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graphicabyss · 2 years

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War Chronicles (reposted from Twitter)

Just thought I'd repost it here for posterity.

Day 1: There are bad mornings and then there's waking up to sirens because Russia invaded at 5 AM.

Day 2: Was woken up by sirens and had to hang out in the shelter, which is just an ancient basement. The capital is under siege. I've no idea what happens next.

I've left Kiev and staying at my sister's in the country where it's safer.

Day 4: We're all fine and optimistic. The Russians haven't managed to take any major cities and suffer heavy losses. They expected an easy win so they're in for a big disappointment. They're demoralized and running out of fuel and ammo. Shouldn't be long.

Day 7 of war. I'm fine, except I got sick, possibly with Covid. Spent a few days lying down but I'm better now. We're holding on well and it's nice the whole world applauds our resilience but we still very much need foreign assistance to win.

Day 9: I'm feeling much better but there are others who are more sick. It's relatively quiet here but the cities are still being bombed. There's no time to worry. We also make short informational videos and post them online to try to get through to Russians.

Day 10: We're mostly recovered but yesterday the water pump broke so we had to bring it from the well. The men finally managed to fix it now and I had a very luxurious shower. It's starting to feel like a new normal.

Day 14… I think… Time has somewhat lost its meaning now. Doing fine overall but the exhaustion is taking its toll. Normal life seems so distant, like a blissful dream.

Day 18: It's actually pretty hard to get depressed when you have a 6-year old who randomly leans in to you and whispers to your ear "karapupskin!!!" [s]

Day 19: The village I'm staying at is actually a great archeological site of one of the world's oldest civilizations. Right now many museum artefacts that are like 6,000 years old, books and documents are just lying randomly in the basement. [s]

We didn't go there for the artifacts though. We went to help the local women knit some military camouflage nets. I don't know if they will be any good but it felt good to be a part of this.[s]

Day 20: There's hope that war ends within a week or two since Russian forces have exhausted their resources, losing about a 1/3 of its army already. But each day is innocent lives lost.

The 6-year old loves to read and she reads everything she sees. You have to be careful though coz today she came over to me and bagan to read the headline on the monitor "As of today, 97 children have died in the war" I manged to scroll the page just in time.

The little one doesn't really seem to realize what is going on. Or so we thought. Today she hid from me and told me she teleported to Kiev. When I asked her what she was doing there, she said she killed all the tanks there so we can now go home.

Day 24: I feel more angry and upset than I ever was since the start of war. Our troops miraculously pushed the Russians away form the cities but we can't stop the planes and missiles. Our cites are being leveled. Burned to the ground. People are dying.

The West promised us help but they mostly sent old useless stuff. We badly need aircraft and anti-missile systems to fight back. The West won't give us any or only agrees to give it in exchange for something better. What's the use of NATO and UN if they just stand by and watch?

Day 31: It seems like Russian lost hope of capturing Kiev and focused on the East instead. Maryana (6 yo) with her family left for Kiev today but I decided to stay for longer and make sure it's safe.

Day 38: After 5 weeks in the country, I finally came home today. Hopefully, to stay. It's not 100% safe yet, but nowhere is right now. The road was long and every mile was secured with anti-tank "hedgehogs" and stoic men from the volunteer militias.

Day 40: The Northern front, including Kiev region, has been liberated. It brought relief but also immense pain at the horrors found there. Many people wonder how Hitler and his people managed to commit all the atrocities. This is how.

It's good waking up in your own bed. You can lie in bed for some time and pretend that everything was but a terrible dream.

Day 41: The first few days back home were a nervous wreck but turns out you can get used to things very quickly, even things like sirens several times a day, iron anti-tank hedgehogs outside your window, military men and women everywhere. It's all fine when you know you are 99% safe.

Day 49: The war is stalling but that's somehow even worse as the news all deal with the horrors found in liberated towns. Every day a new mass grave discovered, often just miles from here. Grief is a life state now. I knew humanity can get ugly but never so close to home.

Day 51: The infamous battle ship finally went where it was directed but it got them really pissed off, so we went from 1 siren a day back to 5. Whatever. The embassies who fled before the war even started are coming back and the "hedgehogs" beneath my window are gone.

Day 53: I'm not a military expert and I've never been patriotic, but with the stuff our army's pulling in the past 7 weeks, I'd expect NATO to beg us to enter. Especially considering they expected us to fail within days.

Day 62: Descended into the vault the other day. In the month we've been away, it hasn't changed much. The only additions were a lightbulb and crates with gas masks from I assume the WWII? Hopefully, we won't need them any more. [s]

Day 64: The situation is stable. Battles continue but we're holding our ground. The next few weeks will be decisive. All I hope for is that the besieged civilians will get evacuated, our army will handle the rest.

Spent over 2 hours bracing ourselves from the threat of air strikes. Two explosions were heard, several blocks away. Talk about a ruined evening.

Day 65: Wait, US… you can't give us 1 fighter jet but Taliban gets 78? That's lovely. [s]

Haven't listened to NEWS in weeks. Though uplifting songs is their thing, they're the "you can pass this test!" songs, not "you can survive this genocide!" type.

Day 71: After a few quiet days, it's now sirens for hours a day. The Russians target the railroads and supply lines and try to delay the delivery of the weapons from the West.

I tend to forget the pandemic is still going on. You see, here in Ukraine it ended on February 24. No more masks and mandates. Not a word of it. Thanks, Russia.

Day 73: Russia is poised to celebrate Victory Day so it could announce war and mobilization, claim the territory it already captured, attack Moldova, … idk nuke something? It's the world's shittiest lottery and I'm not sticking around to see the grand reveal.

Day 77: Nothing apocalyptic happened on May 9. It's almost disappointing, really. In the country, with all the bloom and without even the sirens, you tend to forget there's a war going on and it feels wrong. So I'm back home again.

Day 80: They say it's now a war of attrition. At best, we'll be able to counter-attack effectively in a month and it might take months more to reclaim our territory. The city is fairly safe but people still die from missiles once in a while. And I thought life was strange before.

The girl I was teaching Japanese before the war has become a refugee in France. Now I'm teaching her French.

Day 84: I had a dream where I was sitting on a bench with my mother at night, in an unfamiliar town, when missiles started falling right before our eyes, spreading fire, getting closer to us. We didn't run, there was no point. I prepared to die. They never reached us.

Day 87: Today is my birthday and the first to greet me today were Russian missiles announced by sirens. Thankfully, they were greeted in turn by Ukrainian air defence systems.

Day 90: It's been 3 months and the martial law has been extended to another 3 months. It's unlikely to end by then but… We just hope that 3 months from now, the war map will be a very different picture.

Day 92: The following month will be brutal, they say. The landlease will give us weapons but it can take a month or more for it to get here and another few weeks to get the training. Until then, it will just be more death and destruction every day without much gains.

Day 94: At least 30k Russian soldiers lost their lives trying to conquer my land. How many more?

Day 95: Today is City Day, the annual Kyiv festival. I totally forgot about it and I never really loved my city - it's messy and ugly. But today I'm just happy the city still stands.

"They are worse than the Nazis" is not a phrase you expect to hear from multiple elderly people, well, ever.

Day 101: at this point half my mind wants to forget about everything and pretend it's business as usual and the other half feels really guilty about that.

I wouldn't say interactions between people have changed much but these days when you make a deal at online shops, many wish you "a peaceful sky". And it's more than a pleasantry.

Day 102: Just when we started to feel safe, thinking the city's defence systems can hold any strike, 5 missiles crashed over the city. They were sent from the fucking Caspian sea, some 1,5-2k km away. No casualties, but then I think it was just a power move.

Day 106: I can recognize the voices of various military analysts mom is watching in the next room by now and I wish I didn't.

Day 111: Relatives in Russia say "Hope it ends soon." They don't get it. It never ends. Even if by some miracle the West gives us enough weapons and we push back, it won't end. This is just the beginning and there's no escape from it.

Day 112: If you listen to foreign politicians, you'd think we're getting a fuckton of weapons but we're not. It's just talk, stalling, more talk and more stalling. And here we're losing our best day after day.

Day 121: Yesterday we were granted EU candidate status. It's great news though right now it's hard to feel joy and gravity of the moment.

Day 122: "The Russians kept me up all night" got a whole new meaning lately. 48 fucking rockets...

Day 123: Woke up at about 6.30 from the swishing sound followed by explosion, 3 more followed. Today we met Russian "Caliber" missiles.

Day 134: After about 5 quiet days, 3 nights of terror. It's the world's shittiest lottery - every time it's over you're glad it didn't hit your city but wonder if someone died somewhere else.

One of the nation's favourite shows now is "interviews with Russian soldier captives". It's simply amazing how out of 200+ men, not one shot or shelled anyone. Every single one of them is a confused innocent bystander. It's tragic, really.

Day 141: Some days you can phase off the war, shield yourself and try to find some good. And days like today you can't. You just hurt, wondering how much longer? When will you wake up and not see reports of how many babies died from the shelling. When does this nightmare end?

Day 150: Poor UN leaders so proud of their historic deal, a diplomatic triumph. We knew better.

Day 155: Three alarms this morning, back to back, and one more at noon. The explosions were outside the city but I still heard them. A charming midsummer morning.

At night I try to escape to the world of adventure and magic and then I wake up to the world of destruction, murder, rape and torture.

Day 167: They really need to stop smoking near the air bases. Bad for tourism.

Day 181: Two national holidays in a row, which is practically asking Russia to shell the fuck out of us. Surviving the day feels a little too literal.

Day 182: Today is Ukraine's Independence Day. It also marks 6 months of the war. Russia made sure to congratulate us with massive shelling. How considerate. Never cared about the holiday but today I'm just glad we exist.

We survived another day. Except those of us who didn't. Alarms went off all day long, in some cities up to 14 times. I am so exhausted I barely function, sleep-deprived and nauseous. But there's nothing to do but keep going.

Day 183: The day went by quietly. No wonder, shelling a large country all day must be exhausting. Scumbags need rest too.

Day 187: We're counter-atacking! We're actually counter-fucking attacking for real! Blessed be the day. There is hope yet.

Day 195: Over 50k Russian soldiers died in these lands and I fear there shall be a lot more.

Day 197: We're taking it back. South and East, village by village we're taking our land back. I haven't felt this joyful in a long time.

Day 214: There has been some terrific news and some terrible as well. But what is clear is that the end is nowhere to be seen and that terrifies me.

Day 229: Woke up to missiles hitting the city centre. We thought we were safe here but looks like that was an illusions. There are massive strikes all over the country, perhaps the biggest in the war. Power outages and deaths.

Day 230: Another 5-hour alarm but Kyiv wasn't hit. It's light compared to the 84 missiles yesterday. Street lights are out at night for safety and saving energy. Hopefully, we won't have to resort to mass power outages.

Day 236: Not a boring day goes by. I already knew what missiles sounds like. Now it's fucking Iranian kamikaze drones. For the record, it's kinda like a deranged landmower that shoots fireworks.

Day 237: The government says to prepare for the worst. The power outages could get severe. That could mean no light, no water and no heating. Not to mention the internet. And here I thought it was bad.

I just want to skip to the part where Netflix makes a drama series about the war and foreign artists come here to make pretentious grungy videos.

Day 241: More massive strikes. Millions of people are left without power. I almost feel bad I haven't had any blackouts in recent days.

Day 250: Monday mornings are seldom pleasant but lately they became massive shelling days. Ukraine needs no Halloween. It's fucking scary every day.

Never thought I'd feel so privileged to have power and water and internet to keep my low-paying job. Though things can get worse any moment.

80% of people in the capital are without water, and many without power. Fuck this shit.

Day 252: You have to condition yourself to not mind the explosions without prior alarms. They are probably just planned detonations of the unexploded rockets. Probably.

Day 253: There's just one thing that is certain: no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse. Today a pipe broke in mother's bedroom, we were ankle deep in water. Spent 1,5 scooping in out with pans. Everything's wet now. Still, it could be worse.

Running around the apartment ankle deep in warm water is the closest thing I got to a holiday this year.

Day 257: Every day is a weird day these days. You think what to get for dinner but also what to do if the city's power grid is destroyed entirely.

Day 262: It started out as a lovely day. Now, alarms and more missiles on the way. And it was pretty expected. They wouldn't just let Kherson slide.

Day 265: One of the worst days of the war so far. The biggest shelling yet. 90 missiles and 10 drones. It was terrifying. And thing are gonna get even tougher. Electricity has become a privilege, not a given.

Day 269: It's been nearly 9 months and I'm the most anxious I've been. The constant stress pushed down the mental and physical health. And it's only bound to get worse. I still have power and heating but it could be gone any day and the winter hasn't even started…

Day 274: Another massive shelling yesterday left me without power for over 24h and partly without water. It seems the energy infrastructure is hanging by a thread and so does my health and sanity. Don't know how much more damage I can sustain. But what do you do?

It's weird living in power saving mode. Half the time half the city doesn't work. You make your way outside, trying not to break your neck in the dark in the snow only to find shops, pharmacies and post offices closed or semi-functioning.

Day 294: Woke up at 6.30 AM from a massive explosion close to us. It went on for 3 hours. Fucking drones. Thankfully, it seems like they're just debris and nobody died. Another lovely morning in town.

Day 296: Woke up to sirens and no power. Another 4 hours of massive shelling. Now there's no heating too. But it's not too bad. Kharkiv's infrastructure is basically destroyed. And I thought the week was going bad before…

Day 297: Another country-wide alarm. This time is was just cheap intimidation. Actually, very expensive intimidation. But you start to forget what peaceful mornings feel like.

Day 299: Waking up to explosions is really starting to get old.

Social anxiety is such a luxury. I used to have the "making a phonecall" kind once. Now it's mostly "I wonder if I'll get murdered in my bed by an Iranian drone" kind.

Day 300: 12 hours without power. Had a feeling my luck would run out eventually. And it can still get worse.

Day 301: I quit my job. It was a long time coming and felt natural, especially since the total blackout the next day. It was not sustainable among other things. Things keep getting harder but at least I won't have to worry about that anymore. Sure not gonna miss it. Can't decide what I hated writing more: Economist-worthy texts for $1.5 a piece or texts about Taylor Swift's cats while hearing explosions outside.

Day 302: It's Winter Solstice. I don't care about Christmas but this day is worth celebrating. It means we have survived the darkest day of the year.

Day 303: There are already over 100k dead Russians in the war. What a waste of lives. Meanwhile, we're bracing for another massive strike. Christmas seems like a fitting time for it.

Just learned that the Kyiv Trolleybus network is the largest in the world. Or was. The city decided to suspend it for now, along with the trams, to save power.

The city is crippled. My post office had power for just few hours in days so they couldn't do much. My local mini-market was cast in darkness, with confused employees escorting you with flashlights. Some shops have generators but only for light, not freezers. Normalcy is gone.

Day 305: Tried to get myself into a somewhat Christmassy mood but the sound of sirens drown my merry music.

This isn't the worst war the humanity has seen but it's the most public one yet. There has never been so much destruction and death so well documented. On the one hand, it's a good thing, but on the other, it makes it so much more painful to live through.

Day 309: Another waking up at 5 am to alarms. A generous 69 missiles from Russia. Most shot down but we heard probably the loudest explosion yet, even if not the most violent.

Day 311 (Dec 31): Generosity is giving when you have little left. Thanks, Russia, for your precious missiles. We appreciate the gesture.

Today there isn't much to celebrate and much to mourn. At least we survived another year. I don't expect 2023 to be good. I just hope it's a little less terrible. Happy New Year, world! I wish for you to never go through what we are facing every day.

Day 312: 32 drones over Kyiv. All shot down. Fuck Santa. Hail the military, utility workers, medics and rescue teams.

Day 320: Just when it seems like things might be getting better, a new enemy appears - a debilitating chronic condition that you thought long defeated. Have fun getting your body to function.

2022 was absolute horrible. And yet, somehow not the worst year of my life. There's no hell like the one that opens up inside of you.

Day 325: It's been quiet for over a week now but guess they made some more of those big blasty thingies because the day has not been fun so far.

Day 335: The past 2 weeks have been mostly quiet but there's no peace of mind whatsoever. I'm trying hard to recover and brace for things ahead but wounds don't heal, they fester.

Day 358: Got a little freaked out looking out the window tonight. It took a few seconds to comprehend what was off. Instead of the usual gaping darkness, the street is now lit. It feels too bright almost.

Got too cocky, I guess. At night 36 missiles were launched and now we have no water, none. We can't have good things. Oh, there goes another one.

Day 359: Trams and trolleys are back! The city is coming back to life again. But so are the shellings.

Day 362: People in the street were complaining about all the city centre being restricted. Turns out it's Joe coming to visit.

Day 366: It's been a year. I remember waking up to sirens but nothing else of that day. I only hope this anniversary is first and last.

#ukraine war #russia ukraine war #war on ukraine

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autumn-foxfire · 1 year

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Oops, that wasn’t my ask was it? *scrolls down* double oops, IT WAS :0 now I only said that cause from my impression of things, from the beginning people were only interested in the Todoroki's and interest in Endeavor sky-rocketed because of Hawks, it took awhile for his redemption to garner interest, but EndHawks? 100% sold. Because that's rough and tough Endy having funny interactions with his co-worker, it's a new look on him. That's what I personally meant by "Convinced Hawks won 4th in 2018 cuz of Endy simps" that it was less Hawks himself, and more what Hawks could do for Endeavor, and it's just a jokish conspiracy anyway, that technically could be true too. It IS something that happens with fans of other anime. People have their favorite, and then there's the "favorite's friend." Anyways Foxy, I think anon is a hurt Endy stan, not sure why, but I never thought I'd have to avoid all Endy stans as I do Dabi and Twice stans too, apparently if they're wild enough to get Caleb chased off Twitter over a swear word, then whatever this is too apparently??? There's nothing weird about what you said either, fans can and DO vote for characters they find hot?? Fan service goes a long way??? I wasn't trying to be "whiny" in my asks, just genuinely, well and truly baffled because I thought cool character moments helped ranks in the poll, like Ochako's speech and Iida's hand-holding carried them all this way. Until I realized people might've thought Endeavor, who Hori's been mostly drawing as I described before, was a cool character moment for him. I really don't care if the students rank higher than Hawks, the rankings haven't been an issue, I know he's controversial, and the kids have always been well-loved that's normal, they always rank-high regardless of screentime, (aka none of them ever really show up lol) it's just Endeavor was too yet being 4th makes him 1st essentially as TodoBakuDeku aren't budging, and that's what was shocking. And idk what you mean by bringing up Shindo, nobody here said anything on him??? All I know is that fandom wanted Shinsou or Dabi to take his place. "antipathy" "truth" WHAT are you on about?? Who are you even talking to for saying "no Hawks stan has a valid reason for their intense dislike of Kaminari" I HAVE NEVER SEEN THAT. TUMBLR HAS BEEN DEAD FOR CONVERSATIONS FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS. What truth??? That Shindo stans troll-voted for him for funsies? Hey good for them, that's wild dedication. You make it sound as if Hawks stans were complaining about that guy sneaking in 10th place and "can't acknowledge the truth of Shindo being a good character" which LMAO. And why would Foxy buy French volumes, she doesn't speak french? Actually I finally see what the issue here is now, anon is mistaking you for a butt-hurt Dabi stan and telling you to go buy a volume where your favorite arsonist gets the ranking you want for him. Man, watch your words k? We weren't sounding as extreme as you anywhere, "potshots?" "poor reading comprehension?" "grow up?" you see any insults? + THEY ARE PICTURES, + alright if there's a ranking for characters in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I guess I better go stop families and literal adults out with their friends discussing them and tell them to grow up and leave it alone, huh? This such a bad thing to talk about? God. "assumptions about the japanese" you mean a factual thing for all fans of anime. What's really making assumptions about them would be the countless posts I see that try to drag in their cultural concepts in villain meta instead of something basic like uuuh "fan-service wins you votes." Dang, I had no idea simping was apparently being rude to an entire ethnicity, not like Hori himself doesn't also simp for the ladies he draws and that sketch of sweaty post-exercise tank top Endy japanese twitter keeps redrawing and posting on my dash right????

The fact that anon came back before I could respond to this ask just shows us that they were, indeed, a salty Endeavor stan (sadly you have a bad batch of favs for every character T-T).

I don't even know why they overreacted to a vent that, outside of this blog, doesn't reach anyone (I doubt even my followers take the time to read every ask I answer XD).

I'm not even sure they knew what they were writing when they sent that ask (and then the next one) because a lot of it is very hard to make out. Or they aren't fluent English speaking and struggled to translate their thoughts into English (which could be a possibility too).

You know what's funny about the simping comment though was that it was used in their next ask to say that's why we like Hawks. I wonder if they noticed that they just defeated their own argument XD

Anyway, it was a wild ride, that's for sure.

#personal #thanks for the ask!!

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babaleshy · 3 years

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I'm Autistic

Because this will likely be a lengthy, wordy post about my self-diagnosis as Autistic as well as all of my experiences regarding Autistic traits, I'm going to leave a "read more" link so that you're not scrolling for ages just to catch up on your feed.

Ah, I see you've clicked "keep reading" or "read more" or whatever this site has it labeled as, now. You don't get to be mad at how long this is or how much of a waste of time reading this may be to you because you consciously clicked on the link. Therefore, I am exempt from taking responsibilities of eating up any bit of your time, including the time you've wasted reading this disclaimer.

So... Yes. I am. And it's a self-diagnosis right now.

You're probably thinking that I saw a Tik Tok clip, checked out a page on WebMD, and decided that I'm Autistic (this is in reference to a Tik Tok I saw last night that nearly made me spit out my drink because of how painfully accurate the "what people think self-diagnosis is vs reality" clip was). That is, of course, not the case.

A few years ago (likely 2018), I don't recall what it was I read online, but it made me go, "Oh wow, that makes so much sense to me," in regards to a neurodivergent trait. However, this was then I thought I had ADHD. My husband has ADHD, was diagnosed with it as a child, and because his dad forced the doctor (this was like, in the late 90s, early 2000s I think) to put him on Adderall and Ritalin, my husband does not remember 3 years of his life because he was a drooling, zombified mess. Why did his dad do this? Because his grades were bad. Did this help with his grades? No. Did his dad take him off the meds because he didn't get the desired result? Also no. My husband wasn't even informed on what ADHD was. He was simply told he had it and to take these pills. It wasn't until he (my husband) read the label saying that it could increase the risk of heart issues that he cussed his dad out and flushed all the pills down the toilet. Up until very recently, he wasn't sure if he actually had ADHD until he saw a YouTuber who was actually diagnosed with it display the exact traits he had.

But he didn't see this YouTuber when I thought I had ADHD, so my husband couldn't exactly relate, plus I didn't want to trigger anything with him on the subject.

But the more I researched, the more I realized I could be on the spectrum. It wasn't until 2019 that I was printing out articles, trait lists, etc. to highlight and put into a folder (which is thick and nearly bursting with what I've printed out to have a hardcopy of records highlighting the traits that I have, including traits my husband and my mom see in me) that I realized "I could have Asperger's."

Of course, I no longer use that term after finding out it was named after a n*zi, and I began to embrace the term "Autistic" instead.

But the thing that triggered me into going, "Wait, so it's not ADHD that I think I have, it's Asperger's?" was, like my husband, seeing a YouTuber talk about their traits and experiences. I had identical struggles, myself. (Through this same YouTuber, I also found out I'm greysexual, too! There's a name to describe my experience with sexual attraction! Yay!)

There are a lot of VERY SPECIFIC TRAITS Autistic people experience that aren't mentioned by the YouTuber or in anything that I've printed out and highlighted that I have found through various Tik Toks that I have personally experienced that simply further solidifies the fact that I'm definitely on the spectrum. When I showed the Tik Tok I mentioned earlier (I don't remember their name) to my husband last night, he was wide-eyed because the description of how that individual self-diagnosed themselves WAS EXACTLY WHAT I DID WORD FOR WORD HOLY SHIT.

I was already convinced I am Autistic, but each time I read Twitter threads of people's experiences with their Autistic traits, each time I watch Tik Toks or certain YouTubers share their experiences, it further solidifies that yep, I'm Autistic.

What's amazing is that my husband is very supportive. I'm extremely lucky to have married him. I've been a terrible masker but he loves me anyways. He never gave me shit for my meltdowns and tried to help me out, thinking I was just horribly overly stressed. Now that he knows why I've had the few outwardly noticeable meltdowns that I've had throughout our years together, he knows how to help me more, now. And while he's figured out my traits and what issues I have, knowing that I'm on the spectrum helps him make sense of why I'm like this, and he can help me accordingly whether it's to prepare for something in advance, help me calm down, etc.

(I should also add here real quick that there's a high chance I have OCD as well, but less of the compulsive actions and more of the obsessive thoughts, but I'm not entirely sure just yet if this is the case. I'm actually hoping to see someone about this but with the pandemic, I don't know when that will be.)

