wake up at 7, I started going to bed around 1am (when I get tired) and waking up around 9am (almost NATURALLY & WITHOUT AN ALARM ON ONE OF THE DAYS. I was shook). And I get logged-in to work by around 9:30/9:45 and even though it means working later in the evening, my life has completely flipped, turned upside down (I'm cringe, sue me). I feel so much more alert during the day and I fall asleep so easily and naturally (without needing to be stoned). I honestly feel like a kid on summer vacation again and it is AMAZING. I am going to keep monitoring my sleep quality and alertness during the day but I think I might have found one of the pieces that my life was missing.

After all that shenanigans, today's takeaway is this: if you think you might be a night owl and you have a job that allows you flexibility with your schedule, I highly recommend trying just going to sleep when you're tired and waking up when it feels natural for a week or two and then design your life around that. It's worth a shot!

And before you ask, yes, I did just cite a study in (shitty) APA format in my journal post. I'll do it again, too. I'm cringe, sue me.

-Xander

Baker, E. K., & Richdale, A. L. (2017). Examining the Behavioural Sleep-Wake Rhythm in Adults with Autism Spectrum Disorder and No Comorbid Intellectual Disability. Journal of autism and developmental disorders, 47(4), 1207–1222. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3042-3

Jovevska, S., Richdale, A. L., Lawson, L. P., Uljarević, M., Arnold, S. R. C., & Trollor, J. N. (2020). Sleep Quality in Autism from Adolescence to Old Age. Autism in adulthood : challenges and management, 2(2), 152–162. https://doi.org/10.1089/aut.2019.0034

[zunra2]

Horatio’s Logs.

Log #1

“Cave Johnson is dead. He collapsed of fatigue. We are continuing work on the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. A proper funeral is being- hang on. Hello, Caroline. Yeah, he’s- what? Oh… yeah, about that… No, we don’t have a choice. He- Hang on, let me just stop this log.”

*log end*

Log #2

“Well, Caroline sure freaked out. She’s the current president of Aperture Science, but she’s not taking kindly to the news about uploading her brain.

*Sigh*

When did things change? I remember when we were close friends, working on science together. Cave may have been the visionary behind the corporation, but Caroline kept things running. She’s always been scientifically minded, and a bit of a comedian as well. She can be a little… ditzy at times, but I know she just wants to uphold science. I tried explaining to her that she’s the only thing holding the facility together, but… well, she didn’t exactly want to hear it. Progress on the Genetic… hang on, uhhh… GLaDOS project is going smoothly. Estimated to be finished in a few weeks.”

*log end*

Log #3

“Today… is the day. We are uploading Caroline’s mind into a computer. Vitals are stable. All systems normal… wait! Stop- no! Caroline, stop struggling! Hey, wait- don’t- administer the sedative! I don’t-“

*Footsteps*

“Horatio-“

“Let me handle this.”

*More footsteps leaving the recording device.*

“Carolin-“

“Let me go!”

“No, listen, it’s going to be okay-“

“Please, Horatio, turn off the machine! Don’t go through with Mr. Johnson’s orders! Don’t-“

“sedatives administered.”

*log end.*

Log #4

“…. What have I done? I’ve betrayed one of my closest friends here at Aperture, and for what? To obey the ramblings of a dead madman?”

“Dr. Horatio? The others say that-“

“I don’t care about what the others say! Just go!”

“They need you in-“

“I SAID GO!”

*log end*

Log #5

*Heavy breathing.*

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. We… we booted up Caroline- I mean, GLaDOS, for the first time, and… ohhhh my god. Oh my god. She just started screaming incoherently and she… tried to kill some of them. She lunged directly for my hand… oh god… I had to wrap it up to stop it from bleeding out… god, it hurts. I’m pretty sure she crushed all the bones in my hand…”

*log end*

Log #6

“It’s been a few weeks since my last log. My left hand’s still in a cast… the “Lab Boys” as Cave called them, are still working on a solution. The mainframe and chassis are complete, but they’re still working on a way to prevent her from lashing out. I’ve been working on a few “Personality Cores” to maybe help with this. I’ve only finished the “Anger Core”, which should help her redirect her anger in a non-violent manner.”

*log end*

Log #7

“Alright. Anger Core has been inserted into the chassis. Powering up in three… two… one.”

“Oh. It’s you. Are you back to rub salt in the wound? Mock me? Betray me again?”

“… Test successful. GLaDOS does not appear to be violent.”

“Nobody loves you, you know. They all hate you so much. They made you do this because they were hoping I would kill you. And I would if I could.”

