#I am trying to filter through my various associates and I think I know who you might be

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Time Will Tell: Part Two

note: alright, here is part two of @peppermintschnappss request (if you haven’t yet, you can read part one HERE) this one’s a bit smuttier and fluffier, I hope you like it

words: 4.1 k

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, unprotected sex)

enjoy :)

 

(New York City, six years later)

 “Alright, here we are, welcome to your new office, Ms. Y/L/N.”

 “Wow, its bigger than I imagined. Nice change from the cubicle back at my old firm.” You joked, looking around the room. It was modest, but it was your own, a fact that filled you with immense pride.

 “Well, you’re a senior associate now.” Your new boss replied, “Get used to it.”

 +++

After your boss had left, you used the short moment of quiet to set up some personal items on your desk before the real work started.

 There was one framed picture of you and your best friends, taken when you all graduated from Georgetown Law, arms around each other, smiling at the camera. The next one showed you and your parents, you had just passed the bar exam and your mum was looking like she had been crying just moments before the photo was taken. The last one was a collage the colleagues from your old law firm in DC had given to you as a good-bye-gift.

You had worked there for over two years and had loved it, but when you got the opportunity to work for one of the countries most renowned law firms, you had packed your bags and moved to New York City without a second thought.

The city was still a bit overwhelming, but this job was the career launch pad you had waited for, and you were excited to finally get started.

 There was a knock on the door of your office, pulling you out of your thoughts. A friendly looking young man appeared, quickly introducing himself as one of the firms’ paralegals.

 “We all gather for the morning meeting in the conference room in five minutes. The boss will introduce you and maybe already set you up with your first tasks.” he told you, “Just follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

The meeting room was already packed with people, and of course everyone was looking at you, the newcomer. You tried to appear confident, smiling at the new faces even though your heart was almost jumping out of your chest.

The boss introduced you to the other employees and started to go through the current cases. There was a lot of financial law, mergers and stuff, but the firm had a very broad operation field, and you hoped to be assigned to an environmental or human rights case sooner or later.

When the meeting was over, the boss asked you to stay behind.

 “You’re new here, Ms. Y/N, so I’m going to assign you a pro-bono case first. This is how we operate at our firm.”

You nodded in agreement, this was standard practice.

 “One of our other senior associates has already been assigned to this one, but its more work than we expected, so I figured he could use some help. That way you can familiarize yourself with how we work here, and your next case will be your own. Understood?”

 “Yes Sir.” You replied, trying not to be disappointed. You were eager to work with your own client, but getting some help from a colleague maybe wasn’t the worst idea. Also you could use a friend at this new place, and nothing was better for that than working on tough case together.

“So, who will I be working with?”

 Your boss looked around the people still filtering out of the conference room with a scowl on his face.

“Technically, he should be around here somewhere. I bet he’s late again, always the same shit. If he wasn’t so good at his job, I would have fired him ages ago.”

“Apologies, boss, I wish I could say that it won’t happen again.” A loud voice called out from behind you.

You felt like someone had slapped you in the face. You would recognize this arrogant tone everywhere.

 You whirled around and came face to face with Chris Cuomo.

 +++

“You?” The both of you said simultaneously, voices full of disbelief.

He looked different, the boyish features were gone, his jawline was sharper and his hair shorter. What was still there was his damn arrogant stance, the way he had strutted in here almost an hour to late and got away with a cocky reply told you everything you needed to know. This was still the same insolent guy who, for some reason, still got admired by everyone. How could fate screw you over like that?

“Oh, you already know each other, splendid.” Your boss exclaimed, “Christopher, Ms. Y/L/N is our newest senior associate. I assigned her to help you with your current case, show her how we work around here, would you?”

You had to give it to Chris, he didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely, Sir. Follow me.” He said, directed at you. He left so fast, you had to hurry to keep up with his big strides.

“Could you maybe wait a second.” You called after him, but he totally ignored you, walking towards a door at the end of the hallway.

 You followed him into what you supposed was his office. It was a bit larger than yours, with a view over the skyline instead of the alley behind the building.

Once you were inside the room, Chris slammed the door shut behind you.

 “What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, looking incredibly annoyed now.

“What do you mean? I’m working here, Cuomo, I started today.”

 Chris ran his hand over his face and fell into the chair behind his desk.

 “Look, this won’t work. I’ve been on this case for weeks now, and I won’t let you interfere with it.”

 You stopped for a moment. Chris Cuomo, working on a pro bono case for weeks?

 “Why are you being so difficult about this? It’s a pro bono. Why don’t trust you with a real client anyway?” you asked, and were surprised how superficial and mean that sounded even to your own ears. How did he still bring out the worst side of you, even after you hadn’t seen him for years?

 “Not that it’s any of your concern, but they want to make me a junior partner soon. I’ve been here for four years, they hired me right out of law school. I’m one of the best attorneys employed here and I specifically asked for this case because I care about the people involved. So you can either help me and give those clients the attention and energy they deserve or I’ll have your ass out of here in less than a week.” he was almost yelling by now, fists clenched on his desk and you took a step back in face of his anger.

“Alright, I am sorry, no need to be so hostile.” You murmured. “Give me an overview and we can get started.”

 +++

The case was about two young men from Queens who were accused of robbing a drugstore. Chris insisted that they were victims of racial profiling and weren’t guilty of the charges, they had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 “They are telling the truth, I just know it.” Chris replied when you asked him how he could be so sure, and the tone of his voice made you refrain from questioning him any further.

He had given you a short, clipped outline of the case and now there were tons of files you had to read to get up to date.

 After about two hours of working next to each other in tense silence, you decided to extend an olive branch to Chris.

 “So, how have you been, Cuomo? Never heard from you again after Yale.”

 Chris looked up from the file he was reading, shooting you a wary glance across the table.

 “I went to Fordham, got my JD, passed the bar and started working here. I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear from me again. I’m not sure if you remember, but we didn’t exactly get along.” He replied, his voice was hard and his posture rigid, as if it made him extremely uncomfortable to even talk to you.

You sighted, debating what to say next.

“We didn’t, I hated you, in fact.”

Chris face gave the tiniest flinch and you mentally slapped yourself. Why had you just said that?

“Sorry, that was totally insensitive. I don’t hate you, not anymore. We were almost kids back then, and I was self-righteous so many times. I’m sorry for that, I just hope we can act like professionals now and try to get along, for the sake of the clients.”

 “I can manage that if you do.” Chris mumbled, and got back to reading the files, effectively ending the conversation.

 +++

 Working alongside Chris went better than expected, even if it often was hard work to engage him in conversation. You had always assumed that he was one of the most self-centered people ever, but he spent most of his time at the office, pouring all of his energy into a pro bono case, so maybe that wasn’t true after all.

A paralegal had revealed to you that the two men you were defending were from the neighborhood Chris was raised in and knowing that made you more sympathetic towards him.

 You had thought about him from time to time during the past years, but always pictured him as one of those attorneys without morals who would walk over dead bodies to win a case. But he wasn’t. He was relentless, yes, but for the right reasons, and you started to admire him for his dedication to the cause.

 +++

In the following weeks, the initial icy atmosphere between the two of you had thawed and Chris became more approachable.

He was still arrogant and insufferable, but had matured in a way that really surprised you. By now you were even having private conversations during your short lunch breaks, bantering back and forth, but in a friendly way.

Right now, he was ranting about the current season of the Mets. You had no clue about baseball, but the way his eyes lit up when he was explaining something he was passionate about was mesmerizing.

 “You look like a fish, Y/N, don’t pretend you know anything about baseball, I can see right through you.” Chris chuckled, yanking you out of your daydreams. You blushed a bit, he had caught you staring at him.

 “I was actually thinking about the case, Cuomo, we can’t all do sports talk the entire day.”

 “I see.” He winked at you, and you tried your best to ignore how handsome he was. “Back to work then, let’s get after it.”

 +++

 It was another late night at the office, you and Chris had been hunched over case files for hours after a whole day of running around and taking statements from various people associated with the case. You were incredibly tired, but the court date was approaching and there was still a lot of work to be done.

 Across from you, Chris yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was tight enough for you to ogle his muscled arms.

You had given up on trying not to stare some time ago, he was good looking, and there was no hurt in admiring what was right in front of you.

Lately though, you had started to develop some more confusing feelings about the man. But those were carefully bottled up and you intended to keep them that way.

“Do you want another coffee?” you asked, getting up from your chair.

“Please, I’m dying here. Bring me the biggest cup we have.”

You made your way back from the kitchen, balancing two steaming mugs of coffee in your hand. You stopped next to Chris chair and put down his coffee in front of him. Your arm softly brushed against his, and he turned his head to face you. Suddenly, your faces were only inches apart from each other, he was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke.

 “You have a lash, right there. Stay still.” he reached out to pick the small hair up from right under your eye. The touch of his finger left a burning feeling on your skin.

 “Thank you.” You whispered, and for a moment, no one was speaking, you were just staring into each other’s eyes. You felt your face starting to tingle, but you couldn’t look away, not when Chris eyes were open and warm in a way you had never seen them before.

You noticed a small scar on his jaw, and you carefully reached out to trace it with a finger.

“Where is this from?”

 Chris tensed under your touch but didn’t move or slap your hand away.

“College, Senior year. I got into a nasty brawl with someone after that last party before graduation. I was wasted and angry, it was my fault, no biggie.” He murmured, and you quickly moved your hand away, worried that you were making him uncomfortable.

Your mind rushed back to that night, and the row you had with Chris. Even after all these years, the encounter was still very present and the thought that he had gotten into a fight because you had riled him up made you feel incredibly guilty.

 “I’m so sorry.” You replied in a stained voice. “Were you angry because of me?”

 Chris eyes hardened.

“That was years ago, Y/N, how about we let stuff from the past stay there.” he replied brusquely and got up from his chair. “I need to get some more files.”

 When he didn’t return after an hour, you just went home.

 +++

 After that night, things between you went back to being tense and awkward. You weren’t sure if he was mad at you and were too afraid to bring it up. You had actually enjoyed the tentative friendship that had formed between you and missed the easy banter during lunch breaks or brooding over case files in comfortable silence. Why was the man so fucking stubborn when you had been nothing but civil to him since your first day?

After a week of little to no conversation, you were close to freaking out. It was another late-night work session, and you were tired and fed up with the situation.

 “Alright, enough with that shit.” You snapped, slamming down the file you were working on onto the desk. Chris glanced up from his papers and shot you a dirty look.

 “What’s your problem, huh?” he snarled back.

 “You are my problem, Cuomo. I thought we were making progress and could at least be friendly with each other. But since last week, you’re totally shutting me out. You don’t talk to me, not even when its necessary for the case. I don’t know what I did to offend you, but you either tell me now or suck it up, because the silent treatment is bullshit.” you were getting louder with each sentence and had started pacing around the small office, the familiar flush creeping up your neck.

The sound of Chris’ laughing made you stop in your tracks.

 “Oh my God, you look just like during one of those discussions back in college.” He chuckled before he got serious again.

 “Look, I’m sorry. I was confronted with a lot of uncomfortable memories last week. Yes, back then I was angry because of the fight we had, and yes I got drunk and punched this guy because of it.” He paused for a moment, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “He reported me to the police, you know. I had to do a whole summer of community service, and almost lost my Law School spot. I blamed you for a long time, even if it wasn’t your fault at all.”

You were shocked by that admission.

“Chris, I had no idea. I am so sorry, that was never my intention.”

He just stared back at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“That right now was the first time you ever called me Chris.” He said, sounding oddly emotional. He got up from his chair and walked around the small table to where you stood.

 Your heart started racing in your chest like crazy as he approached you.

“You just…Jesus, Y/N, you just unsettle me, you did back at Yale, and you still do.”

“What are you even talking about?” you whispered, “You used to hate me.”

“You really have no idea, don’t you?” he replied. He was standing right in front of you now, and the only thing you could focus on was how big and strong his body looked, and how good his cologne smelled. Your brain couldn’t handle having him in such close proximity, and when his hand reached out to cup your jaw, you could barely suppress a gasp.

 “I never hated you.” He murmured, before pressing his lips to yours.

After a moment, your brain caught up with your body. You were just kissing Chris Cuomo, the plague of your college years, the most cocky, arrogant, intriguing person you had ever met, and it was fucking perfect.

 You melted against him, his body was solid and warm and you never wanted to stop kissing him. Your hands flew around his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. He tangled his hand into your hair, tilting your head back, and when he softly bit your bottom lip, you groaned against his mouth and pressed your body even closer to his.

 With a deep breath, Chris broke the kiss and looked down at you, his pupils were blown and there was a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Do you know how often I wanted to shut you up like this?”

 “Took you long enough, Cuomo.” You chuckled, and kissed him again, it felt too good to just stop now. His huge hands were on your back now, wandering lower until they landed on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. By now, you could barely think straight anymore.

You had fantasized about this moment before, but no fantasy could compare to the feeling of his hands all over your body, dipping under your shirt to slide over the soft, bare skin of your back.

 With your last shred of restraint, you broke the kiss again.

 “We can’t do this here, Chris.” You mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

 “There is no one else here, Y/N, its after midnight. We can do whatever the hell we want.” He replied, using the hand that was still on your back to pull you to his chest, there was a noticeable bulge pressing against you and your mind went blank again.

Your last resolve crumbled when Chris whispered a deep “I need to have you, now.” right against your ear. You succumbed to his touches as he picked you up and placed you on the edge of the desk, right on top of the important case files, but you didn’t give a damn.

 Everything you cared about right now was the feeling of Chris palms sliding up your bare legs, hitching up your skirt and softly skimming over your panty-covered core. You inhaled through clenched teeth as his hand found its way inside your underwear, you were already slick with need and grinded your pussy against his fingers.

 “You have no idea how often I thought about this.” Chris groaned. “Just you, squirming and wet under me. God, you are soaked.”

 “Stop talking and do something, Cuomo.” You whimpered, his light touches were nowhere near enough.

 “You asked for this, sweetheart.” Chris growled and plunged two of his thick fingers inside you without warning. The moan spilling out of you was so loud that he slapped his other palm over your mouth to muffle your needy sounds.

“Shh, we might be alone, but we don’t want to alarm the whole building.” He chuckled darkly as he started to move his hand, curling his digits inside you until you saw stars.

 You groaned his name against his palm as he started to circle your clit with his thumb, applying more and more pressure until you came against his hand with a strangled cry.

 Chris removed his hands and looked down at where you were lying on the desk, breathing heavily.

“Say it, Y/N. What do you want me to do?”

 You could see the way his erection was tenting the fabric of his suit trousers and unconsciously licked your lips.

“Get rid of those trousers and fuck me.” You whispered, your voice still a bit breathy from your climax moments ago.

 Without hesitation, Chris undid the buckle of his belt and pulled down his pants along with his underwear. When his cock spring free, you let out an audible gasp.

Chris snorted our a small, smug laugh, a flicker of his familiar arrogance showing. Usually, this would’ve annoyed you to no ends, but right now your only concern was getting him inside of you as fast as possible.

 When he finally stepped between your legs, his strong hands grabbed the hem of your panties and just tore the thin lace apart. He grabbed your thighs and spread them, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. The feeling of his cock teasing your entrance almost made you lose patience.

 “Stop the fucking teasing, Chris”

 Without a warning, he grabbed your hips and slammed into you with one harsh thrust. You had to cover your mouth with your own hand again to silence your cry, the feeling of his thick length was almost too much.

“Shit, Y/N.” he hissed as he bottomed out. “You’re so tight.”

You couldn’t do anything more than grab the edges of the desk as he started to fuck you with a relentless pace, the slap of his skin against yours sounding through the empty office.

 Your let your head roll to the side and closed your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the burning arousal spreading through your whole body.

 Suddenly, a hand grabbed your hair and yanked your head around so you were staring directly into Chris dark, burning eyes.

 “I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” He snarled. “Want you to see who makes you feel like this.”
His voice was slightly breathless, and there was a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he continued to slam into you, hitting a spot deep inside you and sending you closer to your climax with each hard stroke.

His words were like a drug and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his face anymore. When he delivered his next sharp thrust, you could feel yourself tumbling over the edge, your orgasm washing over you and making you trash and squirm under Chris, your walls clenching around his cock.

His grasp on your hips tightened to an almost painful degree, pulling your pelvis flush against his as he spilled inside you with a growl.

As you laid on the desk, your brain was trying to come to terms with what just happened through the haze of your climax.

Chris carefully pulled out and readjusted his trousers before slumping back into an office chair.

 “Well, that was a surprise.” You said awkwardly, getting up and pulling down your shirt to restore some sense of dignity. In an attempt to ease some of the tension that had suddenly settled over the room, you added “Next time we should try it without all the clothes, and maybe on a bed instead of a desk filled with super important case files.”

Instead of making a dirty joke, Chris looked surprised.

“There is going to be a next time?” He asked, sounding almost hopeful.

 With a soft chuckle, you approached him and sat down onto his lap.