Now... onto the traits and experiences.

My Traits (that stand out with neon lights)(Will copy word-for-word a trait my mom or husband see in me and it will be typed in a different color.)

Having a folder that has all of my research I've obsessively looked up, printed out, highlighted what I saw in myself with one color (yellow) while highlighting what my mom and my husband see with another color (pink). I'm also using this folder to make this list as a reference because I sometimes forget certain traits I do have are because I'm Autistic. (I'm 32 as I write this, so when so much of what you think, do, and experience that you see is normal for you turns out to be an Autistic trait, it takes a while to get used to it and thus remember that because you haven't had a label for it your whole life.)

Despite being goth/punk, I dress as comfortably as I can. Textures aren't a very big issue for me, but what feels like strangulation of my body tends to be a problem. I cannot handle having the cross seams of pants feeling like I have a chopstick slowly impaling my vulva, or I can't stand how tight some shorts are that they pinch my hip joints.

I've NEVER spent much time grooming my own hair. It's either tiring, I"m impatient and want it done NOW, or both. This is why I have a Tank Girl haircut (all buzzed except for bangs), where I can basically "wash and go." (Husband does my haircuts and dyes and he's kickass at it.)

Eccentric personality; may be reflected in appearance.

Is youthful for age, in looks, dress, behavior, and tastes.

Usually a little more expressive in the face and gesture than male counterparts.

"May not have strong sense of identity and can be very chameleon like before diagnosis." (This resonates with me in the form that I never saw myself in ANY fictional character other than Tank Girl. My husband agrees with this opinion, but he also says he also sees a lot of me in Caulifla from Dragonball Super.)

I enjoy reading and films as a retreat, often sci-fi, fantasy, children's (sometimes), can have favorites which are a refuge.

Uses control as a stress management (like routines, rules, rigid certain habits, etc.)

Usually happiest at home or in other controlled environment.

I've been seen as "sensitive" by some, and mocked for crying a lot by others.

I struggled with social aspects of college and have 2 partial degrees.

Often have trouble holding a job and finds employment very daunting.

Slow at comprehending at times due to sensory and cognitive processing issues.

DOES NOT DO WELL WITH VERBAL INSTRUCTIONS; MUST BE WRITTEN DOWN

Special interests (I'll get into these later).

Emotionally immature and emotionally sensitive.

Anxiety and fear are predominant emotions (some of which might be due to possible OCD).

I do have some sensory issues such as visual processing issues at times, certain sounds, certain smells, food I think, and issues with sunlight and my goddamn retinas.

Moody and prone to bouts of depression. Both of my parents as well as my husband have described my personality as reminding them of a cat.

Mild to severe gastro-intestinal difficulties (some of which could be due to endometriosis, btw).

I stim a little such as leg-bouncing, foot-waggling, some hand-flapping, some bouncing, the "spine-shimmy," joint-cracking, or playing with my ears.

Prone to temper or crying meltdowns, sometimes over seemingly small things due to sensory or emotional overload.

Hates injustice and hates being misunderstood, which incites anger and rage.

Prone to mutism when stressed or upset, especially after a meltdown, likely to stutter and may have a raspy voice.

Words and actions often misunderstood by others.

Perceived to be cold-natured and self-centered; unfriendly.

Very outspoken at times, may get very fired up when talking about passionate/obsessive interests.

Will shutdown in social situations once overloaded but generally better at socializing in small doses. May even give the appearance of skilled, but it is a "performance."

Doesn't go out much; will prefer to go out with partner only (aka my husband).

Will not do "girly" things like shopping.

Takes relationships seriously.

There's a bit on this chart (some of you probably already know by know what chart I'm using here) that says due to sensory issues, one would either really enjoy sex or strongly dislike it. I'm in the former camp complete with a pretty high libido.

Often prefers the company of animals.

So there are the traits that REALLY stick out like a sore thumb. These come from a site regarding female Asperger traits or however it's labeled as. I have plenty more from two other articles I printed out with lots of highlighting, but the chart actually sums a lot of the definitive shit quite nicely. At some point in this list, I could tell I went "fuck it" and copied many things word for word anyways since I'll be talking about experiences later in this post.

But it was this chart that I'd discovered that I started to realize that I really am on the spectrum, and to triple check, I asked my mom and my husband if they saw any of this in me. The traits typed in green are ones I wasn't sure of and had to ask them if they saw it. I'm not always aware of how I am, who I am at times, etc. I also didn't want to lie about it, so I had to get second and third opinions.

Despite all of this, only very few people that know me IRL know about me being Autistic. This is because I was heavily bullied growing up and since I haven't exactly left my hometown, I really don't want whoever stayed in the area as well to either have more fuel and re-enter my life that way, or try really hard to relieve their guilty conscience and demand that I forgive them or some shit. I also don't want "Autism Mommies" to come at my ass either asking that I help their kid (I'm not fond of children so that's not happening, plus ableism is what fucks a lot of Autistic people over regarding of age but they won't take that for an answer) or that because they---a neurotypical person---have a child who's Autistic, then that means they know all about it and because I'm not exactly like their child then I can't possibly be Autistic. It's just a whole mountain of shit I don't wanna get into.

This next bit will be split into 2 parts. One will be my special interests, and the other will be my experiences from my past that are prime examples of being Autistic long before anyone in the common public knew what Autism actually was.

My Special Interests (Both Forever & Temporary)

The following list will have my special interests but with indicators in parentheses as to whether they are forever-interests (as in, I never lost interest in the thing) or temporary (meaning, it was short-lived be it by weeks, months, or a few years). This will be in chronological order, meaning: the order of which these have appeared throughout my life.

Barney (temporary; helped me skip preschool and become honor roll student in kindergarten though)

Halloween (forever)

the color orange (forever)

dinosaurs (forever)

Donkey Kong Country esp. for SNES (forever)

animals (forever)

Godzilla movies (forever)

monster movies (forever)

Pokemon (temporary; I still like Pokemon, but it's not as hyperfocused as it used to be)

Digimon (temporary; same situation as with Pokemon)

Dragonball Z (forever)

Sailor Moon (on-and-off)

Ultimate Muscle (Kinnikuman Nisei) (forever)

Freddy vs Jason movie (still like, but the hyperfocus was temporary)

horror movies (forever)

Transformers (temporary)

Dark Knight movie (temporary)

Harley Quinn (temporary)

Lobo (temporary)

X-Men (forever, but only certain universes, mainly the 90s cartoon, and the character is always Hank McCoy)

neon-colored stuff (temporary; kind of some sort of semi-rave/techno phase)

books (forever; this was when I discovered it's "legal" to enjoy books if you "aren't smart"; I may explain this logic I had later in the post)

sex/sexuality/sexology (forever on the first two, temporary on the last one)

BDSM (on-and-off)

feminism (temporary in regards to doing research and educating myself; I still hold the views I've developed as a result, just not obsessively researching this topic anymore)

anarchism (forever)

ecology (forever)

Pleistocene epoch (forever)

goth and punk stuff (forever after discovering what these things are all about for real compared to when I was in high school and had no idea how to ask, who to ask, or where to look this stuff up at in rural Ohio)

Hellblazer (temporary)

Serbian heritage (on-and-off)

bats (temporary)

arachnids (forever)

teratophilia (forever; finally have a word to describe this damn kink)

gardening (current; unsure)

Russian language (current; unsure)

DIY things (forever)

Towards the end, it may not be in the proper order thanks to slowly losing my damn mind being cooped up mostly in my room on this farm since moving back here in 2014. The two that are "current;unsure" are ones I have a hyperfocus in right now, but I don't know if this will be temporary or not. I certainly hope not, especially considering how useful these things will be. And while I have gardening as one of them, I haven't properly begun yet because I get empty promises from my parents where they claim they'd help me, not to worry about it, then get irritated when I ask where the help is and they suddenly can't give me the help when I told them I needed it.

I should also note that I don't exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge in a whole lot of these interests that are forever-interests because I'm normally exhausted just trying to exist with minimal trouble from people. I'm hoping this will change. The things I know I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge in would be Dragonball Z, animals/ecology, and... a-and that's it. That's really it. That's all I've got because Dragonball Z was so profoundly different compared to other cartoons I've watched in the 90s that it was a wonderful escape, and I grew up around animals, taking care of animals, and watching nature documentaries. The stress I went through growing up has caused my memory of some of that wonderful animal knowledge to be lost and what could be re-gained may be easily forgotten again, hence why I need to narrow my focus for what I'd like to be an ecologist for. While I love paleontology, I want to help the living world's ecosystems and environments, too. I'd love to go back to school for this stuff now that I'm more informed of who I am and what I want in life (as opposed to being forced to pick a college major while still in high school while I'm just trying to survive the concept of existence).

In terms of collecting things pertaining to my interests, a common pattern you'll see me have is a very slowly growing Hank McCoy collection. This is largely because there isn't too much stuff made regarding this character. (There also isn't much stuff I can find that involves Piccolo, Cyndaquil, Donkey Kong, giant ground sloths, etc. that isn't already snatched up by other fans.)

Now, I'm going to get into the list of experiences. Some of which will talk about my special interests, but I also really want to talk about my struggles, too.

Experiences That Screamed "I'm Autistic"

In gradeschool, I was friends with someone who probably wasn't actually a friend and her mom made her hang out with me since I didn't really have any friends. She has told me several times that she didn't want to be my friend anymore with some kind of hostile catty smile, but I just.. I wasn't getting it. Because there was a smile. Why say that with a smile? After all we've been through? Then she's back to being my friend the next week. She really wanted to hang out with the popular girls (yes, there were cliques in 90s American gradeschool) and has done countless things to sabotage our friendship such as telling me Barney is a fake, Donkey Kong was a real gorilla who hung himself, etc. And I believed all this shit, too, in an attempt to still be an acceptable friend. She even told me that I couldn't be a witch because I liked toads so much (toads were the only wildlife I excitedly interacted with in my back yard on a regular basis).

I love Halloween for many reasons, but one of them (aside from my favorite color being involved) was the fact that it was acceptable to wear a mask. I love (and still do) the idea of covering my face because I feel less "naked" to the world. So this pandemic had a small plus for me in the form of mask-wearing outside of Halloween has become somewhat more acceptable.

In 5th grade, another classmate who had more obvious Autistic traits and was diagnosed with Asperger's at the time was an asshole to me. They would constantly give me shit and bully me for whatever reason. When I finally took a stand, the teachers on duty at recess called me to the bottom of the hill, forcing me to look at them WITHOUT allowing me to have my hands up to block the sunlight that hurt my eyes, and were able to manipulate me into "admitting picking on so-and-so for no reason" because I chased them around the playground where a group of girls (the same cliquey assholes the former "friend" wanted to mingle with) had to group-carry me away. They're the ones who snitched and they gave me those same hostile smiles. That's when I learned that not all smiles meant good things. I was 10.

I sometimes "lose the ability" to ask for help long before the "help" I ever got in any circumstance was just me being met with frustration by whoever is trying to "help" me or I'm met with "sorry, can't help you there. (The former being with homework or school work, the latter being with going to authorities about bullies.)

Growing up, I was never girly (or girly enough) and I've tried to, but I failed miserably. My special interests would roar through and because it was too odd or different or annoying, it gave other girls fuel for bullying me with.

Regarding the lack of being girly enough, I was at a pool party with the former "friend" mentioned earlier and she started this "game" where she and the other girls would leap into the pool saying, "I love you, Leonardo!" This was in 4th grade and in reference to the Titanic movie, which at that point, I'd never heard of, because I was too pumped for the latest Land Before Time sequel. So when I leapt into the pool, I said, "I love you, Raphael." All the girls were confused, asked who that was. I then asked, "Aren't we playing Ninja Turtles?" Because the only Leonardo I knew of was a fucking Ninja Turtle, goddamnit. Who let you brats watch that shitty romance film anyways? Boring as fuck.

Aside from the occasional weekend visits or sleepovers at the former "friend's" house, I didn't get to socialize much, so I would spend most of my days (especially in the summer) watching what was on TV or watching from our very large VHS collection. During which I would make mental notes on how certain characters acted or what they said and try to remember that to mimic them in a social setting, which would be out of place because I'd be so focused on mainly the dialogue that once it prompts me to say the thing, they don't respond how I expect them to and then I'm at a loss.

I was very ignorant of music and didn't even know the concept of independent or underground bands existed. Plus, rural Ohio is a cultural wasteland. Otherwise, I would've gotten into metal, goth, and punk way earlier in life. So I thought that bands that existed were because television said so.

Speaking of an odd logic... If it was taboo or bad to talk about, I thought it was illegal. Thus, I thought any knowledge about sex was illegal and that it was supposed to happen "naturally."

I also thought that, because I wasn't considered as smart by my peers, some teachers, and even as such in the form of an insult from my parents from time to time (despite what they claim NOW), that also meant I wasn't allowed to enjoy books, because only smart people are allowed to enjoy reading. So therefore, it would be illegal for me, a not-smart person, to enjoy reading a book. So I had to focus on the pictures because if I enjoyed reading, somehow everyone would know and then I'd get into trouble.

I also thought it was illegal to talk about periods.

I socially struggled BADLY when I got to middle school because my brain was like... 4 years behind? How the fuck do people know all these bigger words? Or complex issues? This was also when I had to start suppressing ALL urges to cry because at that age, I'm not "supposed" to cry over everything. So I still, to this day, suppress it to the point of guaranteeing inducing a headache. Because I've always caught shit for crying.

Middle school was when I met an oppressive "friend" who was obsessed with me because she had a crush on me and was rather controlling of who I could and couldn't talk to and got pissy if I got close to making a new friend. Because I was desperate for a friend that wasn't like the former "friend," I allowed this abuse into my life.

High school was me just trying to survive. By the time I got home, I was too mentally exhausted to enjoy anything short of watching TV or whatever was rented from Blockbuster.

My brain was still feeling like it was years behind, and I struggled to keep up with whatever was supposed to be something I knew about, including the concept of masturbation.

Like I said earlier, anything sex-related might've been illegal to talk about, and because masturbation was still kinda taboo, I feared I'd get in trouble, but my teenage hormones compelled me to do it a LOT. It consumed my free time almost like an escape, a form of stimming, but I was shameful of it to the point of suicidal thoughts.

The former bullet was due to being raised in a christian household. My parents didn't have such views on sex like this, but I was afraid of being in trouble for asking, took to the internet, and caught some misinfo about how immoral it was. I mourned I'd be going to hell.

Speaking of religion, I thought it was illegal to change your religious beliefs, and there was only Judiasm, Muslim, and Buddhism outside of christianity (I'm Pagan, now).

While I was excited to get away from my parents presumably for good after high school, college was a new form of hell. The sudden, dramatic change in environment and lack of ANY preparation for living like an adult on my own caused me to mentally/socially/emotionally malfunction. I had outbursts I desperately tried to suppress, I felt stupid because everybody sounded smarter than me, I didn't actually want to go to art school but wasn't smart enough for anything else and never really bothered to better my artistic skills and thus felt like I shouldn't be there anyways, I struggled to fit in better, I had no idea how to function that certain habits such as neglect of my own dishes on my desk developed because I LITERALLY COULD NOT SEE MY OWN MESSES DUE TO THE STRESS I WAS EXPERIENCING. This was 3 or 4 long YEARS of this.

Attending art classes mostly run by very demanding (and demeaning) teachers while my art skills weren't up to par added to this stress on top of me not actually wanting to be THERE in the first place, just away from my parents.

I nearly ruined a friendship with a roommate because of my struggles. I'm not even sure if she is aware of my Autism because I'm afraid to approach her about it for some reason.

Plenty of times throughout my life where I'm loud and don't even realize it.

I've info-dumped on my parents, but right now they half or completely ignore me.

I've tried making eye contact, but it's like staring in the sun not in the sense of pain, but in the sense of by natural reaction looking away. When I force myself to make eye contact, I'm spending so much focus and effort into doing that to the point where I am unable to pay attention to what the person is saying. Instead, I stare at the mouth so I make sure I hear correctly the words they're telling me.

Each time someone is mad at me and gives me the silent treatment, and I inquire what I did to piss them off, they get madder because I'm somehow supposed to immediately know when I fucking don't. Then, half the time, they continue not telling me and I have to hear it from someone else. This further confuses me as to why they don't just simply fucking tell me.

I've annoyed people to listening to the same one or few songs over and over again. A lot (currently obsessed with the Sunset Overdrive and Tank Girl movie soundtracks).

I can "smell" the heat outside on a summer day.

I can smell other people's unique scents sometimes (especially when in someone's house; also experienced this in other people's dorms).

I can't remember what grade this was, but in high school, we went to some kind of space camp facility thing, and our class was split into two groups: one group was the group who was on Mars and ready to come home, the other was on Earth and can't wait to go to Mars. I was in the former group. My job in this little fun display interactive room thing was to examine the isotopes and report... uh.. I can't remember.. Report something that was off. Everyone else was dicking around with what they're supposed to do, and I was actually doing my job, and then said something, like I was supposed to, if I found something that was off (I don't remember the specifics). When the scientist who worked at the facility praised me on "saving the crew," I caught this look from the entire class a look I can't quite describe other than they didn't seem to like the fact that I did a good thing and was being praised for it instead of any of them (or they were shocked that a "dumb girl" like me could achieve this and get praise for it, I don't know.. hard to tell). This was a science class field trip, but despite this, I didn't have an interest in space, and still didn't feel I was smart. (Come to think of it, I think this was actually an 8th grade field trip, I can't remember.)

Just discovered this today: I'm actually very easily overwhelmed that could trigger a meltdown when I wake up. I don't know for how long until that point passes, either. But this could also be explained with how I've reacted to certain alarm clocks (the ones with the bells just induce pure rage in me). Either I will be on the verge of a meltdown or I'll have a fucking headache all day. Normally, I just wanna drink my coffee and either read or practice a little on Duolingo.

I don't always have enough room for a lot of info in my head for things that I like, so I have to carefully narrow shit down. Right now, I'm trying to figure out what to do about my urge to get my hands on some monster movies while making sure nothing else I've retained info for wanes. Not sure if this is due to stress or what. But apparently I have designated compartments for certain categories in my brain. If I get into monster movies, continue to work on my knwoledge on ecology and paleontology, and gain more knowledge about arachnids, that shouldn't impede on the "language" category, so whatever I learn in Russian will remain safe.

Interest "Webs."

I have what I'd like to call an "interest web." My special interests in one thing can lead me to having an interest in another. I care about nature, and I also care about paleontology. Paleoecology is something I'd like to dip my toes into. But because this all involves nature, I have an interest in botany (though it's still intimidating so I'm sticking with local native trees) and arachnids (after conquering my fears and learning more about them). So the web stops at arachnids there (no pun intended).

Back to ecology and paleoecology...

I have a major interest in the Pleistocene because it was just before we humans started writing shit down. Hints of that era echoes within our current environment, from the pronghorn being "unnecessarily" fast (due to miracynonyx, the "American cheetah," which is now an extinct cat) to avocados not seeding like they should without human assistance as well as the yucca trees (Joshua trees) going into retreat thanks to the absence of giant ground sloths.

But the planet is warming, and we could use all the help from plants that we get, especially when it comes to making sure that permafrost stays frozen. So there's this "Pleistocene Park" project taking place in Russia, and one day, if I get into the field of paleontology, I may want to chat with those involved in that project, but one can't expect every other country to know English.

There's also FROZEN PLEISTOCENE MEGAFAUNA CARCASSES BEING FOUND IN PERMAFROST, too.

On top of all of this, Russia's northern lands will become habitable for humans if shit hits the fan and the planet's mostly fucked, so it's still nice to know the language.

See how all of these interests intertwine? (It also helps that since I am of Serbian heritage but can't find accessible resources to learn the language and I wanna know a Slavic language that Russian is kind of accessible. It also seems to be the only Slavic language "commonly" found in colleges when it comes to foreign language courses.) This is why I call them "interest webs." Not sure if other Autistic people have them, but it's something that I have.

The second one could simply involve Halloween, punk, goth, monsters, and teratophilia with Halloween being the gateway because my favorite color is orange.

Just thought this would be a fun thing to touch on real quick.

My Sensory Traits

I do experience some sensory traits, but they're not intense like some people would assume (unless I'm simply not noticing how intense they can be).

I can "smell" the summer heat, which was something I thought everybody else experienced but I'm wrong.

My retinas hurt in bright sunlight despite not looking anywhere near the sun, which I also thought everybody else experienced.

Drinks taste different or off in some way if they're not in a particular mug, glass, etc. that the drink is supposed to be in. (I have certain mugs that I enjoy my coffee in, but the other mugs? They taste off. I can't explain why. I have ONLY TWO acceptable little tumbler glasses for orange juice.)

Breakfast food does not taste like breakfast food unless it's on this one specific plate from my childhood.

Dinner can be iffy on certain plates, but the safest go-to is the knock-off blue willow plates.

Lunch is acceptable on anything, but if I'm having simply a sandwich, it must be on a small plate.

I have specific forks I'd prefer to use because of how they feel in my hand, how the food-part feels in my mouth, and how the fork itself tastes.

Gotta have cinnamon in my coffee. I just do. It's not coffee without it.

I cannot fucking handle hair snippets of any size for any reason on my body. This is why there is a rigid procedure to where my husband must buzz my hair over a paper-towel-covered sink (to avoid clogging the drain) while wearing a particular tanktop Harley Quinn night shirt, and then I must shower immediately afterwards. During the haircut, my skin itches like mad like I'm being poked by the hairs directly even in places where hair snippets have never, ever gone.

I'm overly sensitive to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes.

Also cannot brush teeth with cold water because it's so painful (this was LONG before I had dental issues and persists to this day). Even my tongue hurts from it.

I'm picky as fuck with candy. Trick-or-treating was sometimes difficult because all I cared about was either orange-flavored stuff, or chocolate. Only specific chocolates, too (Krackle, Mr. Goodbar, Crunch, Butterfinger, Reese's, that was it.) Skittles were okay, but a lot of the baggies I got had a LOT the red ones and the red ones suck. Can't stand the other candies. (But my tastes have changed since then, and I opt for European chocolate from Aldi's as they are far superior, especially Moser Roth's 70% dark chocolate and Choceur's coffee and cream chocolate.)

Speaking of candy, the Whopper's Robin's Eggs tasted better than regular Whoppers and I will never be able to explain why.

Despite loving orange flavored stuff, I have trust issues when I see an unlabeled orange candy because there's the dangerous chance it could be fucking peach flavored. *gag* (I like real peaches, but the artificial flavored ones suck balls.) Due to my dental situation, I cannot enjoy very much in a way of candy, and the only artificial orange flavoring I CAN enjoy is through Vitamin D gummies... And even then, EVEN THEN I have to worry about the fucking peach flavors if I have to go with a different brand because we can't get our hands on a bottle from Simple Truth.

Artificial cherry flavoring is death.

The ONLY flavored medicine that was acceptable to me was orange (of course) and those dissolving strips that were grape-flavored that they don't fucking make anymore because fuck me that's why. Everything else was peer-pressured to do shots kiddie edition.

The different colored coatings on M&M's taste different from one another and I cannot explain why. It's very subtle, hardly noticeable, BUT I CAN TELL.

Peanutbutter is fucking amazing.

The smell of peanutbutter is fucking not.

There are these frozen meals my husband gets for days he doesn't have energy to cook and one of them (all from the same brand) smells like fucking hell.

My husband's Nissan Cup Noodle ramen overpowers my incense despite what other household members say.

I love incense, especially dragonsblood, "coffee time," pumpkin spice, raven, and rain.

All of the autumn scents or scents associated with autumn are orgasmic to me.

The smell of artificial cherry is death.

I would love to have perfume or body spray of Play-Doh.

I can compare smells of some places to others, such as the library branch I frequent smells like my gradeschool, as do SOME of their books' pages, and when my husband and I walked through this hall-like tunnel-like storefront in downtown Pittsburgh, I said it smelled like my grandma's basement, and he thought the same, so we're in aggreeance that all grandma's basements smell the same. Except for my Baba and Deda's. Their basement smelled like they actually still enjoy life and had their shit together.

Speaking of gradeschool smells, my gradeschool had two directions of classrooms, one led towards the gym, but the hall off to the side was carpeted, had some nice colors, and held 2 kindergarten classes and 2 first grade classes. That section of the building had its distinctive smells. The other direction led to the office, the cafeteria, and the hall with the 2 classes of grades 2 through 5 plus the preschool and the art/music class was. The smell was different in all classes EXCEPT for the music/art class, and I never went to preschool so I wouldn't know what that smells like.

ALL PRINCIPLE OFFICES SMELL THE SAME. HOW.

I could smell when my husband accidentally put in cinnamon when he thought he grabbed paprika in a dish that I liked. He was terrified of telling me. That was a happy accident and it became a permanent ingredient. He was mortified and shocked that I could smell his whoopsie in my dinner he made me.

I can also smell the cinnamon they use in Little Caeser's pizza crust. Yes. They use cinnamon. But I was the only one to notice.