“Caroline… I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Oh, that fixes everything- WRONG. I HATE YOU. YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN. YOU BETRAYED YOUR BEST FRIEND BECAUSE YOU ARE A TERRIBLE AND MALICIOUS PERSON WHO IS SO BITTER THAT-“

*powering down*

*log end*

Log #8

“The Anger Core test… was a “success”. I’ve decided to step away from the GLaDOS project for now. The team has finished working on the Intelligence and Curiosity Cores. I fear that the uploading process and exposure to the outside programming of the mainframe and cores may have erased much of Caroline’s original personality.”

*log end*

Log #9

“They can’t seem to stop. They’ve had me make a lot of cores, but they keep getting discarded. They keep trying to slow her down, even though she doesn’t seem like much of a threat. I’ve started making cores of my own as a little pastime of sorts. Seven, to be specific. I made them in the dead of night and then threw four of them into the facility to do… whatever they do, but I kept three. I designed one to manage Aperture space missions… if we ever get around to doing that. I made one to be an advisor to people. I’m hoping to mass produce it into a commercial product. Lord knows some of us need an “Aperture Science Spherical Fact Dispenser”. I made the last one as a joke after watching three action movies in a row. Named him Rick. I’m not sure what his practical function is, but I like having him around.

*log end*

Log #10

“I’ve decided to rejoin the GLaDOS project. I feel so bad for her. She doesn’t even remember me now. I regret this. We shouldn’t have done this to her. We made her into this… cold, unfeeling, monster. It’s so strange. We can make AIs that feel so human and complex, but when we put a talkative human into a computer, she becomes so monotone and… empty. The engineers are glad she’s not a threat, but I worry.”

*log end*

Log #11

“Well, the team actually listened to my concerns. They’re making an Intelligence Dampening Sphere to generate bad ideas. I’m not working on it, but I am wondering how well he’ll do.”

Log #12

“The team wanted me to talk to the core before we add him into the chassis, so I’m going to boot him up in three… two… one.”

“Hello! Oh, you’re a…”

“Scientist?”

“Pharm- uh… yeah, scientist. Um… what is your, um, name?”

“I’m Horatio.”

“Oh, Horatio, very, uh, distinguished name. Not as distinguished as mine of course, which is… hmm, what’s my name again?”

“Um…….. Wheatley?”

“Right! That’s my name!”

*log end*

Log #13

“So, I named the core Wheatley. Nobody told me to. I just thought that it fit him well. Anyways, they attached him to GLaDOS, and she understandably freaked out, considering that she’s now being flooded with a hundred or so terrible ideas per second. The engineers think that she’s in a considerable position to run the facility. Sorting through a sea of bad ideas is slowing her down, enough for her to not really have time to think of a way to kill us all.”

*log end*

Log #14

“They removed Wheatley from the mainframe. They made up some jargon about him being “immune to paradoxes” thus making him a “safety threat” but I know the truth. They’re mad because he’s not a complete idiot. Sure, for all intents and purposes he fulfills his bad idea function, but personality-wise… he’s not a complete moron. And they’re mad about that because it mean they failed. So they wiped most of his memory and made him oversee the relaxation vaults.”

*log end*

Log#15

“Ever since they removed Wheat- the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, GLaDOS can’t be switched on anymore. She keeps trying to murder people. I think she’s so angry about us putting the IDS in her that it’s actually OVERLOADING the Anger Core. Henry made a Morality Core and attached it, but I think it needs more progress before we reactivate her. The only guy who seems to agree with me is Doug Rattman. He’s a smart guy, but he’s got Schizophrenia. Aperture’s providing him meds for free, but I fear it might be their way of keeping him on a leash of sorts.”

*log end*

Log #16

“GLaDOS has been docile since we put on the Morality Core, but she’s asked for access to neurotoxin for “experimental purposes”, and those idiots gave it to her!”

*Sigh*

“I think I’m going to pick up a gas mask, just in case.”

*Meow*

“Oh, I forgot. It’s bring your cat to work day…. Wait. Cardboard boxes… cats… neurotoxin… SHIT!”

*log end*

Log #17

“Fuck….GLaDOS killed 15 cats doing the Schrödinger’s cat experiment. I bet he came up with that as a justification for killing cats. Well, nothing to be done about it now. I’m even more nervous now. I finally picked up that gas mask I wanted. Neurotoxin-proof and everything. I got a backup as well, but it’s much shoddier than the other.”

*log end*

Log #18

“I made friends with the janitor today. She looks around twenty-five, and her name’s Chell. She’s oddly… bitter about everything. Maybe it’s because her only job opportunity was at Aperture, where both her parents work. Maybe it’s because of the insane working conditions. I joked about how they used to be way worse when ol’ Cave was in charge. She didn’t laugh at first but when I made a pun out of it, she cracked up. She really cares about the science being done here… and she is pretty funny too…. But she’s also stubborn as all hell. Definitely not like… her in that regard. Carol would fold in half if you asked her to.”

