#i’m working 6 days this week. two down i may die.

[creatureantics]

slowly rebuilding my pinterest board to match my new kw sensibilities

#trigun #wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun stampede #millions knives #kniveswood #kw #art.jpg #i forgot knives mole and i’m too lazy to fix it #i’m working 6 days this week. two down i may die.

[martyfive]

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

[katsu28]

the harringtons

pairing: dad!Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

summary: The Harrington family enjoys a nice autumn day in Hawkins, Indiana.

warnings: so much fluff, two ocs—Maisie, 6 years old, and Nora, 2 years old, steve being the best dad ever

a/n: steve harrington is a total girl dad and i will die on this hill

very sorry for the lack of writing this past month, i've been swamped with school and work and overall just been in a writing slump! pls bear with me for a few more weeks until the end of the semester, i promise i'll get back into posting more regularly after that. love u all! <33

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“Babe, have you seen my glasses?” Steve yelled, rifling through the mess of things in the drawer beside the bed. TV remote, bottle of painkillers, a bunch of hair clips, but no glasses. 

Your voice came muffled from somewhere else in the house. “Should be next to the bed!” 

“Yeah, I’m looking now, but I can’t find them!” He knew he was wearing them last night before bed, and he definitely remembered putting them on the table when he went to sleep, so where the hell were they? 

Before he could look any further, a rattle from the closet made him freeze. Steve’s breath caught in his chest, mind jumping to every worst possible case scenario at what could possibly be lurking behind those doors. His hand curled around the familiar smooth wood of his trusty baseball bat from under the bed, knuckles flexing white on the handle as he inched across the room towards the closet. 

He was fully ready to start swinging, ready to protect his home and his family, when he heard…a giggle? 

Steve’s shoulders slumped in relief when he realized it wasn’t an otherworldly monster lying in wait, but a smaller, much cuter one, with chestnut locks just like his and a cute nose just like yours. One who liked polka dots and pepperoni pizza and stealing her dad’s slippers in the morning—who probably had his glasses as well. 

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

He flung open the doors on the last word, eyes immediately landing on the pigtailed, gap-toothed little girl sitting cross-legged in the dirty clothes bin, Steve’s too big glasses slipping down the bridge of her adorable nose with every barely contained peal of laughter that shook her tiny shoulders.

“Boo!” Maisie exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air whilst she jumped out at him. Steve feigned surprise, clutching at his chest and falling back against the carpeted floor with a dramatic shout. She scrambled to his side with a gleeful cackle, planting her tiny hands on his shoulders to lean over him. “Did I get you good, Daddy?” 

“So good, my sweet. Almost gave your old dad a heart attack.” He nodded, flicking one of Maisie’s pigtails playfully. 

“So good, my sweet. Almost gave your old dad a heart attack.” He nodded, flicking one of Maisie’s pigtails playfully. 

“You’re not old!” 

“Thanks, Mais, I—” 

“You’re super old!” She blurted. Steve gawped at his grinning six year old incredulously. 

“I’m super old? Could super old do this?!” He hollered, springing up at Maisie and rolling over so he was the one bent over her now, wiggling his fingers mischievously before digging them into her side lightly. “Could super old be a tickle monster???” 

Maisie’s shrieking giggles bounced off the bedroom walls as she attempted to squirm out of Steve’s grasp with no avail, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favorite sounds in the whole universe. 

“What in the world is going on here?” 

Steve looked up to see you standing in the doorway, Nora propped on your hip as you arched an amused eyebrow at the scene before you. He raised his hands in surrender, giving Maisie the chance to escape from his vicious assault, scrambling over to wrap herself around your leg. 

“I scared Daddy!” She said proudly, beaming up at you. 

A surprised chuckle fell from your lips. “Did you now?” 

“Uh huh! Got him really good too, Mommy.” 

“Little gremlin hid in the closet and everything. Even had my glasses too, ‘s why I couldn’t find them.” added Steve, leaning back on his haunches and wiggling his fingers at Nora with a smile. She wriggled around in your arms almost immediately, making grabby hands at her dad until you set her down gently, easing your husband’s glasses off Maisie’s face and placing them atop Nora’s brown curls. You both watched as she toddled unsteadily towards Steve, babbling nonsensically to herself until she was gathered into his outstretched arms. 

“Hi, dada,” She mumbled, face-planting into the soft wool of his sweater. Steve smoothed a hand down her back, plucking the silver frames off her head and putting them on before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Well, you, my little troublemaker, are supposed to be getting dressed,” You hummed, stooping down to boop Maisie’s nose. “The faster you do, the faster we can get to the park!” 