Honey is like peanutbutter: it tastes amazing. But holy shit fuck that smell.

Gas stations smell like death, sadness, and questioning life's choices.

No two people's car interiors smell alike.

I can smell when it will rain soon, especially if it's about to storm.

I'm the one who noticed that hairy white oldfield asters smell like cake batter.

Dominant yellow filling my entire vision can be sometimes painful.

I used to be able to "hear" the color yellow in my head so much I thought yellow actually made a noise. It was a particular shade of yellow, and it made this Playskool toy-like clicking bell ringing noise, but really obnoxiously, almost painfully. I don't know how to describe the shade other than "cloudy pastel lemon?" It looked like the fucking lemon-flavored medicine I had to take as a kid.

My parents tried mixing in this cherry flavored death medicine in with my orange soda thinking I wouldn't know the difference but I did, so I dumped it down the drain and opened a new can because that can of Big K orange was fucking ruined.

Orange is wonderful to my eyes. But it's a hard color for me to find when it comes to getting things in a particular color. My back-up colors are red, green, and purple.

The sunlight hurts my retinas, even when I'm not looking at the sky at all, but the pain intensity increases the further I look up on a sunny summer day. This has been like this since childhood. Prescriptive sunglasses shouldn't be fucking expensive and should be covered by healthcare insurance.

I have to try really FUCKING hard not to stare at someone's muscles in person because ugh... Good thing I rarely see anybody who's well-built. (No really, this isn't even really a sexual thing, I'm so fucking fascinated and once I realize "oh, so that particular muscle looks like that from that angle", I get a glimmer of hope that I MIGHT be able to draw something humanoid since I suck at drawing people.)

Orange trees as so pleasing to the eye, and these are much more socially acceptable to stare at, lest I'm in person and the property owner might think I'm plotting to steal some (luckily I've never been anywhere near a place that grows orange trees).

Neon lights are amazing and I want them to come the fuck back. I swear, stores were so much more enjoyable of an environment when they were common. Such lights improve my mood in a way I cannot describe. I'm no longer in a hurry to get home if I am in the presence of neon lights.

Sunny days during winter are painful because the sunlight reflects off the snow. I'm painfully blinded if I look outside or go anywhere.

I cannot handle the sight of someone having boogers/snot hanging from their nose, not the sight of someone vomiting, nor the sight of an syringe needle piercing flesh.

I cannot handle the sound of alarm clock bells. I have woken up in a rage and been in a bad mood I try so hard to suppress for a good portion of the day. If I hear an alarm clock bell now these days, I wanna take it and chuck it across the room regardless the time of day or if I'm already awake. It's not so bad if I hear it from a video. In person? That's starting a war with me.

Children crying or screaming (especially babies) are almost painful to me and triggers my fight-or-flight response.

The reason why I was the loudest mellophone player in marching band was to drown out hearing the fucking trumpets. And I did; I was louder than the trumpets. (I quit marching band my sophomore year but for different reasons.)

Much of the music from the 80s that gave it that sound that definitely said it's from the 80s is very pleasing to my ears.

I love punk music for its messages, lyrics, and energy, but goth always puts me into a headspace where I feel like I'm at home; I'm at peace and want to cuddle the monster under my bed.

However, some punk songs can hit deep or strong and live rent-free in my head, such as Anti-Flag's "Racist," Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl," and Skarpretter's "Nazi Scum."

One particular artist's voice I cannot get over because his is the first voice of any kind that makes me wanna fan myself is Peter Steele of Type O Negative. My favorite song, however, is "All Hallow's Eve" because his voice, the subject, and the lyrical content.

I'm able to hear something off in the oscillating fan my husband likes to use before he notices it.

I'm the one who can hear coyotes at night (doesn't help my mom wants to blast westerns to drown out the world and I'm back here in my room away from that shit though).

I can hear the branches scraping against the house, gently making creepy noises before I realize what the fuck it is, BUT NOBODY ELSE HEARS IT.

I can recognize the call of a robin because we had so many at the house I grew up in, and nobody else in this family fucking noticed.

I tend to notice the sound of the rain over all the house noise first.

I don't like tight clothing, which is why I prefer bralettes because my tits hurt.

If I could, I'd go without the bra because the band can sometimes suddenly feel tighter than it actually is, but because I have large nipples, I kinda need that bra for a bit of protection.

Shorts can be tight around the crotch, hip joins, and lower belly region, and that's a big no-no for me.

I'd prefer baggy pants, honestly.

Can't have tight footwear. No.

The seam at the top of socks or tights hurt my pinky toes if the whole sock/tights shift that way.

I already covered the hair snippet thing so since this is the sense of touch, another body hair thing is I kinda don't wanna shave my pits anymore because they are extremely itchy when they grow back. HAVE to shave my crotch because if I don't it gets horribly itchy, and my thick, fast-growing hair weaves into underwear, gets caught in pads, etc.

Ah yes. Pads. I hate them, but they're far more acceptable than a tampon or a cup because I have vaginismus.

Certain fabric textures are itchy as hell. There's a black shirt I have whose collar and cuffs are gorgeous but I have to wear something underneath to avoid feeling itchy.

Winter is hell for me here in the midwest, as I am very susceptible to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes. I become very slow, too. I feel like I can't get warm enough most of the time.

Air conditioned places in the summer feel almost similar, so I don't always wear shorts if I'm expected to go into, say, a Walmart with my husband to pick up everything. I'll shiver.

(We're gonna get into TMI territory here.) Can't masturbate by hand unless I've got a nitrile glove on because my brain only focuses on what my fingers are touching more than what my cunt feels.

Can't have any sex with my husband without anything brighter than low-light because things can be visually distracting in the room, or lights can suddenly feel way too bright to me. (Halloween string lights or those LED rope lights with adjustable brightness features and colors are excellent for this situation.)

In Conclusion

This is all that I've figured out so far. None of this hit me at once as a realization when I figured out that I'm Autistic. This took a while to realize it, and the realizations were mostly at random times through examples of other people experiencing it on the internet or through me going, "Huh, is that an Autistic trait?"

There may be even more that I'm currently unaware of or have forgotten to type here.

I apologize for how extremely lengthy this was. This took all day to type because of having to get up and do other things that needed to be done. One of the reasons why I really wanted to type this is because it's much easier to organize this on a computer, and I am absolutely shit at organizing files on my computer.

Unfortunately, while my husband is wonderful in supporting me, my parents aren't exactly all that great at it. Especially my dad, who is either vaguely dismissive or outright "forgets" that I'm Autistic (he honestly just... doesn't care, and tries to make things convenient for him at the expense of others most of the time). My mom... I'm not real sure. There are times where she seems to remember and others where she doesn't. I'm honestly wondering if they don't like knowing that I'm Autistic because that means my brother would have been as his traits were far more obvious than mine.

I hope that whoever is questioning whether or not they're Autistic has found this helpful at least in the sense that it would point you in the right direction on where to go next, but I would highly recommend checking out online Autistic communities, as that's where I've discovered that I'm on the spectrum.

#autism #asperger's #adhd #special interests #sensory traits #autistic traits #sorry for how long this is

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unbloomingmoonflower · 3 years

Photo

So I did this on Twitter, but Imma copy and paste the answers I did with more depth b/c Twitter has shitty character limits.

Under the cut, because this is a lot of Shuri lore.

1. Shuri’s birth name is actually Saran Orl. She doesn’t know this to this day since her birth parents were killed when she was born. A midwife managed to save the infant Saran/Shuri by taking her to the Angura, where she was given the name Shuri Angura when she was adopted by Agathe and Declan Angura. She took the title name "Fontaye" after a year or so in Eorzea (an idea to have Fontaye be a title for Shuri thrown at me from @earthlystar).

2. Shuri is an Auri Xaela. Her main class/job is Dancer, as she was trained by Nashmeira in her late teens to not only dance, but to wield the weapons a dancer does.

3. The most striking features is Shuri’s scales. As they are not the usual scales one would find on a Xaela, the superstitious few would consider her cursed. She grew to be proud of her scales, finding beauty in them even she herself hated how different she looked.

4. She has been alive for 28 winters. Her birthday is January 7th.

5. Shuri is a gentle and docile woman, a far different temperament that one would normally not expect out of a Xaela. However, don’t think her gentle-hearted nature is her only side. If she is crossed the wrong way or if anyone she loves is harmed or insulted, Shuri will display the bloodthirsty side of her. When she is crossed, she is merciless.

6. The Xaela tends to wear comfortable clothing when she isn’t busy working or saving the realm for the 100th time. You’ll find her in either comfy dresses or the Ala Mhigan gown since she finds armors quite suffocating. She’d don her more seductive clothing when she works at the clubs.

7. Tragic. Shuri’s birth parents were killed when she was born and as such, she has no memory of them. Her foster parents were also killed by Garleans in her early teens, with the young Shuri barely escaping with her life. In her traumatic state, she managed to go as far as Kugane to take stow away on a ship bound for Eorzea.

8. Her goal is a simple one, yet sometimes it seems unattainable: a peaceful life. Enduring the traumas she has, the turmoil she’s felt, Shuri longs for a quiet, peaceful life. She doesn’t like to fight so needlessly.

9. In her non-WoL verse, Shuri works as a dancer at a club called Sirensong. She makes quite a sum of gil that she is putting into savings to get a home with her fiancee. In both WoL and non-WoL verses, Shuri also does commissions for the weaver’s guild anonymously. She gets a fair amount of gil in that respect too and she enjoys doing it.

10. Anything sweet. Shuri’s developed a sweet tooth outside of favoring her traditional dishes.

11. Ending up alone again. Shuri’s already lost her family once. She is deathly terrified to lose more people she’d grown to care about. To her, losing them is equivalent to losing a piece of herself and she doesn’t ever want her found family to be harmed or lost.

12. See number 9.

13. DPS, as a Dancer. Shuri does not like to tank head-on and she feels her healing skills are inadequate as a White Mage. As a Dancer, she feels free to move as she sees fit and striking with precision and grace.

14. Shuri believes she doesn’t have any talents.

15. Shuri is not an Eorzean native. She fled there after Garleans massacred her tribe. She was born and raised into her early teens in the Azim Steppe and she will always say as such even while living in Eorzea. She does visit her homeland often with the eventual intent to settle there.

16. Both sets of parents are deceased. Shuri has a memorial altar both in her home and one she built herself in the glacial mountains where the Angura thrived.

17. Via the headcanon with @peachteaoni, Shuri has a twin sister that still resides in the Steppe named Ami. She found out about Ami when she went to the Steppe to take part in the nadaam and encountered a Xaela who is identical to her. Ami was raised by another tribe, as she and Shuri were separated at birth.

18. Her only other known, living relative is Sidurgu, her cousin on her father’s side.

19. Shuri is a hopeless romantic, but tends to shy away from love when it is professed to her (unless she’s the one who made the confession out of brief instances of boldness). To her, love is the most beautiful, frightening thing that someone could ever experience in their life and she also believes that love is not the same with each person she encounters.

20. Sex can be a beautiful thing to unite two souls made for each other; but it can also be used as a weapon. Shuri is aware of this and prefers sex being an instance where she and her partner’s souls connect in the most intimate ways through the act.

21. It’s a necessary evil. Shuri knows this well. Compared to trades in the Steppe, Eorzea runs on gil and Shuri knows the struggle of not having any.

22. Shuri is a devout, firm believer of Azim and Nhaama, with Nhaama being her patron deity. She does not believe in the Twelve, though she respects that her partners (in both verses) do.

23. Her enemies are Garleans. That is something that is hard to sway for Shuri and if she encounters someone she’s grown friendly or fond of, only to find that they are of Garlean descent (defectors or otherwise), it confuses her feelings. She still has unbridled hate for those still aligned with Garlemald, however.

24. Aside from her friends, Nashmeira is a role model for Shuri. The woman taught Shuri everything she needed to know to be a dancer, taking on an almost mother-figure role for the young Xaela. Shuri reveres Nashmeira and often speaks highly of her.

25. Shuri has many fond memories with those she’s met in her life. She can never choose one over the other.

26. Shuri is extremely insecure and very easily discouraged. It is a flaw she is trying to overcome, though sometimes she falters and it takes some time to help her regain her confidence.

27. See 22.

28. Having been called a savage by Garleans and even some Ishgardians, Shuri understands the plight of the Beast Tribes being painted with the broad brush when some fringes sought the power of the Primals, or succumbed to the Primals for other, heartbreaking reasons. She sympathizes with the Beast Tribes and assists them whenever she can. She also tends to question any ally who sees all members of the Beast Tribes as savage monsters without truly understanding their plight and only what things are said.

29. Her greatest regret is misplaced. She feels that if she had been stronger, she’d have been able to save her foster family and other members of her tribe instead of fleeing. She carries the weight of that regret in her heart that not even those closest to her are aware of it.

30. She’s terrified of Diremites.

#moonie types #shuri lore

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dourpeep · 3 years

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Seeing people complaining about the lack of anniversary rewards is getting so tiring. The game's ratings dropped to like 2 on Google play, all comment sections of official accounts are full of complaints. I know and understand that people are upset but it's just so so tiring to the point where I unfollowed most accounts that aren't related to fanart or fanfiction because of all that negativity

I personally spent (a little) money on the game so I get where p2w players come from but idk. I saw that we didn't get anything and moved on pretty quickly. Maybe that's just me, idk

Maybe you have a different view on this and if so, I'd like to hear it

Sorry for ranting in your inbox

hehe no need to apologize because I have quite a bit to say myself nodnod

Read if you like, don't if you don't--this is just my opinions and stuff based off my experience knowing Eastern gatcha games as well as talking about using a 5* vs 4* of the same build + slot

This got kinda long ehe-

Like really long.

Anyway

My turn for a Hot Take (tm)

Yeah I understand this--I've been feeling so drained and my enjoyment of the game and writing has diminished immensely because all I see everywhere is just that.

I understand that the event rewards suck but at the same time? I realize how gacha aren't really popular here in the West--and I have seen a lot of comparison between Genshin and Cookie Run but they're also two entirely different genres despite both being gacha. Not to mention that Cookie Run is fast at first until you get to around uhh Kingdom lvl 37~~ and you're stuck and can't go forward because things cost too many materials or your cookies aren't strong enough even though you have several stars on your team consisting of epics built as optimally as possible-

So the maintenance rewards for Cookie Run have been the only significant amount of gems I've been getting for a few weeks now compared to when I first started and could do 10 roll after 10 roll.

Also also, Cookie Run is PvP (arena, guilds, etc). Being able to get more rolls is absolutely a gamechanger. If you can't get a good defense cookie or healer cookie, you're fucked.

So!! That's why Cookie Run is more generous with rolls. You're not going to want to keep fighting other people in the Arena or doing Guild stuff if they don't add in those generous rewards.

On the other hand, Genshin Impact is an open world rpg w/ co-op (note, co-op doesn't count as pvp because you're collaborating) where you can build pretty much any of the characters to be viable (dps/vampire Barbara is one major example, Noelle is a guarantee roll character for that beginner's banner and she can easily be built to be a tank/healer/dps to fill whatever slot you desire)

So they're not going to be incredibly generous w/ rewards because the characters you have--meta or not--don't really effect your ability to play the game (unless we're talking spiral abyss which really is considered endgame anyway) when you're able to get at least one character of each element for free I mean, you start out with traveler who can be anemo, geo, or electro once you get to the respective places, Amber, Kaeya, Lisa, Barbara (iirc, you need to get to rank 20?), Xiangling (complete spiral abyss floor 3), and Noelle (reduced cost 10roll w/ guaranteed Noelle).

Which would be one of each element and a variety of one of the 5 weapon types nodnod.

Time to talk about builds and why it's not necessary to have a 5* unlike in other gatcha games like Cookie Run (again, a kingdoms builder) before going back to the anniversary stuff

But continuing, like Eula is considered a fantastic 5* character who features a kit that is based around her being a physical damage character. My sibling, C, has her built and she does some insane damage.

On the other hand, I have Xinyan built as a physical dps and if you were to compare their damage?

With crit, C's Eula deals 9k to 14k with Skyward Pride (5* claymore w/ energy recharge substat). With crit, my Xinyan deals 8k to 13k with Song of Broken Pines (5* claymore w/ phys substat) OR 7k to 10k with Prototype Archaic (4* craftable claymore w/ attack substat).

Both C and I agree that they're pretty evenly-matched in the sense of damage output.

We have similar builds focusing on physical damage, however, C's Eula uses 4pc Pale Flame and my Xinyan uses 2pc Bloodstained, 2pc Pale Flame (both have the 25% phys damage bonus for the 2pc). It's also good to note that both their Eula and my Xinyan have a physical dmg % cup.

So just by stacking up more phys on Xinyan, you get a physical dps (with some elemental support capabilities due to her E and Q) you can easily make her deal consistent, reliable damage that is comparable to a fully built Eula. Ofc, I'm sacrificing Xinyan's shield, but since she's built to be a physical dps, it doesn't matter anyway.

Another thing is Zhongli is an incredible shield support. His shield?? Absolutely insane because it's based off his hps. Guess who else has a hp-based shield and heals??? Diona. Another incredibly good support 4* with a shield and healing would be Noelle!

But with Diona, specifically since I did kinda cover over Noelle already, she can easily be built along with her shield having over 100% uptime (like how Zhongli has over 100% uptime). The fact that Diona is also a healer definitely is a perk too.

Ofc the difference with this is that Zhongli can be built as a burst support/dps while Diona is not. But the point isn't that--the point is that you don't need a 5* shield support to have a good, reliable shield support.

But regardless of 4* or 5*, to get a viable character, you need to build them well. So if your character isn't doing satisfactory damage, you just have to take a quick peek at what artifacts they're running and fix as needed!

Another thing--

Talking about the rewards and stuff for the anniversary-

Generally, gatcha games aren't really that generous with rewards and instead usually have some sort of event. In this case, I'm pretty sure that Moonchase is considered a part of the anniversary which is why it's giving so many rewards- just the primos from the first day alone with the chests and quest was enough for two rolls (40 chests * 5 primos each + 60 from the quest and a few that I forgot where they come from but are from the event) as well as the 4* Luxurious Sea Lord claymore.

Before you say that it's shitty for them to make a festival into the anniversary event, I'm certain that people would complain if the anniversary rewards were just a little more than the 10x fates and stuff and that's it because it'd feel like they're skipping over the anniversary entirely. (keep in mind, festivals don't normally give this much stuff in terms of primogems from what we've experienced so far--they're mainly focused on the free event weapon you can get and build like with Festering Desire, Windborne Ode, Dodoco Tales)

Also companies love taking advantage of festivals to make an event bigger + more fleshed out. It'd be otherwise kinda boring to have to just log in every day for a week (not to mention, not everyone does that) and encourages players to play to get rewards.

yeah, that's supposed to work in their favor because they want to keep interest.

So the fact that there's a lot of backlash on everything going on is tiring and also?? I want to make the point that they'll only listen to so much. Getting heard is important, but there will be a point where Mihoyo will just stop listening to the players entirely because all they're getting is a constant barrage of "this event is the worst" "no one likes that character" "(insert character) when???" "okay but where's (blank) rerun?" pasted over the forums, discord, twitter, facebook, instagram--

You can't keep demanding more while also talking shit constantly about the new stuff added because then they'll just not add those new stuff because we (general) seem to never be satisfied.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they end up just cutting Genshin Impact as a loss entirely if this continues as it has and gets even worse.

But I digress.

Anyway, I agree that it sucks that the daily login rewards for the anniversary are just cut and pasted from the Lantern Rite, but as someone who's played a lot of gatcha games, it's pretty much the standard.

Have a daily sign in for rewards and a big event featuring a ton of stuff you can get instead of having an 'official' anniversary event.

I'm sure there's a lot I'm missing because it's not coming to mind, but yeah. These are my general thoughts on what's happening with the discourse.

#anon asks #discourse #anyway that being said--make sure to get some rest anon #stuff like this is incredibly draining so take care of yourself nodnod #I'm not sorry for this being so long I got carried away but at the same time this is something I'm pretty passionate about #And I'm not at all excusing the stuff going on but at the same time us (general as players) are also not really being the best

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mulletcal · 4 years

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flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell. and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that. title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it. alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count:

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur. Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was.

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face. One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden. I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too. Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day. Something like learning to garden.

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing. He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless. He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini. The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas. Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’. Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour. That’s where his weekly livestreams began. He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans. Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day. Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade. Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber. Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?”

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed. “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process. It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’. Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance. He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him. Though, he would admit that he needed a shower.

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up. Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know. Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise. Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself. He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride. He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list: @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @inlovehoodx @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #boomer!ash

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nightkitchentarot · 3 years

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The Secret Of The Quiet Mind

FROM THE ATLANTIC -- JUNE 17, 2021

I Know the Secret to the Quiet Mind. I Wish I’d Never Learned It.

Of all the injuries we suffered, mine is the worst. My brain injury has shaken my confidence in my own personality, my own existence.

By Hana Schank

The worst things can happen on the most beautiful days. My family’s worst day was a perfect one in the summer of 2019. We picked my daughter up from camp and talked about where to go for lunch: the diner or the burger place. I don’t remember which we chose. What I do remember: being woken up, again and again, by doctors who insist on asking me the same questions—my name, where I am, what month it is—and telling me the same story, a story that I am sure is wrong.

“You were in a car accident,” they say. But this cannot be. We’re having lunch and then going on a hike. I had promised the think tank where I work that I’d call in to a 4 p.m. meeting.

“You are in Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital in New Hampshire.” Another ludicrous statement. I started the day in Vermont. Surely if I had crossed the river to New Hampshire I would know it.

“What’s your name?” they ask me, and I tell them and tell them and tell them.

“Where are you?” “New Hampshire,” I say, except for one time when I say “Vermont.” “New Hampshire,” they correct, and I want to say, “Really, we are so close to the border here, can’t you just give it to me this once?”

“You were in a car accident,” they tell me again. “Your husband broke his leg and your son broke his collarbone.” These do not seem like horrible injuries, so I am waiting for the worse news, the news that my daughter is dead. She is the youngest and the smallest. She was born with albinism, and her existence has always felt improbable, and so now it must be over.

But—thank God—it’s not. “Your daughter has fractures in her spine and damage to her lower intestine from the seat belt.” They tell me that my lower intestine was also injured, and that I’ve had surgery. I lift up my hospital gown and am surprised to see an angry red line and industrial-size staples. I remember an article I’d read about seat belts not being designed for women, and I ask the doctor if he sees more women with these injuries than men. I have yet to take in the reality of what has happened to me, to my family. Instead I am thinking about writing an exposé about the sexist seat-belt industry.

They wake me up and ask me where I am and what my name is. A doctor asks me who the president is. “I don’t want to say,” I reply. He smiles. I am at Dartmouth for three days before I am transferred to the University of Vermont, where my husband and children are. The days pass like minutes, a loop of sleep interrupted by people asking me questions and telling me terrible things.

One of the things I am told is that I have a brain bleed and a traumatic brain injury. I wonder if this is why I am slurring my words, but am told that the slurring is from the anti-seizure medication I am on. This sounds good. The slurring will stop. A doctor tells me I “got my bell rung.” This is a bad analogy. Bell clappers are meant to slam against the side of the bell. The brain is not meant to slam against the side of the skull.

Of all the injuries my family is suffering from, mine is the worst. This is my totally biased opinion. My husband’s leg will take almost a year to heal. My daughter would have died if not for the surgery to repair her flayed abdomen. She is 10, and one of her friends tells her that because of the scar she will never be able to wear a bikini. She spends many days attempting to suss out whether she cares. She doesn’t yet know if she is the bikini-wearing type.

My 13-year-old son is the only one who remembers the accident. He remembers a woman in a ponytail calling 911, the smell of gasoline and burnt metal. He remembers his father yelling “Jesus Christ.” He will have to live with the memory of his sister looking at my body and asking, “Is Mama dead?”

These are terrible injuries, and yet, the other members of my family don’t walk around thinking, Am I still me? My brain injury has shaken my confidence in my own personality, my own existence. This is the worst injury.

When we leave the hospital and move into a hotel, I frequently get lost in the hallway. The first time I roll into occupational therapy with my walker, I am grateful for the obvious signage pointing me toward the check-in desk. It’s almost as though the clinic is expecting people with brain damage.

My therapist is a smiling, 40-something woman with dirty-blond hair. She reminds me of me before the accident. She asks if I am having any thinking problems or memory problems. I tell her about an incident with Parmesan cheese.

“Can you get the Parmesan?” my husband asked.

I opened the fridge and looked. I looked and looked.

“I can’t find it,” I said with a shrug.

My son opened the fridge and pulled out a block of Parmesan.

It hadn’t occurred to me that this was a brain issue. Sometimes you just can’t find the Parmesan. Right?