 “You can’t screw me like this and not expect me to come back for seconds.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “If you’re up to it, I’d maybe even agree to a third, fourth and fifth time.”

 Chris puffed out his chest a little bit. “Sweetheart, I’m always up to it.”

 +++

 With a slam, the doors of the courtroom closed behind you. Chris turned around to face you, and the smile on his face was bright enough to light up the entire hallway.

 “We won, Y/N, we really did it.” he cheered, picking you up to spin you around. You just giggled, full of joy and relief that you were able to win this important case and keep your clients out of jail.

When Chris sat you down again, you reached up to put his face between your hands.“I am so incredibly proud of you.” You said, your voice heavy with emotion. “You were on fire in there.”

It was true, seeing Chris in court had been like a revelation to you. He had been relentless, tough and razor sharp in his defense, all while wielding his charm and charisma to win the jury over. Everything you had held against him for all those years, his audacity, his stubbornness, they had been invaluable strengths during the trial.

But when Chris leaned down to press a kiss to your mouth, all thoughts stopped. It still was so fresh and every touch of him brought you out of balance. The fact that he had just kissed you in public made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You hadn’t made your relationship public yet, or even talked about if you were an item, but this made you hope.

Chris broke the kiss, still beaming at you.

“I could have never done this without your help. This is our success. And now we have to celebrate. Please, let me take you to dinner.” Chris said, wrapping his arms around your hips to pull you against him. By now, you couldn’t care less about all the people looking at you.

“Took you long enough to properly ask me out.” you joked, “And of course, I’d love to.”

Immediately, Chris started rambling about how he knew the perfect restaurant that would blow your mind and how they were always booked out several weeks in advance, but he could get you a table anyway, and you just smiled to yourself.

He was still a cocky, smug idiot, but he was your idiot now.

#Chris Cuomo #chris cuomo imagine #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #fanfiction #cnn #cnn anchors #request

[hermannsthumb]

From horny twitter: Hermann writes a very very detailed review of a vibrator online

not sfw below cut!!!!!!!!!!! 

----------------------------

Now, usually, Newt doesn’t mess around when he’s on the clock, because that’d be very unprofessional of him and that’s totally not who he is, but he’s in a little bit of a rut with his current project and could use the distraction. Online shopping is his favorite go-to distraction these days: he can lose himself in size charts and color options and hunts for coupon codes and forget, even for a few minutes, that the end of the world is accelerating towards them at an intimidating rate. Plus, he can write off half his shit as work-related expenses. Win-win. Though maybe not this particular search.

Newt has a pretty reliable arsenal of sex toys he’s used on rotation since he packed up and shipped across the world for the PPDC, but the ten-year warranty vibe he’s used since PhD #3 (and his favorite of the bunch) finally crapped out on him last week after a historically intense fight with Hermann got him historically wound up. Eleven years ain’t bad. After testing out a different charger, poking around in the wiring, and even going so far as to zap it a few times with some sorta-stolen drift tech to see if it stirred any life back into it, he finally decided it was time to just mourn, move on, and buy a new one. (Even if, unfortunately, his particular favorite model was discontinued when the company’s factory was destroyed in a kaiju attack and they never quite managed to recover. More casualties of the war.)

The sex toy market is truthfully booming during the apocalypse. It makes sense, Newt guesses—anything for a distraction. Personally, for Newt, orgasms tend to dampen his own existential dread, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He scrolls idly through a few Top Ten For 2023 listicles on various sex magazine websites to see if anything jumps out at him (some of the recommended toys are dildos he already has, and vibes that are a little beyond his k-sci paycheck), just hoping for something to jump out at him. Apparently he missed out on a limited-edition run of jaeger and kaiju-themed vibes and dildos that came out in early January, which he’s honestly a little pissed about—he’s the top expert on kaiju biology, god damn it! Didn’t anyone want to consult with him about their hypothetical junk? Accuracy matters.

“It’s all off,” Newt mutters grumpily as he examines a 360 view of one of the kaiju dildos. Trespasser. “It’s not even the right color. Fucking amateurs. Did they even try?”

“What are you doing?” Hermann says.

Newt slams his laptop shut. Hermann decided to cut his lunch break short today, apparently. “Shopping,” he says.

“You sounded awfully angry about something, is all,” Hermann says. He clacks over to his half of the lab and shrugs off his big parka, then pauses. “Do you need to...talk about it?”

“No,” Newt says.

Hermann breathes out in obvious relief. “Good,” he says.

He takes his usual spot at his chalkboard and resumes his calculating. Newt re-opens his laptop and scrolls away from Trespasser before he can make himself angry over anatomical inaccuracies again. The jaeger vibes from the collection are pretty cool, actually; the designs are a lot cleaner, and their artistic license is a lot more forgivable. The highest-rated of the set is one obviously (but not enough to invoke copyright infringement, if that can even exist for a jaeger) modeled off of Coyote Tango, with like, a million different settings, and an astronomical cost to match. Newt eyes it enviously. He could be shoving that up his ass right now if he’d just signed up for a stupid email list last year.

He follows the link to Amazon to read through some of the reviews enviously, too. Life-changing; best money ever spent; warranty lasts a lifetime. Ten stars across the board. Sold out, obviously. No idea when it’ll be back in stock. He could get the Striker Eureka model for twice the original cost as when it came out, if he wanted, but the idea of constantly having to associate the twenty-something punk Hansen kid with his intimate affairs makes him shudder.

A nine-star review for the Coyote Tango model from someone named MathLover69 is the only one to make Newt really pause, on account of how absolutely insane it is.

I saved quite a few paychecks to purchase this vibrator, and though the cost is steep, I must say it is absolutely worth it. As opposed to my normal vibrator (here another vibe is linked, and Newt’s eyebrows jump at that price, too), which has only five settings, an admittedly bulky body, and average battery life, the CT2023 has a generous ten, a sleeker design, and charges fully in a matter of minutes. The orgasms I have experienced while using it are higher in quality (and more numerous) than any resulting previously from masturbation, though I have not tried beyond setting six yet. It also works wonders for stress relief. (I have an incredibly irritating colleague, and nothing calms me down so much as a quick round with the CT2023 after a spat with him.)

The body is versatile enough to be either inserted into one’s—

Newt feels heat rise to his cheeks in spite of himself, and he skims the second paragraph of MathLover69’s review to get the gist of it—that there are, uh, plenty of ways to utilize the vibe, that it’s discreet and small enough to wear to work (if you were inclined to do so, as MathLover69 implies he might’ve been) and that when combined with the Yamarashi dildo, the pleasurable experience increased tenfold. Talk about oversharing. Jeez.

My only complaint would be that the design is a poor approximation of the real Coyote Tango, and for that I’ve docked a star. I would recommend this product.

“This guy is a total nut,” Newt says to himself.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

Newt considers the implications of showing Hermann the vibrator listing: Hermann will know he was shopping for sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys during working hours a mere ten feet away from him. Embarrassing, but on the other hand, MathLover69’s review is too funny to not share with someone else. “Hey, Hermann,” Newt says, angling his laptop towards Hermann. “Look. Who comments shit like this?”

Hermann descends his ladder carefully and inches up behind Newt’s shoulder, squinting at his laptop screen. He immediately turns bright red. Newt must’ve offended his Victorian sensibilities with the mere suggestion of self-abuse. “Oh,” he says. “Er.”

“Way TMI,” Newt says. “Listen to this line. ‘With the Yamarashi toy inserted into one’s mouth, and the CT2023 inserted up one’s—'”

“Well, how else is one meant to review a masturbatory aid?” Hermann snaps, surprising Newt. He looks oddly flustered. “Details can be—er—helpful. Can’t they?”

“Sure, dude,” Newt snorts. “Except they’re obviously just screwing with people. They literally have a 69 in their username.” He taps at the MathLover69, and doesn’t mention—on behalf of Hermann’s delicate mathematician feelings—that the MathLover part is obviously meant as a joke too.

“Well,” Hermann says. “Perhaps it’s just his—er, their birthdate.”

Newt turns around to stare at Hermann, taking in his red cheeks, his red ears, and the gaze he’s fixed steadily on his shoes. It’s all Newt can do to not to gape at him. “Hermann, you’re kidding,” he says. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermann says.

“You didn’t,” Newt says.

“I,” Hermann stammers. “Well—”

“I didn’t even know you—”

“That I what?” Hermann says.

Newt gives a half-shrug. Hermann doesn’t seem the type to engage in any sort of vice, let alone this kind. And especially not with the type of sex toys he apparently gravitates towards. (If Newt was a little bolder, and had a little less shame and care for hygiene, he might ask to check out the Yamarashi, because anatomical inaccuracies aside, wow that sounds awesome.) “I mean, you know,” Newt says. “You’re kinda you. No offense.”

Hermann takes offense. “I am human,” he says. “I am allowed to masturbate, Newton, and I was merely attempting to educate other customers about the—product—with my thoroughness.” He adds, awkwardly, “My review was voted very helpful, as you can see.”

“Okay,” Newt says with a grin. “I get it. Sorry.”

Hermann marches back over to his side of the lab with a scowl. Newt waits until he’s sure Hermann’s not watching him, and is too distracted by muttering angrily under his breath, to bookmark MathLover69’s page of reviews.

It turns out (as Newt revisits the page later that night, in the privacy of his bunk) Hermann buys and reviews a truly staggering amount of dildos and sex toys, and on top of that, has absolutely zero filter behind the wall of anonymity. It’s to the extent that some of his reviews read like goddamn sexts.

It took me three occasions to successfully work myself up to taking in the entire length…

My orgasm was so pleasurable I alarmed my colleague with the noise I made, who believed me to have injured myself…

The highest vibration setting is a bit of a disappointment…

These are excellent for double penetration…

It also turns out Hermann is a veritable sex fiend. Or at least a masturbation fiend. Judging by his reviews alone, Hermann’s purchased more than a dozen different toys in the past three years alone. That’s four a year. One every three months. That’s not even including buttplugs, which (according to other reviews) he sometimes just wears into the lab (“work”) for the hell of it, which Newt isn’t even going to think about right now. How the hell has Hermann kept this much of his life under wraps? When the hell does he have time to jerk off as much as he apparently does? No wonder they never seem to have any fucking funding; all of Hermann’s paychecks are funneled directly into his—well.

Newt recalls the faux-injury incident Hermann mentioned in a comment with mild embarrassment. No wonder Hermann had been so weird and flushed when he opened his door, and made excuses to say bye to him so quickly—Newt just caught him (oh, boy) immediately following the best orgasm of his life. Well, mild embarrassment, and a little more than mild arousal. What Newt would’ve given to have been there five minutes earlier, to watch Hermann in the act of the best orgasm of his life, to maybe even be the one to cause it…

What Newt would give to use Hermann’s fancy-shmancy vibrator on him, or literally anything from his giant masturbatory arsenal. Or even just watch him use it on himself. Hermann’s just so damned buttoned-up and uptight—it’s all about the contradictions. Juxtapositions. Newt unzips his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. “Stupid Hermann,” he moans, as he begins to bring himself off to the image of Hermann with that stupid kaiju dildo down his throat and that stupid jaeger vibe up his ass. Negotiator of peace between the two? Stupid joke, stupid Hermann. Or maybe he’s picturing Hermann showing up to the lab, all plugged up and loose from using a different vibe on himself that morning. Or maybe Hermann pushing two dildos into himself at once. How the hell can he even manage that? Ass his size— “Oh, goddamn it,” Newt moans again, and comes all over his hand.

Whatever. It’s not like Hermann’s ever going to find out about this.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw ////

[waywardodysseys]

Eight Days of Christmas - Day 6

Christmastime is Here

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Warnings: cussing

Summary: Your eleventh Christmas with Ransom Drysdale.

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5

(divider by @firefly-graphics​)

You walk through Faneuil Hall with your two-year-old son, Oliver, trying to find the perfect gift for Ransom, who happens to be shopping as well. The two of you deciding to come down to the famed marketplace to enjoy one of your holiday traditions with your son. The marketplace is extravagantly decorated with holiday décor as Christmas music filters through the speakers and the smell of gingerbread cookies and roasted chestnuts drift through the air. Christmastime is here and the frenzied crowd’s milling about, trying to find the perfect gift for whoever they are shopping for.

You and Oliver have been weaving through the crowd, going into various stores. Most of them were for Oliver to look at the toys or some clothes. You had taken him into a store, showing him a few things, his father might like. “What do you think, Oli?” you inquire.

“Daddy has sweaters. Anda clothes. What ‘bout toy?”

“This is for your dad, not you.” you answer and receive a frown in return. “What about a watch? Hmmm? Or maybe something for the Beamer?”

“We could get ‘m a new car!”

You laugh, “Your dad would be a horrendous Grinch for the rest of his days if we got rid of the Beamer.” Along with me. Because there were still times you and Ransom took the silver car out when enjoying a night out on the town and the two of you ended up getting down and dirty in the car before making it into the house. It was also where you and Ransom did the deed for the first time because you couldn't help yourself when he pulled up to his house all those years ago on the fourth date.

“Momma!” Oli’s voice brings you out of your memories. You turn to find your son ogling some high ultra tech drones. You walk over to him and crouch down to his level. “I’m sure he’ll let you play with it, but know it’s your father’s toy not yours.”

Oli nods his head in response, too engrossed in looking at the pricey mechanical devices. You smile as you stand and begin talking to the retail associate.

*

Half an hour later you are walking back through the marketplace, holding Oli’s hand. Soon you’d meet Ransom for lunch, and he’d take Oliver for a couple of hours while you looked for a gift for Ransom from yourself. Currently, no doubt, he was probably overthinking a gift for you or one of his family members. He had always been prepared for this day but knew he had to outdo the gifts of the previous year.

“Momma?” Oli questions from below.

“Yes?” You stop and look down at him. 

“Where’s daddy?” He looks up at you with tiredness in his eyes. 

You reach down and pick him up. “He’s shopping for Grandma Linda, Grandpa Richard. And the rest of his family.” You and Ransom had agreed when you were first married he’d buy all their gifts because he’d know what they want and like then you wrapped them and placed both of your names under the ‘from’ on the tag. You had been doing the same for your own family. It worked out perfectly every time. 

“Nana? Papa?”

He’s referring to your parents. “I will be shopping for them after we meet daddy for lunch.”

“I hungry!”

You cuddle him into your chest as your stomach growls. “Me too. How about we find a place to eat? Huh? I’ll let him know where we are, okay?”

He nods his head and buries his head in the crook of your neck. He whispers, “Otay.”

-------

You and Oliver are sitting inside Anthem Kitchen and Bar, which is near Faneuil Hall. You had texted Ransom where you were heading and he responded immediately, telling you he was finishing up at a store and would join you shortly.

“There’s my beautiful family,” Ransom remarks as he approaches you. He places a brief kiss on your lips then places a kiss on Oliver’s head. “How are my two favorite people?” he inquires as he places his bags down and takes a seat.

“Hungry!” Oliver boasts. ��Momma say I canna have burger or chicken sticks.”

You laugh and shrug, “Close enough. Though I did say chicken tenders.”

Ransom smiles, “Whatever you want, buddy.” Ransom reaches under the table and finds your hand and squeezes it. “Something’s on your mind. What is it?”

You watch Oli scribble on a coloring sheet then glance at your husband. “Our son made me reminisce about a particular silver car.”

One of Ransom’s brows pops up, “I can call my mom. Have her watch Oli tonight.” He leans in closer to you and cups your cheek. “I’d love to take you for a spin. As well as the car.” Your cheeks are hot as Ransom chuckles. “Any specific moment you were thinking about sweetheart?”

You swallow. Happy your husband still knows how to keep things lively no matter what the occasion is. “Our fourth date.”

Ransom moans under his breath, “You couldn't keep your hands off me that night. And I think it was because you had agreed to it on the fourth date because you declined me on the first one.”

“I wasn't about to let you get what you truly wanted on the first date.”

“Well, I did get to second base with you that night.”

“Ransom!” you hiss as you giggle.

“You in trouble daddy!” Oli exclaims.

Ransom pulls back and looks at Oli. “I know I am. But I think she’ll forgive me later.” He winks at his son. Oli smiles widely and laughs. 

The server appears seconds later, and three lunch orders are given. They disappear again and are not seen until lunch is brought out and placed on the table. 

After lunch is over, Ransom, you, and Oliver walk back out into the chilly winter air. A now fed Oliver is bursting at the seams, ready to shop with his father.

“What we buyin’ momma?” Oli inquires as Ransom scoops him up into his arms.

“We gotta discuss it when she’s not around Oli.” Ransom leans over and presses a kiss to your lips. They linger for a minute before he pulls away. “Couple of hours? And I’ll call my mom about watching Oli.”

“Grandmama Linda? She’s here?”

Ransom shakes his head, “Not here. Maybe she’ll watch you tonight while your mom and I shop for you.”

You shake your head and laugh at Ransom’s lame excuse to cover him and you are having a date night. Which included the Beamer and possibly reenacting your fourth date. You lean over and kiss Oli’s cheek then place a kiss on Ransom’s lips. “That should be enough time.” You look between the two of them and your heart swells. “Take care of one another.”