That definitely enticed her, because her chocolate brown eyes widened and she nodded furiously, peeling herself away from you and bolting down the hallway without another word. 

“I’ll take care of this one while you go get ready too?” Steve offered, heaving himself to his feet with Nora’s sticky fingers tangled in his hair. “Ow, shi—shoot, darlin’, what is that?” 

“‘S yogo, dada!” She squealed, splaying one hand out on his cheek excitedly. “Strawberry yogo!” 

“Strawberry yogurt, huh? I bet it was real good since you got it all over your hands.” 

“Oh, she had a blast with it. Painted the kitchen table pink and all.” You chuckled, crossing the room to kiss his cheek, then Nora’s, before hurrying to the bathroom to get ready. “You’re the best, honey!”

By the time you’d finished getting dressed, Steve had corralled the girls to the front entryway, where he was trying to wrangle Nora into her coat whilst Maisie clung to his back not unlike a monkey. 

Your heart grew four sizes at the sight of them all. Your family. 

Honestly, if you somehow went back in time and told fifteen year old you that one day you’d be happily married to Steve “The Hair” Harrington with two beautiful little girls, you would’ve laughed in your own face. But facing the potential end of the world and almost dying, not once, not twice, but three times really had a way of bringing people together. And even though you’d both been through some pretty terrifying shit (and still had nightmares too), life was good now. Perfect, even. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Maisie’s squeals of laughter pulled you out of your thoughts, refocusing to see that she was now dangling upside down in Steve’s arms as he cackled maniacally. Something bumped into your leg, and you glanced down to see that it was actually someone. A certain, previously yogurt covered someone. 

Nora raised her arms at you and you obliged, hoisting her into your arms with a grunt before turning eye to the other two. “Are you two goofballs ready to go to the park now, or do you need a minute?” 

“Park.” Maisie nodded solemnly, maneuvering herself upright in Steve’s arms and turning her wide-smiled gaze on him. “Piggyback ride, Daddy?” 

“Your legs work just fine, little miss.” Steve narrowed his eyes at her, to which she just smiled even bigger, missing tooth and all. You liked to call it her ‘anything smile’, because when she brought it into play, she could get her poor old dad to do anything she wanted. Case in point. “Oh alright, fine. Gimme a smooch first.” 

Maisie gave Steve a sloppy kiss on the cheek that he pretended to wipe off in faux disgust, but he shifted her until she was situated comfortably against his back. “Ready to go now, Mommy!” 

You tugged Nora’s knit hat (a handmade gift from Robin for her second birthday that she absolutely adored) down around her ears a little tighter before you all ventured outside. 

The brisk autumn air nipped at your cheeks as the four of you made your way to the small park just down the road, leaves crunching underfoot in a swirl of yellows and reds and burnt oranges. 

About halfway there, Nora started to wriggle around in your arms, kicking her tiny legs to be put down and start walking alongside you. 

“Nora, baby, you gotta hold someone’s hand when you’re walking, okay?” You said, to which she furrowed her eyebrows at you, but eventually nodded. Whether or not she actually understood what you were saying, you had no idea, but you set her down on the sidewalk anyway. 

“Mazzie!” She squealed, sticking her hand in the air towards her sister, who was still settled contently against Steve’s back. “Mazzie, hold!” 

“See that, monkey? Nora bug wants to hold your hand,” Steve chuckled, squeezing Maisie’s leg until she giggled. “You wanna climb on off of me?” She nodded enthusiastically, to which Steve dangled her until both her feet were firmly planted on the ground. “Careful, you two. Watch the cracks in the sidewalk.” 

“I got it, Daddy.” Maisie said firmly, aiming a curt nod at him before taking Nora’s hand gently, which sent the toddler into a fit of excited giggles. “Come on, Nora bug!” 

Your insides melted to mush at Maisie using Steve’s nickname for Nora, even more so when she pulled her younger sister’s hat back down from where it was riding up again, just like you were about to do. Your girls were a perfect mixture of both you and Steve. 

Steve looped his arm through yours, pulling you close enough to press a kiss to the side of your head, grinning fondly as you watched the two girls amble along in front of you. “We sure do make cute kids, don’tcha think?” 

“Pretty sure they got their looks from you, Mister Indianapolis 1972.” You teased, nudging him in the ribs playfully. 

“God, I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you about that. I’m never living it down, am I?”  

“Not in this lifetime.” 

“I was five and my mother forced me into it, babe. I didn’t have a choice!” 