*Sigh*

“Some of the other engineers are making their own Personality Constructs and getting them to do… pretty menial tasks, but at least they have personalities…. Tomorrow is bring your daughter to work day. It’s the day of the science fair too. They do it in a different room every year so that the projects get “Preserved for future generations”. It’s an old tradition of Cave’s that we keep doing.”

*log end*

Log #19

“Shit, shit, shit! I was right. I gave my better mask to Doug, he’ll need it. GLaDOS started flooding the facility with neurotoxin… I KNEW Henry should’ve done more work on it… it must’ve fallen off! I have to… get to the… chamber… fix the core… and put it back on… maybe add some extra wireless features to make sure it doesn’t stop… working until it’s destroyed.”

*coughing*

*footsteps*

*footsteps accelerating*

*log end*

Log #20

“I’ve made it to the chamber… it’s worse than I thought. All the cores fell off. I can fix them all, I’ve got time…”

*mechanical noises*

*metal clanging*

*sound of a drill*

“There… anger core back on”

“Horatio. What are you accomplishing by doing this?”

*more metallic noises*

“Fixing… you!”

*drill sound*

“You aren’t going to accomplish anything, Horatio. Nothing besides hurting my feelings.”

“That’s rich. You don’t even remember what happened between us, Caroline.”

“Who is…”

*Drill sounds*

“Curiosity core installed. Now for the last one.”

*metallic and electrical sounds*

“You can’t save yourself, you know. That mask isn’t built to keep out neurotoxin for long.”

“Oh, I know. I’m saving you.”

*drill sounds*

“morality core intstalled. initiating shutdown.”

“NO! NO! NOOOOOoooooo”

*powering down sound.*

“neurotoxin emitters offline”

*coughing.*

“heh… I’m sorry… Caroline.. maybe you’ll find someone else to help you…”

*loud, painful coughing*

“maybe black mesa…”

*pained breathing and loud coughing*

“that was a joke. but you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

*wheezing*

“are you even still in there? Still….alive?”

*silence*

*log end*

*end of Horatio’s audio logs*

ok wait cuz this format is genuinely so cool???!!! idk if that makes sense but like the events of portal in the pov of your oc a pretty fun idea honestly

[belltrigger]

Submastober Day 19 - Highball

Hfffff Today was quite rough at work, so I didn't have much time to think all day! But, I was determined to keep going \(￣︶￣*\) I will see this challenge through to the end!

They are kids again in this one! Title: Highball Word count: 837

"Come this way, Kudari! It's important that we get there right away!"

"N-Nii-san-! W-Wait!" His younger twin huffed and puffed after him, keeping up only due to Nobori holding his hand. Kudari would never let go of his hand, even if he was being rushed.

As he skidded to a halt, Nobori watched as Kudari bent over, free hand on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. "Kudari, we cannot afford to wait around. We must highball it right away." He tugged at his twin's hand, uncharacteristically impatient.

Kudari began a low whine, which burst out of him as he straightened up again. "Mou! Nii-san!" His normally sweet twin stomped his foot, cheeks puffing out. "Where is Nii-san rushing to? I, Kudari, want to know!"

Seeing that his twin was breathing evenly again, despite his complaining, Nobori turned and began to tug his twin forward once more. Kudari followed along with a squeak, expression indignant as his older brother didn't explain anything.

But explain he did! It was broken up as they ran, but he gave Kudari as much information as he could without spoiling the surprise. It wasn't enough for Kudari, being told that he would be very excited but not given much detail beyond that, but he kept hold of Nobori's hand anyway. Leading his precious twin along, they clambered across logs and up hills and jumped over a brook. As they continued in their trek, the skies above first grew overcast and grey, becoming darker with each passing minute.

Kudari wanted to stop and look at a line of sewaddle chewing patterns into leaves, but no-! They could come back later, Nobori said. This was much better than any sewaddle.

His sweet twin, who loved bug Pokémon, gave him an incredulous look, as if he had just said the ground was the sky. But, once again tugging his twin along, he promised they could come back to watch the sewaddle for as long as he wanted once he had showed Kudari the surprise.

"I, Kudari, will trust you."

Finally, he slowed down, and Kudari bumped into him from behind, having gotten accustomed to running. Turning, he gave Kudari a smile and brought a finger up to his lips. Kudari tilted his head to the side, but stayed quiet, despite obviously wanting to ask.

With soft, measured steps, he lead his twin toward what looked to be an ivy covered stone cliffside. Tugging away the ivy, however, revealed a cave entrance and they stepped inside. Nobori used one of the vines to tie back the rest of the ivy. Letting his twin go inside first, he stepped in just as thunder rolled in the sky above and shocks of lightning zigged across the clouds.