“We will,” Ransom and Oli respond in unison. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.” “Love you momma.” Ransom and Oli respond at the same time. 

You turn and make your way back towards Faneuil Hall while Ransom looks at his son and inquires, “What shall we get her?”

Oliver shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Makeup? Jewelry?”

“She already beautiful daddy. She dontna need that.”

Ransom laughs, “No she doesn't. I got lucky with her, you got lucky too having her as your mom.” He pauses, “What about a new purse?  She loves her handbags.”

-------

Hours later, wrapping paper, gift bags, and tissue paper are strewn about the kitchen island and table as you and Ransom wrap presents. Oliver had fallen asleep on the car ride home and thankfully, Ransom had gotten him into the house and up to his room without him waking up while you unloaded the car with dozens of shopping bags. Both you and Ransom then grabbed the wrapping supplies and set up shop in the kitchen.

“Did you peak?” Ransom now inquires as he tries to wrap a box.

“I did not,” you respond, “you always hide it.” You pause, “Or maybe you always buy my gift last minute.”

“I do not. I’ve learned over the years to buy early. You know I still hate the frenzied crowds and the mad drivers. All of them fucking assholes.”

You laugh, “There’s my Grinch.”

Ransom grins, “A couple more weeks and Santa gets to visit.”

“I’ll be ready. As always.” You look over at him. “You called Linda?”

“Yes. She’ll be over at six to pick Oli up. Says he can spend the night too.”

You snort, “She rarely wants him to spend the night.” Then a realization hit you. “Please don't tell me you told her we--”

“I told her no such thing. She said something about taking him to brunch tomorrow with my dad and the three of them could go do something afterwards. Knows what it’s like to have a young boy at his age, knows his parents want some quiet.”

“I’ll have to make sure to get her something else along with what you bought her.” You see Ransom shrug. “It’ll be from me, big spender.”

Ransom sighs, “I just don't get why we can't draw names. There’s a dozen of us now.”

“You know Harlan likes tradition. He’ll never cave into that.”

Ransom curses under his breath. “I also hate wrapping. Why can't everything go in a gift bag? Or better yet the volunteers at the marketplace could’ve wrapped ‘em.”

“We always wrap our own Ransom. Besides, I think, you’ll enjoy unwrapping your gift this year.”

Ransom’s brows shoot up. “Yours, or Oli’s?”

You shrug nonchalantly and don't answer as you begin to wrap another present.

“Sweetheart, come on,” Ransom whines while he makes his way towards you. He pulls up a chair next to you and sits down. One of his hands travels up your leg while the other pushes some hair aside. He dips his head down and nips at your neck. 

“Ransom,” you whisper as you look at your husband, who’s giving you sad puppy eyes. 

“Y/N,” Ransom murmurs before he sweeps his mouth against yours.

Seconds tick by in silence until a squeaky voice states: “Eeewwww.”

You and Ransom jump apart then laugh. Ransom squeezes your leg. “Wait till you’re in your teens Oli. It won't be ‘ew’ then.”

“His teens?”

Ransom rolls his eyes as he places Oli in his lap, “You’ll always be a momma’s boy Oli. So, no kissing until you're in your thirties.”

“Girls are eeewwww.” Oli makes a disgusting face then looks at you and smiles brightly, “But not momma. She pretty. Right daddy?”

Ransom chuckles, “The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laugh, “Thanks Oli. I love you too.” You watch Ransom’s face drop then reach out and stroke his cheek. “And you.”

“Grandmama Linda here yet?” Oli asks as he looks at Ransom. Oli rubs his eyes, still sleepy and worn out from the day.

Ransom shakes his head. “Not yet. We still gotta finish wrapping gifts. Wanna help?”

“But I won'tna be able to see what you gotta me and I wanna know whatta you gotta me.” Oli whines.

Ransom chuckles. “Well, your mom and I are shopping tonight and will wrap it later. Besides, it's a gift, Oli. You aren't supposed to know what it is until Christmas morning.”

“Otay.” he sighs in defeat.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening, before the doorbell rings at six, the three of you wrap gifts in the kitchen. Not caring if they are wrapped perfectly, or unnecessary amounts of tape is used. Not worrying about Oli trying to write people’s names crookedly or illegible on the gift tags or even writing his own under the ‘from’ section on it along with your’s and Ransom’s name too. 

All you care about is spending time with the two men of your life, enjoying the holiday season with them. Knowing these are part of the traditions you had grown up with and had been sharing with Ransom and now with your son. 

#eight days of christmas #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #eight days of christmas day 6 #christmas series #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic

[wildroseofarran]

Happy Yule || Captain Issott

Leslie: "You don't mind my placing an alter?"

Tristan: “You place as many altars as you like, doll. This is your house, too, you know.”

Leslie: "I love how easily you throw your promises."

Tristan: Tristan smiled. “I only throw things I mean.”

Leslie: His smile dimpled his cheeks. "Would you like to help me?"

Tristan: “Hell yeah I would. Tell me what to do.”

Leslie: "Where's the best place?"

Tristan: "Depends how much space you need. We could put it by the bookshelf there."

Leslie: "Candles, ornaments, mistletoe, a bell, my sun wheel... " His smile had fallen to something cautious. This was the point of living together until the house was built. "You sure?"

Tristan: Tristan considered the living room with a squint and nodded to himself. "Yeah, there should be enough space by the bookshelf. Or! I can wheel the fish tank that's by the stairs over by the shelf and we can put the altar where the tank is so you see it right when you walk in."

Yes, he liked that idea. An altar felt like something that should be seen.

He smiled at Leslie. "Of course I am."

Leslie: "You have an extra table? Would it disturb the fish to move them?"

Tristan: "It's on wheels! My own modification to make cleaning the tank easier. They'll be perfectly fine for the couple minutes it takes to get the filter replugged."

Leslie: "But what about a table?" He tried to think of one fairly vacant. "I have one I can get out of storage."

Tristan: "Would theeeeee coffee table in the patio work? There's only a plant on there but is it maybe too short or?"

Leslie: "No, no. Don't worry about height. I've stood some years and dropped knee others."

Tristan: "In that case, let's move some furniture around. Okay, gang," he said as he approached the fish tank. "Time for a change in scenery."

Leslie: "Thanks for this, Tristie."

Tristan: Tristan smiled over at Leslie. "You don't have to thank me. We're forging our traditions over here. These things are important."

Leslie: "Forging traditions. I like that," he smiled. "We need a yule log. I neeeeed to find my box of offerings."

Tristan: "You find your box, I'll move the kids and then go grab the table."

Leslie: Leslie set to work for the box. Simply labeled Yule in silver magic marker. Everything he wanted in a haphazard pile within. All save the natural decorations of mistletoe, a Yule log, of which he kept several for the holiday, and various leaves, pinecones, and his personal neglected wand. The wand was somewhere in his knapsack, he was sure.

The box was closed and hauled to his shoulder.

Tristan: While Leslie was off finding his offerings, Tristan gently rolled the fish tank to its new home, careful not to jostle the fish around too much.

Then it was off to grab the coffee table. The plant on it could live beside the TV for now.

Leslie: Tristan was given a passing smile. A thin gold cloth was first draped over the designated table. "I think oak this year. For wisdom and strength. We won't be burning it. That'll be Charlotte."

Tristan: "Now, the only yule logs I've ever seen have been in cake form, but I thought burning it was the whole deal? Can you burn multiples?"

Leslie: "It's burnt on the 21st. I don't usually; with family these past few years."

Tristan: "Gotcha, gotcha. What else happens on the day of burning? Tell me everything, I wanna learn it all."

Leslie: "Were you always this enthusiastic?" he laughed.

Tristan: "Yep," Tristan said with a grin. "I was that kid that asked ten million questions. Good thing I got Meg's charm, otherwise I would've annoyed every single adult I came in contact with."

Leslie: "Nothing wrong with curiosity," but he just couldn't remember this level of curiosity in his regard. Then again, they weren't this intimate before.

That aside, he would begin with the history of Yule. The significance of colors associated and shared with Christmas such as gold, green, red and white. The tradition of the Yule log and his alter. Pieces passed down from his family; pieces created by friends and his own hands. His love of pine and oak and his tribute to nature with his favorite trees.

By the time the lesson reached its conclusion, the witch was arguing with a bronze sun wheel, trying to lean it against a wooden wick candle.

Tristan: The battle between curiosity and tact was one he'd waged more and more as he'd gotten older; it had certainly been waged plenty with Leslie.

To Tristan, there was no surer sign that the relationship between them had shifted than the freedom to ask each other anything at all.

He listened and watched intently as Leslie spoke and built his altar, smiling as he studied the heirloom pieces. More tradition, more history. Exactly what this time of year was supposed to be about.

"Kinda wanna make something for the altar. Are novice witches allowed to make offerings?"

Leslie: A question above all questions. Leslie's brows rose in surprise. "A novice witch?"

Tristan: "Probably too grand a term for someone who can barely do magic," he chuckled. "Guess I'm technically one of those...what are they called? Heeeedge? people?"

Leslie: "No, no. I mean - You want to be a witch?"

Tristan: "I'm not sure. I definitely want to learn more magic and do more magic with you, see how far my prodigious abilities go."

Leslie: "If you want to be a witch, you're a witch. It's as simple as that. If you believe, you are."

Tristan: "I definitely believe, so...I guess I am." Tristan smiled. "I'm a witch. Baby witch."

Leslie: "I never thought - I guess I didn't think about it - didn't think about you saying those words."

Tristan: "And now that I have, what are you thinking? What's going through that pretty head of yours?"

Leslie: "I'm... happy. I'm stupid happy," he laughed.

Tristan: Happiness like that definitely called for a kiss. A long and slow and sweet one.

Leslie: A kiss which Leslie laughed into, taking Tristan's face in both hands.

Tristan: "I love when you do that," Tristan said when his lungs made him came up for air, grinning like a loon. "It's like you've gotta keep me right here no matter what."

Leslie: "What? My hands? I just... like feeling you." Holding him in any way possible. Pulling him into his arms and lap seemed too much for right now.

Tristan: Tristan nuzzled his witch and kissed him again. "You can feel me as much as you like, any time you like."

Leslie: "Just full permission whenever, huh?"

Tristan: "Full permission," he said with a nod. "This sailor's all yours."

Leslie: "I won't break that trust."

Tristan: Tristan smiled and tugged Leslie down to rest his forehead against his for a moment. "I know you won't."

Leslie: "Not too early to say 'happy Yule'?"

Tristan: "Definitely not too early." Leslie was given another kiss. "Happy Yule, sweetheart."

#Happy Yule chapter #leslieeissott #tristanseger

[wellesleyunderground]

What I Learned Job Hunting in a Pandemic by Jess Sirizzotti ‘10 (@JezRebelle)

JESS SIRIZZOTTI, ‘10 majored in Architecture and served in Shakespeare Society, both of which she regularly works into otherwise unrelated conversations. She enjoys baking, jeerleading, various art stuffs, and word play. She lives in NYC and reads voraciously. This piece originally appeared on Jess’s LinkedIn profile.

It is a numbers game.

Getting hired is not like class ranking, where the most qualified people get jobs first and everyone else falls into line order. It is getting in front of the right person at the right time. The more you apply, the more chances you have to nail that timing.

I applied to 195 companies in five months and got one final offer. I didn’t get any more qualified during that slog, but I did get much better at telling my story and explaining translatable skills. So, by the time the right company was looking for a skill-set like mine, I was able to make my case.

Pacing all those applications as ten each week, or two per business day is more long-term effective than churning out all of them in a panic-fueled haze followed by months of despair refreshing your inbox.It will take a lot of applications, but burning out helps no one. Create business hours for yourself, if at all possible, and don’t let it steal every minute of your life. You are allowed to have lunch. You are allowed to take a break. I am extremely thankful to my husband for encouraging me to turn everything off at the end of the “work day” and do literally anything else.

Tell people.

This is even more vital with everyone sequestered. You are absolutely not the only person looking for a job right now, and having other people to vent or cheerlead is crucial. Do not do this alone.I set up weekly calls with two other job searchers, and it saved my sanity. We traded cover letters, shared job listings, said goals and hopes out loud. Sometimes our calls were just an hour to talk to someone we weren’t living with. It’s often easier to fix someone else’s problem, and having another pair of eyes looking out for you never hurts.

No, really. Tell people.

Of my 195 applications, 71 were through connections. At companies that get a lot of interest, the easiest way to cut a stack of resumes is to filter for internal referrals. It’s exclusionary and perpetuates classism, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.The job I wound up with wasn’t from a referral, but I had plenty of people I barely knew get me in the door with other companies. Even if they don’t offer to submit your application internally, most people will let you name-drop them in your cover letter. Schedule a quick call to ask them about their experience at the company, and see how they feel about their employer. This pandemic is making it very clear how companies treat their employees when the chips are down—don’t waste it.

To free yourself from the shame of asking for help, consider it a joint favor. Think of how great your connection will look when you’re killing it at that job six months in. As my former CEO would say, it’s a win-win-win. (She’s also responsible for 14 of those external referrals.)

LinkedIn Premium helped me find my connections, but if people in your field aren’t heavy users, find what that works for you. Reach out to your alumni association, your old coworkers—you never know who might know someone who knows someone (and keep up with it between job hunts).

There are still people hiring.

There are a lot of people out of work right now. There are a lot of roles that aren’t available and won’t be for months.

With this stop-everything crisis, amazing resources have become available to help people find roles that still need to be filled. In tech especially, there are hiring booms in some places and business as usual in others. At the beginning of my job search, I stuck to LinkedIn and Built in NYC to find openings, but was working my way alphabetically through the list at candor.co towards the end: https://candor.co/hiring-freezes/

There are freelance networks, contract opportunities. Focus on right now, and don’t try to sort out your entire life’s career this week. Treading water is the goal.

This is just for right now.

I had this on a note taped to my monitor. This *gestures at everything* is not the new normal. It is a hopefully brief interlude that we will get through.The future will happen. Focus on you, today. Someday you can repay the favor to someone in your network.

And if you need someone to look at your resume, please don’t hesitate to ask.

#Jessica Sirizzotti #smartypantsinaskirt #wellesley underground

[cclkestis]

I see you mentioning your various ocs quite often and I have to ask - how many do you have? And how do you keep track of the different ones and the information about them? It certainly seems like you have a few and I struggle with keeping track of a whole two of them so I was wondering if you had any advice?

jsdhsjdh uuuuuuh is “too many” a specific enough answer for you here? 

at the last count i did in my attempts to get somewhat organised in terms of ones i have actively been writing for/am still currently developing to some extent (and also not including the news ones i’m possibly about to be creating for a new world *eyes emoji*) .......sixty four..........

how do i keep track of them, you ask? badly. okay so what you have to know is that a significant number of them were created years ago (a whole pile of them and the story they’re from are gonna be three years old this year and i’m :’))) ) so for them a lot of stuff is just kind of....ingrained in my head by this point?? sure, i forget small details from time to time but i always tend to re-find them sooner or later! i’ve used a variety of ways over the years to try and keep things organised so i’ll try and list them under the cut before this gets super long (or longer sksksks) oh god i apologise in advance for all the rambling

also if anyone else has anything different they want to add please do feel free!!

a lot of this is up to personal preference at the end of the day and might not really be what you’re looking for BUT:

character “forms” - a lot of my oc writing happens on a forum type site where i have a thread set up that i can post “forms” for characters and store them there, usually filled with all the basics about them (eg. details like name/age/etc, personality summary, appearance) that i establish when i first create them. this helps me get the base idea of them in mind, and can be updated as they change.

info-dumping - i also have a messy chaotic thread set up where i can just info-dump about characters with any and all random thoughts that come to mind but aren’t necessarily “”important”” details, and generally i try to add to those posts whenever i have a New Thought about them and then i can go back and refresh myself on them there.

discord - this might seem like a weird thing to have in this list, but it kind of fits into the above point in a sense?? in that i have a server set up with channels for different characters and it’s even easier for me to throw anything and everything about characters in those that i can then scroll through as needed. (especially helpful as i can use it on mobile so it’s convenient for when a Thought strikes and you’re not at your laptop!)

pinterest - it took me a while to get on with pinterest but i’ve found creating pinterest boards for characters super helpful, both in terms of capturing their Vibes and aesthetics, but also because generally speaking each of my ocs ends up with a distinct colour i associate with them which idk somehow also helps me remember things about them?? it’s weird.

tumblr tags - a lot (not all, but many) of my characters have a tag over on my inspo blog that i tag things for them which remind me of them in some way, which again is a good way for me to quickly scroll back and get inspiration for them and a reminder of what they’re like if i’m slipping a little bit.

spotify - not one that i use personally because i am garbage at finding music that fits my characters, but i know a lot of friends who find having playlists a really good way of helping them keep different ocs in mind!

and finally for now (because this has already gotten ridiculously rambly) my latest project i’ve been working on is a page on my inspo blog where i’ve got them all listed, with links to tumblr tags and pinterest boards (if they have them) and i’m planning to work on filling in the basics about them all in one handy place where i can also filter them based on which “”world”” they’re in in order to more easily find them! it’s a very slow-going process because i haven’t had much time to work on it (and there are a lot of them) but once i get it done i think it’ll be extremely useful and most likely my go-to for when i need a quick reminder on any of them! (you can find it here if you’re curious, but it is a m a j o r wip as i said)

ANYWAY if you made it this far, congratulations! i hope that this is helpful in some way, i realise that it might seem awfully chaotic at points but that’s just how i work things when it comes to my ocs and i know that using so many different things isn’t going to suit everyone!