“I’m so looking forward to the day I can show those pictures to the girls.” 

“You kept them?!?!” 

“‘Course I did.” You chirped, grinning cheekily. Steve pouted (very dramatically, might you add). “You had to have known I’d keep those treasures forever, honey. You know me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “But payback will come for you. Mark my words. Might go swing by your parents’ house and see what I can dig up. I think your mom would be delighted to help me.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me, sweetheart.” 

“That’s fine,” You shrugged. “I’ll just bring the girls over to Robin and Nancy’s for a little bit sometime. I’m sure they both have plenty of stories from your glory days.” 

Steve’s cheeks went beet red, eyes widening in what you could only assume was horror. “Okay, okay, you win. I give up, just don’t—don’t let them traumatize our babies.” 

“You’re so cute, Stevie.” You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his bicep affectionately before pulling away to join the girls as you all entered the park. 

Maisie was sure to leave Nora with you and Steve before beelining straight for the play structure off in the distance, instantly scurrying up to the top and waving frantically at the two of you. She’d always been an avid climber of things—just ask Steve and her uncles, who’d all had Maisie the monkey crawling all over them at least once in their lives. And Maisie would never let her dad know, but her Uncle Eddie was her favorite jungle gym. He always let her launch herself at him and hang around wherever, while Steve tended to go more protective dad mode about it all. 

Nora, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the jungle gym yet, instead opting to toddle alongside you and Steve, picking up random things off the ground every so often and passing them off to her dad. A few pebbles here, a couple pieces of bark there, a fistful of crumbly leaves, Steve’s pockets were full of nature soon enough. Once his were filled to the brim, she started to shove things into her own tinier ones, half of the stuff falling right back out. 

“Babe, take some rocks.” Steve whispered, holding out a handful towards you. “Take them, I can’t fit any more in my pockets!” 

“You know you can just drop them, right?” You replied quietly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah I know, but she wants me to hold them!”

“She’s two! She won’t even know they’re gone.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Has she ever noticed how her pockets are always empty when we come back to the park?” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “No…” 

“There’s your answer then.” 

He took a quick gander at his surroundings, glancing down at Nora to ensure that she was paying no attention to him before flinging the rocks quickly into a nearby pile of leaves. 

Eventually, Nora gravitated towards Maisie at the play structure, even going so far as taking a few rides down the swirly slide. Meanwhile, you and Steve took a seat on a bench a little ways away, not too close, but near enough that you could keep an eye on them both. His arm quickly found its way around your shoulders to pull you against him yet again, free hand drawing lazy circles on your knee as the two of you fawned over your cute kids like proud parents. 

Around noon, you decided it was time to call it a day, as the girls had been playing for almost two hours, and it was almost time for lunch. 

“C’mon, kiddos, it’s time to go home!” You called, waving for the girls to come to you and Steve. Maisie obliged willingly, but one look at Nora and you knew she was about to throw a fit. A deep frown curved her lips, brows pinched, nose scrunched, in a way that almost reminded you of Steve’s upset face when you thought of it. “Honey, I think—” 

Steve saw it too, instantly setting at a brisk pace towards the girls. “Yep, I’m on it.” 

Neither of you got there fast enough to quell the wail that escaped Nora’s mouth, surprisingly loud for such a tiny person. 

Maisie clung to your leg, wrapping her arms around your knee with a wide eyed gaze aimed up at you. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s just a little upset we have to go home now, baby.” You explained gently, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Remember how you used to get really sad before we left the park?” Maisie nodded knowingly. “Dad’s got her now, so everything should be okay.” 

“Nora bug, what’s wrong?” Steve cooed, kneeling down so he was eye level with his teary eyed toddler. “Wanna tell dada what’s got you so upset?” 

“Don’t wanna go!” She sniffled, lower lip trembling. 

“You don’t wanna go home? That’s okay, baby, I know you’re having fun.” He hummed, gently wiping the tears from her rosy cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Nora burrowed into Steve’s chest with a whimper, clinging to her dad with as much force as she could muster. “Tell you what, if we leave now, we can come back tomorrow and play some more.” 

“All day?” 

“All day, bug.” He confirmed, stretching out the first word to entice her even more. 

She peered up at him thoughtfully as she pondered his proposition, tracing the buttons on his jacket with her fingers. “Pomise?” 

“I promise.” That seemed to meet her standards, because she nodded, attempting to shove her way into his arms to get him to pick her up. As soon as he scooped her up, he pressed a smacking kiss to her forehead and she beamed, previous grievances long since forgotten. “All good? Yeah, you’re happy as a clam now, aren’t ya?” She shimmied around in his arms joyously, snuggling right up against him with a giggle. “Crisis averted!” 