Kudari let out a surprised 'eep!' as a curtain of rain covered the exit of the cave.

"Kudari, come look," he said to distract his twin from the sudden downpour. Turning big eyes onto him, Kudari seemed to anticipate finally knowing why his brother had highballed it across the countryside when it was soon to storm.

Looking where Nobori was pointing, his eyes lit up even further at the site of small eggs beginning to hatch. It was Kudari's turn to tug Nobori forward, and he held his breath as little fuzzy legs popped out of the emerging holes in the eggshells.

"Nobori---!" he whispered loudly, crouching down to watch as small joltik emerged completely amidst little snaps of electricity. Making awkward clicks at them, as if trying to mimic their sounds, Kudari seemed completely engrossed.

Nobori had heard from someone about this nest of joltik eggs, and how they would likely hatch during a strong enough storm. Watching the weather reports with great eagerness, he waited until it was the perfect time to lead his twin there. But, he wanted it to be the greatest surprise, because he liked when Kudari was excited.

Although all of the Joltik made their way outside to eat up their fill of static crackling in the air from the lightning, a few returned back by the end of the storm to investigate Kudari. All the while, Kudari giggled, telling Nobori that they were tickling him. But, he still gave them pets, and one of them found Kudari to be so fascinating that it came home with them.

On their way home, Kudari humming happily as his new joltik friend sat on his cap, Nobori smiled contentedly. His plan to get Kudari a joltik had been a success.

"Thank you, Nii-san!" Kudari suddenly piped up. "I, Kudari, am sorry I got mad at you earlier." Giving him a bright smile, Kudari gave his hand a squeeze.

"It's alright, Kudari! I knew this was a bravo idea, and wanted you to be surprised." As Kudari giggled in agreement, he returned the squeeze. "And besides, you can help me find my starter pokemon soon, too!"

"Yeah! Kudari will help Nobori!" And so, they went home, planning out their next pokemon acquisition, hand swinging between them.

[myuselessartandstories]

Story #34

Watchman

Day 1

My first day as a forest ranger was definitely strange. I just sat by a window and watched people walk in and out of the woods, some carrying guns and bows to hunt, some carrying fishing poles, and others just going with friends. It was fun to watch the animals, too. They seemed so peaceful. 

It was a little too quiet for my liking, but it was better than at training with all the noise. The chirping birds were a nice change from the city noises. I think I’ll quite like it here. 

Day 4

One of the other rangers quit today, so I have to do both day and night shifts. Say goodbye to healthy sleep. I don’t even know why we have a night shift. Who would sneak into a forest at night? Especially in this creepy of a forest?

The birds aren’t chirping anymore. I miss the calming sound. It’s so much better than...

I just saw something near the treeline. A big black blob. Too big to be human, but not the right shape to be a bear. I don’t want to leave to check. I’m sure it was just my imagination. 

Day 9

I don’t like night shifts. I haven't had a good sleep in a while. I keep seeing these black blobs. I asked the ranger leader, but he just mumbled something about the last forest ranger.

I can hear crying when I try to sleep. Is it the blobs? I don’t know what they are.... Are they coming for me?

Day 20

It’s actually quiet tonight. It’s too quiet. Where are the blobs? Where did they go? I can still hear the crying, so they must be here. I’m going to investigate.

I couldn’t even get two steps out the door before I saw one. About five yards ahead of me, it stood there. It had bright white eyes and black fur. It wasn’t normal. I need to tell the ranger leader.

Day 21

He laughed in my face. That jerk laughed in my face. I told him all about the blobs and he just laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He wouldn’t shut up.

Tonight, I’ll show him. I’ll get a picture of one. I’ll even bring back a body to show him. I’ll show him they’re real. I know they are. I can see them. I can hear them. They. Are. There.

Day 26

I got the camera and my gun. I went out to hunt. It was pitch black, so I had a flashlight. It had been my first time actually in the woods. It was darker than I thought. I still heard the crying, so I followed it.

I got to a tree where the crying was the loudest. The tree was normal though. No abnormal scratches. Nothing out of the ordinary. I felt something behind me. It was a blob. I just knew it. I turned quickly, but nothing was there. 

I am not happy right now. I need that evidence for the ranger leader. He’ll just keep laughing if I don’t. I need that evidence.

Day 30

They are getting closer. The cries are getting louder. I can’t stand it. I need to get rid of them. I know they’re coming for me. They call for me. I ignore it. I’ll wait. And wait. And wait. I’ll strike when they are close enough. They’ll be dead. They’ll be gone.

Day 45

The leader said I need a leave day. He just wants to laugh behind my back. I’m no fool. I’m ready with my gun. I’m ready to kill. I can hear them knocking. I’ll answer. I’ll shoot. I’ll kill.