#anon #answered #writing tips #i guess???? #anyway there have been many many more over the years but a lot have been abandoned dhsjdhjs #somebody take away my powers of creation please and thanks #but yeah a lot of them have just been in my head for so long #or i've written for them so much that i just.....know everything about them?? #i can't explain it #but i hope there's something useful in this jumble for you :'))

[imagine-docx]

overnight [1/2]

Summary: You and Steve are best friends from young, but you have a massive crush on him. How cliche. But him being the sweet dumb ass he is, tries to let you down gently and doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

Warnings: Uhhh occasional swearing cause I have no filter.

A/N: So hi, this is my first fanfic here. I have many more accounts for older fandoms. Requests are open as well! Also, while I was writing this, my pizza delivery boy’s name was Peter. Coincidence? I think not. - Amanda

You didn’t really anticipate spending your Friday night at a graduation party for a seventeen year old while your friends were persuading you to confess to your longtime crush. But hey, here you are.

Steven Grant Rogers, was your longtime best friend, now crush. Quite cliche right? Having a massive crush on your best friend, who more than likely does not like you in any way more than a friend. You can’t exactly pinpoint when exactly this crush came to be. But you got it bad.

So here you are, sitting on Tony Stark’s floor, attempting to celebrate his adoptive son’s high school graduation, while your friends were attempting to hook you up and Steve Rogers. You were sitting on the floor with Valkyrie, Natasha, Wanda, Hope, Carol, Maria, Mantis, Gamora and Nebula surrounding you.

“You know this seems like the perfect time for you to confess to Mr. Rogers over there.” Natasha nudged you.

“He doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend,” you said looking down at the coke that was occupying the red solo cup.

“I can tell he likes you sweetheart. Take it easy on yourself,” Wanda reassured you, rubbing your back.

“Steve really has taken a liking to you,” Mantis reassured you as well.

“If he doesn’t like you, you know we got your back and can take him in a fight,” Carol said, petting her head. Natasha, Valkyrie, Gamora and Nebula hummed in agreeance.

“Thanks guys. I’m gonna go take a minute outside.” You said getting up and brushing any dirt from your pants.

Hope grabbed your hand and gave you a reassuring squeeze, “Yell if you need anything.”

You nodded before heading off to the balcony to take a breather. “Are you okay?” You heard a young voice from behind you.

Turning around you were greeted by Peter, “Of course I am,” you moved over on the bench and patted down for him to sit. He sat next to you.

“Are you confessing to Mr. Rogers tonight?” He said softly.

“Where did you hear that?” You asked.

“I walked by on that part. Don’t worry, he was occupied by Bucky, Sam and Tony last time I checked.”

“I don’t know Peter. I don’t think he likes me in that way.”

“He is really protective of you, you know. He is not that protective over anyone.” Peter said.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, looking at your coke again.

“I had to ask you something,” Peter said looking up at the sky.

“What’s up?”

“Can I get a discount on college textbooks?” He said.

“Peter! Stark could literally buy you an entire college!” You said laughing.

“Peter!” You can hear Ned calling from inside.

“Go, Ned needs you,” you said trying to get him into the house.

“Will you be okay out here?” Peter asked standing up.

“Yeah, go,” you said giving him a smile.

Peter murmured, “Stay safe,” he said before opening the sliding doors and going in. You were looking up at the sky looking at the occasional star that inhabited the sky.

“You’re gonna strain your neck looking up at the stars like that,” you heard a voice from behind you, immediately recognizing who it belonged to.

“Worth it.”

“You okay out here? Why are you not enjoying the party inside?” Steve asked, occupying the space next to you.

“Just thinking,” you responded taking a sip from the solo cup.

“About what?”

“What would happen if I launched myself into space.”

“You’re not doing that.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, you automatically rested your head on his shoulder, “Now what’s really up?”

“I don’t want to say,” you said, exhaling.

“You know you can tell me anything right?”

“Yeah I know.”

“Now talk to me.” You lifted your head from his shoulder.

“Promise me that no matter the outcome, we would still remain friends.” You said, trying to reassure yourself that the friendship would remain in tact.

“Are you pregnant?” He said looking into your eyes.

“Holy fuck, no!”

“What is wrong then?”

“I may have a massive crush on you that hasn’t gone away in the last few years.” You let out in one breath.

And this is what you were scared of, the awkward silence and tension between the two of you. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I don’t feel the same way.”

You felt your heart break into several different pieces, “It’s okay, I just felt like getting that off of my chest.”

“You okay?” He asked giving your hand yet another squeeze.

“Yeah. Promise me that this won’t make things awkward between the two of us?” You asked.

“Promise.”

You two sat in silence looking up at the stars. But so many thoughts were running through your head. You knew that this was going to happen regardless, and yet you still weren’t prepared for it.

- - -

Over the course of that same weekend, you spent the majority of your days moping around your house and sobbing. You called in sick to work for the last two days.

You, Wanda and Natasha owned a small bookstore named, ‘Prologue’ in the heart of Brooklyn. There was always someone in the shops at all times. Wanda typically worked the nine pm to five am, where she typically reshelved books, cleaned the shop and find orders that people would usually call in or email about. Natasha worked the five am to two pm, where she would finish what Wanda couldn’t finish and prepare for the shops opening at nine am. You typically worked the two pm to ten pm shift, helping out doing various tasks around the store, and helping close the store at nine pm.

Wanda was able to cover your last two shifts, resulting in no one being in during the night and being slightly backed up. On Sunday between Wanda and Natasha’s shifts you appeared into the shop and called a quick meeting in the back.

“Your eyes are puffy. What happened?” Natasha said, examining your face.

“I told you he doesn’t like me in that way,” you said looking down at the floor, bottom lip quivering.

Wanda immediately rushed to your side and started rubbing your back, “Baby, it’s okay.”

“I will march over there and single handedly fight Rogers myself,” Natasha said, getting up from her seat.

“No Nat, it’s okay.”

“You want more time off?” Wanda asked.

“We can give you the rest of the week,” Nat said, grabbing your hand, “You know, you don’t have to fake it in front of us. If you need it, let us know.”

“No, it’s okay. I can’t spend forever moping about someone who doesn’t like me in that way.”

“We can get you Tinder,” Natasha said wiggling her eyebrows.

“I can do the photo shoot, and make the bio!” Wanda said in a matter in fact tone.

You chucked, “Thank you guys. I love you guys so much.”

“Anything for you baby.” Wanda said before engulfing you in a hug, then Nat hugging the two of you.

- - -

The next day everything was falling back into its routine. Natasha in the early morning, you in the afternoon and Wanda at night. Natasha stayed back for a little bit to finish the orders that she was doing in the back.

It was fairly busy for a Monday and had three extra associates around helping out on the floor and making sure everything was tidy. You finished serving a customer when Natasha made her way to join you at the front.

As you two were laughed, you noticed a tall muscular figure walk into the store. You almost tensed up, but Nat rested her hand on your lower back reassuringly.

“Hey guys,” Steve said, walking up to the register.

“Hi Steve,” the two of you murmured.

Steve, Bucky and Sam worked at a security firm located right next door to your bookshop. They typically worked similar hours to you, Nat and Wanda. Steve was in from five am to two pm, Sam was in two pm to ten pm, and Bucky stayed nine pm to five am.

“Boss? Is it okay if I head home now?” You looked over to see one of your workers, Brittany.

Brittany has been working for you guys for less than six months, “Yeah it’s okay,” Natasha said.

“See you guys tomorrow!” Brittany beamed walking away from the register.

“Bye,” you and Nat said in unison.

“So who’s the Latina?” Steve asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Brittany, started working about four months ago,” Nat said helping you ‘sort’ through the receipts that were littered around the register.

“Is she single?”

“I don’t know. Why would I?” Natasha asked.

“Cause you are her employer?” Steve battled back.

“There’s a line between friendship and boss, Rogers.” Natasha said, trying not to lose her cool.

Steve raised up his hands defensively. You tried to battle back the tears, as soon as you thought you had them under control, you looked up to see Steve and Brittany laughing and flirting.

You called Tiffany to cover cash while you were in the back. You walked in and closed the door behind you. Sitting in your desk chair you hunched over and buried your face into your hands. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there like that, and failed to hear the door open and close, as well as the lock turning.

“If you cry over him, I will hit you in the face with the leftover peanut butter and jelly sandwich that’s left in the fridge,” Nat said, walking over to you and crouching in front of you. She removed your hands from your face and brushed the little strands out of your face, “Don’t cry over him. Maybe this is the opening you need.”

“What is wrong with me?” You managed to croak out.

“Nothing, sweetheart. You are perfect, he is a dumb ass.”

You took a deep breath in, “I’m okay. I just need time away from the front.”

“Do what you need to. You know Wan and I only care about how you are.”

“Nat, just go home. I’ll camp out back here and pretend I need to do stuff.”

“Are you sure? I can stay with you, if you need.”

“Yes. Now go home.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Nat said squeezing your thigh reassuringly before getting up off the floor and heading out.

You took a few seconds to gather your thoughts. You looked in the mirror and wiped away where your makeup smeared and fixed your hair. You turned around and turned the computer on, you grabbed the sheet off of Nat’s desk to go and check which books were delivered, and which were not.

“I thought we said we were gonna keep this civil.” He said leaning on the door frame.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Plus, Nat wanted to talk about business stuff. Quite secretive, you know that right?” You said looking up from the sheet.

“I’m sorr-” Steve started, before you cut him off.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“That means I can see Brittany right?” He asked, carefully studying your face.

“Wait what?” It took you a moment to register what had just happened, “Yeah it’s fine. We are not in a relationship, you don’t have to ask me.” You said quickly turning to the computer and opening Chrome.

“I’m going to go home now. Call me if you need anything okay?” He said coming up behind you and kissing your hair.

Once the door closed, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You sat in the chair and hunched over and let tears start to fall.

- - -

This has been going on for the past six days, Steve would finish his shift at the security firm, then come and spend a few hours around your shop flirting with Brittany. Thus, resulting in you camping out in the back room for the past six days.

You finally had enough and called a meeting between you, Natasha and Wanda. It was ten, the store closed and it was the three of you huddled in the back. “What’s up?” Nat asked.

“I want to switch with Wanda and do night, is that okay?” You asked, looking down at the floor.

“Of course sweetie,” Wanda said rubbing your forearm.

“Starting Monday?” Natasha asked.

“Starting Monday,” You confirmed.

- - -

And that’s how you got here, working night shifts all the time with the occasional night or two off. If someone told you a year ago that you would be working the graveyard shift, you would have laughed in their face.

You would have felt uncomfortable being at work during these late shifts, but knowing Bucky was next door watching the security cameras and making sure you were safe made you feel more comfortable.

Shipments didn’t come in for the night, there were minimal orders to do and very minimal reshelving and cleaning to do. At around two thirty am you decided to give yourself a break after cleaning.

You sat in the back, looking off and your mind wandered back to where you went wrong with Steve. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there for, until the ringing and vibrating of your phone brought you out of your trance. Looking at the caller ID, a photo of you and Bucky from Sam’s birthday three years ago. “Yes Mr. Barnes?”

“You okay there doll? You had me creeped out there for a hot minute,” Bucky said with concerned laced through his voice.

“Yeah I’m fine,” at this point, you felt like a broken record player. You probably said you’re fine a million times, when everything was not fine and you felt like everything was crashing down around you.

“Yeah, stop lying to me doll. Pizza or McDonald's?” He asked.

“McDonald's?”

“Alright, I’ll order it. I’ll be over soon.”

You looked up at the security camera in the office and smiled sadly, “Thanks Buck.”

“Anything for you,” you then heard the line cut.

-

About forty minutes later, McDonald's was delivered by an UberEats driver. McDonald's wrappers littered your desk. You explained the entire situation to Bucky and he once did not interrupt you but nodded along.

You dipped your chicken nugget into the barbecue sauce, and took a bite. “So that’s my fucked up relationship status.”

“You know Steve is an idiot, and he doesn’t realize what he is doing,” Bucky said taking a sip of his root beer.

“Sounds like Steve,” you said popping a French Fry into your mouth.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he said before taking a bite of his Big Mac.

“Damn right he doesn’t,” the two of you laughed.

Bucky ended up leaving around four fifteen am. Before he left he gave you a tight bear hug and kissed your hair. And just like that, you were alone again and you were back to picking out orders.

- - -

Steve was walking by the shop at four fifty am, when he noticed you in the shop. Your glasses were perched low on your nose, pen and paper in hand and you were looking for books. His heart warmed at the sight of you.

Steve walked into the security firm, “She’s in tonight?”

“Wanda needed some time off of the night shifts so the two of them switched,” Bucky partially lied. You were the one who needed the break, but Steve didn’t need to know that.

Steve nodded and looked at the security camera to see Natasha relieving you of your shift so you can get home. “Buck?”

Bucky hummed, “Yeah Steve?”

“Make sure she gets home safe okay?”

Bucky nodded before leaving. Steve watched as the two of you met up in front of your shop and walking away from the security camera.

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #captain america x reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [4]

@badthingshappenbingo​ [Original characters and content for Blindfolded]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (You and I, Me and you: Chapter 5)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Can’t you see?