A test confirms that I have trouble scanning a visual field for objects. My brain is struggling to recognize what I see, but without a pre-accident baseline to judge from, there is no way to know how much worse I am at it now. Have I always been bad at finding things? Maybe? There are limits to how well an injured brain can scrutinize an injured brain.

I have other visual-processing issues. At first I can’t watch television because my brain is unable to merge the images from my two eyes, so I see doubles of everything—two Phoebes, two Chandlers. I can watch with one eye closed, but I’m distracted, seething at my brain for failing to do such a simple task.

In one session, the therapist tells me we are going to play a game. She pulls out a deck of cards and asks me to turn cards over while saying the number or the color or the suit. The game is so difficult, I want to physically remove my brain from my skull and hurl it against a wall. I will never play this game again as long as I live.

Eventually I graduate from occupational therapy. But occupational therapy isn’t about getting people back on their feet so they can return to think tanks. It is about making sure they can run errands without getting lost. I am someone who has always taken pride in my intelligence, and now I am not so smart. I am just a functional human being, according to occupational therapy.

When we go out in public as a family, we are a walking nightmare. “Wow,” a stranger says, marveling at the device that is bolted into my husband’s femur. And then my son appears with his arm in a sling, my daughter limps over in her back brace. An injured couple is potentially funny. There is nothing funny about an injured family. “What happened to you guys?”

When we tell the story, we explain that we were in no way at fault, which feels important. We wore our seat belts and drove the speed limit and the weather wasn’t bad and yet this happened to us. Someone was driving a pickup truck in the opposite direction. He was late to a job interview or to get his kid, or maybe he was just antsy. In front of him was a motorcycle slowing him down. Maybe he’d been behind that motorcycle for miles. Maybe he liked to take risks. He pulled into our lane and passed the motorcycle while going up a hill at 70 miles per hour. I don’t know who makes this kind of decision. Did he think, I can’t believe I did something this stupid? Did he also yell “Jesus Christ”?

Because we are not at fault, accident feels like the wrong word. Not just wrong, but unfair. My husband starts calling it the incident, but an incident is a small thing, not something that scars you for life. The smashing? The destruction? Newbury, after the town where it occurred? The only thing that comes close is the devastation.

The devastated me is different. My brain used to race, making lists and plans, skipping from an article I was researching to whether my kids were in appropriate after-school programs to what vacation we should take in February. Now it does none of that. There are no plans to make.

A few days after regaining consciousness, I check my Twitter feed. I have always been a news junkie. But I have missed nothing. The news seems to be not just familiar but actually repeating itself. Something bonkers happened in the White House. People are dying in a country I’ve never been to. A company did something possibly illegal. There was a house fire in the Bronx. Are these the things I used to care about?

The most interesting piece of news is the one I am experiencing. In the hospital we are waiting to make sure my daughter can poop through her reconstructed colon. This article isn’t in The New York Times.

When we return to New York I take the subway to doctor appointments. I don’t take out my phone, I just sit. My brain is quiet, which I find suspicious, but also soothing. Before the accident I went to yoga retreats and tried meditation. I said things like “I just need to unplug.” Apparently what I needed was to get hit by a truck. Perhaps I have discovered the secret to a peaceful mind, and it is traumatic brain injury. I fantasize about opening an expensive spa where busy people pay me money to whack them on the head with a baseball bat.

The day of the accident I had been working on a project to improve how homeless people are placed into shelters. I say out loud, “I don’t care about homeless people” to see how it feels. It doesn’t ring true; I do care about homeless people. I just don’t feel like working. I have always been a regular exerciser. Now I can’t imagine wanting to do a burpee, let alone 10 of them. I always ate healthy things. But did you know that you can eat whole grains and still get hit by a truck?

I have strange cravings. I think about apple cider all the time. Apple cider is not a normal part of my diet. I have a very detailed dream about eating chocolate cake. I eat the cake. That’s the entire dream. I find myself foraging in the fridge for flavors that don’t exist.

I don’t know which symptoms are permanent and which are temporary. At first, the doctors say that after a year or two I’m likely to have a full return to my normal brain function. Or not. They don’t really know about the brain. It might be more like 95 percent. If I broke my elbow and someone told me I’d get 95 percent of my elbow function back, I’d be satisfied. But 95 percent of my brain function sounds terrifying. Which pieces will be missing?

Some days I feel like myself. Other days all I can think about is the old life that is gone. Then, halfway through my recuperation, the coronavirus comes. The stores close, the schools close, the traffic on the avenue dwindles to a sporadic whoosh. And my busy friends who were always texting me about their crazy schedules are suddenly as quiet as I am. Together we wait for normal to return. The difference is that they know what normal looks like.

In July it will be two years since the accident. The world is now coming back to life, my days slowly filling up with work and chores and exercise. Soon I will go back to in-person meetings and travel, and I wonder: Will I be up to the challenge? Or will I get lost in office buildings and airports?

For now, in this liminal space between the old life and the new one, I often catch myself staring at my children. They have never been more beautiful. I chalk this up to the magic of braces––their teeth are finally coming into alignment––but I know this is ridiculous. They are beautiful because they are alive. I look at them, and I sit with the silence. Today, it is mine. Tomorrow, it may not be.

#brain injury #savor your life #hana schank

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ladyloveandjustice · 4 years

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Winter 2020 Anime Overview: Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

Keep Your Hands off Eizouken! follows three high school girls: Midori Asakusa, Tsubame Mizusaki and Sayaka Kanamori, as they work together to create their own anime. They form a club on their high school campus, which they dub “eizouken” (the rough meaning of which is “film association”).

Awkward and spacey but endlessly creative, Asakusa takes on the job of director and also handles background animation. Mizusaki is a part-time model who has to dodge her parents disapproval over her pursuing anime, but she’s a whiz at character animation. And finally, there’s the tough-as-nails, blunt-as hell Kanamori, who doesn’t have much passion for animation itself but has a lot of passion for selling a good product, and she wrangles the two artists and reminds them of the bottom line.

Eizouken! is a vibrant artistic triumph bursting with wonder and ingenuity. I can’t really communicate just how good it is- this is truly a show that speaks to the existence of nerds, creative weirdos and (if you identify with Kanamori), the poor souls who have to deal with how ridiculous creative weirdos can be.

The show finds great visual ways to express the creative and planning process for an enterprise, having the girls literally climb around in the settings and concept art they create, struggle to fly the planes they’ve designed, and so on. By doing this, it transforms what could have been a more standard narrative into a more unpredictable tale that switches between being a a thoughtful meditation on the different aspects of the creative and production process and a rollicking, wacky adventure story.

And it’s all carried by very strong characters. Even their designs are bold and distinct- its very rare to see a main protagonist female character in ANY sort of animation have a constant, unflattering grimace like Kanamori does, but it suits her cynical self perfectly. Eizouken! focuses on female characters, but unusually for anime, and let’s be real, animation in general, it doesn’t sand off any unique edges to make them as generically cute’ as possible. Mizuasaki is the closest to a standard conventionally cute design, but that suits the fact she’s a part time model. Thanks to the great animation, the girls also have a wonderful expressiveness that matches their striking designs. The great article The Glorious, Geeky. Goofy Girls of Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken goes into this more in depth.

(As the article mentions, the storyboard director of episode 1, Mari Motohashi, said they animated the characters in a consciously gender neutral manner too, saying of the original manga that“ she liked the "gender neutral" feel of it. She described Asakusa as like an elementary schooler, Mizusaki as having some girlish aspects still left in her, and Kanamori as like an intellectual yakuza. She said that Kanamori's pragmatism was refreshing, and felt true to life regarding how the anime industry works, which may be why creative people tend to enjoy the manga. “)

It’s not just the main three! Side characters are distinctive too and unusually diverse for an anime taking place in Japan. The setting itself encompasses this diversity, you see signs in many different languages and so on. The mangaka has stated it was based on her own experiences attending a public school, saying on twitter: "I was attending a public elementary school. There were Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, Americans, Iranians, Brazilians, Egyptians and Nigerians. Those are normal. And there were various skin colors, religions, and various names."

Of course, strong designs and animation need strong writing to match them and Eizouken! provides. All the characters are deeply loveable in their quirkiness and struggles, and they play off each other well.

Kanamori became particularly beloved with the fandom- she could have easily been a one-dimensional greedy producer type, but while she takes no shit and wants that money (oh boy does she) she also really genuinely hates seeing great small businesses fail due to poor management, and knows how harsh the world is and wants people to succeed in it.

Also, because the student council leader genuinely smart and take-no-shit pragmatic too, her rivalry with Kanamori actually becomes fun to watch instead of being the usual generic one-sided battle we typically club anime- they’re equals.

Asakusa and Mizusaki also have really strong character focus too-for example, when we get into why Mizusaki loves animation, you find a surprising attention to detail and practicality hidden behind her starry eyed passion. One of Eizouken’s greatest strengths is how, while its brimming with joy and love of artistry, it doesn’t bullshit its audience and try to define artists in vague, idealistic terms, or act like it isn’t incredibly tough out there for animators, or anyone trying to make doing something they enjoy. The anime is defined by the tug of war between the wonders of imagination and the harshness of the actual world.

But it also acknowledges that like, sometimes high schoolers just wanna animate a girl fighting a tank with a sword cuz like how cool is that.

It makes for a message that’s still hopeful and inspirational to people who want to do what they love, but more in touch with the actual world (and the dire conditions of a lot of the anime industry, even if it doesn’t directly talk about it). Like with it’s characters, the show doesn’t sand off the rough edges of trying to make and sell art!

In the end, Eizouken! is both an ode to and a peak example of incredible creativity and all the effort that goes into getting art out there The only real flaw in it is that sometimes the info-dumps on the animation concepts can get overwhelming, but even that just means more cool stuff to comb through if you’re in the mood for it.

And there are a million strengths to offset it. Like how It’s funny and smart, striking a great balance between snappy, relatable moments and deeper musings on artistry and trying to make it in a confusing world. It’s got a lot for animation and anime geeks to snack on and is clearly made by people who both know what they’re talking about and don’t feel the need to sugarcoat it. It captures both the ridiculousness and loveliness of nerdery (you WILL see these dweebs arguing about giant robots in wonderfully/horribly specific detail). It’s a visual feast that switches art styles to express different feelings, and revels in every colorful detail. It’s full of great girls being awesome dorks.

It’s likely to stand out as among the best of years to come and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it still going strong in “anime of the decade” lists when we hit 2030. I definitely recommend this series with no reservations- not just for artists and lovers of animation, but anyone who wants to have a blast.

So please feel free to use this humble Tumblr post to spread the word about this show, though never forget Kanamori’s wisdom:

For we must always hold this knowledge deep in our hearts.

#keep your hands off eizouken #eizouken #sayaka kanamori #kanamori sayaka #tsubame mizusaki #mizusaki tsubame #midori asakusa #asakusa midori #anime overview #winter 2020 anime #my reviews

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years

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5e Illaoi, the Kraken Priestess build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

I’ll take “Champions Everyone Hates” for $300, Larry!

Jokes aside Illaoi was a beyond obvious build with all the Unearthed Arcana subclasses being shown off. With Tasha’s Cauldron on the horizon and recent news that Illaoi is actually getting another skin it only makes sense to make a build for her.

But this is also an opportunity to make something interesting. In particular I see a lot of people online saying that the only viable melee Warlock is Hexblade, and while the Hexblade subclass certainly makes creating a melee Warlock easier it isn’t the only path you can choose. So to prove that you can play other Warlocks with a big ball to slam people with here’s a more melee focused Warlock build!

GOALS

Sheeyutu Nagakabouros - So Illaoi needs tentacles. What? Lurker in the Deep Warlock? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Broken bones teach better lessons - Illaoi is a buff lady and I want her to crush my head between her thighs... What? Uhhh STRENGTH BUILD TIME!

Many gods ask for worship; they are weak gods - Probably the only hard part about this build is going to be ripping people’s souls out of their body... Good thing I’m honestly probably not going to do that and simply reflavor some stuff.

RACE

League of Legends has its gods and monsters, but the majority of the characters are human. Variant Humans get to start with a little bit more than the average human, but let’s get the normal things out of the way first: increase your Strength and Charisma by 1 to break bones more easily and to find more people who want you to break their bones. You also get a proficiency in a skill of your choice such as Athletics to lug a giant Kraken god head statue around all day, and a language of your choice like Deep Speech to speak to your god through your statue.

But most importantly you get a free Feat, and unfortunately this is a case of me being forced to stick feats into this build for the sake of aesthetic. Illaoi doesn’t wear armor in-game but I could make the argument that her massive arm pauldrons and general outfit could be seen as Medium armor. So even though you could get Heavy Armor “proficiency” thanks to the Eldritch Armor Invocation from the Class Feature Variants UA I’m instead going to suggest taking the Moderately Armored Feat for Medium Armor proficiency and +1 to your Strength score. Feel free to take something like Great Weapon Master instead if you’re okay with actually wearing Heavy Armor at the cost of an invocation.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - Eat your heart out The Last of Us 2 haters. (BTW screw everyone who’s been harassing Laura Bailey on Twitter. I know this is old news but still.)

14; DEXTERITY - Something something Medium Armor, even if Heavy Armor is an option.

13; CHARISMA - Ultimately this is a requirement for the class we’ll have to be playing, but I’m sure there’s a reason this tentacle-lover keeps showing up to ruin my soloqueue games.

12; CONSTITUTION - Illaoi is a tank in-game and while I’d love this to be higher unfortunately we need other things more.

10; WISDOM - Illaoi has knowledge of the old gods which I’d personally consider to be more Wisdom based than Intelligence.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Signing yourself off to be the priestess of some deep sea Cthulhu monster isn’t something you do when you have a high GPA.

BACKGROUND

Fun fact: you can be a priest and not be a Cleric! The Acolyte background lets you grant your service to a god, even if that god isn’t commonly accepted. You gain some Religion proficiency as well as general Insight, as well as two languages of your choice like Abyssal and Primordial to speak to all the ancient beings of Bilgewater.

Your feature Shelter of the Faithful will be a... little odd for your DM to implement. There are few temples to Nagakabouros, but if you can find followers of the Bearded Lady they will provide shelter for you and your allies, and also support you (and you alone) as their Priestess. But regardless you will still be able to find your people in your hometown, and will be able to perform sermons for your god. Even if those sermons involve cracking skulls.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - WARLOCK 1

Did you enjoy seeing the word “Fighter” a lot in my Garen build? Well you’d better be ready to see a whole lot of “Warlock” in this one. As a Warlock you get two proficiencies from the Warlock skill list so learn about the History of Nagakabouros and also take Intimidation proficiency because I’m pretty fucking intimidated when an Illaoi comes into my lane if you know what I’m saying.

But unlike most classes Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 and low-and-behold we’ll be going with the Lurker in the Deep Unearthed Arcana Patron which will soon be appearing in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. One may ask why I didn’t wait for that book to come out to which I reply “I need to make content.” Regardless you get Scion of the Deep at level 1 to communicate telepathically with (almost) any creature that has an innate swimming speed that’s within 120 feet of you. The creature can understand you regardless of your shared languages and can respond telepathically. Look all I’m saying is that you’ve gotta be able to talk with Nami somehow.

But of course what you’re really here for is Grasp of the Deep. As a bonus action you create a tentacle at a point you can see within 60 feet of you. The tentacle lasts for 1 minute or until you make another tentacle. When you create the tentacle, you can make a melee spell attack against a creature within 10 feet of it. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 cold or lightning damage (your choice when it takes the damage) and its speed is reduced by 10 feet until the start of your next turn. You can also move the tentacle up to 30 feet as a bonus action on your turn and repeat the attack with said bonus action. You can summon the tentacle a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

Yes I did just copy-paste the description of the ability because it’s a lot of words to say something very simple: make tentacle in 60 feet, slam people with bonus action, move it up to 30 feet per round.

But unlike in League you get more than just tentacles at level 1! You also have access to Pact Magic! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list: Lightning Lure lets you pull your opponent’s not-quite-soul closer towards you, and Eldritch Blast is an Eldritch Blast that lets you Eldritch Blast; I’m not going to pretend you don’t know what this cantrip is.

You also get two spells from the Warlock list and now it’s time to just take any spell that has the name “Hadar” in it. Arms of Hadar lets you strike everyone near you with tentacles; isn’t it fun to get your ultimate at level 1? For some sort-of Soul Stealing action I’m actually going to recommend Witch Bolt: after hitting an enemy with the spell you can keep hitting them from a distance and they can’t do anything about it! Truthfully though there are a lot of really great spells for this build at first level and I’m sad I can’t list them all, so if you don’t like my spell picks try out:

Hellish Rebuke (Thornmail)

Hex

Protection from Evil and Good

Thunderwave (Subclass-specific spell, otherwise known as “better Arms of Hadar that aren’t tentacles so they’re actually worse)

Yeah level 1 is always overloaded.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations to improve their abilities, and you know what we still need? A proper ability to rip out people’s souls. Shame we won’t get that, but Grasp of Hadar will pull them closer and Lance of Lethargy will slow them for trying to escape their Test of Spirit. These invocations do stack (IE there’s no rule saying you can’t apply both at once) so you can theoretically pull someone 10 feet closer to you and make them 10 feet slower, resulting in 20 total feet of distance you’re gaining on them.

You can also learn another spell at this level and while there are plenty of good ones I’m going to suggest some Thornmail, or rather Armor of Agathys. The spell doesn’t require Concentration, gives you some bulk, and makes enemies think twice about hitting you. And it scales well too!

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 3

So how about we get something big to bonk our enemies with? Hello Pact of the Blade! In short you make a weapon in your hands to fight with, and I’d argue that a Maul is probably the closest to a big two-handed bludgeoning weapon.

I should mention that technically you need the Improved Pact Weapon invocation to be able to cast spells while you have a weapon in two hands, but you can get around this by using a component pouch instead of a focus. (And Illaoi seems the type to cast with squid organs.)

Oh and you can learn second level spells now! Spells like Earthbind to make sure your foes don’t take to the sky to escape the wrath of the ocean.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement so it’s time to invest in your main stat: Strength! What was that? Charisma? No no silly Warlocks use Strength obviously, so put +2 into that.

You also learn another spell at this level, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Mage Hand will let you summon a little tentacle for you to grab smaller things at a distance. As for leveled spells Ray of Enfeeblement will let you pack Exhaust for your foes, reducing their attack damage. It’s a bit of a dirty trick but Nagakabouros doesn’t fight fair.

(Artwork by ERDJIE on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Invocation so guess what we’re taking? Yup: Eldritch Smite, pretty much a given whenever I make a Pact of the Blade build. This will let you slam your foes so hard that they fall over! I’m also going to suggest you replace Lance of Lethargy with Thirsting Blade, as by this point Grasp of Hadar is already pulling them close enough thanks to two Eldritch Blasts per turn.

You can also learn another spell at this level and remember when I said we’d take any spell with the name “Hadar” in the title? Hunger of Hadar lets you make an area pitch black and summon a bunch of tentacles in that area. Basically Hadar is this world’s Nagakabouros. "Bearded Lady, Nagakabouros, names don't matter! Action does."

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 6

At 6th level your tentacles finally have some lifesteal! And by lifesteal I mean defensive properties. Guardian Grasp lets you use your reaction to make a tentacle shield an ally from a hit, reduce the damage they would’ve taken from an attack by half. The tentacle can shield any ally within 10 feet of it, and it disappears after defending them. Note that this works for spells too, so if someone’s having their soul ripped out of them you can use your abilities to pull it right back in!

Additionally your servitude to the Bearded Lady grants you a Fathomless Soul for the ability to breathe underwater, a swimming speed, and resistance to Cold damage.

And finally you can learn another spell like the Unearthed Arcana spell Spirit Shroud. This spell will let you slow enemies that are near you and also do extra damage.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks get another Invocation but there’s nothing that particularly interests me. May as well get Devil’s Sight in case you’re playing against a Nocturne.

You can also learn another spell at this level and hey look more tentacles! Evard’s Black Tentacles is a subclass-specific spell that makes tentacles that can hold people down!

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: increase your Strength by 1 and your Constitution by 1, as those are your two main stats as a Warlock. Definitely.

You can also add another spell to your list, and while there are plenty of great choices I’d opt to rid yourself of the unworthy with Banishment.

(Artwork by Diazex on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get access to another Eldritch Invocation, but again none of these are that particularly interesting so I suppose you could grab Otherworldly Leap for the Jump spell at will?

But you get access to another spell and if you need guidance from Nagakabouros then Commune with Nature will let you gather information to aid you to spread your faith.

Now (or ideally sometime before) would also probably be a good time to replace a lot of your old spells, so depending on your DM here’s some spells you should probably swap out, and what they should be swapped to:

Arms of Hadar (RIP tentacles) with Vampiric Touch (3rd level) for some lifesteal. (Enervation at the 5th level is also a decent alternative that works at range.)

Witch Bolt with Dimension Door (4th level) for a Teleport back to lane.

Earthbind with Synaptic Static (5th level) for a Leap of Faith against your foes. (By that I mean it’s my build and I like this spell.)

Ray of Enfeeblement with Cone of Cold (5th level) for another powerful AoE spell in a teamfight.

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 10

At 10th level Lurker in the Deep Warlocks can feed their god’s Devouring Maw. As an action you can create a 10 foot radius sphere centered on a point you can see within 60 feet. Each creature in that area must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be restrained. And then: teeth... this feels like Pyke’s thing. Regardless any creature that starts its turn in the area takes 3d6 cold / lightning damage (your choice.)

Restrained creature can try to get out on their action, and at the start of your turn if anyone is in the area you gain temporary hit points equal to your Warlock level. You can use this ability once per short or long rest, so essentially consider it like an extra spell that’s exclusive to you and your faith.

Speaking of extra spells you don’t get another spell known but your tentacles do more damage now: 2d8 to be exact. You also get another cantrip: Minor Illusion will let you summon more small ghost tentacles, except these ones don’t do anything except for fool the enemy into thinking they’ll have a fun laning phase.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 11

11th level Warlocks get their 6th level Mystic Arcanum, which is a spell you can only use once per Long Rest. Basically it’s a regular spell slot, unlike your Warlock slots which come back on a short rest. Unfortunately there really aren’t a lot of Mystic Arcanum options, and the ones at level 6 aren’t spectacular. Circle of Death is probably the best even if the lore is a little iffy.

You can also add another Pact Magic spell to your list: many say that a Dream is a window into one’s soul, so messing with people’s dreams only makes sense for you to test their souls. Oh and you get a third spell slot for your Pact Magic! Yay!

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 12

12th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement but I’m going to instead suggest the Resilient feat for Constitution, increasing your CON to a 14 and giving you proficiency in CON saves. Constitution is one of your main stats as a Warlock after all!

You also get another Eldritch Invocation and now it’s finally time for an invocation we will keep! Lifedrinker will let you add your Charisma modifier as damage to your weapon attacks. I know it’s such a weird thing for Warlocks to have since they rarely use Charisma, but it’s still useful!

(Artwork by sharrm on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 13

At level 13 you get your 7th level Mystic Arcanum. To test weak souls Power Word Pain will see how much they can take before they reach their limit. If a target is at 100 HP or less they are affected by crippling pain. Their speed can be no higher than 10 feet, they have disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws (other than CON saves), and if the target tries to cast a spell, it must first succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or the casting fails and the spell is wasted.

A target suffering this pain can make a Constitution saving throw at the end of each of its turns. On a successful save, the pain ends. While this may seem weak this doesn’t require your concentration, and can set up for all your allies to break the nonbelievers.

You can also add another Pact Magic spell to your list like Elemental Bane. Here’s the trick: pick a damage type of your tentacles that your allies are also doing. This will make both them and your tentacles stronger!

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 14

14th level Lurker in the Deep Warlocks get their final ability, Unleash the Depths. As an action, you choose a point within 30 feet of you to summon a manifestation of Nagakabouros. You then have one of two options:

Transport. You and up to five willing creatures of your choice that you can see within 30 feet of the manifestation point are grasped by spectral tentacles and teleported to a point of your choice within 100 miles that you have visited within the past 24 hours.

Fury. You can direct a barrage of spectral tentacles to strike up to five creatures you can see within 30 feet of the manifestation point. Each target must make a Dexterity saving throw against your spell save DC. On a failed save, the creature takes 6d10 cold or lightning damage (your choice) and is knocked prone. On a successful save, it takes half as much damage and is not knocked prone. The tentacles then vanish.

You can only do this once per Long Rest, so you can essentially consider it another Mystic Arcanum of sorts.

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 15

15th level Warlocks get their 8th level Mystic Arcanum and to truly test one’s faith try Feeblemind. You choose a target to damage and force them to make an Intelligence save: if they fail their Intelligence and Charisma become 1 and they become unable to do most things that require thinking. (Detailed in the spell.) This spell lasts for thirty days unless healed by a specific spell, afterwards they can try to repeat the save.

But more importantly you get some more Invocations and sweet Bearded Lady we can finally get some good ones! Grab Witch Sight to know the truth behind one’s soul.