“Dad saves the day, yet again,” You chuckled, reaching out to tickle Nora’s hand as Steve made his way over to you and Maisie. 

He aimed a wink at you, ruffling Maisie’s hair playfully. “Don’t I always?” 

“Daddy’s a hero!” She exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yes, he is,” You hummed, accepting the hand that she offered up to you. Steve was a hero, in more ways than one. He was your hero, Maisie’s hero—Hawkins’ hero (even if they didn’t know it). Maisie’s other hand held Steve’s all the way home, skipping between the two of you happily. 

-------

You and Steve had the after-park routine down pat, jumping right into it as soon as you got home. Nora’s pockets got emptied out on the porch, you threw all the girls’ dirty park clothes in the washer while Steve took them to the bathroom to get them all showered and clean, and then you usually helped finish up with one while he took care of the other. 

Only this time, he’d assured you that he had it handled, dropping a kiss to the top of your head before disappearing down the hall with both girls in his arms. 

After a while of not hearing the usual splishing, splashing, and squealing, you made your way to the bedroom to see if Steve needed help, only to catch sight of him sprawled out on top of the covers, Maisie tucked against one side of him and Nora tucked on the other, both of their heads resting on his chest. All three of them were fast asleep, looking like your perfect picture of heaven. 

Hurrying over to the dresser, you grabbed the camera that Jonathan had gifted the two of you when Maisie was first born, snapping a quick picture of your husband and his squeaky clean girls for the scrapbook you were planning on giving him for Christmas. You snuck out of the room after that, careful to shut the door gently on the way out so you wouldn’t wake any of them. 

You were alone for quite a bit, enough time for you to tidy up around the house before starting on lunch for when the girls inevitably woke up hungry. Soft music played from the radio on the windowsill as you rifled through the fridge for sandwich fixings, gathering everything and setting up camp at the counter to assemble. 

The house was strangely quiet without them running around with Steve chasing after them pretending to be King Kong—one of their favorite games to play with their dad. You'd always watch them from afar, smiling to yourself when he eventually nabbed them both in his arms and tossed them onto the couch for tickles, reveling in the good memories they were making, memories that you both hoped they would look back on fondly when they eventually grew older. 

Stuck in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Steve creep into the kitchen until he was right behind you, arms snaking around your waist tightly.

“Whatcha makin’?” He asked softly, chin nuzzling into the crook of your neck like it was second nature—which, at this point, it was. 

“Turkey and cheese,” You hummed, stifling a giggle at the feeling of his breath puffing against your neck. “No crusts for the girls.” 

“And where are their crusts going?” 

“Into your sandwich.” 

“I assumed so,” He sighed good-naturedly, defeatedly accepting the scrap of bread you held up to his lips. “A father’s duties are never finished.” 

“Poor you.” You snickered. “Girls still asleep?” 

“Nora’s still out like a light. Maisie’s drawing in her room. Did you know Nora’s got a mean kick? She kicked the shit outta me in her sleep, we should really put her on a peewee soccer team when she's old enough. Could have a star on our hands.” 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You blurted, turning around in his arms. You knew it was an out-of-the-blue question, and that he knew you loved him, but you just wanted to tell him again, on the off chance that he’d forgotten. Steve looked momentarily confused, but pleasantly surprised, smiling so warmly that you’d be fine never seeing sunshine again so long as you had him and that smile. 

“Yeah, you do. All the time. I don’t mind hearing it over again though.” He murmured, cheeks flushing a bashful pink under your fingertips. 

“You’re an amazing husband and an even better dad,” You continued, hooking your arms around his neck. “And I love you. Like, a lot.” 

Steve’s hands splayed across your back, gliding along your skin underneath your sweater delicately as he maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the kitchen, where he had enough room to hug you fully. “Where’s all this high praise coming from?”

“I dunno…I just feel like I don’t tell you enough.” 

“Believe me, darling, you tell me plenty enough. In more ways than one, in more places than one.” 

“Oh, gross, Steve—” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, head hanging down to press his nose against the dip of your shoulder. His actions knocked his glasses askew, but he was quick to right them on his face. “I’m the luckiest guy on Earth, I swear.” 

You tilted your chin up at him, eyes alight with mirth. “How so?” 