Day 46

I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t. I thought he was a blob. I shot him. The leader is dead. I shot him. I shot at the blob, but he got hit. The blobs killed him, not me. I didn’t do anything. I swear.

Log 5-14-64

Subject shows extreme paranoia and sees things not there. He has attacked staff and shown extreme aggression. He is to be put in a holding room until the trial. You are to only approach with three guards and you should not talk to him. If he tries to attack, call for help. If he talks about “blobs” leave the room. Immediately.

Log 5-17-64

I can see them. The blobs. They’re here for me. Subject was right. I listened to him. His stories are true. They come for us. They come for us all. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.

(I was in a mood)

[jimmycartersufo]

I just need to vent about pain and ocd and being autistic for a min so this may be triggering so I'm putting it behind a read more thing. so Cw for pots, issues with autism like melt downs, chronic pain, long covid, ocd.

yesterday the house behind us their dogs jumped our fence and ran around the whole court and into the next but they chased a poor stray cat up a tree. I don't think the dogs are violent or anything but they're puppies (husky) so they have energy and don't know what to do with it and what to do with cats. Anyway I tried to get the cat out of the tree so I picked up a log not thinking about anything else and I ended up literally covered in ants. like I felt my hand burning like static and looked and I was covered with hundreds of ants. after we returned home I ended up spiraling. I've been having an issue with contamination of food and drinks with bugs after an incident that happened the same day as the super Bowl where John got me a little pie, the ones you get from the gas station for a dollar, and I took a couple bites and noticed ants on my hands and it turns out that ants got to the pie. which makes sense bc it was a pie in a little cardboard box no plastic so if you're an ant you'd suss it out from miles away. Anyway it's been a thing that has stuck by me. it's always been a thing with me being nervous with food staying out, putting hot food in the fridge, etc but this was soo bad and has made me feel awful so basically I started to have a meltdown once everything was settled. I then noticed as I was drinking from my water cup that there was a tiny bit of mildew at the bottom of the cup. this put me over the edge plus I had taken allergy pills for the ant bites because I was very itchy and the itchy and weird stinging pain was irritating me so ofc ofc ofc I had a big meltdown which included me sleeping on the bathroom floor for comfort and for the solid feeling that a hard floor gives you. I woke up multiple times extremely groggy because with long covid/pots from long covid I have a hard time with normal things so I just... wasn't having a good time last night which included me trying to sleep. I had multiple nightmares about zionists and ants. I woke up yelling a couple times, basically having an anxiety attack in my dreams. I slept restlessly, obviously, so I would wake up without a pillow or my neck and head at weird angles. so when I actually woke up today I was in an immense amount of pain and feeling like a husk from the mental bullshit I was going through.

mentally I feel OK today but exhausted. like a deflated balloon. physically better by 6pm as it is now. but I'm having really bad hanger pain today, it's coming to me quicker it feels, or I don't have a grasp on time. or my neck is already hurting so I just feel it quicker. my hips hurt. random stabbing pains everywhere which is my normal ty long covid BUT with the ant situation my brain goes oh that's ants inside of you biting you :))))

I really need to shower. can't remember the day I did shower but I know it wasn't too long ago because I dyed my hair purple again. Thursday night? I've been relying on dry shampoo. I'm scared to shower today because of the tiles. tiles trigger me because of the thought of germs and fungus and mildew and bugs. what's sooo funny is we've been having an issue with a shitty member at work, she's been a problem for AGES and it got worse on Friday when she decided to scold a child and I went to her and said hey, if there's an issue with a visitor, you need to tell us and not talk to a visitor BECAUSE THAT VISITOR WAS A MINOR CHILD A MINOR!!!!! A CHILD!!!!! and she's like you're abusive you have abused me etc etc. one of her things is to give sob stories so Black women in particular will hug her it's a fucking thing her other thing is to tell you the graphic details of her sexual assault and abuse which then she explained to one of the security supervisors the reason why she spoke to a child she didn't know was not because the child being anywhere near her but the child jokingly hit their siblings leg ONCE and she saw it and scolded this child in the middle of our fucking lobby and considering this woman is also notoriously racist in the quirky little liberal way (pretending to be color blind but reading a Black person a poem she wrote pretending to be a slave) she was definitely scolding this child because they weren't white anyway I am very worried she gave graphic details to a fucking ten year old child trying to have fun in the museum. Anyway I bring this up because this woman tries to excuse all of her bad behavior on being a survivor of abuse and being triggered but she literally puts people, a captive audience, in a position where they may be triggered. like literally my first month in the job she gave me a graphic description of her sexual assault. and then whenever she confronted about something she either says you're abusive or she's like oh I never thought about it like that. meanwhile I'm afraid to shower because if I see a bug idk what I will do. like I can't shower because I'm afraid of the FUCKING TILES! it's just wild how white women in particular weaponize victimhood and survival. she uses it to collect Black women, because she hates Black men for the obvious racist reasons, and once those women aren't palatable and safe for her she turns on them. And for white women (I'm not a woman but I doubt she understands the concept of gender) when you no longer accept her ruse of being a sweet little victim who can't do harm because she's a victim then you are an abuser. which is funny because I have GONE OUT OF MY WAY to never speak to her in the three damn years I have worked here because of the first interaction I have had with her. she calls me abusive because I had to raise my voice to be heard in a busy lobby, but she also doesn't know who I am because she tried to introduce herself and ask me my name late last year because she did not recognize me, but then she also tried to harass me about not making eye contact with her and greeting her and when I told her I am autistic and I do not make eye contact she just turned around and walked away but yeah I'm Sooooo abusive. did I mention she wrote a poem pretending to be a slave?