And you get one more Pact Magic spell like Sickening Radiance to exhaust the spirit... because it causes Exhaustion... the D&D status not the LoL Summoner Spell.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 16

16th level means an Ability Score Improvement so it’s finally time to stop beating around the bush: get more Charisma so Lifedrinker is better. There really isn’t much other use for it.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 17 - WARLOCK 17

At 17th level you get your 9th level Mystic Arcanum; the strongest spell you can cast! When a soul is too weak to fight it must die: Power Word Kill will instantly kill a target with 100 health or less.

In addition you learn more Pact Magic: by this point your foes should truly Fear you (and the fact that I’m not allowed to take any spell that creates undead.) Yes most enemies by this point can resist fears, but on the bright side you finally have four spell slots for your other spells! (Or Smites.)

LEVEL 18 - WARLOCK 18

18th level Warlocks get their final Eldritch Invocation: Visions of Distant Realms will let you use the vision of the Bearded Lady to see across all of Runeterra... or at least as far as Arcane Eye lets you.

LEVEL 19 - WARLOCK 19

19th level Warlocks get our final Ability Score Improvement and yeah: Charisma for Lifedrinker... among other things.

And you get your final Pact Magic spell: take Hold Monster as the final option to keep an enemy down as you beat them into shape.

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 20

20th level Warlocks are Eldritch Masters. You can spend 1 minute praying to regain all your expended Pact Magic slots. Once you regain spell slots with this feature, you must finish a long rest before you can do so again.

...I mean yeah you could just spend an hour to Short Rest, but being able to get 4 more 5th level spell slots in just a minute could be useful! ...Maybe...

FINAL BUILD

PROS

They need wisdom; they don't need teeth - Even though you only have two attacks as a “casting” class you do plenty of damage thanks to Lifedrinker and your tentacles. (Assuming you’re using a Maul) you’re doing 4d6 + 10 bludgeoning, an extra 8 necrotic, and an extra 2d8 of Lightning or Cold damage with your Bonus Action. If you take the averages of those numbers you’re going to be doing about 44 damage per turn! Not to mention Eldritch Smites to truly break their spirits!

Blessed is motion - Your AC shouldn’t be terrible with Medium Armor, but the real strength is in Guardian Grasp. Being able to reduce the damage of an attack by half is universally useful. Above-average HP (thanks to a good CON mod) definitely helps too.

I am a teacher; Bilgewater will learn - Despite your weak mental stats you have a good amount of utility with proficiency in a number of skills and spells to gather information like Arcane Eye, Commune With Nature, and Dream. Not to mention Witch Sight which will see through any illusions or shapeshifting. This means you’re a fighter who can see through invisibility!

CONS

If I hate something, I destroy it - Illaoi is a big lady, and while her physical abilities may be strong her mental capabilities are a little lacking. Your Wisdom saves are fine enough thanks to Proficiency but your Intelligence and Dexterity saves are rather subpar, and as mentioned earlier your Ability Checks aren’t going to be great thanks to your low mental.

My god is not love; it is a kick in the pants - All the memeing I did in this build aside the focus on Strength over Charisma was probably not the brightest, especially considering that the hit chance of your tentacles is based on your Charisma. See if you can get Point Buy for this build instead to max out Strength and Charisma: Medium Armor was taken more for cosmetic than anything, and Heavy Armor would probably be a better choice. And of course feel free to take Charisma ASIs early if you think you need them.

Something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens - Truthfully while 9th level spells an extra invocations are nice this build would’ve probably benefited a lot more from some Fighter or Paladin levels to get a Fighting Style and subclass features. I built this build Warlock-exclusive partially for flavor and partially to show that melee Warlocks are possible outside of Hexblade, but 5 levels into Fighter or Paladin would get you Extra Attack (so you wouldn’t need Thirsting Blade) along with other class features. And starting as Fighter or Paladin would let you take armor proficiency too, so you wouldn’t need a feat for it! (You could grab something like Great Weapon Master instead!)

But here you have it: a level 20 Warlock build, a melee Warlock that isn’t Hexblade, a devout character with no Cleric levels, a Tasha’s build before Tasha’s comes out, and a powerful melee fighter with good use of their Bonus Action and plenty of utility through spellcasting. As long as you live life to its fullest and grab every combat by the reigns then Nagakabouros shall be pleased. Test the nonbelievers and strike at the heart of corruption! For it is her way... to get camped all game by the jungler... and still get double kills.

(Artwork by epimeral on DeviantArt)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd warlock #it's literally just warlock #yup no fighter #League of Legends #League of Legends Illaoi #DnD 5e #Nagakabouros #tentacles #Tumblr ToS

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djgamek1ng · 3 years

Text

My thoughts about the Endwalker/6.0 announcement stream

I had originally posted this on Twitter in a TwitLonger tweet, but I’ll also put it here. This also contains the follow up “thread” about the pure healer/barrier healer balancing (which is at the end, so if you are only interested in that, skip to where it starts with “So... I was”). OKAY, SO I'M REALLY DAMNED HYPED ABOUT THIS EXPANSION. I'm going to go point by point for things they talked about, in as much of the order they talked about things. - The trailer is really freaking cool! Personally, it is arguably my favorite trailer now and we haven't gotten the full version, though depending on the full version the Shadowbringers trailer might still win it out. The music is great, bit less rocking than the Shadowbringers one, but still fantastic. The WoL as a PLD is everything I've ever wanted from this game. It is also a FF4 reference with Cecil going from a Dark Knight to a Paladin. Seeing the twins in CG finally is also amazing. Endwalker, great freaking name ruined by its unfortunate abbreviation: EW. - Okay, so the new jobs. One is a melee DPS. Honestly, didn't expect that. Was expecting a caster, but this does silence the whole "they are going to balance the choices to be 4 each and then we might no longer get any jooooobs!!!!11!" discussion that I've seen happen, so honestly I'm okay with this. The other is our new healer, Sage. Alphinaud also job changed to it, so that is nice. - Specifically, about Sage, they made it a barrier/shield healer and will be shifting over AST to be a "pure" (regen) healer. The actions they showed look cool enough, but it is hard to judge. It is also very very very interesting that they are looking to make the raid finder actually distinguish between barrier healers (so Sage and SCH) and pure healers (WHM and AST). I will get to this point in another post, since I think it is very interesting that they are doing this. - 6.0 being the end of the major Hydaelyn vs Zodiark arc. VERY interesting that it is specifically 6.0 that is going to be the end of that and not 6.3, makes me think that 6.0 is going to be a slightly bigger patch than normal expansion launch patches in terms of story. - Higher level cap! ...I'm only mentioning it because they did. Okay, to be fair, we do see some of the new AFs and DRK's looks great, WHM's looks good, SAM's is awesome and BLM's is nice. - Finally going to Thavnair and Garlemald. Bit of a shame we are only going to Garlemald when it has been entirely destroyed, but it was to be expected I guess lol. Oh, also, new beast tribe. Matanga, the big elephant people. They look pretty cool and I'm honestly intimidated by them as a Lalafell ^-^" - Anima confirmed! Is it going to be a Terminus beast similar to the enemies we saw in the Amaurot dungeon, just as a trial instead? If so, that is really really cool. Regardless, a long overdue enemy to see arrive here! - "Challenging" new dungeons. I'm... sorry to be skeptical, but I'm guessing these are not going to be that challenging. I really hope I'm wrong and that they will provide a decent challenge, but I just doubt it. The art does look pretty though! - New 8 man raids, the Pandaemonium raids. Ascian inspired with Lahabrea of all of them being the one we supposedly see in the art. Very very interesting and I'm glad that they are moving to more FFXIV original stuff, though Pandaemonium isn't a new thing in the FF series for sure. - New 24 man raid series. Not title said, just said that it will be FFXIV original. All I gotta say: thank GOD. Sorry to all Nier fans, but I just could not care about Yorha: Dark Apocalypse. It very much feels like it is the continuation of NieR: Automata in FFXIV with little to no relevance for the FFXIV side of things (such as world building as such). Hoping the 5.5 one can make me feel different though. - New small scale PvP mode. Apparently going to be approachable by casuals? Seems like a good direction for FFXIV's PvP at the moment, since you currently need too many people to have a PvP match. - Role quests are returning. Also, ranged is now split up into physical ranged and casters. I'm... divided on this. If it means again only 1 job quest at the level cap, that is going to be disappointing tbh. If it doesn't, then I will be very glad. Also gatherer and crafting quests... uh... *stares at him only having one of each unlocked and neither are even at level 50*. Also, WAR, MNK and RDM AF art. WAR looks pretty good, MNK looks nice and RDM looks pretty neat! - Estinien in the trust system. Yup, that makes perfect sense since Estinien is basically a honorary member of the Scions at this point. Also since we have no more melee DPS in that spot, since Ryne isn't with us anymore. I will miss Ryne in the MSQ. Hopefully they have more quests for us on the First that involve her :( - Island Sanctuary. Stardew Valley FFXIV edition? I mean, I'm down for it. Especially if we can customize the place. If I'm able to get a training dummy there and teleport to that place, it will basically just be my new house and I might actually consider getting my current house demolished. - As literally everyone expected, Ishgard housing. Makes perfect sense after the Ishgard Restoration. Not personally jumping on it, as I remember the bloodbath that was Shirogane housing *shudders* - Stat squish. I'm perfectly fine with this, since smaller numbers feel more impactful for me. I'm 100% a person that sees a 61389 damage Confiteor crit and just feels nothing towards the 3 numbers on the right. They mean nothing. Smaller numbers makes smaller increases more substantial - Removing belts. Nomura's worst nightmare... Honestly, I'm just glad about the extra inventory space for main weapons arms and rings. That is the good stuff! :) - Data center travel. UH. How in the heck is this going to work? Is it only in the regions or can I go from Chaos to Primal, for example? If the latter, that is amazing and removes the need to have alts for friends in other datacenters by quite a bit! - PS5 version. Yeah, that makes sense. - Digital Fan Fest 15th and 16th of May (14th and 15th for the NA folks). Looking forward to it and to seeing the new melee DPS job being revealed! Plus a live concert by the Primals is sick! So... I was gonna make a post about the whole barrier healer/pure healer thing and how that is weird compared to what they did with tanks in ShB and how it might impact tanks in End (I don't like EW as acronym), but an interview happened and they have already confirmed tanks are not getting balanced for main tank/off tank. So I'll just sum up what I had about healers: it is a very interesting direction that I honestly think is more healthy for the game. It diversifies and focuses the healers into their type of healing, a problem AST had since it came out, where the only pieces of identity it had were its cards and the fact it could be a WHM-lite or a SCH-lite, where the second part isn't really an identity. It also confirmed that the healers aren't getting split in 2 categories in the game (like the DPS are split between melee, physical ranged and magical ranged). Just for balancing, which is good since queues would otherwise be a pain for no real reason. Also, he confirmed that content will be easier with one pure healer and barrier healer, not required.

TL;DR: I think this is a change for the better. AST will (hopefully) get a real identity outside of “it can be either like WHM or like SCH!” and their cards.

#FFXIV #ffxiv endwalker #ffxiv 6.0 #just my thoughts

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xlady-saya · 4 years

Text

take what you want [fic]

Relationships: laila/alvarez

Summary: Laila has come a long way from her freshman year, past all the worries and pressure to behave a certain way. She never thought she’d realize it here, lounging poolside with her girlfriend.

The urge to seduce Alvarez is just too good to let go.

Tags: fluff and smut, inappropriate use of tanning oil, written for the aftg summer event on twitter

Read on ao3!

"You're too polite."

The voice is smooth, and sends a shiver down Laila's spine. She's not sure why. Maybe it's because it sounds like it's right next to her ear, the clearest sound she's heard in the last forty-five minutes.

She forgot she was a person for a second there. No one has bothered to address her as one.

The registrar's office is a cramped, square room with one way in and out—and to make matters worse, the AC decided to take a day off on this excruciating Los Angeles summer afternoon.

The office is packed with students in the same boat as Laila, flowing in and out to retrieve their ID cards and USC lanyards. She'd been excited at first; she'd settled into the dorms, and her first Exy practice was later in the evening. It had only been a few days of walking around campus and finding her classes, but she already felt like a full fledged college student.

The excitement of getting her ID, a true symbol of this, had died upon entering the office. The line had been long, but it was also hardly a line.

It seemed more like giant clusters of students broken up by the occasional space, and over time, she no longer knew where it started and where it ended. Several people walked in and cut the line completely, and others who had waited less time than her would walk out with their IDs in hand. Laila's aggravation has been steadily growing, but she remembered her manners, her respect. She wasn't sure how any of that translated in a big city like LA, but it was how she'd been raised in the midwest.

Her parents would be disappointed if she caused a scene, and how embarrassing would that be, anyways? She told herself she could wait, that she had plenty of time.

Then, the voice jolts her out of the haze of squabbling students and staff members, and she jerks in the direction of it. She doesn't know it in that moment, but any hope of having manners in the future and preserving that polite attitude are dashed and spat on with the introduction of this girl.

The first thing Laila notices about her is how tall she is. Laila cranes her neck upwards, and is met with big, brown eyes. They go lidded in that moment, picking out something in Laila's green ones that Laila isn't aware of yet. She blushes anyways; she knows when she's being teased, made fun of. The girl's got a few inches on her, at least, with dark brown hair and skin that's already well acquainted with the strong California sun. Not pale like Laila, not ghostly. She doesn't seem like the type to wait here all day and let people cut her in line, judging from her ability to criticize complete strangers out of the blue.

Laila sputters indignantly, biting her tongue before any comments can come out. Not like they'd be well formed. Her mind is swimming, and she feels like a stereotypical jock then. Absolutely no brain cells.

The girl chuckles from the reaction, watching Laila's mouth open and close like a puppet. Laila can tell when she's being sized up and scanned, but she doesn't get the purpose. Normally, she'd never say no to attention from a hot girl (and yes, she begrudgingly can admit this rude ass is hot), but there's nothing impressive about her today. That's not what this is. All she has on her is a duffel bag with her Exy equipment haphazardly sticking out. She's wearing USC lounge pants that she already managed to stain with her ramen noodles earlier, and a ratty tank.

If it's the Exy the girl is fixated on, Laila wants to reassure her. It's a violent sport, but Laila's a goalie. She's not the one to start fights, so there's no reason for this girl to be looking her up and down like this.

Part of Laila feels like she has to return the scrutiny, like maybe it's some kind of local ritual, but she can't get past the girl's neck for one reason alone.

She already has her red and gold lanyard, with her photo ID hanging right off of it.

Gabriela Alvarez.

Goddammit.

Finally, she finds her voice.

"Excuse me?" she forces out, strained and a touch too bold for her tastes.

Alvarez doesn't respond right away. To add insult to injury, she instead looks over to where another freshman walks into the office, casually bypasses everyone waiting (including Laila), and is handed their ID and lanyard two minutes after giving the receptionist their name.

The. Fuck.

Sighing, Alvarez looks all too happy to have made a point.

"You've been standing here for ten minutes, and I've watched three people cut you in line like that," Alvarez says, inspecting her nails. They're cut short and neat, Laila's mind tells her, rather unhelpfully. How she didn't notice someone like Alvarez prior is beyond her.

Regardless of that, the truth of the statement irritates her further. She knows it's pathetic, she knows it's not fair, but—

"What would you have me do?" she asks, huffing. She jostles her duffel over her shoulder and hits the wall, making her jump. And all the while, more people walk out with their lanyards.

Alvarez's lips turn into a frown, like she can't figure out if Laila is serious or not. Laila hopes being new in town is an excuse, but she has a feeling it isn’t. Alvarez shrugs one shoulder, and to demonstrate, barrels through the throng and back again. She makes it seem effortless, and ignores all the perturbed stares she receives for it. Then, she's in Laila's space again, towering, tempting. "Shove them, tell them to piss off, I don't know," she says, a clear challenge. The insinuation is there: whatever it takes to not be pushed around.

Laila sputters, mostly to get her mind off the fact that her body quite likes this idea. She's always had a bit of a temper, but she’s managed to keep it under control whenever it chooses to flare up. She never once considered the possibility of not holding it back. "That's so—"

"Rude?" Alvarez interrupts, voice sickeningly sweet. Laila glares harshly, but it doesn't stop her from waving her lanyard in Laila's face. "But which one of us got what we wanted, huh?"

And what is Laila supposed to say to that? She wants to spit 'fuck you, bitch,' but even she knows when she's been had. Laila's anger and pettiness deflates, and unbeknownst to her, a piece of the old identity she'd been forced to cling to has already fallen away.

Alvarez taps the kneepads poking out of Laila's bag, and this time, her smile is a tad sympathetic.

"See you at practice, small town," she says, and promptly walks out. It's only then Laila realizes she's wearing an Exy team jacket, name printed in large gold on her back.

Laila looks down at the buttons on her bag to figure out how Alvarez knew about her home, but promptly realizes it's simply written all over her.

Whatever, she thinks petulantly. This interaction will mean nothing in the grand scheme of her years here.

But as she thinks about it for the rest of the day, that statement feels less and less secure.

Staring at the bare skin of Alvarez's back calls the memory to the forefront of her mind, for whatever reason. Maybe it's the weather.

The heat of the California summer doesn't go away, regardless of where they are. But here, inland, it's practically desert country. It's so much worse. That's why Laila had been adamant about waking up early to go lay by the water, dragging her girlfriend with her at the crack of dawn to go lounge while the rest of their teammates slept. The nights spent in motels for away games are some of her least favorite, but at least there's the pool access. It's significantly cooler and empty on top of that, but the humidity begins to tease the air. It'll be scorching in a matter of hours, but Laila loves to fantasize about the mild climate she was promised all those years ago.

She groans as she spreads out, and her bikini doesn't even feel like it's doing the job of making her less heated. She curses as she slouches, not a trace of manners left in her.

Nothing ever turns out as expected, she reasons. But it's not all bad. Climate aside, she managed to turn a beautiful, unruly rebel into her beautiful, unruly girlfriend.

And perhaps she's a bit of a rebel herself now—something she can pin on Alvarez only a little. As a result of too many rowdy friends and teammates, and the gradual erosion of her capacity to give a fuck, Laila has come quite a long way.

It's satisfying to know that these days, no one would dare call her a push over. It feels comforting, and much truer to herself. Alvarez usually doesn't allow it, but Laila wishes she could thank her more for that. For the last push.

Honestly, there's probably a lot of reasons she recalls their first meeting right then, apart from her genuine feelings for Alvarez and the threat of the sun above.

She certainly doesn't feel polite right now.

Alvarez is sitting on the end of Laila's lounge chair, hair pushed to the side. The haphazardly tied bikini string is something Laila often nags her about. One wrong move and it'll come undone completely, but right now it just seems to taunt her. It wouldn't take much, she thinks, to lean forward and grant herself more of a view.

She brings her foot up to rest on the middle of her girlfriend's back, and Alvarez doesn't even flinch. It's common for them to drape themselves over one another for lack of anything better to do, but this time Laila's mind has a less than innocent agenda.

She uses her heel to follow the path of the faded moles on Alvarez's back, dipping down until she reaches the beginning of silvery stretch marks. She always says they look like the branches of a tree, and Alvarez has thought more than once about getting a tattoo for the purpose of pronouncing them with clean, inky lines. Laila thinks of them dotting her hips, disappearing beneath the low riding sweats Alvarez likes to wear around the dorms.

There's a heat already coiling in Laila's abdomen, and the thought doesn't help to diminish it. Bringing her girlfriend with her wasn't the best idea for cooling off, but it's too late now.

She bites her lips and thinks back to her old urges to not rock the boat, to not put herself in situations that could cause a scene. Oh, she's come far indeed.

She’s drunk on the feeling, and she throws a look back at the row of motel rooms. All the blinds are closed, and it's certainly too early for anyone else to be awake...

Shivering, Laila scoots her butt to the edge of the chair and begins to feel the fabric of her swimsuit more than she should. She's hyper aware of the material, of the stretchiness as it rides up against her.

Alvarez is still staring out at the water, the morning exhaustion not quite shaken off yet, and Laila takes the opportunity to rub herself through her swimsuit. It's a brief, light touch, and it doesn't do much for her. But there's a thrill of excitement at her idea, at the stupidity of it. They're basically out in the open, but...

If she knows anything about her girlfriend, it’s that she has even less self-control.

"Gab," she says finally, and tries to keep her tone innocent. She must not be very good at it, because her girlfriend turns to her with suspicion written all over her face. Yes, the squint is not from lack of sleep anymore. Still, Laila bites her lip to keep her smile at bay. She taps her foot playfully against Alvarez's lower back, and adjusts herself just so in the seat. She knows it makes her suit ride up, and Alvarez's eyes track the stretch of the fabric deliberately. "Come here."

A sweet, normal request, but Alvarez's expression sharpens. Like that day in the office, her eyes find something in Laila's that tells her all she needs to know. She's always had a weird knack for reading people. It used to be unsettling.

Now it's the exact opposite, and Laila meets her gaze confidently. Alvarez's eyes flick over her, then back up once more, and she effectively comes to the correct conclusion based on something in Laila's body language.

"You're poking a dangerous animal, you know," she warns, but there's amusement drenching every word. She looks up at the rooms behind them, narrowing to follow any sign of life or indication they're being watched. Then: "You're aware that there's hotel rooms right behind us?"

Laila nearly rolls her eyes; after three years, Alvarez has to know her likelihood of feeling ashamed is dismal. She's more jealous than anything. She doesn't want anyone seeing Alvarez like that, but the idea that if someone did see, all they'd see is her ability to absolutely take Laila apart—

That's too appealing to pass up.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answers, sighing as she leans back. She spreads her legs a little more for good measure, and Alvarez tries her best to avoid staring. It's too bad her alternative is Laila's chest. "Maybe I just want to hold your hand."

To emphasize, she reaches out, and Alvarez meets her instantly. Their hands lace together, and she feels the roughness so indicative of a backliner. Okay, so she wanted to hold her hand too.

"Sure," Alvarez huffs, but swings their hands a little anyways. "You're not that discreet anymore. What happened to my innocent small town girl?"

It's Laila's turn to laugh; she has a feeling she was never innocent deep down, but Alvarez brings the mischievous side of her out now more than ever.

"You're still just as infuriating," Laila throws back, but it's all smiles and maybe even a little dreamy. It's embarrassing, but she's never been ashamed of her feelings. They've been called disgustingly sappy by just about everyone on the team (minus Jean and Jeremy, who definitely have them beat and they're not even dating yet), and Laila's proud of it.

Sensing it, Alvarez crawls forward between Laila's legs. They both ignore the worrisome creak of the chair as their lips meet for a kiss, and allowing herself to be pulled into Laila’s scheme is Alvarez's fatal mistake.

Alvarez smells a little like chlorine from the jump she took when they first arrived, and her lips are salty when they stick to Laila's. She's not sure what it is about today, but the feeling of bare skin in front of her, radiating warmth, sends her back to messy dorm room kisses and tentative touches in the dark. She doesn't waste time opening Alvarez's mouth to hers, and Laila's tongue slides against the metal piercing in Alvarez's. She sighs from the coolness, and reaches up to hold Alvarez's chin in place while she plays with it. She loves how the piercing feels; it's like it glides along her tongue, and she's reminded of all the other places it's been. Alvarez, ever impatient, coaxes Laila closer until her nose is pressed into her cheek, kissing her deeply enough to evoke the whimpers the backliner adores.

The moan it manages to pull out of Laila is wispy and faded at the edges, like a stream traveling straight into Alvarez's body. Laila feels Alvarez's shiver flow from head to toe.

The heat between Laila's legs is getting impossible to ignore, and her abdomen tenses from the need to do something about it. It's at that point Alvarez tilts away, keeping Laila at a distance with her hand.

She really stands no chance now.

"I try," Alvarez pants, clearing her throat. The usual confidence is gone, replaced with blown pupils and a strip of red over the bridge of her nose. Laila enjoys the conflicted look on her face too much, the furrowed brow as she weighs all the variables. It's awfully considerate for someone who gets into fights every single game.

Alvarez throws her a playful glare and snaps the string of Laila's bottoms. "Someone really could see us..."

Laila leans back, arches a brow.

"Yeah, and couldn’t you just tell them to piss off?" Laila fires back, and Alvarez stares up at the sky as if asking the universe for guidance. She's the one who's always been brazen, yet she hesitates with things like this. It's cute, but Laila has enough experience to know it doesn't last long. Her girlfriend is easy to seduce, easy to rile up. After all, she's got the sex drive of an athlete, and Laila is all too happy to match the enthusiasm. Plus, it's fun to push when she knows Alvarez wants her just as much.

And that's when she notices the bottle of sun tan oil lying on top of her towel. She hadn't needed it yet, had brought it as a precaution, but now she's grateful for the foresight. She smirks slightly as she reaches for it. She and Alvarez had been dorm mates for a few months before dating, and Laila had the accidental pleasure of seeing the porn history on her computer more than a few times. Her girlfriend is not the most tech savvy.