“Well, since you’re fishing for compliments, I’ll let you in on it,” He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip gently. “I’m lucky that I met you. I’m lucky you decided to give my sorry ass a chance. I’m lucky that neither of us died trying to save the world all those times. And I’m super, doubly—no, quadruply lucky that I get to have this perfect life with you and our perfect girls.” 

Boy, did Steve Harrington have a way with his words. 

You beamed at him, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt with the effort. “You’re such a sap, Stevie.” 

“Can you just humor me for one second? I’m trying to be heartfelt and shit, and here you are laughing at me goddamnit!” 

That only brought another laugh out of you, one that you did your best to quell by tightening your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his chin, anywhere you could reach, pressing giggled ‘i love you’s to his pretty face. Steve spluttered out halfhearted protests as you littered kisses all over his face, ones that quickly turned into gasps of laughter at your now roaming hands. 

“Okay, stop, stop,” He managed to gasp, honey eyes shining bright with tears. “I’m gonna pee myself, babe, stop!” 

You stopped, but not before pressing a firm peck to his lips. “I love you.” You repeated, just one more time for good measure. 

His response was near immediate, spoken pressed against your cheek like he wanted his words to seep into your skin, into your bloodstream, all through your veins so you’d always have them within you. “I love you too.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips, not aimed at him or ill intended in any way, just a culmination of all the things you were feeling in this very moment, here, with Steve. Why it came out as a laugh of all things, you had no idea, but it triggered a soft chuckle from him, which bubbled into a louder one, until you had to shush him through your own giggles so as to try to not wake Nora. 

“You’re perfect, d’you know that? Absolutely freaking perfect.” Steve mumbled once he’d composed himself, eyes shining with the fondest light as he gazed down at you. The kind of light that made you feel golden, like you were his light. “And y’know what they say—perfect wife, perfect life.” 

“Isn’t it ‘happy wife, happy life’?” 

“That too.” 

“Well, consider me the happiest wife.” 

“Oh, good! I’m glad.” He kissed you before you could think of something to say, only to pull away seconds later, looking perplexed. “Is there a husband version of that saying?” 

“What?” 

“Y’know, happy husband, happy…something?” 

“Nothing rhymes with husband, Stevie.” 

“I’ll come up with one. Maybe even trademark it, then we’ll become filthy rich.” His lips twisted in thought, nose scrunching. “M’kay, husband. Something that rhymes with—” Now it was your turn to shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in such a way that the words died in his throat. 

You didn’t need money or anything of the sort to be happy as long as you had Steve, your girls, and the perfect little life you’d made for yourselves in this not-so-perfect little town. 

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[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 22 “Road Rip” [Episode List] Dave is stuck out of town after a big storm damaged the railways in the area, resulting to all trains getting cancelled. Tim’s lazy saturday night gets therefore turned upside-down as he is forced to take the car for a two-hours trip to get his friend back home.

Want to feel like Tim? Click on the links in the story to hear the power of Dave's farts! The audio for the farts was kindly provided by the skilled farter TheFartingWolf, so make sure to follow him on Twitter on his main account and his backup one!

POV: Tim

Road Rip

Saturday afternoons are the laziest moments of the week for me.  Or, at least that's what they used to be.

Now that I live alone (well, with a roommate) I take advantage of this otherwise unproductive time to get some random shit done, chores, everything house-related.

I got the kitchen cleaned up for example, then went to the grocery store ‘cause we were short on everything. Luckily, for the last few days I could easily run on fumes because I’ve been alone, since Dave had to attend to some kind of convention out of town, work stuff. He occasionally kept us posted in the group chat, as apparently he, his boss and their co-workers spent most of the time drinking and some of them got badly drunk in an attempt to impress their superiors, leading to some unprofessional behaviour, and thus hilarious for us. In private, Dave also reported to me the presence of a very hot gay guy, but since he’s working in a rival company, my bro told me that he wouldn’t actually approve of our relationship.

That voice message? That’s exactly what you think it is.

And no, I won’t kill him, I’m just baffled by how chill he is.

Even when he’s not around, Dave would still blast me using modern technologies, and that voice message was his ass speaking, not him, one of his usual, loud, 10+ seconds farts. 

On one hand, I treasure Dave being ridiculously open minded. On the other, more than once I almost listened to those in public, thinking they were actual messages, important stuff, instead of my bro making fun of me.

However, I can’t really complain much since as annoying as he can be, I know I’m very lucky.

He kept sending us messages and updates, the usual stuff, memes and shit, while I kept doing my own shit around the house, until at around 6:30 PM, when Dave sent a peculiar voice message.

It was in the group chat this time, so I know that couldn’t be a fart… maybe.