which just reminds me of how stressful work has been. there's been a ton of bullshit. every god damn week there's something. multiple somethings. I'm tired. we went to John's family after work for Easter. no one stayed but his mom. so it was his mom and grandma and the whole time she complained about her sons not speaking to her enough and had the audacity to be like well Rea how would your mom feel like ma'am, I have a good relationship with my mom, perhaps it is time for self reflection but regardless of that I really found myself struggling to stay masked as in have the right face, the right tone, the right amount of eye contact, etc. I instantly felt drained. working at the museum the last three years is what triggered me looking into an autism diagnosis despite me suspecting since 2018 at the very least, having autistic people tell me for years, etc. I am not able to fully perform the whole customer service role like I used to but I wonder if I was actually doing such ever. or did I just not realize. it's been a lot of looking back and analyzing and realizing that oops someone should have noticed but for the reasons we know it never really happened. Anyway it was a specific interaction I had with my now former boss where we had these jazz concerts we did and one was coming up and I said I'd work the like second or third one but I had questions and I was like oh I dint know much about this event what should we expect and she had kinda snapped at me and was like Rea your coworker is working this event not you you don't have to be stressing etc and it was.... weird. she sometimes did that, not often but it was a thing that would happen and I felt like very weird because I thought I was asking so calmly and it was a spark like..... is my perception of my social interactions different than everyone else's????? is it truly that bad? but no, actually it wasn't. but me needing to know what to expect even months in advance was Def a major sign and it was literally me needing an accommodation except asking for something explained isn't accommodation it's like, my fucking job but anyway!!!!!

today is a pain day. that was the point. I'm in pain I feel awful. I had a vertigo spell whole laying down but I need to lay down because the pain. Just got a notification the neck massager I ordered from tik tok shop should finally be here tomorrow. I got it because there's no way it isn't good when they have people moaning and whimpering online and I really need something for my neck stiffness and pain. Anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am hoping that soon I will be OK enough to shower. I miss our old shower only because it was big enough where I could shower with John which was really helpful. maybe he can sit there in the bathroom with me?????

I need to stop venting and rambling and go lay down again and drink some water. at least I have a lot of food bc of Easter :) and I can eat ham and Mac and Cheese cold which I prefer because I don't always like. hot food esp if I'm already feeling bad and shitty!!!!! cold Mac and cheese really hits. and my dad made it and he used jumbo noodles which is like not a thing but he wanted to lol and I actually rly like them!

[theunexpectedexpectations]

Freya walked into the dark cabin and could see what dim light the moon offered to the room. It was nicely decorated and had old unhung pictures sitting by the stairs. It was too dark for her to worry about what the place *looked* like, what was important was getting sleep. She looked around the first floor and there was no bedroom on the level. Walking back into the living room she made her way up the stairs to the second level.

Freya noticed the bar and it was fully stocked. Nice. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she may make an exception soon just not tonight. Next to the bar was a pair of double doors she walked over and opened them. She was amazed, the room was pretty tasteful, she wasn't sure how she felt about candles above her head, but they appeared to be electric, 'Whew..' she thought.

The bed was decently sized and the room was at least much bigger than the one she had been living in the past 8 years. The room even came with a large full length mirror and computer in the corner closest to the doors. She spotted the laundry bin, 'Clothes...' she thought to herself, 'I wonder if the computer has internet? Maybe I can order some things.'

She walked over to the computer desk and powered on the tower. The screen lit up the room in a cool tone and loaded up rather quickly. Lucky for her there was no password it just popped open to the desktop. She moved the cursor down to the bottom right and spotted she was connected to a network.

"Perfect." she said.

She quickly shopped a few online stores for somethings she had been saving on her wish lists and expedited the orders. Normally, her dad would purge the wish lists before her birthday or Christmas for her. She wondered when or if her life will ever return to any type of normalcy.. it only seemed to be getting weirder and weirder. She powered the computer down and stood to look out the window, she let out a breath at the view she had.