When he said change in scenery, he meant darkness for her. The cloth hung in front of her like a hammock, tethered to Jared’s clenched fists. She began shaking her head with a vehemence. Pipes. Lights. Camera. Boxes blurred into streaks behind the looming threat of the dark cloth. It remained in front of her stubbornly. He didn’t force things. He didn’t need to. They both knew the drill.   “You know better than to waste your energy on pointless resistance, Akira.” He was still right behind her, but his voice sounded distant. Maybe because he called her Akira and not Shira.  She balked at the mere thought of pleading with him over this, as though even considering it made her weak. She really wasn’t fond of blindfolds. Her body curled forward against the binds. She sighed and grudgingly conceded. Not out of obedience, but because he was right. He pulled the fabric against her eyes; it had enough length to be looped around her head a few times before the ends were knotted. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He joked wryly.

~~~ “I don’t know! Three-four…? It’s too tight.” Her whining was playful, and it wasn’t loose, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was efficient. She contorted her face, to make some wiggle room. Crinkled her nose, raised her eyebrows and clenched her eyelids tighter… Just to try make some wiggle room. “Stop trying to get out of it!” He chided. She giggled. He waved his hand in front of her, to check if her ventures had succeeded. “Five! Stop waving at me, I cannot see… I can feel it though.”

He held her by her arms, guiding her off the couch and out of her room. The door closed behind them. The main corridor was cooler than the rooms. She tried to keep tabs on small details, like the change in the incline of the floor under them, the sounds of their footsteps. Unfortunately, spatial perception was not her strongest suit. So, as they coiled through the building, she could not really map their trajectory in her mind.  

“Where are we going?” “You say you love surprises, but really, you don’t. You want to know everything.” “That’s not true!” That was absolutely true. Both those things were.

Her very fibre was woven out of contradictions. She knew this and Jared accepted it. He worried that the surprise wouldn’t be enough. It was too simple. He could only hope the effort counted for something. He never celebrated birthdays. It was an alien, archaic concept, and had only resurfaced recently. The other Biohackers sure seemed obsessed with it, with a vehemence. Akira was a budding biohacker, it mattered to her, so he did his best to make it matter to him. He opened the door and Aki could feel the trapped bodily heat as the door closed behind them. Even before the soft whispers and scuffling feet pricked her ears. And well before the chorus of “SURPRISE”

She beamed and played her part. “You guys! Thank you!” Various voices overlapped eagerly, to offer Jared credit. The gathering meant a lot to her, but she realised that it must have taken sincere effort to put together. The schedules of the special-ops squads and the biohackers were unusually difficult to coordinate. “It was more Nova really, I just… Had to get you from point A to point B.” Nova dismissed his words, and her hands replaced Jared’s as Akira was ushered deeper into the room.

Jared clung to the corners. He was heralded a hero, but there were still those who had not forgiven him. Incidental victims of the heinous crimes against humanity he had to commit in the line of duty.   Most regarded him with cold, wary admiration. Rightfully so. He had long since befriended his loneliness. So, he did not budge, despite Akira’s plaintive non-verbal beckons. She gave up eventually and was soon lost in the throes of the party.

Frivolities and laughter commenced. Even he was not immune to the fervent joy of the moment.   Exhausted and slightly tipsy, she tiptoed her way back to him, she pressed her head to his chest and he habitually locked his arm around her. He tipped her chin upwards, they stood forehead to forehead, gently swaying to the music. ♩… Am I out of my head? Am I out of my mind? If you only knew the bad things, I like…♩

She smirked, and batted her eyelids playfully. Her grin was infectious. It was just them again. “You want something more, don’t you?” His question was more to confirm what he could already see. Jared caught that glint in her eye. Something that let him know that while she loved the people and the party, she was ready to be just them again. She was indeed in a mood to be his again. The blindfold and theatrics had left her yearning for more than just a surprise, something private, something just for them. She quickly confirmed as much,   “So much more and so many more things. I missed you.”

He could tell that she wished for him to have enjoyed the party less vicariously, but she did not press the issue. Her lips split wider to reveal rows of imperfectly perfect teeth. A peal of soft, giggles chimed in the air between them. She was so unabashed about her insatiability. Jared shook his head with a soft sigh. Would anything ever be enough? But he felt indulgent. He plucked out the blindfold from his pocket. “Trust me to take you back the way I got you here, then?” Her eyes darted between him and the cloth with a delectable anticipation. She nodded.

Unfortunately, their plans were interrupted. It was so rarely that she got to see Jared without the curtain of his usual brooding, she should have known it could not last long. Jared noticed Scarlett approach with Mark at her heels. The woman bore bad news, he could tell. Additionally, she did not seem happy about having to track down her agents. “Just a second.” The party did not deserve whatever bombshell Scarlett was about to drop, not like this. He took the lead on interrupting her. Maybe he could filter the news, soften the blow if it was too urgent and had to be shared immediately.  

Akira’s eyes dazedly followed his steps as he left the room and continued to through the glass panels that lined the hall until they lead up to the older duo. Scarlett’s fire-stormy tresses, her regal form contrasted so sharply with the paler, seemingly meeker Mark. She always marvelled at the contrast between the duo. She noticed something was wrong only when she saw Jared’s form betray signs of exasperation; hands in his hair, deep exhales that left his unusually upright stance, slightly bowed.   She was compelled to follow suit. So, she crept out. The party had not noticed Jared’s absence, or the looming presence of their leaders, hopefully they wouldn’t miss her either.

“What’s going on?” “Shir- Akira, go back inside. I’ll just be a min-” Scarlett and Mark exchanged pleasant looks. Jared stood in stark contrast. “Actually, there is something we’d like to run by you, Akira.” It was Mark who cut Jared off, in a quiet voice. The kind that no one is compelled to interrupt. “The Quantum Brigade took over another operation centre. We think it is time to retaliate.” “We don’t have the numbers,” Jared interjected, hopelessly. He rarely cared for arguments. But he knew where this was leading.   Mark looked at him with a clinical curiosity as he and Scarlett continued laying the crumbs for Akira. She thought they simply wanted to test her on the obvious. “You’ll are infiltrators. You will infiltrate, correct?” Akira barely associated herself with the Spectral Syndicate. The infiltrators were a special class of their own. She knew she was underqualified. Scarlet pinned Akira with a dryly enticing gaze. “Correct.”

Jared didn’t like the look Scarlett had in her eye. The look of a recruiter. No, not today. “It has come to our attention, that they’ve got feelers out for Biohackers trainees. They seem to be lacking in that department.” “I’ll do it!” Mark offered a bemused chuckle. They were so right about her. “You’re not even qualified,” Jared said with a hurtful arrogance. He hoped it would deter Akira, but she was lost in the heady trance of an adventurous future. “Exactly,” the two women said, in unison. Mark nodded and then slunk away in the shadows. Scarlett lingered long enough to drive the offer home. “A chance to serve, is a truly wonderful gift. Happy twenty-first hun.” Her sultry voice raked Jared and it was music to Akira. Scarlett’s fingers found the cheek of her newest recruit. She patted encouragingly before sauntering away. Mark’s pace slowed so Scarlett may catch up and they could walk away in stride.

Jared’s Shira, now reeked of an eagerness he wished he could thwart. “It’s brilliant actually…” Subconsciously, they found themselves walking towards Akira’s room. He was glad she did not turn around to make any announcements to the others and that they could think things through privately. Her mind seemed made up already. “See, we’ll learn more about the focus of their training methods, when it comes to us Biohackers…”   The silence between them, which was usually comfortable, felt oppressive. Akira was taking it upon herself to fill it. “… I’m still training, I’ll learn more about their training methods.” His disapproval was palpable, and she attempted battling it with belligerence. He wanted her to stop. With every word she took away Jared’s chance at getting her to reconsider. “And since I’m not qualified yet, worst case scenario, I’m caught out. It’s not like we’d be losing much.”

Her words were not driven from a place of insecurities. Ironically, she felt too optimistic to colour things that way. It was a simple objective derivation, one that would have suited Jared’s usual line of logic perfectly, if this did not involve her. Disgruntled, he pocketed his hands and felt the sash and was reminded of its promise. Perhaps… “…What could go wrong?” She chirped. So much could go wrong. His hand tugged at her wrist, gently. He held up the sash in front of her face. Like a hammock of silken darkness. “Still up for this?” His question was tentative. She turned to look at him over her shoulder with exaggerated coyness. She winked and pressed her face into the fabric. His offer only enhanced the moment, it felt like a fitting end to a wonderful celebration.

~~~

She did not answer and instead licked her drying lips. He watched her for a moment, the flick of her tongue, a trait they shared when they needed to bolster their courage. He ducked to undo the ankle-binds. If she were to walk, she wasn’t to see… Nothing was given without a price. His fingers traced the raw lines left by the twine. He could not tell if it was out of fascination, or a practiced concern, he hoped the gesture exposed neither. The light pink lines graced her like temporarily tattooed anklets. Her legs jerked upwards involuntarily at the touch. The attention of his digits made her keenly aware of the itchy sear, uncomfortable, but bearable. He pulled away just in time to avoid getting kneed in the chin. She rubbed her ankles together and quickly got up.

“Someone’s eager,” he joked. “I guess I’ve finally learned to favour efficiency.”   Her voice was slowly losing the airy lightness. He knew and she knew why. “Arguable,” he retaliated, with a shrug. She had long since accepted that her tendency towards exploring distractions, naturally disrespected time, but it often drew attention to details that others missed. His jab hurt much lesser than it once would have. “So, it begins, huh?” Her voice did not sound as casual as her words. He took his place behind her; his guiding grip was unrelentingly tight. She grimaced and drew in a sharp breath as his fingers sunk into the groove of her biceps. “So, it begins. No funny business, okay?” There were reasons she hated blindfolds and she had a feeling that as her time as his captive swelled, she would find cause to relive more of them.

How far things had devolved. How trustingly she had let him guide her once and now there was hesitance in every step. He was forced to nudge her each time she felt something and paused on instinct. She’d always been sensitive to auditory and olfactory stimuli, she believed this was because her untamed soul grew up in the wild. When the sense of sight is stolen, one learns to quickly and keenly develop the others. Alas, she still was not spatially sound. She did realise that they never left the building, which meant that she could be in an establishment of some sort. Unless he was looping back to the same room, did that mean that there was more than one room here equipped in a manner that suited Jared’s course of action? He always had a plan.

[Guess its not really heavy on the whump content, but its still a bad thing. :)] [Category 3]

#interrogation #captivity #blindfolded #backstory #context-focused #you and I me and you

[f-117-nighthawk]

More playlist meta bc I don’t wanna do homework and Jimmy kicked me out of the TA room saying I’d been in there for far too long for a Friday (it was four hours! Interspaced between classes! Workshop kit inventory is just an excuse to blast Gloryhammer to me, it’s fun)

Since I was talking about Ten Thousand Against One earlier, I’ve been thinking about the timeline and which event the songs are connected to. Long post under the cut

Turn the Lights Out is... sort of an odd case. It’s not like Remnants of Stars, which is about Galran and my philosophy about how we were created, what happens to us when we die, and the cycles that power the universe. Of course, Remnants of Stars is a little more than just philosophy. It actually describes (in a rather metaphorical way) the actual process of the marthinazik filtering quintesence into new stars, planets, beings, anything you can think of. It also has a very important lyric for much much later like, post Sticky Notes later. Now that I think about it, it actually defines a good chunk of that maybe-sequel-maybe-idea era in conjunction with Soul Extract’s Filaments. 

Anyway, back to Turn the Lights Out. It’s an odd case because it’s sort of like Remnants of Stars in that it’s more about the philosophy, but it’s before Remnants of Stars because it’s also kind of an event. If you read interviews with Delain about Moonbathers, Charlotte states that Turn the Lights Out is about Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, specifically the character of Death. I confess I haven’t read those comics, but my interpretation fits her rather well I think. To me, Turn the Lights Out is about a gentle god who accepts they will not always be seen as who they are but will give their everything to protect those within their universe. Now, who does that sound like? Which characters have been around since the birth of the universe, under various names, whether they be Ibeshganszá, ‘kibrraldíl, Marduzbazí, or Vôltrôn? 

You can make an argument for Your World Will Fail to be directly after Turn the Lights Out, but I rather like it after Remnants of Stars too. Turn the Lights Out is the beginning of the universe, so naturally, it goes first. Sentient life needs to evolve for Remnants of Stars to truly fit, and even though Your Would Will Fail technically can happen at any point between the first Plank time and the next, it also happens when the comet that becomes Voltron crashes into Daibazaal. The Your World Will Fail/Dark Matter/Eater of Worlds trio is both a general, entire timeline-spanning idea, and a specific event. 

(Your world will fail my love/It's far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can't imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I'm looking for someone to feed me)

And then, right after that event, or even during, you have Apocalypse 1992. The death of the dream, the final madness before the triumph of chaos. 

You Keep What You Kill is very much the odd one out out of everything. Helion Prime based it off a book I forget the name of, but here it’s purely about Zarkon’s empire. The “Holy Half-Dead” have lost so much of their culture, of the family bonds that kept them together even when their mistakes threatened the destruction of all, but they still remember the songs of glory. And they do keep what they kill. 

And then there’s a rather large time jump of about five thousand Earth years to The Seven Sisters. This song is pretty well encapsulated in Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) (which is a lyric from Closure, but Closure is later for Reasons), but the other half of it is connected to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met.

Who Will Save You Now has gone through so many iterations of what it’s connected to I honestly don’t remember what it actually is anymore. Given its placement between The Seven Sisters and Nobody Gets Left Behind, I think it’s related to the SFSS Genesis’s disappearance. But it could also be placed in conjunction with A Simple Plan and be about something slightly different...hm, I’ll think on that. This song has such a Dark Matter vibe to me, but it hasn’t found a home that sticks in my brain yet. 

Nobody Gets Left Behind is really there bc it’s a fun song and when I found 1551 I immediately had to put something in. BUT it is a good song about family dynamics and, well, that’s Voltron in a nutshell right? (and then you get, right there in the first verse, “Don't even try to pretend/That you're rough and just as tough/As when you're missing a friend/Attack and take him back/Cause when the team isn't whole/You've got a hole in your soul/So step up to your fucking role/We might get hurt/We might be taking some hits/But when you're taking our friend/Then that's some personal shit” and you cannot tell me that’s not everybody’s mood post Battle in the Sarnan Nebula) 

A Simple Plan is a new addition in the past few weeks. I rediscovered The Spiritual Machines a few weeks ago and the lyric “How long can we hold off ending/How long can we pretend we're ok” hit me right in the Keith feels. So this one is in conjunction with the first verse of Nobody Gets Left Behind. The entire song actually reminds me of Dark Matter with how it’s centralized at one event but contains hints of other things (The truth arrived too slow).

Memories of a Girl I Haven't Met is maybe one standard year (so six earth months-ish?) after A Simple Plan. 

String Theory is... weird. It’s mostly there for the title, but the lyrics do contain themes found in other parts of the playlist that fit really well but don’t map to the event I associate the song with. It’s honestly about Shiro missing Adam and the rest of the people on Earth. Which, granted, given the point in the timeline the title is associated with makes a certain amount of sense but...idk. And the bit that begins with “You don’t believe in space” is about something entirely different. It’s confusing, but all inexplicably related to the title event.

Interesting fact: My Dark Matter drafts/ideas folder is actually split int pre- and post- String Theory folders. It was originally because String Theory is such a pivotal moment in the Coalition’s efforts, but it also ended up vaguely the middle of the timeline. It’s the point where things absolutely, truly, have no relation to what happens in canon. The butterfly effect stemming from the events of Shatterpoint (and an implied secondary shatterpoint in another fic) have changed things enough that apart from one general event, nothing happens the same way (and that event is for drastically different reasons). All in all, it fits the weird vibe of the song rather well.

Next is Belgrade, the Ultimate Klance Song, about three months later. Fun Shenanigans happen in conjunction with this absolute bop.

Here’s the surprisingly big gap of just over a standard Earth year, in which several important events happen that don’t have songs attached to them (Roentgen, maybe)

Then we get Birthright/Firewall, a set of songs about reclaiming yourself from the depths of hell with just a liiiiiitle bit of help from your family.

(It's time to take ahold of what belongs to me/It's time to walk away with no apologies/Voices in the mirror start quietly/And now they're screaming back at me!)

(This force knows what you can do/And what you can make/With your tattered shell)

Here Comes the Reign technically starts during Birthright/Firewall, but doesn’t come into full effect until a month later, and then even fuller around five months after that. Meanwhile, we have The Day the Earth Collapsed, which is rather self-explanatory.

A few months later there is Darker Matter. The fic connected to this is real weird, but also real important. Suffice to say it’s gonna be confusing, and a universe doesn’t like the Paladins for a while.

And then we have Closure. Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) is actually the first of four fics inspired by Closure’s chorus. (I also drew a picture for each fic. They’re combined into my desktop background, and the first one is still my phone background and my pfp) “I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye”

Closure is a rather sad song actually, but the way I’ve interpreted it ends on a bright spot of hope. The first related fic I’ve already posted/talked about, the second would be around the time of A Simple Plan. The third is somewhere in the gap between Belgrade and Birthright/Firewall. I’ve placed Closure at the approximate time of the fourth fic. I actually just moved it while writing this, because I realized this makes more sense after Darker Matter and with the Fall of [Redacted]. I’ve chosen to interpret the last line as finally deciding to stay instead of the (probably more likely given the rest of the album) darker interpretations.

After Closure is Ember, which is actually super connected to Darker Matter which is why I originally had them next to each other. The thing is, all three of these songs are connected to very specific events, the latter two of which are in direct response to the first even if there is a month or two between them. Ember is on the playlist for two reasons: the first is the line “dark matter falling from the sky” that basically required me to put it somewhere; the second is the fact that I keep mishearing the lyrics. “chthonic” is not “cuthonic” (which is not a word, but I interpreted as meaning Cthulu-like) and it’s “riches to embers” not “witches to embers.” Make of that what you will.

And finally, after almost seven Earth years, we get to The Reckoning/This is a Call/World on Fire/Louder Than Words. The Reckoning sort-of picks up where The Day the Earth Collapsed left off, spanning at least a year before going full force into the frantic five days of the other three songs.

(In blood and tears/A thousand times/We rise against/We'll always hold the line/Of reckoning)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dark matter playlist #to the tune of sketchy galore: meta galore #god I hope the under the cut works this is so long #its also two am i'm going to sleep it's been a long few hours #DM Playlists

[ballentines]

Shortest Day | Lowestoft to Lands End

On the morning Sunday 22nd of December 2019 I found myself watching the gradient of the grey sky gradually change at Ness Point signifying the sunrise on the shortest day of the year. I with a group of similarly minded nutters enthusiasts was about to embark on a ~430 mile ride to lands end to catch the sunset. 

How I found myself there starts with a period of time just over a year in which I had gone from ‘L’ plates to a full license, bought a Versys 1000 and joined TVAM and iAM to gain an education in becoming an advanced rider. Which had result in me back in October attending a ‘Look Lean and Roll’ Course in happenstance with Bob Stammers an avid member of the IronButt association in the UK. Who upon hearing that I liked taking a long ride just to catch a sunrise asked what I was upto the weekend before Christmas, some might say I was foolish in replying I had nothing planned.

Some chatting about the details and joining the Iron Butt forum later and I was booking a hotel for the night before and after and working out my plan for the ride from Ness Point to Land’s End on the shortest day of the year. It looked like this; on the 21st ride from High Wycombe to the Premiere Inn at lowestoft avoiding motorways (168 miles), on 22nd ride to Ness Point, then to Lands End, then back to Premier Inn at Hayle (451 miles), 23rd Ride from Hayle to Dibden Purlieu on the Edge of the New forest (212 miles) to spend Christmas with Family. So a nice solid 800mile weekend, with a group of strangers, Bob being the only one I had met before and even him I had only met once...