“Hey guys” it sounded like he was in a crowded place, which it made sense given it was a convention. “so I assume you noticed the storm this morning. Well that bitch hit us hard. I mean we’re all fine but the railways suffered some heavy damage and all trains have been cancelled.” 

He stopped a few second to exchange some words with -I think- a co-worker and then resumed talking to us. 

“I’m pretty much stuck here so… help? I know it’s a two-hour trip by car but I can repay y’all with sex. Raw, unhinged sex. I can be the lover of your dreams.” 

Wouldn’t be Dave without jokes like these. And needless to say, we’re all men in our group chat.

“But seriously guys, let me know, and fast.”

Admittedly it was a time-consuming favour but while he may act all silly around us, Dave is pretty smart and organized, so I automatically assumed he tried out every available options before asking us.

After a couple of messages making fun of him, saying how he was gonna die there etc., the group™ started to think of a solution. Unsuccessfully, I might add. 

Two of our buds were too out of town, spending the weekend with their girlfriends.

Adam’s car was in the shop to fix the engine and if he was lucky he was gonna get it back on Monday.

Greg was useless as usual.

So that only leaves… me.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” I simply typed in the group chat.

Everyone reacted to the message with a thumbs up and made comments about how many stops me and Dave were gonna have on our way back to fuck each other in every motel. 

“Bold of you to assume we need to stop the car to fuck.” Dave played along. “We’re professionals.”

My bro-roommate then thanked me in private.

I turned on the radio to keep me company and just drove. It wasn’t a complicated trip by any means, most of it was a boring and uneventful straight highway. There was no traffic despite the cancelled trains, and it honestly was a surprisingly relaxing trip. The biggest risk (not that I thought there were gonna be any) was me falling asleep for how dull all of that was however (thankfully, the radio helped). 

I managed to keep Dave (and my other buds) posted on my location, so he knew when to get ready. We decided (or rather he forced me) I was gonna leave the car in the parking lot next to the convention center and then have a quick dinner together in a fast food located in the building, so I could also rest for a bit; he actually asked me if I wanted him to drive on our way back, but I didn’t feel tired (at worst, we’d take turns). 

Surprisingly enough, I got there in time, after around 2 hours as expected (9:00 PM or so). I parked where my friend told me to and then went looking for him in the building’s main (and big) hall. There were still some people around, some of them working on their laptops, chatting, casually having a beer. I assume most of them were in Dave’s situation but chose to remain there for the night.

“Right here, babe!” 

I saw Dave waving at me. He was sitting on a couch near the hall’s coffee shop, with an empty beer bottle in one hand and his laptop on his legs. He looked visibly exhausted by the last few days but still cracked a silly smile when he saw me. He was wearing a white shirt and some grey jeans.

We bro-fisted because we’re manly mature men and he promptly got up to give me a quick hug.

“You’re awesome, I’m gonna let you choke on my dick back home.” he told me as his arms wrapped around my shoulder.

He was joking. Seriously. That’s how we always joke around, regardless of anyone’s sexuality. Dave then reached for his laptop and put it in his backpack: he just wanted to leave that damn place.

“Let’s get something to eat, it’s on me.”

“Come on you don’t-“

“Shut your mouth and follow me.”

We kept chatting as we walked towards this small fast food, also located in the main hall (as I said, it was a big place). If you ignore the alcohol involved, it was a prolific weekend for him and he was happy he was getting a raise starting next week. 

“Maybe you can finally move in with Dana.” I suggested.

“Nope, you won’t get rid of me so easily.” he joked. 

We sat at a table for two and quickly ordered some food using some kind of app that Dave made me install. Mere minutes laters, our meal arrived: I asked for a tasty cheeseburger while Dave went for the double one.

“Tsk, puny as usual.” he said, as he compared how relatively small my burger was.

“Remember who humiliated you at the hot dog-eating contest last year.” I flexed.

“Wow my gay friend is really good at eating sausages? Up next: the sky is blue.”

We both had a laugh. “Why so bitchy all of the sudden? You never complained about my sausage-eating skills before.”

Our very mature and not-at-all double entendre-filled conversation went on for a couple of more minutes, ignoring anyone overhearing us, though I’m pretty sure no one cared.

“But yes.” Dave then said. “We’re thinking of moving together within next year.” he then took a big bite of his burger. “No worries tho, I’m not going anywhere for now.” he continued, almost choking on his own food, and winked at me.

“Just say when!” I remarked, referring to when I needed to move out (in case Dana was the one moving in).