She could poke fun at Alvarez for years, but in the moment her pervy tastes are a great advantage. Laila grabs the tanning oil and waves it in front of Alvarez's face, adoring the way her eyes widen. "Help me?"

Alvarez looks like she wants to whine in frustration; she can't win in this situation. Laila's smirk widens, knowing they're both about to get exactly what they want, and Alvarez snatches the oil out of her hand.

"Give me your towel," her girlfriend says roughly, and Laila's in no position not to comply. Alvarez's voice has already taken on that heavy, low tone she loves so much. It's like a scratched record, clearing and jumping ever so slightly, and every single one of Laila's nerve endings fire just from the sound. Laila wriggles as Alvarez stuffs the towel under her, dragging her hands along the underside of Laila’s thighs for good measure. Laila jumps from the touch. She wishes Alvarez had just pulled off her bottoms already, but per Alvarez's sharp, authority laced stare, she keeps her hands at her sides. Alvarez likes to start wherever she pleases.

Laila does tug at the towel though, tilting her head just so as her girlfriend smears her hands with the oil a little too quickly. The bottle slips out of her hands a few times.

"Feeling confident?" Laila asks, gesturing to the towel, and expects the usual glare.

The look she gets instead makes the warmth pool inside her even more, burning worse than the sun. Alvarez's stare is dark and mocking—like she's looking at freshman Laila again, all innocence and manners. Not the girl who is soaking her bathing suit without even being touched, not the one asking to be fucked poolside. This is the Laila with only high school hookups to call back on for experience. This is the Laila who spreads her legs wider in anticipation of feeling things she's never felt before.

"I can tell when you're going to be messy," Alvarez whispers, and with the need for her bravado gone, Laila scoots forward excitedly. "And you call me the dirty one..."

Laila snorts, but it dies as soon as Alvarez's hands are on her. The oil is slightly warm, and she shivers when Alvarez starts with her thighs. She disregards Laila's arms and shoulders in another act of predictability, which are arguably the more important places to shield from the sun.

"You are," Laila sighs, but her heavy breathing doesn't help her teasing. "Tanning oil? Really?"

Alvarez shushes her by digging her thumbs into the thick muscle of Laila's legs, rubbing slow circles and inching towards the edge of her bathing suit. Her pale skin, tanner now from years of sunlight, is already glistening.

Alvarez's fingers dip just under the edge of the swimsuit, following the curve of the string to Laila's hips. It makes Laila whimper, because she's sure Alvarez can feel it. The heat radiates off her, and she knew she was wet, but she wasn't sure just how wet until she feels Alvarez's fingers graze the slickness. Laila's abdomen jumps and she scoots forward, hands gripping her thighs to keep herself still.

She loves the wait, the anticipation, but it's a killer sometimes. Part of her just wants to push Alvarez's face against her, feel the flatness of her tongue as it strokes...

Alvarez licks her lips at the reaction, and Laila catches the glint of her purple tongue piercing. She's glad it's staying in; it's so good against her. When Alvarez takes her clit into her mouth and sucks, it's an extra jolt.

Alvarez, not content to end her teasing just yet, moves her oiled hands up Laila's body. She tugs at the front clasp of her bikini, narrowing her eyes in the delayed realization that Laila picked this one on purpose. Laila bites her lip to hide her smile, and grabs her girlfriend's wrists to guide her hands under the thin cloth. The top falls to her side, and it adds to Laila's overall excitement.

If anyone opens their window, if anyone comes out here, there's no way Laila would be able to put herself together fast enough.

Alvarez groans, probably thinking the same thing. It doesn't stop her from squeezing Laila's breasts in her hands until they're just short of shiny. Laila adores her girlfriend's hands; the palms are large enough to cup each breast, to take them into her hands whenever she feels like it. During movies when no one is paying attention, when Laila sits in her lap and reads, at night when they're spooning...

It's a good pastime.

Here though, Alvarez isn't trying to be cute or cheeky as she leans down to circle one of Laila's nipples with her tongue. She flicks at it a few times, and Laila shivers from the cool air, arching forward in a silent plea.

Her mind is just repeating itself over and over: I want your mouth, your mouth, your mouth.

And Alvarez obliges. She pulls Laila's nipple between her lips and sucks, drawing out every breathy sigh she can. Laila knows she has to be quiet; it echoes here, but it feels too good to be completely silent. She sits up more fully, pressing Alvarez's face forward. It's probably borderline suffocating for her to be pressed against Laila like this, but they both love it. Alvarez alternates between sucking and licking while she tugs on Laila's other nipple, kneading the sensitive skin between her fingers until Laila is moaning low and sweet. The soft, wet sounds are enough to drive Laila mad, and she hates that it's getting brighter.

They can't take their time with this, though she wishes they could. This is her favorite way to come—completely untouched, with Alvarez's attention solely on her pleasure.

Her girlfriend is predictable in that she can't keep her mouth shut, but in these moments, the words pull Laila apart.

"You're so cute," Alvarez whispers when she pops off of Laila's breast, feeling along her abdomen for the particularly big scar she has there. It’s from a rough accident on the court, but Laila can't say she's insecure about it when Alvarez always strokes it like that. It's almost like she burned it there herself.

And no, Laila has never been called cute. She's a brash goalkeeper, and not sheltered in the slightest. But Alvarez makes her feel small and desperate, and she loves falling into that feeling, that role.

"You're going to come hard, I can tell," Alvarez says, and despite the deepness of her voice, it's laced with excitement. Laila might roll her eyes at the arrogance any other time, but now she just nods, delirious with the feeling. She guesses with how well Alvarez knows her body, the arrogance isn't undeserved.

She scoots forward and Alvarez pushes her back down on the chair, undoing the strings of her bikini bottoms.

Well, if there’s already no hope of them saving face if someone sees them, there’s no point in being worried about shedding more clothing. Alvarez smirks as she tosses them on the concrete, leaning down to level her face with Laila's pussy.

It might almost make her laugh; here she is, completely bare by the pool, with her girlfriend's face between her legs. She far from hates it, but it's a lot different than Alvarez pulling down her ratty sweatpants at the dorm and having Laila sweat through her hoodie.

It feels the same, though—it feels just as fulfilling in every way.

Laila grabs Alvarez's hand where it rests against her abdomen, locking them together and tightening when Alvarez takes her into her mouth. The first swipe of Alvarez's tongue has her nearly biting her tongue to keep the moans at bay. Laila is panting harshly a few seconds later, all too exposed as Alvarez looks her fill. Always watching, always admiring.

Laila has never gotten over it, the attention is embarrassing in the best way.

Her girlfriend's other hand glides between her wet folds, smearing some of her slick onto her inner thighs. Alvarez hums, and Laila chances a glance down at her when she feels her girlfriend's palm rub against her.

"I have to indulge into the entire fantasy, you know," Alvarez says, and Laila watches as she rubs the last of the oil through Laila's sparse hair. Laila sighs as Alvarez rubs her thumb over her clit, thick and just as ready for Alvarez's tongue.

The comment is supposed to be teasing, funny. But Alvarez sounds way too fucked out to add any of that; her voice is lost at sea like Laila's mind is. Laila tries to say something witty back, or maybe just a demand for Alvarez to get a move on, but then Alvarez is sucking her back into her mouth, and Laila is gone.

She throws her head back as Alvarez continues enthusiastically, like she always does. Laila can feel each warm breath, the pressure of Alvarez's face pressing against her without care for how messy it'll leave her. Her fucking tongue piercing.

It slides over her clit, following the curves and folds enough to make Laila sigh. It's so familiar, but she's never sick of it. She grabs the back of Alvarez's head and bobs her up and down, moving her just so against her.

Her girlfriend's face is a mix of drool and Laila, and when those eyes dart up sharply to her own, there's nothing but heat there.

Laila whines long and hard, and then Alvarez's tongue is inside of her, massaging as deep as she can reach. She rolls her entire neck into it, making sure to pull every sound she can manage out of Laila.

Laila wishes she could spread her legs wider without hurting herself, but it's not an option. Instead, she whispers nonsensical encouragement over and over.

"You're so good. It's so good, babe," Laila stammers, tripping up over her words. To emphasize, she pushes Alvarez into her even more, and the groan she gets is not pretty, not delicate. But fuck, if she could replay that sounds over and over she would. "Oh, shit..."

Alvarez hums, and she must be able to tell how close Laila is from how she's tightening around her tongue, from how her hips are barely able to stay pinned to the chair. Laila's legs freeze up, and she darts a hand out to grab her thigh. She's not letting a cramp ruin this, but goddamn. Alvarez's stronger, less shaky hands grab Laila's legs and throw them over her shoulders, and Laila squeezes. Alvarez moans, nodding against her, and Laila watches as her girlfriend's tongue glides over her clit, not willing to stop. It must be straining at this point, but seeing Alvarez so determined to please her, to make her come...

It sends Laila over the edge, and in the next few minutes she's tensing, trembling as the orgasm rips through her. As her girlfriend predicted, she feels herself squirt a little against Alvarez's face, and it drips onto the towel. She can't be too concerned about it when she's like this; she's hardly aware of anything at all. Her surroundings, her name...

Her entire body quivers, and she's vaguely aware of Alvarez's forearm pinning her hips in place as she eats her out through it. Alvarez is never grossed out by the sloppiness—she takes everything Laila has to offer.

Laila wasn't used to her girlfriend's ways at first, but now she gets it. Alvarez is a pleaser; this is what does it for her, what gets her so satisfied deep down...

Knowing she made Laila come so hard, that she made Laila crave her in such a revealing setting.

Laila shivers when she thinks of how turned on Alvarez must be, how badly she wants to return the favor.

Laila's clit throbs through the aftershocks, and she reaches down to rub at it, catching the end of Alvarez's tongue as her girlfriend pulls away. It's raw, empty…She misses the feeling of her girlfriend, but the cooling wetness makes her sigh.

She doesn't want to know how blissed out she looks, but she's sure Alvarez regrets not being able to snap a photo.

Alvarez leans back, wiping her mouth as if it helps. Despite being outdoors, the smell of sweat and sex is thick, and Laila fumbles for her swimsuit. When they both glance at the blinds for the hotel rooms, they're all still closed.

"I win," Laila comments breathlessly, and grins big and bright when Alvarez smiles at her. It's lazy, drunk almost, and Laila's gaze sweeps over the way Alvarez squirms.

"Ah—later," Alvarez says, reading Laila's mind as she stands up to adjust her shorts. Figures; Alvarez will eat out Laila in public, but when it comes to herself she's shy. "In the room."

Laila smirks, and it's a promise. "You're too polite."

Alvarez processes the words slowly, her brain still in a haze. Her pupils are blown wide, and yeah… Laila can't say her mind has moved on either. She's eager to get back to the room now.

But she needed her revenge.

"Coming from you," Alvarez scoffs, helping Laila up to tie the sides of her swimsuit. When she's done, she pinches Laila's thigh. "But I guess you're far from it now, you rebel."

Laila lets herself be proud of that for the hundredth time.

She adjusts her suit and grimaces when her hands glide over her own skin. Ah, right.

"Gross, I'm all sticky," she says, which is yes, way worse than being covered in sweat and other unmentionables. The tanning oil isn't the nicest, and it feels like it's starting to dry in patches. She does not approve.

Alvarez throws up her hands. "When you let me act out a porn fantasy, you can't exactly blame me for my actions," she comments, and absolves herself of all blame. Right. Laila can understand that her girlfriend is a perv, but it's her fault for provoking that side of her.

It was fun, though, minus the need for a shower.

Laila sighs, lacing their hands together as they walk towards the motel elevators. The sun has already begun to reveal itself through the clouds, promising a hot, miserable day that Laila can't wait to avoid. Still…If it means more days by the pool, she can't complain.

"Was it everything you dreamed of?" she asks with a small grin, and laughs when Alvarez jumps at the sound of the first door opening.

Alvarez nudges her, but her scowl is fake as can be. She's smiling deviously in the next moment, leaning forward to kiss Laila by the ear.

"Better."

They speed walk the rest of the way to their room, and thankfully no one is around to see.

#all for the game #aftg #laila dermott #alvarez #laila/alvarez

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vlogsquadssquad · 4 years

Text

Welcome Back To Views - Chapter 5

summary: David invites reader to do his podcast since Jasons out of town and Carly and Erin wingman the interview. David and reader bond as friends.

warnings: none

A/N: this is a continuation of an ongoing story on my page. you can find my master list here and the previous chapter here

“just call her, Dave.” Natalie sat on the couch eating a mango, while dealing with David's breakdown.

“I can't just call her, Natalie! I haven't texted her since I basically said she was beautiful and she didn’t reply!”

“yeah, but you guys talk on twitter or Instagram all the time...?” Carly waved her arms, confused.

“no, that’s different.” David sighed “I guess I can just congratulate her on her new stupid boyfriend.” all the girls, Erin included nodded.

---

After he hung up the phone he looked to the girls with an apologetic face. “I'm so sorry, I know I said I'd do the podcast with you guys but it just slipped out and I wanted to see her again.”

“aw daveyyyy!” Erin squealed, “you really like her!” David nodded his head “honestly David, its fine. Do you want us to stay and wingman this podcast?” Carly offered “ooooh fun!” Erin excitedly wrote notes in her phone to try to figure out y/n.

---

You knocked on the door and David came to let you in, “hey, y/n! Great to see you.” and went in for a hug. You hugged him back and greeted everyone.

After about an hour of talking with everyone and eating food, David set up the podcast stuff and decided to do it on his couch in the living room, since there were a few more people than normal. You got comfortable and David handed you a mic. He tested the sound and got started.

“hello you guys welcome back to viieeewsss, the podcast where I'm not here with Jason, today I'm with the most beautiful girls in the worl- living room. My living room. Right now.” he laughed his iconic laugh and everyone else scoffed. You took over, “well I'm here with world Guinness smallest penis champion, DAVID DOBRIK, let's give it up for him whoooo!” and all the girls cheered and clapped.

“okay, I'll be honest, does not feel good being the bullied.” he laughed; he had such a good sense of humor.

After some simple chitchat and introducing each of the girls, Erin chimed in with her invasive questions.

“so, y/n I know you have an ex-husband and a child but you seem so young!”

“uh yeah, I guess, well I got pregnant when I was 18. I got engaged after I found I was pregnant and then I had my son at 19. I didn’t get married till my son was 2 just cause money was tight. And then we got divorced a year and a half ago.”

“oh wow, girl, you been through it. You want to go get drunk instead?” Carly joked

You laughed, “no I mean it was hard at first, definitely but now me and my ex can just focus on being parents and he's my best friend above everything, he supports me in everything I do and we’re still very close. We just were meant to have this amazing child and then go our separate ways.” you chuckled nervously.

“that's great. It seems like your child has a very healthy set of parents. How old are you, I'm sorry?” Erin had questions back to back

“I'm 24. about to be 25 in a few months.”

“wow I suddenly feel so old...” Carly joked “you've had this whole life and I've had two boyfriends and a slightly successful YouTube channel.”

Everyone in the room laughed, but David's laugh covered everyone else's almost like a warm blanket. After about 10 minutes of chit chat Erin was ready for her next question, “so give us the deets, what's your type? What do you look for in a guy?”

“um, that’s so hard because no one believes me.” you laugh softly, “I'm definitely a personality person. I know everyone says that but its genuinely true for me. I like someone who can make me laugh. I always joke with my friends that if a guy can make me laugh when I'm sad or mad, its done, I'm his, I'm in love.” everyone laughed. “but if I HAD to say looks... I don’t know, I tend to date guys with brown hair. I mean that’s the only common thing. I just really love genuine nice guys, someone who cares about others. Maybe an advocate? I like dorks too. Jim halpert, nick from newgirl, shawn spencer in psych. Those type of guys, I don’t know.”

“aw that’s a good type of guy to like.” Carly agreed. “Dave, you're so quiet it's like our podcast now, we should change it to ‘girl talk.’ do you have any questions?”

David laughed, “yeah, I know, I should just sign over the rights to you guys. You're doing a much better job than when Jason and I do it. But umm, sure, y/n, what's your ideal first date?” the girls ‘oo’d and David shook his head with a slight smirk.

You giggled and took a second to think. “I don’t know. I'm a pretty simple girl. I'm fairly easy. I want to say like watch movies at either persons house and pig out, but I don’t wanna scare anyone away.” everyone laughed. Erin chimed in, “um I'm sorry with that body, you're not scaring anyone away.”

The girls laughed and David raised an eyebrow.

“well I guess talking is really important to me. A lot of guys think a movie is a great first date and it definitely can be if it followed with a dinner or something to get to know each other. A picnic would be romantic. Or even an activity. Like the art museum, or the beach, or a theme park. I don’t know something where you're forced to actually get to know each other. That’s so lost in today's generation. Everyone just wants a fast hook up. That’s why I also wait for any first kisses a couple dates down and I don’t have sex till I know for sure this person is serious and I'm serious about this person.”

The girls were in awe “wait really?” Carly asked. “that's so great because you're 100% right.” Erin added. “yeah, that’s really cool. I actually respect that a lot. There's nothing wrong with girls sleeping around or whatever but it's also cool to see some girls hold off and don’t give in that easy.” David added.

“yeah, I don’t know it's just not me to flaunt my body or sleep with people regularly. I like to keep it more of a mystery. I think that chase is really hot and can make a relationship last even longer. But there really isn't a problem with girls flaunting what they got or sleeping with people, to each their own. But my own ideals are different.”

After 30 minutes of getting lost in conversation, David wraps it up.

“alright this is going to be the longest podcast in views history, thank you girls for coming on and helping me not tank this week's podcast without Jason... you know maybe I don’t need him after all,” everyone laughs “no but seriously thank you Carly and Erin and a special thank you to y/n for coming on here, congrats to your new boyfriend, he's a lucky lucky guy and I wish you the best, um thanks for listening this has been views... my name jeff, bye!”

David starts to put the podcast stuff away and you start to help him.

“hey, you don’t have to do that, I got it.”

“no no, I'm a guest. I was taught to clean up after myself in someone else's house.” you laugh softly. “well thank you.” David said.

After another hour or so of chatting it was already 11pm and both Carly and Erin left. It was just you and David on the couch just talking. He talked about his parents, and you talked about yours. You both talked about childhood pets, stupid things you thought as children, and what kind of people you both were in high school. Soon it was 1am and you had to get up at 7am for a shoot. David offered to let you stay there but you didn’t bring any clothes and you had to come to the shoot in hair and makeup already. You hugged David bye and he asked to text him when you got home safe.

---

You pulled in your driveway and sat in the car silently. Thinking about tonight. You felt crazy that you liked David after only meeting him twice. Every hug made your heart skip, every time he looked at you, you shifted in your seat. He made you so uncomfortable yet comfortable at the same time. But you had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was perfectly nice. Perfectly funny. Perfect. You walked in your door to your empty home and wished someone, anyone was there. You set your keys down, kicked off your shoes and pulled out your phone.

‘hey David, ended up not getting murdered. Maybe next time. Fingers crossed. Good night’

‘fuck the guy I hired wasn’t there?’

‘no sign of him, let me check the bathr--’

‘shit I'm gonna get so many views for the podcast going up on Thursday’

‘” SHE DIED FROM WHAT?” it'll be great’

‘haha. Goodnight y/n. Your hair looked great tonight’

‘thank you, but wrong timing. It was an audio podcast Lol goodnight’

What a dork.

#david dobrik #davids vlogs #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik x reader #David dobrik imagines #David dobrik fanfic #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad fan fiction

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nicolewrites · 5 years

Text

darling you’re pulling on mine

what’s with me and finishing this stuff at past 12. anyways, as promised, Pikelan heartstrings verse

heartstrings

Rating: T Genre: Romance Characters: [Pike Trickfoot and Scanlan Shorthalt], Grog Strongjaw Words: 4,114

Pike exhaled slowly. She knew what love looked like, but for a long moment, when she stole a second glance at Scanlan only to find him still watching her, she wished that she didn’t. She wished she could pretend she didn’t recognize the flames in his gaze and how it twisted her stomach because love was never easy. Love was never, ever simple.

And there was sure nothing simple about Scanlan Shorthalt.

AO3

Pike knew what love looked like. She loved her grandfather, and her friends, and she had seen plenty of happy couples. She didn’t date, not really, because she was so busy with Grog and the channel and hanging out with friends that she never saw the need to. For so long, Grog and Scanlan were the only friends that she had needed and it had been good.

But, as she sat on the rooftop lookout of Percy’s over-the-top penthouse suite surrounded by Grog, and Scanlan, and Keyleth, and Vex, and Vax, it felt more right than she could have guessed. Percy has adamantly refused to have every gathering of their odd group of friends at Scanlan’s place, even if it was bigger, because he claimed that he had had a better view. Looking out across the roof, Pike couldn’t argue with that statement.

As popular as streaming and making videos made six of the seven friends, there was no denying that Percy was cut from a different cloth with his expensive movies and family-owned record label. That didn’t dissuade him from hanging out with their motley crew instead of other A-list celebrities.

Pike loved streaming and making videos with Grog and occasionally Scanlan. First, though, Pike was a people person. She had always found it easy to read people and what they were thinking. Her friends were not immune to this scrutiny as she had seen grief and darkness in Vax’s gaze and she had been able to offer him guidance for both him and Vex’ahlia. She saw roiling anger and unchecked grief in Percy’s gaze and she saw doubt and insecurity in the bright greens of Keyleth’s eyes.

Grog was different. He carried rage with him at all times, but Pike had helped him develop a system to deal with it long ago. There was a great loss in her big friend that she wasn’t sure how to approach, so she nurtured his love and protective instincts instead and it worked. Grog was her best friend and she loved him so much.

Scanlan, on the other hand, was hard to read. As much as she tried, he was always able to keep little things hidden from her, even if she hated him for it. He tried to seem like he wore his heart on his sleeve, but there was a guard to his charm: a barbed-wire fence of clever jokes and pretty songs built to keep people from knowing the real him. Pike tried and tried and she was pretty sure she was pretty close even if she would never fully know everything little thing about Scanlan Shorthalt.

She had never been in love. Again, she barely dated because she had no need to, but as she looked across the roof at her friends, she saw love between them both platonically and so deeply it caused her heart to ache.

Vax looked at Keyleth like she had hung the stars in the sky and then had ascended to rule over them all. He barely kept his eyes off of her and his admiration was easy to read as it rolled off of him with every stolen glance or whispered word. Pike knew Vax to love intensely and wildly and she saw this when he watched Keyleth and when he cast glances at his sister to check on her.

Vex was different. She guarded her heart much more closely than her brother, but there was something about Percy, some fragment of shared trauma between them, that lowered her walls just enough that Pike could see the budding admiration and affection in her gaze. And Percy’s darkness, his grief, wavered just for a moment when he tucked his arm around Vex’s shoulders and she shifted subtly into his side.

Pike pulled her gaze away from the warmth that sparked between Vex and Percy and let her eyes wander anywhere else so she didn’t disturb the intimacy of the moment. Her mind wandered and her eyes met Scanlan’s across their half-hearted circle of deck furniture. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his smile lifted up just the tiniest bit in one corner, but he had already been watching her as if he had been waiting for her to make eye contact.

Pike wanted to hold eye contact, to silently question him, but the intensity of his gaze flustered her more than she cared to admit and she looked down. Scanlan was normally so good at keeping his emotions under a tight wrap, but the way he looked at her was warm and open and looked entirely too much like Vax looking at Keyleth mixed with Percy looking at Vex.

And there was sure nothing simple about Scanlan Shorthalt.

Pike pulled her headset off, still giggling over Grog’s latest antics. Next to her, Grog was frowning, but he would get over the loss soon enough. He placed his controller on the desk and rolled backwards in his chair, leaving Pike to finish closing up the stream.

They’d been playing Wrath of Sarenrae tonight, a co-op action-adventure game. Tonight’s stream had been the culmination of several weekly Sunday night streams in a progression to fight one of the major dragon bosses of the game. Grog had been so dead set on landing the finishing blow, but Pike had managed to swing her smaller, nimbler character closer than Grog’s lumbering tank build to land the last hit. The chat had gone wild–half congratulating Pike on her kill and half laughing at Grog for failing to get the kill in the first place.

Pike closed the stream window and brought up the Major Monstahs YouTube channel. Their videos for the week were all scheduled: work out video and vlog on Monday, gaming stream VOD on Wednesday, and the monthly roast on Friday. They flipped between random vlogs or gaming videos on Friday’s normally, with the last Friday of the month always dedicated to their video series where Grog and Pike would sit and watch some of Scanlan’s videos and make fun of him.

Pike grabbed for her phone as Grog headed into the kitchen of their shared apartment. She scrolled mindlessly through Twitter for a while, retweeting some of the cool fanart that had been drawn during the stream. She had muted her mentions for the duration of the stream, but after skimming through them, there wasn’t anything that needed her attention seriously.

Just before she could lock her phone and head after Grog, it vibrated, the screen lighting up with a text.