The 21st came flying round and the day started with a bit of maintenance and getting loaded up before starting the journey to lowestoft in the afternoon. Unfortunately this journey did go quite to plan, when I got to around Stoke Mandeville a lady not paying full attention I suspect in the haze of pre Christmas prep tried to kill me, last minute lurching across the road towards a parking space in front of a shop just a split second before I was about to pass her going the other way. Luckily I had already slowed seeing her waiting to turn and managed to execute a swerve and stop not dissimilar to what you have to perform on your test. My pannier must have missed the front of her car by less than an inch, as I passed here looking in her driver window at the fear and apology in her face which was much to close for comfort. 

After a brief moment of putting my heart back in my chest and unclenching I continued my journey, all was smooth until I got about half way and notice that my gear indicator appears to be stuck on 6th and misbehaving. I pulled over to try and see if a reset would clear it but to no avail, the bike up to this point in my ownership had been faultless. Not to worry its only a gear indicator I can ride without it and continued, nearing my destination I stopped to fill up at great Yarmouth not knowing what the petrol station situation near Ness Point would be like the next morning. 

This was when the next issue would occur, upon leaving the petrol station I suffered a KIBS error on the dash, the bike then I assume in self diagnostics reset itself twice before I could find somewhere safe to pull over. Although I am glad this cleared the error, I do think that it is not the best firmware feature given that it was now dark and the in doing the reset it also turns off the lights which I was needless to say using at the time. Overall I managed to arrive safely at the Premiere in at Lowestoft get unloaded and comfortable before heading down for dinner where I got to meet a wonderful group of friendly and interesting like minded people before hitting the hay for a good nights sleep.

Early Morning Ness Point

The next morning a flurry of bikes headed down to Ness Point to begin what would turn out to be one of the best days riding I have had, the day was overcast breezy and not warm but there was an feeling of adventure and excitement as we started our respective journeys towards Lands End. 

The challenge for this journey was going to be fuel versus time, I had chosen to follow the stock route offered by google maps M25, M3, A303, A30. The tank range on the Versys is good being 21 litres and normally averaging just below 50mpg with my heft on it and the panniers on and fully loaded. I know that I can get 200 miles out of a tank but I am not yet comfortable pushing my luck on the range. 

Sunrise was at 08:06 and Sunset was set to be about 16:00, with google saying that the journey would take 7hours and 44minutes it was going to be tight. I knew I was going to need two fuel stops, some of the Iron Butt members can do this in record time by being organised and sequencing there steps but I am not quite there and figured it would take me 15 minutes a stop at best.

This meant i needed to make up some time, this is where the challenge begins, increasing speed means reducing fuel efficiency, you also don’t want to have to detour much to get find a fuel stop with good prices. In my head the night before I had done this maths and planned to try and make it onto the M3 before coming off somewhere near bracknell for fuel. 

Th e journey began with most of the bike staying in a group, the roads back to the A1 were fantastic and the scenery beautiful. It was an excellent way to start the day with sweeping country roads and no traffic. The A1 though not my favourite road normally flew by with the cruise control coming in useful for large sections. At this point the bikes had split up with me not seeing another familiar bike until I made it onto the M25. It was at this point I started to get twitchy about fuel, looking back I probably could have made my planned stop off the M3 but nerves got the better of me. I dived of the M25 at the M4 heading London bound and pulling immediately off, I managed to find a petrol station within a mile or so and although trying to be quick this stop probably cost me 25 minutes.

Now with enough fuel to make it to the West Country I cracked on, for the most part the mile flew by only hitting a little traffic to filter through at stone henge. And then to practice my overtaking past in the Blackdown hills. Although not the cheapest I pulled off at the Exeter service for convenience also knowing that once filled up I would be able to to the rest of journey without a further stop. A quick sandwidge and some fuel later and I was back on the road, the A30 although once an interesting road for me has become a little dull having done it so much. It also didn’t help that there was an area of average 40 for a fair distance, though the cruise control and low speed did give me a chance to stretch my hands.

It was around Goss Moor when the storm that had been battering the west of the UK hit again, with a sudden bout of extremely sideways rain and gusting winds. I managed to keep cutting through it and as I got to blackwater the worst had passed and it was easing up, the section from carlands cross to blackwater being one of my favourite sections of road. Knowing I am now on the home straight I feel fresh all of a sudden, a little tired a little saddle sore but somehow fresh like the winds still hitting me.

The last section from Penzance to Lands End though a challenging piece of road especially with the mud and gravel in places I attack with gusto and make cracking progress even getting some overtakes in. Arriving a Lands End with time to spare not the first and not the last...

I walk round the side of the Lands End resort and I am greeted by the sheer power and beauty of nature, the wind pushing me side and rolling the waves into a foam. I walk and take some photos unable to find the rest of the group I resign myself to trying to get the best shots I can on the breathtaking life affirming scene in front of me.

With the resort being shut down for Christmas I realise I am able to ride the bike all the way to the front private carpark, where people are sat in there cars watching the beautiful sun gradually set light to the sky in front of them. The shot above was only just possible I had to dig the side stand into the gravel as the wind was so strong it risked pushing the bike over.

After finding the rest of the group we headed back to the hotel in Hayle for a warm shower a slap up meal and some drinks. Sitting in the bar waiting for a table the conversation was alive with tales of the ride at various stages, with stories of various similar rides and what was next on the calendar. 

The next day I slept in had a late breakfast and then headed home, I had emailed Bournemouth Kawasaki on Saturday night and they phone me back Sunday morning. If I could they wanted to get the bike in that day so they could take a look the next day. Which was ideal for me as it was on route to my family destination, I did the ride back as a bit of a tank range eco test setting my target speed at around 68mph, resetting the trip saw the MPG over this journey up at 60. I dropped the bike in on route and they got it sorted over Christmas ready for me to collect at the start of Jan and on the same tank of fuel I did a further ride covering 230 miles on that tank and still no low fuel indicator.

Overall the weekend was a massive success, I saw so much of the country as I rode through it, I made new friends got to see a breathtaking sunset and try my best to capture it. Despite some minor issues the bike lapped up the miles and made this journey so enjoyable and so doable. Looking forward to doing the same next year...

#versys #landsend #lowestoft #nesspoint #shortestday #ironbutt #motorcycling #oberlix #nikon d200 #versys 1000 #35mm #bournemouth kawasaki

[positiveparker]

blue boy | p.p

hey loves, sorry I haven't posted anything original in agessss!! I have been super busy with school. I am sorry this is super rushed and bad but feedback is always appreciated!! :)

- pairing ; peter parker x reader

- warnings ; fluff! swearing!

- masterlist

- request ; soooo being peter’s chemistry partner and having a huge crush on him. Then him having a huge crush on the reader but she has never told him the name of who she likes and so she talks about her crush on peter and one day he gets fed up and admits his crush on her and yeah

not my gif

“you like someone right (y/n)?” Peter stuttered, he had a stubby pencil intertwined in his pale fingers, writing the title in his grubby notebook. His writing was scratchy and messy, I kind of liked it though. It somehow had its own personality. The way he curled his ‘y’s’ and slit his ‘a’s’ in the middle somehow fascinated my running mind. 

“yeah, yeah, of course” I shrugged. 

My insides twisted. I leant down closer into my notebook and pressed the tip of my pen into the crisp paper. I let my hair fall to the side of my face, this way I could peak through the strands and stare at Peter without him noticing. Every lesson I would analyse every inch of him. The way his brow furrowed in deep thought, the way the corners of his lips curled up when he knew the answer to a question. Everything about him made my fascination grow. Of course I was dying to tell him I liked him, but I guess part of me was scared my love for him would be unrequited. 

Today he was wearing a blue button down shirt with his usual grey hoodie over the top. His face was deep in thought. I watched the way his chest rose and fell effortlessly as he took a deep breath every so often. I wish I could look at him without having to hide. 

“yeah yeah same” Peter nodded, his lips spread into a straight smile. He fidgeted with his pencil, tapping it against the hollow desk. Peter gazed up at our teacher who was droning on about Relative Atomic Mass. I tried focusing on the words coming out of my teachers mouth, somehow they always seemed to brush past me. I guess it gave me more of an excuse to ask Peter for extra tutoring. He was so smart and I envied him. 

My eyes couldn’t focus, they were stuck in my head, envisioning various scenarios about Peter. Every so often I would lean down to write something in my notebook and sense his stare from next to me. I didn’t want to look back though, just incase I was making something out of nothing. “okay class we are going to do a practical!” My teacher hollered, Peter pushed his arms into the edge of the table and casually scraped his stool backwards. He stretched upwards and went bouncily over to the back wall. Most of the class was crowded around the glass cabinets against the wall, they were heaving full of bunsen burners, pungent chemicals and thin flasks. 

I followed Peter and shoved myself amongst the flailing hands. I reached in and touched the tip of a flask, trying to desperately pull it out with my finger tips. During my struggling another warmer hand brushed against my fingers and pulled the flask away, I knew it was him. His warmth seeped into my soul, rooting my feet into the earth. He always managed to comfort me without even opening his mouth. I whipped my body around to peer behind me. There he was holding up all our equipment. He had the glass flask I was trying to reach, effortlessly clasped in one strong hand. 

“thanks” I said softly, our eyes locked for a second and in embarrassment I quickly darted mine to the dark grey, plastic ground. I hated being awkward but for some reason I almost couldn’t linger my gaze on his for too long. I was scared my crush on him would get too strong and it would be even more painful keeping it from him than it already was. We went back to our seats and awkwardly set up our equipment. Looking into his eyes was like liquid obsession being poured into my brain. The more I stared and noticed the little things about him I secretly learned to love, the more I found myself not being able to control my feelings. The rest of our lesson together was spent in awkward silence. 

Everyone else around us was bubbly and talkative. I wanted to know what he was thinking. What thoughts he was associating me with. I was scared he thought I was weird. I wanted to be able to read every positive and negative thing he thought about me, in the hope I could iron out the negatives and be as perfect as possible for him. Every so often in my peripheral vision, I could see him parting his lips to say something. Every single time my heart clenched. He would stop mid breath and carry on adding water to our mixture. I obviously tried avoiding his touch but almost on cue we both reached for the small clear bowl of magnesium. Our hands touched, his over mine. Warm seeping into my cool skin. My heart took a huge, deep sigh. I was expecting him to take his hand away immediately, but in unfamiliarly lingered. Seconds turned to minutes and we both stood, not even looking at each other, but lightly touching. It hurt because his hand felt like it belonged over mine, it was like a missing puzzle piece I had somehow been looking for my whole life. 

*dingggggg dingggggggggg dinggggggg dinggggggg*

The bell blasted in the class’s ears and I yanked my hand violently out from under his, grabbing my backpack from beside me and shoving my books into it. Usually we were forced to pack up our equipment before we left but I had to leave, my emotions were taking over and I was scared that they wouldn’t stop. I slung my bag over my tense shoulder and rushed out the door leaving him behind me. I hoped my teacher didn’t notice but that was honestly the last thing on my mind. I went to my usual thinking spot, under the bleachers. I slid past the passing crowd and slipped under the moss green tin bleachers  overlooking the field.

Something was tearing at my stomach and plucking on my heart strings. It was the most overwhelming feeling and I couldn’t stop it. At the same time I didn’t want to, it was like nothing I had ever felt before. Pain and happiness at the exact same time, morphing and melting into each other. Exhaling, I flopped back on the cool grass feeling the small slits of sun peering through the gaps in the bleachers on my cheeks. I muffled out the noise of the crowds passing around me. Footsteps banged above me and voices rang through the metal. I felt like a tap, overflowing and pouring with thoughts about him. I could turn it off or twist it shut, I couldn’t even adjust the amount. They all just filtered out aggressively, all at once. For some reason more and more voices started to crowd, I hoped they would leave since it was the end of the day. Then my heart sank suddenly, there was an after school football game and I was sat under the heaving crowd.“shit, shit, shit” I repeated whispering into the ground. From next to me I could see hundreds of feet passing and clambering onto the bleachers. I crawled stealthily to the gap I had come through and waited for everyone to pass. I tried picking out familiar voices and then one loud one filled my ears and overpowered the rest.

“where’s Peter, I hope he isn’t here at the game, he hates sports!” Ned’s booming voice rang past me, his scruffy new balance shoes paced passed my head. 

I wanted to grab him and ask him where Peter was but I almost couldn’t. I wanted him to find me. I knew he wouldn’t but the scenarios in my head started to take over, they somehow seemed more believable than usual. After a few minutes the feet filtered away and clambered up onto the bleachers, there was my chance. I grabbed my bag from my side and crawled up and out from under the layered metal. The crowd was silent for some reason, I felt like everyones breath was on me.

“(y/n)?” Peters soft words somehow slapped violently into my back. Like every single feeling all at once. 

A few gasps rang from behind me. His voice was louder than usual, I turned to see a small figure in the middle of the football field clasping a white megaphone. Everyone around us was looking, this time I didn’t mind the attention. Peters face was ashy white with nervousness, he shakily pulled the megaphone away from his lips and started running towards me. he passed the crowds sat on the bleachers. I met him in the middle pacing slowly in his direction. I dumped my backpack on the cement ground and then his body was wrapped around mine, hundreds of eyes still lingering on us. 

“(y/n), there’s something I have to say” He admitted, pulling away slowly

“me too” I replied, my voice was brittle and fragile. He had me at my most vulnerable. 

“you first” He insisted lowly 

“no…you!” I laughed fruitfully

“fine, fine, I didn’t want to admit it at first. I was scared, I was scared about loving you because I didn’t feel good enough” He poured out “You are so much more than you think (y/n) because every little thing about you makes me want to love you more” His words rang against the metal of the bleachers and back into my heart. Clenching and twisting in my stomach. 

“Peter I-“ I started to say “-I think it is just better if I do this” Then every little inch of will power in me leant up to his face and brushed my lips softly against his. My heart was beating so strongly I felt like he could hear it. Every little piece of passion went to my lips and focused on the feeling of him. The moving mass around us started to rejoice as my arms snaked around his neck and his curled casually around my waist. The shouting and cheers clenched around my heart, it allowed both of us to become grounded back to where we were. Peter leant away and started smiling around at the people around us. I looked up at him and the small dips in each side of his smile. The scenarios I had dreamed about somehow came true.

TAGLIST ; 

@tomsfireheart @feelingsareharddd @lovelyh0lland  @hazeyholland @t-o-m-holland @lookclosernow @choke-me-sweet-pea @whatareyouhidingpeter @spidey-pal @cutiepie-holland @radd-but-saddd @pinkcutepug 

#Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #tom holland #Peter Parker fic #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker Spiderman #Spiderman x reader #Peter Parker au #Peter x reader #p.p fic #fic recs #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fic recs #marvel au

[thekimmelwindows-blog]

Meet Jeremy Dennis, Indigenous Fine Art Photographer and tribal member of the Shinnecock Indian Nation

Jeremy Dennis, Sky Woman, 2017, On view in NYU Kimmel Windows through September 10th, 2019

We've read you grew up on the Shinnecock Nation Reservation and this has, in part, informed your interest in creating the project On This Site. Can you tell us a bit about the process and project as well as how your upbringing and indigenous identity informs the art you make? We see, also, that this project resulted in a book that we'd love to read! Where can we find this?

On This Site began in 2016 in association with Pennsylvania State University and with my mentor Lonnie Graham. We received a $10,000 grant from the non-profit Running Strong For American Indian Youth, co-founded by Oglala-Lakota Native Billie Mills. We were one of ten chosen during their arts and culture year to develop a project that would uplift our home tribal community and encourage youth participation in the arts. 

For my project, I proposed the idea of a site-specific historical project called On This Site that involves documenting and preserving significant indigenous sites throughout Long Island, New York. These sites include sacred sites, historical sites, and archaeological sites - along with our contemporary history. 

To complete this work, I visited many historical societies, libraries, and visited the Smithsonian collections in Washington, D.C. to gather texts and references to create a database. From there, I digitized, filtered, and transcribed the texts relating to the indigenous people of Long Island. That gave me a great 'to-do' list of histories to include in the project and offered a great way to represent my community. I use various maps to keep track of where the historical sites are located, and after about a dozen or so are located in an area, I plan a trip to photograph them. Only when they are researched, photographed, and on the web-archive is when I share them with the public; so there are many sites still to be released!

The current project can be seen at www.jeremynative.com/onthissite and there are books available on that site as well!

When you speak about assimilation and tradition, we're curious how these concepts play out in your life and work.  What misconceptions, if any, have you or those in your community experienced as an indigenous artist/person? Can you tell us a story about how these two factors have resolved or created tension that you've explored through your art? 

In relation to the On This Site project, much of the motivation behind that work relates to assimilation and tradition - trying to weave through what makes us unique, our contributions, and moments that make us proud of who we are.

I think the biggest misconception for indigenous communities is the idea that we are long gone or a vanished people. By sharing our past, I hope to change peoples minds about what they know about indigenous people.

A feeling of resolve and tension are both felt in regard to indigenous history - that is something I am interested in exploring in my current work. Having been able to interact with the public in educational and artistic formats, I've observed a strong calling for our unique voice and perspective, but have also witnessed tension when it comes to colonial reconciliation. 