We both knew it had to happen eventually, and we were both super chill about it obviously. I was already looking for a place on my own lately anyway, so it’s not the end of the world.

After finishing our burgers, we both kept talking about the last few days while finishing our beers. Well, Dave was: I ordered a coke, since I was the one driving. My bro then got up and paid, as he promised.

“Gas too is on me by the way.” he said, as we walked towards the exit.

“Dude no you already paid for our dinner, you don’t nee-“

“Shut up. You drive, I pay.”

I chose not to insist and I simply appreciated the gesture.

We got to the car after a couple of minutes of walking; Dave put his backpack into the trunk as I occupied the driving seat, with my friend promptly sitting next to me on the passenger one.

“Alright it’s 10:00 PM… the trip will take around 2 hours… so we should be at home around Midnight.”

Dave looked at me unimpressed. “Yes, because 10+2 equals 12, is that correct?”

“Yes, sorry your brain can’t handle such advanced math.”

The sarcastic banter was interrupted by… well, I don’t even need to say it. It was interrupted by Dave ripping one, a quick, 2 seconds-long blast, partially muffled by the seat.

“…really? Already?” I asked, unimpressed, and he replied with another short blast, or the second part of the previous one which, knowing him, he probably interrupted on purpose just to cut me off with was left of it.

He dropped the serious facade and smiled. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Good idea. I started the car and we got moving.

“When back there you told me that gas was on you…” I said, as I drove out of the parking lot. “I thought you were talking about the car.” I joked, mustering all the courage I had to do it.

He really likes messing with me.

My friend laughed. “We’ll see.” he simply answered. “Either way, you’re getting free gas.” he winked at me and turned the radio on, completely chill as usual about how weird I was.

Here it goes, my heart racing fast, still unable to get used to my bro being this ok with my kink, so much so that we can casually joke about it like we just did. 

“J-just don’t hotbox the car.” I tried to be as smooth as possible, but I’m pretty sure my voice cracked.

“Not making any promises.” he said, while tuning the radio.

I kept driving, focusing on the highway in front of us as the music kept us company. Dave was visibly tired so I let him rest for a while; he wasn’t asleep but I could tell he was exhausted. I mean I could easily scare the shit out of him by swerving the car like a madman all of the sudden, but I chose not to, because I’m indeed the hero he doesn’t deserve.

For the first hour, just like on the way up, the return trip was dull and uneventful, but oddly relaxing.

“How’s the gas?” Dave asked.

“Yours or the car’s?” I replied, knowing that I could step on a mine by saying that.

My friend laughed at the lame joke, making me question whether we’re both actually really really dumb.

“But I’m good, thanks. Got lots of gas to spare.”

And I just stepped on the land mine, as expected.

“What a coincidence.” I could sense his smirk. “Me too!”.

Dave adjusted his position a bit and spread his long, denim legs. He reached for the radio to lower the volume, so I could only have ears for what he was about to unleash.

“Y-you don’t have to, man.” I tried to say, sincerely.

But Dave just cackled. “jUsT sAy WhEn!” he replied, doing a very offensive impression of what I said earlier, voice cracking and all.

My friend knows how the kink works but can’t help to find me hilarious and I can’t do anything to stop him. This is my hell… and heaven, at the same time. 

He still wasn’t farting, oddly enough, so I dared to look at him, only to find him staring back at me. It was night and the car was dark, but the lights from other vehicles revealed, unsurprisingly, a silly yet reassuring smile draw on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you have nothing to worry about with me?”

My heart was racing faster than the cars around us. I’d be ironically more able to have a discussion with someone not being ok with my kink rather than this.

Dave always leaves me speechless.

“Look, just listen what I’m gonna tell you, ok?” he stated.

I believed him. 

I believed him like a fool. 

I truly believed he was gonna make some kind of deep speech to reassure me (not that he didn’t the in the past, more than once). A fool, that’s what I am, and in fact my ears got destroyed by a voice, yes, but a loud, roaring voice coming out of his ass.

What was both hot and hilarious to me was that Dave kept staring at me with a serious expression, as if that loud gas was indeed an important speech, but halfway through the 14-seconds-long fart he just lost it and smiled like a jerk, without losing control of that enormous blast of gas. The way he controls his rips is downright fascinating to me (but I’m biased): my bro would speak, move, laugh while farting and the blast would never lose any power.

Once he was done, he playfully punched my right shoulder and sat back normally, tightening the seatbelt, but his ass being glued to the seat didn’t stop the stench from engulfing the entire car. It wasn’t terrible… yet, but I did have to lower the car window just to let some fresh air in.