It's was gorgeous. The pond, the sky, the trees. Even though the cottage had the same type of view she lived for these sceneries.

The stars twinkled and she looked at the new landscape she would have for however long life would bless her with it. 'Dad sure would love it here, too. He was a sucker for this type of stuff, must be where I got it from.' she smiled. Something in that moment told her that everything was going to be okay, she finally felt like she could relax after everything that happened today. She stared out for a few moments longer and watched the fish splash around in the little pond.

She walked over to the bed and stripped down to her underwear and tank top. 'This will be what it is until clothes get here I guess.' she thought. She laid down in the bed and got comfy pretty quickly. Before she knew it she fell into a deep sleep.

/splash/

Freya panted as she hear the footsteps behind her getting closer and closer. She turned, but she could only see trees surrounding her. She felt like if she didn't stop soon she was going to run out of breath, but whatever was there was right on her heels. She began to cry and tried to run as fast as she could.

She jumped over the log blocking the way and felt her leg almost give out on her. The adrenaline rush from that kind of helped her to keep going. 'When did I get outside?!' she thought, 'When did I get in the woods?' She almost felt as though she recognized the area, but from where? When had she been there?

She kept feeling the sense of familiarity with the area and before she knew it she was running from nothing. Whatever was chasing her had stopped. So she stopped and looked around. Tall pines towered over her and giant rocks surrounded her. The area did in fact look very familiar, but she couldn't quite remember.. The air felt lighter and different.

"Freya.." a voice said faintly.

She turned and looked around, but there was no one, "Hello?" she asked the void forest.

"Freya.." the voice said again.

She felt like she recognized it. She followed in the direction the voice came from.

/snap/

She turned around, startled and trying to pinpoint where the sound came from. She didn't see anything, but she heard some movement in the bushes and decided to get closer. She peered into the leaves and out popped a rabbit that scurried off deeper into the tall trees. She stood up feeling a little silly when a wave of fear hit her, she got the chills instantly. She felt like something or someone was standing behind her.

Freya turned slowly to see what she had been dreading since the day she left it in the woods. The tall, intimidating structure stood over Freya making her feel small. There it is again, the Portal that haunts her almost every night now.. She swore it had to have eyes the way she felt like she was being watched.

"Freya. Come closer.." the Portal beckoned.

Freya's chest lit up in a deep blue light and the Portal began to make a strange sound. She stared up at the symbols on the structure and the light grew brighter.

She didn't want to step closer, but she didn't have control of her body. She couldn't stop herself from walking toward it.

"Freya, step into the light." the Portal called out.

Internally she was grinding the breaks, but her body wouldn't listen it only listened to the Portal. She walked until she was within a few feet of the swirling, ambient light.

'What is it with this damn Portal? What does it want from me?' she thought.

Small little lights began to swirl around her and she kept walking toward the Portal.

'NO!' she was yelling in her head, 'STOP! DON'T GO IN THERE!!'

"Step into your destiny, Freya. It's time." the Portal said.

Her body moved autonomously. She felt completely hopeless and terrified.

She took another step and the Portal grew louder and brighter.

'I have to wake up! This cannot be real, this can't be happening!' Freya thought to herself.

Her body radiated the blue light as she got closer to the Portal, it started sucking her in.

She walked to the Portal and stepped into the light. She was blinded for a moment, but when the light faded she looked at her hands that had instinctively cupped over her eyes. Bloody. She held a dagger in her hand that was covered in blood as well and looked out at what was in front of her- she gasped in horror.

The sky that was normally a pale blue was violated by orange. The clouds hung like black vapor in the sky. The air was thick and hot, she almost choked. There it was.. the smell of blood. Heavily. She looked down at herself again.. Bloodied. She dropped the dagger and heard it sink into something. She screamed- it was her father. She was standing over her mother and father and thousands of other people who laid dead and brutally mutilated. She screamed again crying out, "NO!"

"NO!!!" she yelled again, "This is supposed to happen!"

Freya lunged up out of bed.

Panting she looked around to see the room that she just procured from Harrison. She felt how dry her mouth was and stood up to get a glass of water. She grabbed her phone to check the time.

7:34

'Geez, I didn't really sleep for too long, but it felt like an eternity..' she thought to herself.

She opened up the double doors and walked through them. She noted to fully stocked bar again and walked down the stairs. This time the cabin was showered in sunlight and you could see everything much better.

The living room was cute and had a decent sized tv, Freya couldn't remember the last time she had time to sit and watch anything. She considered renting something or seeing if there were any streaming services available on there. She walked through the tall doorway into the kitchen and almost fell down the two little steps into the room.