Stories—Indigenous Oral Stories, Dreams and Myths sounds like such an amazing project! Can you tell us about your favorite myth/legend explored in this series? Stories includes images inspired by so many great stories. One of the many elements that make the series so compelling is that there is a story for every moral and life lesson. After telling the stories behind so many of the images, I think my favorite is Choknanipok (The Man of Flint), which is a creation story about two brothers, one who is large, evil, and made of stone, and the other who resembles a heroic human. They fight over a long period of time. The younger brother fights with a bow and arrow, slowly chipping away at his older brothers body. Eventually, he triumphs, and the shards of the older brother are scattered everywhere - explaining the origin and explanation behind why flint is so commonly found. On Long Island, I swap flint for quartz because that is the more common stone.

Choknanipok (Man of Flint), 2014

What's next for you in the coming year that you're really looking forward to and where next can we experience your work? 

I am excited to work again with the local Parrish Art Museum for a group exhibition with a theme of storytelling planned for June of 2020, along with a project led by indigenous artist Cannupa Hanska Luger called Settlement, which is a radical Indigenous-led performative encampment in which Indigenous artists from across North America will occupy Plymouth’s Central Park in the United Kingdom for four weeks from July 6-August 7, 2020 during the quadricentennial commemoration of the Mayflower voyage. 

Glooscap and The Baby, 2014

#jeremydennis #nativeamericanart #nativeartist #fineartphotography #supportindigenousartists #nyuvoices #nyukimmelwindows #oralhistories #storytelling

[ckcker]

Preparations For a Body That Will Accept Anything

At the 3-story leather bar, I was took with the passing memory of the woman at the suburban street art fair who sold prints of her digital collages which mostly layered closeups of leaves with washed out details of a shiny face or medium shot of a nude body, turned away.  “These are all digital collages made with my original images” she explained.  A lily pad leaf with holes and computerized discoloration was placed over the muscled ass and lower back of a blonde man with his profile clipped in atmospheric glow filters.  I completed the perimeter of her booth, which stood out from the woodworking/practical crafts and cityscape photos on wraparound canvas that dominate these kinds of events. In her space, a nymph-like quality and color palette you might associate with the lives of nymphs predominated, communicating the highest rigor of a paganistic fashion shoot.  She turned to a woman approaching her booth and said “these are all digital collages made with my original images.”  

The 3-story leather bar had its own approach to nature.  Importantly, it was named after an animal, and the animal most critical to the identity of the United States.  Conventional urinals were replaced with a long trough, bringing to mind rustic farm life and the day to day experience of domesticated animals.  High on the priority list of the men filling the space was the task of infinite looking around.  Evaluating a face and body in a swarm of people and occasionally speaking to the face and body evaluated.  This was prime nature: silent looking, but not silent in fact as usually a mouth accentuated the other direction of an eye.  A man approached me leading with his lit phone, “has anyone ever told you you look like him?,” the image of a famous and often arrested young actor on his screen.  “Yes, a few times.”  Being spoken to is obviously less interesting than silent looking in a place like this.  Humans enjoy staring at animals, at vistas, at trees, I won’t accept they abuse with curiosity alone, ahahaha, nature’s voyeur, “I’m gay” I thought, as an older man attempted to place his hand in my pee stream before it reached the piss trough.  Our eyes didn’t meet before I said “no” in the tone of disciplining a pet and jerked my cock away.  I did not want his hand in my pee stream and did not even give myself a chance to think about it.

When I was able to observe it, I observed that my neighbor Rob went out a lot.  I usually preferred to stay in and experienced going out by not moving and then by watching people move for me.  Some part-memorized quote on the longevity of the action movie guided this habit of mine, that action movies remain popular because they convince a viewer’s mind that they themselves are catapulting their bodies then holding a gun sideways, punching a face that deserves it until its new form is noticeable, screaming at an approaching animal villain or rock.  The action movie takes our bodies back to a primeval routine of violent exercise and the bodies react by pretending we did something crucial. My experience of watching men reveal both their well-exercised and freely ignored bodies through a sexual broadcast was equivalent to being in the same room as a TV showing the poorly received 9th season of a popular police drama watched by a cousin I hadn’t seen in 6 years, its audio annihilating the interesting chirps of two sparrows outside the window, that I turn and look at directly only once before I decide it’s time to leave the room.  But in some cases such broadcasts were enough surreptitious movement for my body to feel a moment free from the control of my memory and mind. I noticed Rob coming back at various times: 2:33, 1:02, 1:35, 4:21, always in the AM, 1:56, 3:22, 3:06, 5:10, 2:09.  The men coughed, rotated, considered viewers “weak little faggots who need my cock,” 3:46, 12:47, some laid on their sides for several hours, shirtless but not totally sexual in their presentation, some kinda hesitation in their eyes as if testing the world to see if the world thought them attractive.  I felt shanked by what I interpreted as hints of stapled longing in their faces, all of my senses indicated that I was living in the Koyaanisqatsi of porn.  Keeping secrets in the era of social media is an aggressive method of remaining unshared. Yet the spills from certain years stay sticky and even sometimes find a way to tower over me.  Until they are presented to other people, the gore associated with those lost frenzies remains uncleared, yes, freedom fries mist in freezers past like Chrysippus' ass, who made him laugh to death, mhmm.  

Since there had to be an afterimage to the disappearance of an old life, it had to be this: relaxed by the hands off finesse of fate, I lazily controlled myself to decide there wasn’t any other choice but fate.  Always available to the world was my face, to just hide it with a mask or veil would only bring more charged glances or wild guesses.  To be conceived of as sexy was blood-curdling.  I looked up the plastic surgeon with the lowest cumulative online rating, it was Gabe Jenkins and I called the office.  After hearing a high octave off-phone grunt, a voice said

“Dr Jenkins office?”

“Hi do you” I experienced a brisk intake, “Do you do all kinds of” here I laughed like I was trying to encourage someone I thought of as insecure after they made a difficult-to-react-to joke during a conversation “plastic surgery?”

“Yes we offer a number of options,” they responded without interest.

My lack of response gave the woman some go ahead to list the procedures, “breast enhancement, fillers, nose reconstruction, face lift, buttocks enhancement, some men like the calf implants, pec implants, jaw reshaping.  What are you looking for exactly?”

“I have some — a few ideas.  I” I looked at a long strand of black hair that hung from the stationary ceiling fan and was not mine “want to…look like — is it possible to make my face look older? I specifically would like forehead lines and crow’s feet.  And if there is a way to get my neck to sag lower than it is now that would be great. I am 27, I would like to look at least 78 if possible, hello?”

The voice had interest in it, “please don’t call here again if you are going to waste our time.”

“I am being very serious.  I would like plastic surgery to look older,” and there was silence.  

I considered what I could say to make it real. “Please, I would like the procedures done as soon as possible, there is a big gala I will be attending in Singapore next month” but I fear-laughed and the woman exited.  

I had no thoughts to live for, and then suddenly in a breakthrough moment I discovered that, after many many months, I had a thought: I should slowly begin to get plastic surgery to look older.  Now I needed money to make this happen.  Because then my disappearance would appear more accurate.  With the jowls of a 92 yr old man I would feel liberated.  But that wasn’t enough — I wanted more than anything to reproduce the appearance of a man well over 100.  In fact my thought revealed to me that I was a futurist because I would only settle for looking as old as someone whose life expectancy extended to at least 173.  I wanted to be old in a way no one had yet even imagined.  This would involve a lot of planning, sketching, file-saving and interviewing, and would likely be the type of initiative that lasts an entire life, and I would start with forehead lines.  An ease-in for the body and for the eyes of those that recognized me, and achievable with a budget eyebrow pencil for now.  Keeping costs down was a second thought that entered exactly behind the first thought that appeared after many months.  The eyebrow pencil could also be used for crow’s feet, frown lines, liver spots; but the application of frail sag on my neck, the indistinct recognition of the world suggested by the droop of eyes, the tint play of bald spots under white hair that is shiny and limp, the lowered vocal octave and general bodily slackening were all protruding costs. If I could not formulate, participate in or witness a revolution then I would elect to suffer a much more minor revolution that you might try to call a celebrolution.  As, though the actions and voices that built up the center of what we celebrate as a ‘political climate’ had shifted in an obvious external pivot towards a ‘something totally else,’ it still stood despite the panic that the country needed to focus on the opinions and physical movements of celebrities, and actually not ‘despite’ but ‘because of.’  And plastic surgery was often used by celebrities to command and maintain the public’s focus by recreating a version of themselves they believed responsible for their entry point into wealth and unhinged visibility. Since I was not known for anything and in fact could even be summarized as a loser or more accurately lost, and that I could barely string a sentence together and sometimes ate peanut butter sandwiches and then looked at my hands to discover I had actually eaten an entire pen — this meant my use of plastic surgery could be a revolution in my opportunities. That is, the opportunities that trickle down from achieving grotesque notoriety.  A celebrolution to solve a chunky lil personal puzzle.  

I knew the lines in my palms very well, and so I looked forward to the inevitable submission of lines all over my face because I wanted to know those lines just as well.  I wanted to know them as well as I knew the tone of no worries found in the whoosh sound effect that separates two segments of an entertainment news TV show.  It became a sound I carried with me everywhere, I’ve looked at birds fly past me and heard the sound, communicating that something is leaving.  It gave me a short leak of light, in a moment, and then I could not wait to see what came next.  It was a sound I would need as a score for the before/after of my first forehead-aging and chest droop surgery.  I can definitely say that I’ve had a bird fly past me before.  I simply wanted more free time to formulate a plan for my future appearances, it filled my thoughts all day long. Monetarily I was forsaken, choked out and in need of unbound frondescence.  I never stopped thinking I had some level of luck, I had two lamps, but then there was the job which was just about all I could handle, and, full-time-as-part-time to its core, it tossed me about, took time away from my obsessions, and so I repressed and regularly said ‘yes’ to survive.  At work there was Rachel, who had been entranced by Tom Hiddleston and who first introduced the word ‘clopening’ to me, and Gifford, whose name I could not disassociate from Gabrielle Giffords, and Steven, whose quick rescuing reaction to an elderly customer’s near dive over an uninhibited bag of packing peanuts resulted in the customer’s maximum level of comfort and safety, considering the stakes.  That lack of hesitation in making a decision, and in making the right decision, the most helpful and societally selfless decision, caused me to immediately respect Steven.  So when he found the time to comment on something to me, I tried very hard to engage.  As he explained to me during a lunch break, “The USA does not exist. The White House does not exist. They are using holograms to deceive everyone. God destroyed Earth by fire. And these demon parasites knew it and fled and hid from God and God’s army. Well, they lost. God rules and is in control. Stop watching media. They are lying to everyone. The media all sold their soul to Illuminati demons and are no more. There is nothing more than demons and clones using holograms to run deception. Better wake up. The Heavenly Bodies are right above your head.”  And then he would laugh like he didn’t care if it was true.

[taelicacy]

Monochrome Season

Genre: Fluff, future smut, angst, mental health

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4  (not yet available)

Synopsis: (Y/N) is a very reserved kind of girl that has lots of trouble connecting with people and has unresolved issues with herself. Being forced on a group date who will she meet? And how could he possibly change her future prospects?

Word count: 3k

In my eyes I’ve always been able to classify people in two categories: those who dared to live their life at their fullest and those who simply were too afraid to step out of their comfort zone to do so. However, even if I myself viewed life this way it didn’t prevent me from being classified in the latter group, for various reasons I don't dare to confront.

Those kind of people who simply follow the tide paved by society, those who blindly believe what they were made to believe is good for them, those who won’t ever wonder if there’s something beyond what they’re told to do... I like believing I'm not one of them.

If somebody asked me how to describe myself I wouldn’t really know where to begin.

Actually, that’s a straight out lie, I perfectly know who I consider myself to be, it's just that my opinion on myself is not socially acceptable. Or rather unhealthy , I'd say?

"You must smile, be positive and accept your flaws!" is what everyone preaches from behind a filter, a flawless make up technique and a superiority complex. Meanwhile, even if I tried and blend with the rest with a fakery mask on, the truth is still floating in the back of my mind, like a seed of discord waiting to be watered by negativity and self-doubt.

The truth is that I’m a coward. Such a big coward that I prevented myself from growing because of it. 

What is that? I don't know. I keep it caged in the back of my mind. It's not something I am willing to change. You should just ignore it, like I do. That way I can keep living.

This is how I begun my daily reflections as I let myself fall on my bed like a dead body, exhausted from yet another day of endless college classes and a flooded whatsapp group that made me wonder if it was even possible to feel more unattached to my friends, or any other human being for that matter.

Still, I had to push myself a bit further if I didn't want my existence to be forgotten. I couldn't let myself give in to my hermit tendencies.

I unlocked the phone. “Why do we always spend weeks without talking and then we suddenly have texting fits?” I reprimanded to no one in particular. After all I was living alone in an apartment by myself. Sounds fancy right? Not really, the smallest flat one could ever conceive.

Still, if it meant me being able to be alone it was more than enough for me. I was secretly thankful that my parents didn't oppose to the idea of me not having a flat mate. Not that they would like me being so antisocial.

The mobile phone's light blinded me a bit amidst the dark room. The group bombarding me with messages was the one that I shared with my closest friends.

My eyes quickly skimmed over the hundreds of messages. 

Break-up, was the key word that caused such a ruckus.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I ran to get my bag. 

Me and the girls were to meet up in the usual cafe, we would often go there to hang out from time to time when we managed to make our schedules match. I really liked that coffeplace. It was the perfect mixture of old and modern, isolated it was located in an alley next to a main street, bearing the perfect balance between noisy and quiet, modern and outdated. 

I took a glimpse of them sitting in the furthest table from the entrance, our usual spot, with their respective favorite mixes of coffee and my usual Frapuccino waiting for me on the table, rather seducing me to quicken my pace towards them.

As I was approaching something actually put me out of the food craving trance I was in. Kara’s expression was a mix of “Oh, (Y/N) you’re gonna hate us”, and “I’m so sorry, we are doing this to you, but we are”.

Reflexively, I frowned as I sat in the seat reserved for me. “...So, what’s up? Please don’t scare me...”.

They both cracked a smile as if I had just nailed something, pity in Kara’s eyes, as she tended to be a very empathetic person. That was reason enough to make my mental emergency alarms go off.

Mira's expression went stern again. What the heck was going on? “...I’m just gonna be direct (Y/N)… I’ve broken with my boyfriend already...”.

Oh, Ape, Mira’s boyfriend. That’s actually how me and Kara called that guy, derogatorily. Nickname well deserved, he was a brainless man that had cheated on Mira more than once and who we wanted to punch fervently. Still, she seemed pained.

“Why now, after so much time after the cheating happened?” I asked sincerely.

“I may hold affection for him, but there's no love anymore since that happened. I guess now I’m finally free”.

As we pulled each other in a hug, we kept on pressing the issue to get her to vent the most she could to forget the bastard.

“Actually… It may seem too soon, but if I’ve been able to call this relationship off it’s because I am interested in a guy” Mira murmured hesitantly as if she were afraid to seem too shallow.

“I was hoping you’d help me by going to a...” tension built up while Mira stopped to breathe deeply, squinting her eyes she quickly muttered “...group date”.

OH. Okay, it makes sense that they’d plan to carefully throw this bomb to me, since it’s obvious that I’d say no, because hell NO. These kind of social conventions were the epitome of my social anxiety triggering situations. I mean, imagine the pressure of being set up with a guy you don’t even know, who won’t want you to be his pair and having to interact with a dude forced to talk to you for the whole afternoon. Oh, yes it sounds like a dream come true!  I'm sure it won't be awkward at all and I won't want to flee and curl up like a worm into a safe position into the safety of my house! It sounded like a great idea, right?  And---

“Wait (Y/N), I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t necessarily a triple date, it’s just us and his friends hanging out to have fun, and me trying to get closer to him while we are at it!”

"Well, there will also be as many guys as us girls, but hey, that doesn't mean anything!" snickered Kara.

“...That actually sounds reasonable… But--” I stopped as Kara actually made a pleading look to me. I had to be more reasonable. Mira had gone through a lot because of that Ape, and we didn’t want to see her like that ever again. Going could even help us see if this new guy was a threat Mira couldn’t spy, like it usually happened to her, since she tended to be too naive. Yes, maybe it was time to be less selfish and act for the sake of my friend.

Therefore, I ended up accepting and suspiciously being told the place and the date when it was happening, as if they had been planning it all along even before I accepted.

Will they were both very excited I had a gut feeling that something was gonna go really wrong.

It’s not a date, relax, understood? Understood. There is NO pressure, I don’t need to pretend to be more talkative and friendly than I am, understood? Understood. I’m just going there to make new friends and help my own, understood? Understood. Okay, then, WHY AM I STILL FREAKING OUT.

As you can probably guess I’m not a really a... people person, to put it lightly. 