[Scanlan] nice hit on the dragon. i told you speedboost was the spell to equip for this fight!!

Pike rolled her eyes, but opened the text app.

[Pike] you’re right, let me bow to your greatness, my liege.

[Scanlan] gasp, how dare you insinuate that i am more valuable than you. If anything, i shall endeavour to worship in the light of your glory for the rest of my days.

Pike blinked at the message, feeling her cheeks warm. She and Scanlan had been friends for so long that they’d built a steady teasing rapport and relationship over many, many years of friendship. Still, sometimes Scanlan would turn on the charm and it could catch her off guard, especially if it was in person. Pike was grateful that over text she could at least hide her flushes from him.

[Pike] :P i’ll tell my other clerics to make room for you.

[Pike] wait we’re still on for drinks Friday right? Grog’s been talking about it all week so you’d better not cancel on us.

[Scanlan] I talked to Sybil and rescheduled my Kaylie time for Saturday afternoon, so we are a go for Friday!

Kaylie was Scanlan’s three-year-old daughter. He had shared a brief fling with Sybil and Sybil had attempted to completely conceal Kaylie’s existence from her father. Scanlan had been horrified when he’d finally found out and had been heartily channelling funds to Sybil and Kaylie since he’d found out. He had fought Sybil tooth and nail to gain the right to spend time with his little girl and they’d worked out a schedule for him to see her once a week.

Pike tagged along with Scanlan sometimes. Kaylie was adorable and already had spunk and Pike loved her. She also loved watching Scanlan with his daughter because there was something gentle and open about him that she was able to see and appreciate. Plus, being around his daughter had opened up a vulnerable side of Scanlan that had hardly existed behind his barbed-wire charms.

Pike was smiling blindly at her phone as she began typing out a reply to Scanlan, but Grog appeared before she could hit send on the message.

“Hey, Pike, we gotta eat that ice cream now,” he called, his big voice booming in the room.

Pike was so startled she nearly dropped her phone, but she managed to lock it and shove it into her pocket. “Yep, coming!” she replied quickly, jumping up from her chair.

Ice cream post-stream had been a tradition for a long time. It was their cheat-treat from their usual workouts and healthy eating. She’d gotten so wrapped up in texting Scanlan–thinking about him, her traitorous heart corrected–that she’d nearly forgotten that Grog would be waiting for her.

Grog folded his arms and looked at her. “Something’s up,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation.

Pike bit her lip. Grog wasn’t the most observant person, so she had to have been projecting her thoughts all across her face for him to pick it up. “Nope,” she lied through her teeth. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Pike,” Grog argued. “You’re my best buddy, why don’t you want to tell me?”

She sighed, her fingers skimming across the outside of her pocket where her conversation with Scanlan was on hold. “Grog, I love you, but you’re no good with secrets.”

He frowned, his nose scrunching up. “I’m great with secrets!”

“You told Keyleth she couldn’t come to Percy’s early because she wasn’t allowed to be early for her own surprise party.”

“One time,” he argued.

“You told Kima that I sit on a cushion when we stream to correct the height difference.”

Grog pouted. “Pike, I swear I’m great at secrets. Scanlan thinks so! It’s why I’ve done so well with not telling you that he loves you.”

Grog’s words doused her brain in ice water. Pike blinked slowly. She played back what her big friend had just said, but the words were swimming about and not making sense. “Grog,” she breathed. “What was that last thing you just said?”

He opened his mouth to repeat it, but seemed to realize halfway through that he’d spilled a secret he wasn’t supposed to. He clammed up, his back straightening. “Nothing, it was nothing, Pike.”

Grog immediately left the room and Pike practically collapsed back into her streaming chair. She pulled out her phone and stared at her wallpaper: her and Scanlan on Grog’s shoulders, the three of them wearing shit-eating grins, but Pike and Grog were looking at the camera while Scanlan was staring at Pike.

Sure he was a flirt, and Pike knew he had flirted with her lots, but she had just thought it was Scanlan being Scanlan. Recently, like at Percy’s, she’d started seeing more openness, but she had thought it to be just a byproduct of spending time with an adorable toddler every week.

Scanlan loved her? No, Grog was mistaken.

She wrung her hands together and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Grog wasn’t the smartest guy, but he didn’t lie. He hated liars and he had never once lied to Pike. Even with a slip of the tongue, she doubted he was capable of telling her a lie.

She felt vaguely lightheaded. Scanlan was in love with her and she had no idea what to do with that information.

She had an urge to call someone and ask for advice, but she already knew it was a bad idea. Vax would immediately say ‘I told you so’ which was something she didn’t want to hear. Keyleth would get so flustered she’d probably just hang up. Vex’s solution would probably be to sleep with him or ignore it and Pike couldn’t stomach either of those opinions. There was a whole other thing with Percy that meant she definitely couldn’t ask him. Grog was, naturally, out of the question, but that just left her with Scanlan.

Which was her problem in the first place, so she had effectively gotten nowhere.

“Pike?” Grog called from the other room. “Are you coming for ice cream?”

Pike inhaled slowly. She slid her phone into her pocket again and stood up. “Eat the ice cream and forget about the rest,” she whispered to herself. Louder, for Grog, she called: “Coming now!”

Pike @thetrickfootp • Just Now

Hey Internet, it’s time for @barbariangrog and me to roast @burtreynoldsesq again and it’s a good one this month :D youtube.com/watch?v=fFTukkN

Pike sent out the tweet as the video went live and flopped onto her bed. She had managed to go almost the whole week without thinking of Scanlan or the bomb that Grog had accidentally dropped on Sunday night, but after rewatching to groom a video entirely about Scanlan, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. It didn’t help that Grog had been excitedly babbling all day about how excited he was to go for drinks that night.

Her phone vibrated and she lifted it above her face to read the notification.

Scanlan Shorthalt @burtreynoldsesq has tagged you in a tweet: It’s the last Friday of the month and I am once again regaled by the wonderous @thetrickfootp and also @barbariangrog #suchmockery #theroastofburtreynolds

Pike smiled faintly and tapped the notification. She gave the tweet a like and retweeted it with the side-eye emoji. Scanlan almost immediately liked her retweet and she put her phone down. Her hands brushed against her cheeks and she was surprised to find them warm. She rolled over onto her stomach and shoved her face into her pillow, letting out a long groan. She had no idea what was going on, but she wanted it to stop.

After almost twenty minutes of wallowing, Pike pushed herself up so that she could change into something drinks-acceptable. She hovered a hand over a loose-fitting Slayer’s Take t-shirt which she would wear with ripped jeans. At the last second, she snagged a dark purple tube top and pulled it on with the jeans. She gathered her hair up into two buns at the top of her hair and dusted some glitter along her cheekbones. She swiped on some mascara and nearly put on lip gloss before realizing that it was just drinks with Grog and Scanlan and she didn’t know why she was suddenly trying so hard.

She slammed the lip gloss tube down and grabbed her purse. She didn’t change out of the shirt and it had nothing to do with the fact that Scanlan’s favourite colour was purple. Pike walked out into the living room of the apartment to see Grog and Scanlan sitting on the couch, laughing about something. She stumbled and nearly tripped as Scanlan looked up, catching her eye, and beamed at her.

“Looking good, Pikey!” he complimented. The flirtatious tone of his voice was nothing new, but the teasing glint in his eyes felt more real this time somehow.

Pike inhaled sharply and forced a smile. “Thanks, now let’s go! I need this drink.”

Scanlan had entirely too much charm for his own good. He had gone to the bar to retrieve a round for the three of them almost ten minutes ago. Grog hadn’t really noticed since he was just telling some story drunkenly, but Pike could clearly see Scanlan where he stood at the bar. He was surrounded by two girls in low-cut shirts and short skirts.

Pike could see the flirty, pleasant smile on his face from across the room and it made something in her stomach boil in anger. She couldn’t help it as her eyebrows dropped into a lower position and her face scrunched into an unpleasant expression. Grog finally seemed to notice something was wrong and he cut off his story abruptly as he stared at Pike.

Pike, upon realizing Grog was staring at her, immediately dropped her gaze away from Scanlan and spun her straw through the ice cubes in her otherwise empty glass idly. Her cheeks felt hot, but she could blame it on the alcohol and her fair complexion. Grog didn’t seem to notice that she’d been glaring at Scanlan, but he just frowned as he watched her.

Finally, after an entirely too long period of time, Scanlan returned with their drinks: Guinness for Grog, whiskey sour for Pike, and an old fashioned for himself. Unfortunately, he also returned with a lipstick print on his cheek that had only been half-wiped off. Pike saw it immediately and took a long sip of her drink as she pointedly avoided eye contact with Scanlan.

Grog and Scanlan launched into a conversation again and Pike tried to contribute and stay active, but her gaze wandered and she saw the two girls from earlier were still giggling and looking over in Scanlan’s direction. She settled for pressing her lips together and sipping hard at her drink.

After another painful hour, Grog saw a woman across the bar who caught his eye and excused himself from the table, leaving Pike and Scanlan in awkward silence. Pike knew Grog’s patterns well enough at this point; he wouldn’t be home tonight, much less back to the table.

“Hey, Pike, are you okay?” Scanlan asked suddenly.

His brows were furrowed together as he watched her. Pike’s gaze snapped to his face from the table and she took in his pursed lips and curiously twinkling brown eyes. There was a lock of curly brown hair grazing the right side of his face that had slipped from his ponytail tonight. The whites of his teeth stuck out against the deep tan of his skin, complimented by the pale purple shirt he was wearing. Pike’s breath hitched involuntarily because sweet mother of god Scanlan was pretty.

She snapped her gaze to the far side of the bar and exhaled shortly. “Totally fine.”

Scanlan touched her arm lightly and PIke felt an instinctual need to rip her arm away, but she managed to force herself not to move. Scanlan’s fingers traced something along her wrist and it took her a long moment to realize he was writing something as they often did.

L-Y-I-N-G, his fingers spelt out along her forearm.

Pike forced her hackles to lie flat and she retracted her arm from his touch to adjust her shirt and shift in her seat. Now that Grog, her buffer, was gone, she felt like she needed to be far, far away from Scanlan and his charming, pretty smile and gentle eyes. She stood up, reaching quickly for her purse.

“I have a video to edit for this week I just remembered. Besides, Grog’s done for the night, so I should get home.”

She turned and headed for the door, purse and jacket draped over her arm, not even waiting to see the look on Scanlan’s face. He would obviously take her leaving as a gift and head back over to the pretty girls in the corner because no matter what Grog said, there was no way he was in love with her.

And she didn’t love him.

She was around five paces away from the bar in the dark street before Scanlan caught up to her, his hand tugging on her arm, turning her to face him.

“Pike, what did I do? You’ve been treating me like I burned you all night.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything, Scanlan,” she lied. It was a half-truth really, because all he’d done was be himself and Pike was the one over-reacting.

He sighed and scratched at his head with the hand that wasn’t holding her arm. “Can I call you an Uber at least?”

Pike shrugged. “As long as your friends back there don’t get worried about you.” The comment came out unexpectedly bitterly and Pike blamed the alcohol. She was clear-headed still, but it had given her a bit of unexpected sass.

Scanlan stared at her. “Pike, are you jealous?”

The question caught her off-guard and she tried to laugh it off and say that no, of course, she wasn’t jealous because that would be something a girlfriend would feel, not a strictly platonic, not-at-all romantically interested friend. Instead, her voice caught because, she realized, that yes, of course, she was jealous because of course, she liked Scanlan. She probably always had.

Scanlan’s features rippled into his charming grin. “You are!” He chuckled warmly. “Wow, and here I thought I was going to be the one jealous of all your fanboys for all eternity.”

She blinked at him.

Scanlan tilted his head and the confident smile morphed into a shyer, almost self-conscious look. “Grog told me that he told you, but come on Pike, didn’t you already know?”

“Know what?” she asked, her voice small.

Scanlan shifted his weight. He dropped her arm. “I’m hopelessly in love with you,” he said firmly.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Pike leaned forward onto her toes and gripped him by the collar. She reeled him in quickly and slanted her mouth over his, kissing him hard. He tasted like whiskey and orange–something sweet and something bitter. She was about to pull away when Scanlan’s hands shot upward, sliding along her jaw as he deepened the kiss. Pike melted against him, letting one hand drift up from his collar to his shoulder and then along his back to the nape of his neck where her fingers twisted in his hair.

After a long, breathless moment, they broke apart, but Scanlan didn’t let her move back. His eyes were closed and he let out a deep, heavy breath.

“Tell me you’re not drunk,” he begged.

Pike leaned forward, exhaling shakily, and pressed her forehead against his. “Just enough for courage.”

Scanlan let out a breathy laugh. “God I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you.”

She took a moment to tug at his ponytail, loosening it as she fought to find the right words. “You drive me crazy, Scanlan Shorthalt,” she settled on.

“Good,” he replied, “because you drove me to insanity a long time ago, Pike Trickfoot.”

She kissed him again, relishing in the feeling of his warm lips against hers as his hands cradled her face. She hummed into the kiss and felt him smile as they broke apart.

“About that Uber,” she said breathily, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips quickly.

“My place or yours?” he asked, dropping her face to reach for his phone.

“Mine’s closer,” she replied.

“Perfect,” he said and kissed her again.

Several hours later, Scanlan’s arms were hooked warmly around Pike’s waist and his face was pressed into the crook of her neck. She was running her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply.

She felt warm and safe and the bubble of emotion that had been building up slowly over years of friendship finally burst. She grazed her fingernails against his scalp and Scanlan blinked up at her sleepily.

“I’m hopelessly in love with you too,” she breathed.

He smiled. “I loved you first though.”

She giggled softly. “Probably.”

His fingers ran up her side and ghosted along her chest over where her heart was as he mimed playing the piano along her skin. “I have so many songs to write for you.”

She twisted, sliding so that they were level and she could kiss him again. “I love you.”

He hummed against her and when his eyes opened after the kiss ended Pike knew that his walls were down. The barbed-wire charm had been retracted and he was laying himself bare for her, literally and figuratively.

“I love you too.”

She kissed him again and didn’t think of anything else as he rolled her on top of him and they kissed like schoolkids.

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

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First Date (7/9)

Tim has one more test to pass before Bruce will allow him out as Robin. Like Dick and Jason before him, he has to avoid being caught by Batman for one night. He has already failed once, and is determined to succeed this time. Determination which might not count for much when Stephanie Brown is on the run from the mob. Her mother kidnapped as a way to threaten her father, Stephanie manages to escape and run into Tim. Unable to leave Stephanie alone when she is in need, Tim decides to try and multi-task. All he has to do is rescue Stephanie’s mother, take down the mob, avoid Batman, and get Stephanie to agree to a proper date all in one night. Absolute anarchy ensues Ao3 link here!

“Don’t suppose there’s a spare Robin suit in here Oracle?” Asked Tim, rummaging through assorted shelves. There were some black clothes, armoured no doubt, but nothing red, yellow or green.

“No, I’m afraid you are not going to be able to save the day looking like a traffic cone.”

Tim sighed and began stuffing a belt full of explosives, sharp things and sticky things. He looked for items that could, in general, cause the most chaos in a warehouse filled with men with guns and a (potentially) unconscious (dead? No. Not dead until there’s a body.) bat.

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Then Stephanie and I take full responsibility if it goes belly up.”

“This is serious! You are not –”

Tim angrily tugged a pair of shoes off the shelf.

“I swear if someone else says I’m not ready or I’m not taking this seriously… I can do it. I’ve been training for years! I can do it!”

“I could lock you in here and that would be the end of it.”

“Then I will start opening up my stitches Ms Disembodied Voice From Above.” Stephanie snarked, sat on the table aside Tim. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, a few pieces of hair too short to make it to the elastic fell cutely on her forehead and neck.

Tim pulled a face. “Please don’t do that.”

“If she lets us out, I will not do that.”

Tim huffed, walking over to a counter. Stephanie leered as he stripped down and then geared up, assorted straps holding belts and containers in place. He really was preparing for whatever could be thrown at him.

“Anything for me?”

“You… are staying in the car.”

“The batmobile? That car?”

“Yup.”

Rolling her shoulders, she mused on that thought for a moment.

“Can it shoot things?”

“Not with bullets but…”

“I can help from within the car though right?”

“Oh yeah, knowing Batman there’s probably a rocket launcher in that thing.” He realised what he’d said, and whirled round, trousers halfway up over his underwear. His eyes were wide, like he genuinely thought she would blow up half of the Narrows.

“Forget about that part.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, she nodded very seriously. “I promise I won’t blow anybody up.”

“The car can do lots of things, Oracle can help you help me. Right O?”

Oracle gave a very deep sigh that crackled oddly with her vocal alteration.

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Thanks O. You can help Steph, promise. Also, there isn’t much place safer than the Batmobile.”

“…I can live with that. But what about you?”

“I have more equipment on me than I ever have had before.” He reached over to a pocket and pulled out a small cylinder. When he flicked it in certain manner, it extended at both ends into a staff. It looked very good for smacking people with. Tim whirled it between his hands a few times, getting used to the weight of it.

“You know Nightwing says I’m better at the bo staff than him.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I can’t beat him hand to hand, and when his got his escrima sticks… but if we’re on equal standing… I can floor him.”

Stephanie smiled, fascinated by his tentative show of confidence. Tim snapped the staff and it reduced once more. He pocketed it in one of the pouches round his waist.

Muttering to himself, he paced around, looking for anything else to take.

“Okay. Think that’s it. Let’s head out.”

He moved to Stephanie, getting ready to pick her up. She pushed him away and ignored his slight look of betrayal. Stephanie didn’t look like she was still made at him, so instead he was left confused. She kept her hand on his chest, a compelling touch.

“At least put a mask on Tim.”

“Huh?”

“You’re gonna go superheroing right? Superheroes need a mask!”

“She’s right y’know.”

“Thank you!” She turned her eyes upwards briefly, but returned them quickly to Tim’s, who had tensed at the two women ganging up on him. She squeezed his shirt, and he nodded, turning away to look for one.

Folding her arms, Stephanie laughed when Tim returned to her, looking somewhat more like a vigilante.

“Now we’re ready.”

****

If Tim were honest with himself, his driving of the batmobile was a bit dodgy. He was used to driving his little red car, not a hulking tank that the batmobile was akin to. He was impressed with how roomy it was though. The steering wheel was less of a circle and more like what could be found in racing cars (or arcade games) which made Tim a little clunky with it trying to turn corners. He was trying to go fast, but the car definitely went faster than the average Ford, and despite her impatience, Stephanie was understanding of his nervy driving.

��Batman’s never let you drive the batmobile before, huh?”

His eyes jutted away from the road, but a slight swerve made him jolt back to full attention. “Oh, oh no. Oracle is the only one who can do that. And she does it remotely. Don’t even think Nightwing’s…” They bumped into another lamppost as they turned a corner. “Whoops.”

“I’m sure the lamppost is more damaged than the car.”

“Oh sure, this thing could take a nuke blast and survive.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. Probably not.”

“Hmm.”

“It is pretty sturdy though.” Looking at the GPS on the dashboard, Tim saw they were getting nearer the warehouse.

“Hey Tim?”

“Yeah?”

Resting her head on the rest, she turned her neck around, playfully smiling. “When this is all done, you promise that you’ll take me out on a proper date?”

Tim’s mouth dropped open in a moment of shock, but he quickly composed himself. “Yes! Yes. Easiest decision of my life… yes.” He laughed, nearly whooping and punching the wheel in jubilation.

“Where’d you like to go? Dinner? We could do that.” She gently prodded.

“Bit fancy?” He said, peering into the cameras that showed the sides and rear of the vehicle. “I mean, do you want to get all dressed up?”

“No, no, not to start, but I know this really nice diner. The lady who runs it smokes like twenty packs a day, but they do really good burgers.”

“That sounds good. I can pick you up, drop you off, and if you feel up to it, we can just walk about, not worry about being jumped…”

“A proper date.” She smiled sweetly. “Listen, I’d give you my phone number but I think it - along with my house keys and purse - are chilling at the bottom of Gotham river right now.”

“Oh. Well I can pay for dinner, if that takes a weight of your mind. A gentleman always pays on the first date… or something like that.”

Shifting to reassert a more comfortable position, Stephanie could only roll her eyes. “Wow.”

“Wow what?” Tim glanced sideways at her. She paused, realising he was being genuine, because that was all Tim seemed to be capable of being.

“You’re serious?” She asked, clutching her seat belt and leaning towards him. She ignored a sharp stab of pain that tugged on her stitches the doctor had done on her.

“Yes?”

At his stupefied tone, Stephanie huffed and muttered, “Of course you are. God, you are something else.”

She raked her eyes up and down at him, totally head over heels, and Tim blushed at her flirtatious tone and gaze. It was silent, but only for a moment before Stephanie began her prodding once more.

“So, you on Facebook? Or Twitter? Or whatever you bats and birds and oracles use? You don’t strike me as an Instagram fan.”

“Ha. No, not Instagram. The others sure, I’m not completely cut off from normal teenage things.”

“Well, what else do you like to do with your time?”

Tim tutted, flexing his fingers on the wheel. “This is getting into first date conversation territory.”

“Oh, come on! Tell me.” She urged, tapping his shoulder.

“Uhhh okay. I… like music? I mean, I play the guitar. Not well, but… well.”

“I used to play the piano.” She interjected gently.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can play together. See how much I’ve forgotten and see how well you actually play.”

“Heh. That sounds perfect.”

“What else?”

“Oh. Um.” He sounded so reluctant to talk about himself, but Stephanie knew it wasn’t from a lack of anything to say. Tim would have stories for days. Stories about his parents, stories about Batman, about Nightwing, about his training. Stephanie wondered if it was just because he didn’t get the chance to talk about himself very often.

“I skateboard!” The idea seemingly came to him abruptly, and he immediately seemed embarrassed the moment he uttered it. “I know that’s a bit lame nowadays and at my age –”

“Who told you that?”

“Um… my dad.”

“Huh, well, he’s wrong so there’s that.” She was flippant, tone brokering no argument. She didn’t know Tim’s father, but what she’d heard, she was not impressed. “It’s really cool, watching those guys in the park. I can’t do that. The balance you need…”

“I can teach you, when your stitches are out…” He said, a smile on his face at imagining the two of them at the skate park in Robinson.

“You can try boy wonder, no promises though.”

The nickname made his chest flood with warmth. “…Thanks Steph.”

“Well, you’re welcome. If you want, I can teach you to sew in exchange. There’s something not cool.”

“And who told you that? You know when the apocalypse comes, you’ll be the one actually wearing functional clothes and making objects whilst I’ll just…lay down and freeze.”

She laughed sharply. “From what I’ve seen tonight Tim I don’t think you’ll go down easy when the zombies come for our brains.”

He shook his head and began to slow down. The smile slid off his face, and she recognized it as him slipping into superhero mode. She readjusted herself once more, bracing against the door and dashboard, not knowing where Tim was planning to plant the car.

He leaned forward, peering through the screens. Jolting the car sideways, he slowed right down, and slid down one alley, barely wide enough for the batmobile to open its doors. He then dimmed the lights and cut the engine. The car remained on however, dozens of little knobs and buttons lighting up their faces like an airplane cockpit.

Tim took a deep, albeit unsteady breath, and turned to Stephanie.

“Serious talk.”

“Yup.”

“If I’m not out in half an hour. Call the police. Tell them where you are, tell them to swamp the place. Do not go after me, or your mother, or Batman. With us falling off the bridge, they may think we popped it. I don’t know. I’ll get your mom out first. When your mom is out, call the police.”

She nodded, but her concerned look did not fade. “And what about Batman? What if he’s really badly hurt?”

Tim swallowed uncomfortably, his throat dry, and turned back to the wheel. He chewed his lip. “I might have to leave you behind, depending on how bad he is, and get him back home. You’ll be safe so long as you’re in the car. If it gets really bad, and the car starts to get swamped before the police arrive. Oracle will drive you away.”

“Towards the police?”

“Towards the police, yeah.”

A soft kiss on the cheek made him jump.

“Big brave superhero.” Her gentle teasing made him relax. Just a little. He turned and kissed her on the lips, a wet kiss that made a loud smack when they separated.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Tim smiled. “Oracle can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. I’ve connected you to the car too, so we both can keep track of you.”

Tim nodded at the thought of an audio audience. He gulped once more, then smacked a button which opened the roof of the car. He climbed up, fired a grappling gun up to the roof, and shot away. The car roof swiftly sealed once more, with a definite suction noise sealing out external air.

Stephanie sat alone in the silence and the low light, her stomach gurgling increasingly with dread. This was going to be a long thirty—

“Right madam, I need you to move over to the driver’s seat.”

“Huh?” She gripped the sides of her seat tight, as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Oracle did not seem totally amused.

“You wanted to help right?”

“Yes…?”

“Then you can help by getting Tim a map of the building. The car has a sort of sonar. It can create a 3D map depending on what it bounces off.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Hop over, come on.”