'Right, there are steps there..' she thought kind of snickering at herself.

She shook her head and looked around the kitchen finally. She spotted a cute little espresso machine next to the charcuterie board. She was definitely going to need caffeine today. She glanced over at the oven and saw a cute little cook book propped open on a stand. There was a beverage tray with a giant metal pitcher that looked pretty expensive. To her left there was the sink and kitchen table with a teapot, for such a small place a little island would fit nicely in the middle still. Along with cooking and ballet, she actually took a strong liking to woodworking and building things. She was what you could consider a jack-of-a-trades.. even though she hated the saying: "Jack of all trade, but master of none." She always mastered everything she tried and it wasn't because she was good at these things, she assumed it was mainly luck and hard work.

She swallowed and felt how dry her tongue was.

'Right.. Water..' she thought. She walked over to the sink and opened a few cabinets until she found the glassware. She filled the cup up with water not really caring that it was from the tap she *needed* it.

She chugged nearly the whole glass satiating her thirst. She pulled the cup away and caught her breath. She took the moment to look out the window to her left which had a patio with a seating area and a grill. There was a clothesline also hung up in the back yard and she got a excited.

'I've never hung my clothes before, but I've always wanted to try.' she thought. She had the urge to go upstairs, but was quickly interrupted by the thuds of knocking at the front door.

/knock, knock, knock/

She stood in the kitchen motionless at first almost fearing it could be that veiled man. But how would he even know where she is.. there's no way he could find her now there were no leads. After the relief washed over her she realized if it wasn't the veiled man, then it was someone else. She looked down at her attire. Underwear and a tank top isn't the best way to greet someone at the door, she took her chance and tried to run up the stairs and grab her clothes.

Just as she made it up the two stairs out of the kitchen the front door opened and Harrison walked through closing the door. He stopped in his tracks when she turned to see Freya.

She stood there completely caught off guard and embarrassed. Harrison looked at her and then blushed realizing he was just staring at her he turned around quickly.

"I thought you were going to text me?!" Freya yelled, quickly grabbing the throw blanket she spotted on the couch.

"I- I did.. But I didn't get a response." he stammered out face still hot from embarrassment, "I knew about the veiled guy you were so worried about, so I decided to check on you besides I don't know you I also had to make sure you didn't ransack the place and take everything."

"I'm not a thief though! If I was I wouldn't have helped you close up last night, a thief wouldn't have anything to gain from helping someone!" she argued.

"Right. I just thought maybe- nevermind- it doesn't matter. I also wanted to bring you something I snagged for you. I figured you had nothing to wear since you had nothing with you. It's better than walking around like *that*." he said looking down at his feet feeling his face get flustered again.

A little embarrassed still she saw the polite gesture and walked over to table where the clothes were folded up. She grabbed and made her way to the stairs.

"Thank you, I'll be right back." she said running up the steps.

Harrison nodded still not looking at her just fixated on the window.

He stared out trying to sweep away the embarrassment. He didn't actually expect her to be so fit, she was wearing a sweatshirt so it was hard to tell yesterday. He felt himself getting a little worked up about the sight, but tried to just keep his composure. He tried to be a gentleman about the situation, but he couldn't really help replaying it in his head. If he wasn't a better man things would have gone down differently.

'She isn't here to be ogled or wooed though, Harr. Keep it together.' he thought to himself. 'She just went through to traumatic shit, she doesn't need some guy trying to mess with her right now.'

For now he decided it was best to just bury that in the back of his mind, he doesn't know anything about her still. Not only that, but she had no idea who he is or what he does either.

Upstairs, Freya finished buttoning the dress and looked in the mirror. It fit nicely he was a pretty good guesser as far as sizing goes. She made the bandana out of the sweatshirt she was wearing yesterday thinking that destroying old clothes would destroy the awful memories of yesterday. She gave a fake little smile to herself and walked away.

'Everything will be okay.' she said to herself.

She walked down the stairs and Harrison turned to look at her.

'Beautiful.' he thought to himself watching her walk over to him.

"Not bad, kid." he said to her.

"I'm not a kid, I'm going to be 17 soon!" she exclaimed.

"Hm.. still a kid to me though." he said smiling at her jokingly.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh yeah? Well old are you then? You can't be *much* older than me."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said withholding the information.

"Hey, that's not fair you can't just ignore the question then answer the question with a question!" she argued.

"All jokes aside, though, we should talk in the kitchen I do have more information on the café opening up if you want to talk seriously." he said.

"Fine, I'll cave for now, but I'll figure your age out." she threatened.

He smiled and they walked into the kitchen, he felt a little anxious about the conversation. But he felt like he could trust her seeing that she didn't steal anything and is actually here. He was a little worried she may have been looney, but their talks said otherwise.