If there’s something that bothers me is the awkwardness associated to meeting new people. And not only because of my deficient social skills, but the weirdness of the situation itself. The shortest silence makes my brain freak out trying to find a topic that is smart enough to stop the excruciating silence, most of the time failing and not being able to join in the conversation. It's not nice, feeling out of place.

I’d just say I’ve learnt out of trial and error that the wisest course of action is to stay out of this situations the most I can. Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t have many friends. Or maybe the reason is because I’m plainly a strange and awkward person, who knows?

Who’d say that as a college student I’d keep having the same issues as I had when I went to elementary school?

The reflection was worthy, however, the time to leave was approaching. I had already been dressed hours ago and now I was getting urges to either change my whole outfit or just pick the phone and make a shitty excuse to not go altogether.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I didn’t choose anything special, just a casual outfit that I’d wear normally but that fit me and made me feel a little bit more safer and confident. The urges kept coming harder and the uneasiness growing steadily as I encouraged myself to just ignore them and crack the door open.

When I finally were approaching my all too familiar cafe, I got angry with Mira for making all of us meet there. I would probably always remember this awkward encounter everytime I went there again.

The door's bell tingled as if it was a sign that I could no longer back down from this. I noticed the usual excited salutation from Mira on our usual table, Kara timidly smiling on her right side and a guy who I suspected was Mira's interest on her left.

He gave off a warm and approachable vibe, with a smile so broad that I could tell right away why she was became interested in him in the first place. 

His name was Namjoon and despite my inherent nervousness he was able to make me feel  a bit more at peace as he hugged me in a brotherly hug after introducing himself.

"Oh, nice to meet you, my name is (Y/N)" I managed to blurt out thanks to being a bit calmer.

"You know, we were just talking about you" Namjoon said jokingly still with a soothing smile that pinpointed why Mira had her eyes on him. The guy gave off a warm vibe, that of an understanding person.

"Oh no, what did you tell him Mira!" my cool went out the window, my impulsiveness striking yet again.

"Oh Namjoon you're such a snitch!!" Mira exclaimed."We were talking about how late you always are..." 

"... and how we - as foster mothers - will have to keep you on a leash to keep you from running away" Kara finished with a smile.

I could feel my cheeks grow redder by the second as I understood they exposed my more than obvious uneasiness in social situation. Maybe explaining why Namjoon so friendly? 

"If my mothers have to be such a snitches maybe I should change families" I said as I averted my eyes and sat on a chair between Namjoon and Kara.

"...well, if it makes you feel any better at least you dared to come here. Jungkook-ah on the other hand blatantly refused to" said Namjoon with a disappointed look while I took a mental note to pat this guy’s head if I ever met him.

"And this other was just too lazy to come and that other one was just too busy cooking... well let's say that the ones we are missing are the leftovers. Expect them to be 2 hours late." 

“...Wow, okay… I guess now we’re genuinely intrigued” we muttered in unison.

The conversation fluently went back and forth. And all throughout it I became aware of the amazing people skill the guy had. He knew perfectly how to joke around without awakening further than necessary my anxiety, nor did he try to make me ‘more outgoing’ like some people would try to do as soon as they'd realize how shy I am. Honestly, he was an interesting guy to talk to, specially how he managed to make me feel comfortable.

At some point, probably after almost an hour, just as Namjoon predicted, the bell rang muffled by the complainings of a pair of boys, which I supposed were the special cookies.

My heart raced at the thought, in a mix of expectancy and anxiety to meet them.

"I told you we should have used google maps!!"complained the shorter and blond one to his tag along.

"Aigo, shut up already, you were as lost as I was" answered with little guilt the other one, with a hint of a strikingly lower voice than the first.

The blond, despite his complaints, left me in awe with how flawless his complexion was. He had plump lips and enviable fair skin, that suddenly drove me self-aware of my own skin, rougher in comparison to his.

This one walked in front of his taller and deep-voiced friend, whom had a white cap that covered his face as he lazily approached the table.

"Hyung! It was Jimin-ah’s fault all along, you know how he's always a trillion years late when he goes to the bathroom" the white-cap guy told Namjoon with a hint of real annoyance in his joking overall tone.

Namjoon facepalmed at the situation.

"AH! What are you saying in front of them!" The blond guy apparently named Jimin whined.

Probably Namjoon’s statement reminded white-cap guy of our existence, since he let out a subtle “oh” as he turned his head in our direction, letting me finally see his face. “Oh, hello” he faintly smiled to us as he seemed to realize he had made a fool out of his friend.

His dark strands of hair messily peeked from under his cap covering his thick eyebrows, and despite his low voice I wouldn’t have been able to decide whether he had a childish face or a manly one. Somehow his smile stirred a certain uneasiness on my gut that not even I understood.

"Hey! My name is Mira, and I'm Namjoon's friend from uni" she started quickly with her trademark presentation. Always a spotless smile in her face. I was always amazed by how she and Kara managed to look so lovely and draw a flawless smile on their lips with little to no effort. 

The nagging uneasiness kept on creeping, growing stronger every passing second as I watched everyone introducing themselves to the newcomers. I had no intention of being the one going next, but at one point it would be my turn right? 

By the time Kara had already started her warm welcoming it was a countdown to me pulling myself together and acting like a normal human being.

Both Jimin and cap-guy looked as if they were from a different whole different dimension from me, even I couldn't avoid noticing how Mira and Kara measured up to those stylish guys. That realization only made me more displeased with the situation. It was a given that I would look out of place.

I could hear a faraway "Nice to meet you too" coming from the newcomers mouths. That was a signal that I was out of time and all the rushing thoughts came to a halt.

By the time they were already finished and it was my turn I had realized I had to pull myself together and stood up from my seat like the others, adrenaline rushing through my whole being. The nagging uneasiness never leaving. It was always better to ignore it in such situations since trying to address the elephant took more time than the few seconds I had left.

I was ready to mask my inner turmoil with a smile, the less crooked possible, when Namjoon grabbed me by my shoulders, and I could swear that for a millisecond his expression was trying to reassure me. He directed me towards the guys and joked again "Aaand this is my new friend (Y/N)."

At any other time I'd have had time to question why was he already calling me a friend despite just having met, but I was already mentally occupied with enough things as I got shoved in front of cap-guy.

Our eyes locked immediately. His pupils were the first thing mine could find as if Namjoon had purposely planned it that way. I was captured by the guy's eyes, fixated for a few seconds they were the only thing I could look at. As if I couldn’t fight how much his eyes pulled me in. His gaze seemed to dig a hole into my soul and back, yet for some reason I wanted to keep on looking at them regardless of my surroundings. 

"Nice to meet you, my name's Taehyung!" his bubbly words, unfitting the mysterious vibes that I had been getting from his glance, burst the bubble that surrounded us. Or maybe that surrounded only me? Was it my imagination?

Still, he greeted me happily as he pulled a grin like no other I had ever seen before, adding an even new flavor to the mix of feelings I was already experimenting.

#taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bts mental health #bts depression #bts anxiety #jimin #suga #yoongi #rapmon #rm #jm #v #jungkook #bts au #bts alternate universe #bts self insert #jin #jhope #hoseok #namjoon #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung love #taehyung romance #taehyung smut

[beneaththetangles]

Ask Sensei: Lightning Round Edition

So the end of the summer approaches, along with that dreaded thing that begins with “s” and ends with “chool.” I hope that, like me, the rest of you are getting as much relaxation in as you can afford, before the familiar rhythm of the school year begins again.

Today I thought I’d go back and try to answer all the questions that I haven’t answered yet, or at least the ones that I can answer relatively easily (I cannot answer questions about anime series I know nothing about, for example). So this will be kind of a lightning round.

From Facebook, Ask Sensei regular Joshua Rubley asks: “What setting would you like to see in anime more often that you rarely see? If you can’t think of an existing one, what kind of setting would you want to break ground?” Well, I’ve always been a nut for anything involving space. I don’t go quite as far back as the original Star Trek, but I did see the first Star Wars movie in the theatre when it originally came out. So having seen and loved the obvious series like Cowboy Bebop, Legend of Galactic Heroes, Planetes, and Outlaw Star, I’d welcome anything set in interstellar space, or even limited to the solar system, that sticks to treating the subject as seriously as possible with as few distractions as possible.

And Tyler Burnette asks: “Is there a historical setting relating to Christianity you’d want to see covered in an anime?” I have mixed feelings on this. Normally I don’t do well with anime series in a historical or pseudo-historical setting (I am one of the five people who didn’t like Gintama,for example), but I bet anime could tell the stories of some of the important Christian missionaries to Japan of centuries ago better than a lot of other media could.

From Instagram, average_atypical_asian asks: “What’s your favorite anime character to cosplay?” That’s easy to answer, because I have never done cosplay (unless you count trick-or-treating as a child). I have often threatened to cosplay the title character of Saint Seiya, whose image you will find associated with the handles R86 and ryuusei86 on the interwebs in various places. It would be beastly difficult, with all the metal armor components, plus I don’t think a red full-body Spandex suit would be very flattering on me. However, if I’ve learned one thing from going to anime conventions, it’s that if I did follow through on my threat, I would not be the most ridiculous looking person there.

Next, claud.thepotatobag asks: “Do you recommend watching anything from this season?” Why yes, yes I do. You will all know that Hataraku Saibou is causing somewhat of a stir, with its fresh take on the goings-on inside the human body (and in particular the tweetstorm about the platelets), and you will also all know that Shingeki no Kyojin is back. But I believe Tsukumogami Kashimasu may be this season’s dark horse, even though I usually avoid the series with historical settings. I gave it an 8/10 at MAL out of the gate, and as anyone who knows me will tell you, I am a very strict grader.

Then adrienmeier wonders: “Why would you ban Elfen Lied?” I wouldn’t, though I have never seen it and don’t plan to. And this comes from someone who has seen Deadman Wonderland, Mirai Nikki, and Gantz, and have just started replaying the first Danganronpa game after having finished the third. I must add the disclaimer that I’m very uncomfortable at the thought of anyone under 16 watching any of these shows, but I wouldn’t ban them.

Now blue_crane_ has two questions:

“Wait who’s Sensei?” Kono watashi na n da. (That’d be me.)

“Aha how are you doing?” Genki, okagesama de. (Just dandy, thanks.)

Then idc8u has a one-word question: “Hobbies?” To which my one-word answer is Yes. In more detail, I play woodwind instruments, I enjoy certain video games, and I have been interested in digital/electronic music for over 30 years. In particular, I’m interested in digital reproductions of classical pieces Today, with the Vocaloid technology, I can reproduce orchestral and choral pieces that are fully synthesized, with no human beings directly involved in the production of any sounds. I will eventually upload some things to YouTube, provided I can get past their extremely strict third party content filter (they don’t seem to care that Mozart died in 1791 and his music has been in the public domain for a very long time).

Last but not least, recon.sora asks why the the fish fly. I can only think it’s because they’re flying fish, no?

Thanks for reading! I might be taking a month off as I do some last-chance travelling and then start the school year, but my best wishes go to all of you as you perhaps do the same. I will then plan to return, but be sure to keep up on your reading and homework. Because, as you know, sometimes Sensei Ask You!

#Ask Sensei! #Anime #Christianity #Articles #Author: R86

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

My severe over stimulation continues. We are on... day 4.

So let me explain a thing for those who don't know.

When you have constant, fairly high levels of pain your brain, to some degree, filters it as 'background noise' (unless it's a particularly bad day, then it's an intrusive noise or an all consuming noise) meaning your brain is getting constant active input. It also means that you don't get proper sleep that is required to heal your body & give your brain a break from input, because it's still getting that pain input (at least if you're me). In my case, it interferes with my sleep so significantly that I developed a type of narcolepsy & only get an accumulated hour or two of deep/rem sleep, and that accumulated amount is broken into VERY small increments throughout the night, rather than is large chunks.

So the combination of constant input & shite sleep means my brain doesn't get properly rested which impacts various ways it functions. Like loss of short term memory, my ability to picture an object in my head & see where I saw it last is almost entirely gone.

However one of the most noticeable things from the outside is that I can no longer multi-task or handle a lot of even mild stress. This feature is why on days I have an appointment, I do nothing else of importance. I space out any phone calls I need to make. If The Spawn or I are sick or have some big event type thing, I do nothing else. So let's look at how my week has been.

Monday: I called & left a message requesting info about a post H.S. cosmetology school's programs. The Spawn spent the morning moaning about being sTaRvInG because she wasn't allowed to eat before the procedure. She also went in circles about if she wants to do online charter school or risk going in person this year (because our district decided to oBeY gOvEnOr AbBoTt'S mAnDaTe regarding schools not making masks mandatory. She also spent time fretting about anything that could possibly go wrong with the procedure. (She plays 'what if' and goes into a negative tailspin quite often.)

Took her up to get teeth removed. Waited in a parking lot for 2 hrs & during that time convinced Dad to go fill the prescriptions for me because less driving for me.

Then she was wheeled out & I did that whole thing.

Tuesday: I manage to speak to a person at the post H.S. program. Get some information but schedule a meeting via phone for additional. The Spawn starts her new habit of coming downstairs every 20 minutes to do one of the following: moan about liquid diet & hunger; fret about swelling; fret about how it feels when she moves her jaw; fret about something being in her wounds and making me check them; just moan about shit in general.

I call the charter school for info. Get info but find out that the enrollment/document submission deadline is Wednesday. Find out what docs I need.

Confirm with The Spawn that she wants this path for senior year. Get enrollment forms and all associated documents submitted while The Spawn interrupts for some b.s. every few minutes.

The thing I spent birthday money from Grandma on arrives! It is an industrial pipe style pole that hooks to the wall to hang clothes. I begin enacting my plan to hang it above an unusable window as a replacement closet for the one improvised from a pole & some ropes that hang from the ceiling & limit what I can do with bedroom arrangement. This process requires a stool & power tools. I am starting to get over stimulated, so I tell The Spawn that I am unavailable for awhile as I do this. She agrees & I put on headphones to begin.

My 'unavailability' was respected for maybe 5 minutes before she called me on the phone from upstairs about some random nonsense, then came downstairs to just constantly chatter. *sigh*

Bitching about inability to eat solid food continues. She orders Smoothie King from Favor. Dad & I leave for our nightly park jaunt, joined by Lou who just started playing Pokemon Go to help occupy time & needed a tutorial. The Spawn almost immediately begins texting me about how hungry she is. She asks if I can stop by a local restaurant 'on the way home' for queso that has refried beans in it, which she plans to eat with a spoon, as she has done with guac all day. I tell her that it's entirely out of the way but I will have some delivered. After it arrives, she is quiet until I get home.

Wednesday: just near constant moaning from The Spawn while I attempt to rearrange my bedroom. I'm so over stimulated at this point that any notification sound or the sound of The Spawn's ringtone (she calls me A LOT from upstairs throughout the day) makes me immediately pre-Endgame Hulk level enraged.

Lou comes by later to get further tutoring on Pokemon Go & talk a little while.

And today is Thursday. The Spawn hasn't arisen yet so we will see how that shakes out.

So when I start to get over stimulated, I can feel my brain start to 'short out'. I have a harder time thinking, keeping a train of thought, or remembering words. I can feel myself starting to get agitated.

So I mute my phone's notifications & ringtones, put on headphones & focus on a project. Any project. Gardening, rearranging, cleaning, sculpting... literally anything to give my brain a break.

However, because of The Spawn's procedure that has not been respected. So I'm incredibly irritable & my brain glitching makes me more irritable. I have a snappy, short tone without meaning to & under no circumstances want to be touched by anyone, dogs included. It's a problem.

And in addition, any time I'm trying to rest & get my brain to chill, The Spawn comes down & starts talking, then says in a snippy tone "What's your problem?" or "What's wrong with you?" If I try to explain, the drama queen supreme gets personally offended & says "Fine! I just won't ever talk to you again!" or "Oh I'm sorry my procedure is so inconvenient for you!" She has also taken to getting personally offended by every sarcastic joke I make, so apparently dry wit is no longer allowed, and takes anything I say, twists the context, and the take away for her is whatever the worst possible meaning could be.

(Example: she said she wished her friends had gotten this procedure so they could understand what she's going through. I said -while laughing & using an overly light tone- "You'd really want your friends to suffer through what you're suffering through so they understand?" Her response was "Wow you really think I'm just a horrible fucking monster, huh? That I'd want my friends to suffer? That's fucked up." Um... not AT ALL what was said or even remotely implied. So I sighed a deep sigh & said "My apologies, I forgot you've somehow lost the sense of humor you've had your entire life & no longer recognize the sense of humor I've had your entire life. So sorry. No I don't think you are a monster in any way but I do think you purposefully look for the worst possible meaning or implications within things I've said, so communicating with you is SUPER fun. Look! I made your dog a rope!")

So... that's how my life is going currently. I will, however, post old 'closet' & new 'closet' photos & dragon progress momentarily.

Fucking don't. I hate having to do this. Stealing people's shit for your buzzfeed article or click bait bullshit isn't journalism, it plagiarizing AT BEST. Fuck off.

#The Spawn #jesus christ I'm so fucking done