Stephanie did as she was bid, hissing in pain as she shuffled her bum over the other seat. She swung her legs round, and fastened herself back in. She grinned, and excitedly grabbed the steering.

“Oh, wow. I’m in the driver’s seat of the batmobile!”

“Yeah, yeah but you’re not driving anywhere. Upper left, a row of four buttons, near the left window. See them?”

Leaning forward, she nodded and sounded off with a half-hearted, “Yes?”

“Hit the one of the left, hold for three seconds.”

She did just that. She felt a high-pitched ring go through her ears, and the car shuddered.

“Do it three more times.”

“Do you get the image wherever you are?” She asked as she pressed the button.

“I do. Can see there’s fifteen bodies in there. You two and Batman took out a few on your city travels.”

“Is Batman in there?”

“Can’t say for certain, it doesn’t give a clear enough picture. It’ll help Tim know what way to enter, so thank you Stephanie.”

“You’re welcome.” She said, tone genuinely in its gratitude.

Tim’s connection crackled on.

“Going in now. See if she can get the EMP to go off. It’ll cut off my communications, but the other tech should still work. It’ll mess with their stuff real good.”

“Be careful Tim.”

“Promise.”

Stephanie leaned forward, as if she could somehow spot Tim and where he was in the building. All she could see was a brick wall, and no windows or light.

“Oracle? How do I set off an EMP?”

“One sec…” An awkward pause, then Oracle picked up the line once more. “By the gear stick, there’s a circle of smaller buttons with a big button in the middle?”

“Hit the big button?”

“No. Do not hit the big button.”

“What’s the big button do?”

“Don’t touch it.”

“What can I touch?”

“Bottom right. Hit once, no more than one second. It’s pretty fierce and will knock out a block if you hold it too long.”

Gulping, she pressed it firmly. The resulting noise from the car made her jump and squeak. Her stitches complained brutally from her sudden movement, and she clutched at her side, trying to control her breathing.

“Did it work?” She managed to ask.

“Tim’s no longer hearing me, so yes. Well done, Stephanie.”

“…Welcome.” This time her response was quieter. Neither woman sounded too happy about the fact that Tim was well and truly alone.

Stephanie attempted to make conversation with the voice above, to distract herself.

“You work for Batman?”

“Ahem. With Batman.”

“Oh. That’s cool. How…how did you enter…that…profession?”

“Long story.”

“I have time?”

“Uh-uh Stephanie. Just… think of me as mission control.” A pause, then a gentler, “Your wounds, they feel okay?”

“They hurt. But that’s fine. I’d rather feel the pain than not. Something would really be wrong then, huh?” She laughed shakily.

There was no response.

“Oracle?”

Gun fire sounded off then, and Stephanie gasped in fear.

“Sit tight.”

There was no other noises loud enough to be heard in the car through the brick walls, so Stephanie listened as the sounds got louder and quieter, seemingly at random. Sometimes it was obvious that multiple shots from multiple guns were being fired, other times it seemed like just the one.

The moment the gunfire fell quiet, she panicked.

“I have to help.”

“How? You’ve been told. Sit tight.”

“Oh God.” She fell forward, head smacking off the wheel.

The car lit up then, bright as it had when Tim had been driving.

“Stephanie turn the car off.”

“Sorry, sorry I—” She began frantically, foolishly, pressing assorted buttons. An explosion rang out from the roof of the car with such force that the wall the car was pressed against caved in. The fearsome blast led to two men on the other side being knocked out with the momentum of the bricks hitting them. She couldn’t see Tim, but one man and one woman saw the batmobile and seemed to enter an absolute rage at the sight of it. They turned from whatever they were shooting at (Tim? Mom?) and began firing at the car. Stephanie flinched at the sounds and the impact of the bullets on the windshield, but of course the material was tougher than any shotgun, and they bounced off with no damage to the screen.

One of them gave an over the top yell, as if he were in a war movie, but neither person moved.

Something distracted them all then. Stephanie couldn’t see what was going on inside, but she could hear. A horrid screech, one from a man, cut off quickly and sharply.

“What was that?” Stephanie asked, monotone but frightened.

“Uhhhhh…”

“Oracle, hey, what just happened? Can you see?”

The two people watched as something (someone?) was flung across the room. The lady’s mouth dropped open in disgust. Stephanie blinked, and looked down at the wheel of the car.

“It…well. Everything’s fine.” Oracle sounded just like Tim did when they were in the stolen car, and Stephanie by this point had learned her lesson, and did not believe anything was fine for one moment.

The mob pair slowly returned their gaze to the car, as if deciding they had better chances against it than whatever was on the other side of the wall.

They began to run at the batmobile, aiming to swamp it. If they managed to get the door open, Stephanie wouldn’t be able to fight back, she was practically immobile. Panic took over.

“Oh my God, what do I do?”

“Stephanie—”

“What do I do what do I do.”

“Steph—” The man began to incessantly smash his gun down on the windshield, trying to break in, whilst the woman moved the driver’s side, trying to bust the door. They couldn’t see in, thanks to the shaded windows, but that didn’t stop their faces being uncomfortably close to Stephanie’s. “It’s fine, there’s no way they can get in.” Oracle was trying to be reassuring, but Stephanie remained unconvinced, and leaned back further into the driver’s seat.

With a thunderous crack, the man managed to severely damage the front screen, and Stephanie squealed like a six-year-old. He was seemed a man possessed and laughed maniacally like he was a genuine supervillain. Stephanie thought in brief flash of contempt that he was just kind of pathetic.

Dangerous though, and nearly cracking his way in.

“Oh, okay, okay, okay, okay, no worries.” Oracle somehow did not seem to be exhibiting the right level of fear, if anything she seemed very blasé, thinking on the go. "Hit that big centre button.”

“The one you told me not to—”

“Smack it!”

With her fist Stephanie slapped it harder than probably necessary, but she was running on adrenaline at that point and was just doing as she was told with extra gusto. Both mobsters were thrown back with an aggressive crackle. The landed on the ground, one further up the alley, one being thrown back into the warehouse. They stayed on the ground.

“Oh wow.”

“Tasers. They’ll be fine. Maybe peed themselves a little.” Oracle sounded entirely too pleased at the thought.

“…I threw up on myself earlier.” Stephanie offered dumbly. Oracle actually laughed.

“You’re not having a great night are you?”

“I’ve… had better.”

Stephanie reached out for the gear shift, and lowered her feet to the pedals. There were two, hopefully one to go forward and one to brake. She moved the gear shift up, and tentatively put her foot down, wanting to enter the warehouse.

"No, wait!"

The car shot forward through the hole in the wall uncontrollably, like it was her first-time driving a stick shift 1990s Toyota. Bad enough and embarrassing enough, if not for the fact that her mother had come running out towards the hole in the wall the moment Stephanie jerked forward. Crystal bounced off the car with a loud humph and fell to the floor. Stephanie stared in abject horror as her mother wheezed and rolled around on the ground. She was not hurt too badly, just in shock at being smacked by the batmobile more than anything, but that didn’t stop Stephanie from crying out.

“Oh God. I just ran over my mom!”

“…Wow you are having a terrible night.”

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #my fic tag #update!

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paradisobound · 5 years

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I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 21

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 4k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and explicit sexual content

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

“I leave tomorrow.”

“I know.”

They’re sat next to Dan’s pool, the sun burning down onto them. It was hotter than Phil was expecting for a mid March day but he wasn’t going to complain since London is way colder.

“I don’t want to leave.”

Dan turns on his side on the lounge chair and lets out a slow smile. “I don’t want you to go either.”

“I wish Louise gave me more time off than just a week.”

“You should just quit…” Dan says. “And then stay here with me for a while and then we can go back to London and…”

“I can’t.” Phil says. “I can’t quit the BBC.”

“Well, I know that.” Dan says. “But I wish we could spend more time together.”

“We’ll just have to make up for it today.”

Dan let out a laugh and sat up in his chair, throwing off the tank top he was wearing and letting it land on the side of his chair. “Let’s go swimming.”

Suddenly, Dan was pushing down his shorts and was stood naked on the edge of the pool. Phil sputtered but sat up slowly as Dan jumped into the pool and submerged himself before coming up to the side and pushing his water slicked curls off from his face. “You coming?”

“Like skinny dip?”

Dan nodded.

Phil stood up from the chair and slowly undressed, still feeling a bit insecure at being so out in the open. He’s never done something like this before but there was something about Dan that was made him do things he wouldn’t normally do.

He walked to the edge and slowly jumped in, feeling the cool water hit his skin. He swam his way back up to the surface and was met by Dan laughing at him.

“What type of jump was that, old man?”

“Old man?” Phil teased. “I’m not that much older than you.”

“Hmmm?” Dan said, swimming over to Phil and wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck. “Maybe you’ve been lying about your age to me?”

Phil scoffed. “Maybe you have been?”

“Oh you’re right. I’m really a 53 year old undercover cop.”

Phil threw his head back and let out laugh. “I would never believe that one.”

Dan pouted. “Oh am I not manly enough to be 53 and a cop?”

“Sorry, baby, but no.”

Phil doesn’t know where the pet name came from but he watched Dan’s face for any signs of discomfort or just general dislike. But instead, Dan’s face lit up and his lips went back into the curve of a smile. “Oh, so I’m ‘baby’ now?”

“If you like it?”

Dan snorted. “It’s a tad bit cheesy but I’ll allow it.” He paused. “As long as I get to call you old man.”

Phil let out a loud laugh and pushed away from Dan to splash him.

Phil doesn’t know how long they spent in the pool but majority of their time was spent splashing each other and messing around until Dan complained that he was hungry and wanted to go get food.

They both dried off and redressed in Dan’s room before Dan called for a driver to take them downtown to this place that Dan said he was craving food from in this place called The Grove.

Phil thought that they were going to just grab food and leave like they had the other night but Dan insisted that he wanted to dine in and not take the food back to his house again.

Phil was a bit unsure of this but he went with it anyway.

Phil didn’t catch the place they walked in to but Dan just flashed him a smile before he went up to the hostess, who nearly fainted when she saw him, and requested a table for two.

They were sat down in this very private corner of the restaurant and given the menus and Phil felt a bit uneasy at how literally every face in the place was turned and staring at Dan, who was sat away from them.

“Just ignore them.” Dan mumbled, looking down at his menu. “They’re probably going to come and all ask for picture so it’s easier to ignore them right now―.”

“Dan!”

A group of teenage girls came running over to their table and stood beside it as Dan jumped and Phil just sat trying to ignore them.

“Can we get pictures with you?”

Dan let out a fake smile, Phil could tell, and then stood up slowly and took a few photos with them. He sat back down and Phil could see him pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up a bit more around his neck, almost as if to hide himself.

“Are you okay?”

Dan looked up and nodded slowly before he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Let’s get our food to go.” Dan said softly. “Can you take my order up to the hostess?”

Dan pointed out this chicken sandwich on the menu and Phil took a mental note of it as Dan put his hood up and walked out of the restaurant. He moved slowly, picking up the menus, feeling a deep pang of sadness in his chest. Dan shouldn’t have to completely leave a restaurant because he doesn’t feel comfortable it. That’s just not how it should be.

Dan should feel free to eat wherever he wants.

Phil went up to the hostess and asked to get a couple of order to go. She took his order and then as he stood back and waited, he went on Twitter to check out what was happening since he hadn’t been on in a while and already, TMZ was hosting a Twitter moment.

DANIEL HOWELL SPOTTED WITH YOUTUBER PHIL LESTER IN THE GROVE IN LOS ANGELES OUT TO LUNCH

Phil felt like he was going to be sick. His appetite for his food was already gone and he really didn’t even want to pick up the food anymore.

His order was done soon enough and he walking out with the bag. Dan was stood off to the side, his hood up and a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes again. Phil walked over to him and Dan lowered them slowly. His eyes looked sad, and discouraged. “I just thought maybe it would be fine to go to lunch but…Twitter already has photos of us.”

“I saw.”

Dan let out a loud sigh. “I just wanted to go to lunch, Phil. But this is what I mean. I can’t go anywhere without people staring at me and taking photos of me. I can’t go anywhere without having people coming up to me. I can’t go anywhere without people sending my photos to TMZ.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dan shrugs. “There’s nothing you can do.” He says softly. “But my driver is picking us back up so let’s just go find him.”

Phil wanted to protest. He wanted to give Dan his food and then find somewhere to eat where there weren’t many people, but still out in the sun. And he wanted to watch Dan’s skin become sun kissed, glowing in the rays.

“Why don’t we go and find a secluded place to eat instead?”

Dan looked up from the ground and looked at him. “What?”

“Come on, let’s go and find a place to eat by ourselves.”

Phil went to reach for Dan’s hand but he soon realized he definitely could not take his hand in his. Phil immediately stopped the movement of his hand and put it back to his side.

“That’s not a good idea, Phil.” Dan whispered, his voice a bit on edge. “We’re still going to be spotted.”

“There isn’t much we can do though, right?” Phil pressed. “So come on, let’s go and enjoy our food like how we were going to.” He paused and bit his lip.

Phil was expecting Dan to protest harder, tell Phil that he wouldn’t do it. But instead, Dan looked around and then looked back at Phil. “I think there is a sitting area around here.”

Phil followed Dan, trying to ignore the murmurs of the people around them and the way cellphones were poised up in the air, ready to snap all of these photos. But he swallowed back the bile in his throat and followed Dan to this secluded area away from most sight and they took a seat at a vacant bench. It wasn’t the most ideal eating place, but Phil will take it.

He placed the bag between them and Dan reached into it, picking out his container first before handing Phil his. He opened it slowly and began to eat a few of the fries that came with his sandwich. Phil could see he was being cautious, and he felt even worse about it.

“Did I pressure you?”

Dan looked up from his paper box of food and stopped mid-bite. “No.” Dan said. “I honestly would have never felt okay enough to find somewhere else to go. If I was all alone, I would have just left and probably cried at my house.”

“So you’re okay with us just sitting here and eating?”

Dan nodded. “I have to slowly face all of this eventually, right? What’s a better way to do it than with you?”

The sincerity in Dan’s voice made Phil’s heart melt and he had the urge to lean in and kiss him. But they were too open, too exposed. So he just opened his box and picked up one half of his sandwich.

They ate mostly in peace and as far as Phil could tell, no one really bothered them. Dan finished his food first and waited for Phil to be done before they both got up, a bit relieved that they didn’t see or hear any more of the whispering around them.

Their driver picked them up a short time later and took them back to Dan’s house where Dan insisted they go lay by the pool for the while and Phil followed, just wanting to spend as much time with Dan as he could before he left the following morning.

***

“Marianne texted me.”

Phil looked at Dan from across the couch. Rain had begun just a short time before and as rare as it was for California, Dan and Phil did not feel like sitting outside in it.

“About?”

Dan sighed and leaned his head back against the back of his couch. “She’s not happy that we went to The Grove.”

Phil felt his nostrils flare a bit. “But you wanted to go there?”

“I know.” Dan said, his voice defeated. “But I should have also known that anytime I go there, paparazzi is going to spot me and people are going to take creep shots of me. It’s inevitable.”

“So you’re not even allowed to go anywhere without getting Marianne’s permission?” Phil found that a bit incredulous but he also wouldn’t be entirely surprised if that was the case.

“Not exactly.” Dan began to clarify. “It’s just that I was spotted with you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Dan let out another long sigh that was followed by a loud, frustrated groan. He reached up and pushed his curls from his forehead and rubbed his hands over his eyes before tipped his head back down and looked at Phil again.

“It shouldn’t be but it is because everyone can’t wait to find out who Daniel Howell’s new boyfriend is…just look at some of these tweets.”

Phil scooted closer to Dan on the couch and looked over his shoulder at his phone screen.

@lindsey_01: ummmmm I think I just spotted Daniel Howell at the grove?

@danielstopfans: to@lindsey_01 Oh that’s definitely him!

@dansleftfoot: OMFG IS HE WITH PHIL

@dansleftfoot: GUYS OUR SHIP IS FUCKING CANON. PHAN IS CANON. HE’S WITH PHIL AT THE GROVE EATING LUNCH

There were more that Dan scrolled down by but those were the ones that caught Phil’s eyes. “I just want us to have our privacy for a bit longer.”

Phil looks into Dan’s eyes and nods. “Me too.”

“Call me selfish, but I just want to have you to myself. Especially right now when I don’t even know the next time I’ll see you.”

Phil heard the little catch in Dan’s voice as he spoke and the small glimmer of tears in his eyes. He reached up and placed his hand on Dan’s chin, feeling it quiver a bit under his touch. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Promise me.” Dan says, his voice wavering a bit.

Phil sees the beginning of a tear leak from his eyes and he reaches up, and wipes it away with his thumb. “I promise.”

Dan leaned forward and pressed their lips together, locking them in place with such practiced ease. Phil had said it so many times before to himself but he’d never get sick of this, of feeling Dan’s lips against his own.

Dan pulled back, breaking the kiss and as Phil leaned forward to reconnect their lips with an urgency, Dan stopped him and ghosted their lips together, barely touching. “Can I ask something?” Dan whispered.

“Of course.”

“Will you make love to me?”

Phil felt his breath hitch. He opened his eyes, not even realizing they were still closed and looked back into Dan’s, brown meeting blue.

He nodded and Dan’s arms came up and wrapped around Phil’s neck as their lips pressed together again, more heat behind them. Phil found himself standing up with Dan still attached to him.

They managed to walk to the staircase and up the stairs before they ended up in Dan’s room. Dan shut the door behind them with his foot as Phil worked his mouth down Dan’s neck, kissing and sucking onto the delicate skin like he knew Dan liked.

Dan backed him up to his bed and the backs of his knees hit the soft fabric behind them. He fell backwards and Dan crawled over him, straddling his hips.

Phil pushed his hands down, caressing the soft sides of Dan’s body as he found his way underneath Dan’s shirt and pushed up. Dan continued to connect their lips in heated kisses as Phil yanked at the hem of his shirt. Dan pulled away long enough for Phil to throw his shirt off to the side before reaching down between them and yanking his own off as well.

Dan sat back on Phil’s hips and Phil could have sworn that he’s never seen something as beautiful as Dan sitting there, his skin flushed and his lips red. He reached up, running his hands down Dan’s sides as Dan shivered and his hips jutted forward.

As their hips connected, Phil let out a groan and Dan threw his head back with a whimper. He was already hard, his cock needing some sort of pressure and touch. “Fuck.” Dan whimpered, tipping his head back down. “Fuck, can you move up to the headboard? I want to suck you off.”

Phil nodded quickly and Dan climbed off from his lap. As Phil shuffled back on the bed, he removed his pants and threw his bottoms off to the side, his cock jutting out and landing against his stomach.

He looked up and saw Dan, stood on the side of the bed, digging through his nightstand as he pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube, tossing it on the bed.

Phil watched Dan undress the rest of the way and then climb back onto the bed, moving between Phil’s legs and pressing them apart.

“I love your cock.” Dan says and Phil feel his cheeks flush. “I’ve honestly never said that but like, I literally cannot get over it.” Dan chuckles to himself. “It’s going to feel so amazing inside of me.”

He took the head of Phil’s cock into his mouth and Phil threw his head back, seeing stars. It was just as amazing as the first time Dan did this. Dan was just so good at it and there was just no way he would ever get over it.

Phil watched Dan slowly sink down and when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of Dan’s throat, his eyes rolled back and he groaned. No one had ever taken him this deep before.

His stomach coiled from the pleasure and he felt the heat begin to rise. He didn’t know what it was but there was something about Dan that was making him turn into his teenage self who couldn’t last at all.

Dan came back up and pulled off, sucking in a breath as he stroked Phil, his hand moving fluidly over him. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“You can come if you need to.”

“No.” Phil shakes his head. “Because if I do, it’s over.”

“Forgot that you’re an old man.” Dan said with a laugh as he leaned back down and licked a stripe up Phil’s length that left Phil grabbing the sheets next to him and curling his toes.

Dan sat back and rolled onto his back next to Phil, reaching over and grabbing the lube and condom from the side of the bed. “Do you want to stretch me or would you rather have me do it?”

Phil looked down at Dan and moved to hover of him. He reached down and placed his hand on Dan’s thigh and gently stroked. “I’d love to do it.”

“Mmm your fingers are going to feel so good.”

Phil sat back and grabbed the lube from Dan and opened the bottle, squeezing a little bit onto his fingers to warm it up.

“Go slow.” Dan suddenly said, reaching up and putting his hand flat against Phil’s shoulder. “It’s…it's been a lot longer than I care to admit.”

Phil hesitated. “A long time since you’ve bottomed or since you’ve been with someone? Because I can bottom…”

Dan shook his head. “I just haven’t had sex with someone in a long time. I actually prefer to bottom but I’m down to switch if you ever want to.”

Phil nodded. “I just want to be sure.”

Dan smiled at him. “I’m sure.”

Phil leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Dan’s lips, much less heated than before. His hand slowly wandered further and further down until he pressed his fingertips against Dan’s rim and Dan let out a slight hiss.

Phil pulled back and Dan nodded as Phil slipped in the first finger. Dan was really tight. But he wasn’t tense. Phil slowly moved his finger in and out and felt Dan loosen around him and relax.

Before long, he was given the go ahead to push in a second finger so he did and Dan whimpered and groaned at the new stretch.

Phil loved this. He loved looking and Dan and seeing him come apart on his fingers. He just felt so amazing and the way his soft walls hugged his fingers made his cock twitch at the thought of being buried inside of there.

Dan soon grew impatient and Phil pulled his fingers out as gently as he could while stroking Dan’s cock slowly with his opposite hand. Phil sat back on his heels and reached for the condom, ripping it open with his teeth and wincing at the sharp taste that came from it.

He could hear Dan laugh a bit at his expression but he just pulled out the latex and rolled it down his cock before grabbing the lube and coating himself. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Dan’s neck before he lined himself up and pushed in slowly.

Dan’s hands came up and gripped at Phil’s shoulders and Phil buried his head in Dan’s neck. Fuck. He’d never felt something so soft but tight and just wonderful in his entire life.

He knew he wasn’t going to last. There was no way. Dan’s walls were hugging him so snug and tight.

He bottomed out and Dan’s nails dug into his skin, giving him a delicious burn. He leaned up onto his hands and looked down at Dan’s face, seeing his eyes scrunched up in bliss and his mouth opened a bit.

Phil leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and when he looked down, Dan was looking up at him. “You can move.” He whispered.

And Phil did.

He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward and Dan moaned under him, his back arching under them. Phil tried not to go too fast, but his hips worked all on their own and he felt out of control.

His hand came down and held Dan’s leg behind the knee, pressing forward and feeling himself go deeper inside of Dan. And just as he was getting adjusted to the feeling of being so deep inside of him, Dan let out a loud moan of Phil’s name and Phil knew he had hit that special spot for Dan.

“Fuck!” Dan yelled out, his voice high and tight. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“I won’t.”

Phil kept thrusting in the same angle to keep hitting Dan’s prostate over and over again. And soon Dan was begging for Phil to touch him so Phil let go of Dan’s leg and reached between them, taking his cock into his hand. All it took was a few strokes before Dan was coming white over his stomach.

Phil followed suit, finishing in the condom as he thrusted deep one last time.

His head came to rest again in the junction of Dan’s neck and shoulder. His breathing was heavy and he found himself not being able to catch his breath but in the best way possible.

He could feel Dan’s hands working gently over his back, gently massaging him. When he finally felt the energy begin to come back into his body, he slowly sat up and reached between them, pulling himself out of Dan as gently as possible. Dan might a slight whimper but there was no pain evident on his face.

Phil tied the condom and then looked over the side of the bed for the waste bin and tossed it down in there. When he settled back, Dan immediately crawled to him and wiped them both down with a few tissues from his nightstand. Phil grimaced at how sticky everything was but the urge to fall asleep and take a brief nap was just a bit more enticing than to worry about taking a shower.

When that was done, Dan threw the tissues away and rolled back to Phil, resting his head on Phil’s chest as he wrapped his arm around Phil’s waist and snuggled as close as possible to him.

“Tell me if I get to clingy.” Dan says, his voice slightly muffled. “I like to cuddle after sex.”

“I don’t mind.”

Phil looked down at the snuggled up Dan beside him and bent down meeting his lips again in a soft kiss. Phil pecked Dan’s lips a few times before settling down again, holding the younger male at his side.

Just as Phil felt his eyes shut and his body protest louder about needing some sleep, Dan shifted a bit and then rested his chin against Phil’s pec, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

“That was amazing.” Dan said, his hand running up Phil’s side and leaving tingles in its wake.

“I’m glad it was good for you too because that was honestly the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” Dan says with a smile before pressing a light kiss to Phil’s skin. “Can I tell you something?”

Phil watched Dan’s eyes for the signs of anything being wrong but nothing appeared to be the matter. “Of course.”

“I think I love you.”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #famous!dan #moviestar!dan #fluff #smut

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