“Was that natural or on command?” I had the guts to ask, but I was genuinely curious, given the sound it had.

Dave looked amused by the surprising question. “Not tellin’, a pro never reveals his secrets.” such a smug answer.

“Well…” damn I’m being brave tonight. “Whatever you do, I tip my hat to how loud your farts get. That’s impressive, r-regardless of my kink.”

What a surreal conversation.

My friend simply laughed in response, probably at me, but I couldn’t really blame him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” he then said, with a smirk.

I swear I wasn’t requesting anything, he was being a teasing asshole!

–

We kept talking about some other stuff, like our plans for tomorrow, since it was Sunday. The general consensus was “we do absolutely nothing” which, given how tired we were probably gonna be once we got home, it was probably for the best. Dave then resumed talking about his promotion.

“Dude, my boss is a jerk but credit where it’s due: if I get more money, I can finally afford that trip to France with Dana.”

“Yeah, I remember you guys have been talking about it for years.”

“And we still do, so maybe next year we’re finally -WAIT, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” 

…Why do I always fall for it? 

I didn’t even have time to roll my eyes that Dave once again started ripping one of his huge blasts. He leaned just a bit to ease the fart out, effortlessly hotboxing the entire car, as I kindly told him not to. Then again, he did say he wasn’t making any promises, so I guess I walked right into that one.

The fart was long, loud and proud, easily silencing the music coming from the radio. It kept going strong as I listened in awe, my boner almost piercing a hole through my pants and touching the steering wheel, a boner my friend probably noticed because he winked at me (he winks pretty often lately, huh?), with a smirk, while still farting loudly and manly.

12 seconds, basically the average length of Dave’s rips.

I wanted to say something smooth and sarcastic to not look like the mess I am, but my friend simply resumed talking about his potential trip with Dana as if nothing happened, which I didn’t mind to be honest. What I did mind, like the hypocrite I am, was the smell poisoning my lungs. Despite the open windows, my nostrils were burning, while my friend was basically immune to it.

Now it was getting bad, the scent of Dave’s double cheeseburger, but rotten, lingering for minutes after the fart was done being ripped.

“I think I’m done with cheeseburgers for a while.” I commented out of nowhere.

Dave laughed, knowing exactly what i was referring to. He was actually proud of how nasty his rips were, the immature bastard.

I managed to focus on driving however, keeping an eye on the road and other passing cars, while still casually chatting with my bro, the insisting stench being a constant reminder of his farting skills even when his ass was being silent.

But I know Dave: he wasn’t done.

Around 30 minutes later, the radio played a song of a band we really like.

“I believe they’re having a concert in Boston in a few months.” Dave said.

“We gotta book some tickets if there’s still time.”

“I doubt it but it’s worth a shot.”

“I gotta hear that solo, bro.”

I feel like my life is just a series of fart cues for my gassy friend at this point.

“Right, but you gotta settle for this solo until then.” he stated, and I knew where this was going.

He again spread his legs wide and started farting, predictably, the blast being just as powerful as the others. How he manages to do it is beyond me, whether it’s natural or on command. The guy’s got talent and I wish I could be unbiased about it: he’s that good. I could swear that the warm gas cloud he produced almost fogged up the car windows, and the stench got even worse, nauseating, so much so I could taste it, which wasn’t a good news at all for my stomach, busy trying to digest my own cheeseburger.

Around 13 seconds later, Dave again adjusted his position on the seat and the fart went silent.

“Dude, no offense.” he turned to me. “But how you manage to survive whenever I fart in your face is a mystery to me.” he admitted, visibly disgusted, but still smiling and amused nonetheless.

The fact that he said that as if it was the most normal sentence in the world almost made me swerve the car.

“Like, was it last month?” he recalled. “We were on the couch and I used my legs to get you head-locked right up my ass ahah and then farted for like 30 seconds.” he couldn’t help but laugh at that memory, while still being disgusted.

I couldn’t blame him: this kink is gross, but I was grateful he also found it disgustingly amusing.

I can however blame him for my massive, damp boner instead: hearing Dave just casually recall our previous fart sessions was something I never expected to happen. What’s next? A clip-show episode?

And yes, I do remember the head-lock thing. I didn’t even ask for it but he just went for the fart-kill. I never ask for it, in fact: Dave walks the thin line between teasing me and straight-up bullying me with farts at this point, fully knowing how much I enjoy it...

I remained silent, hoping that we’d change the subject, even though the raunchy smell in the car kept reminding me of my bro’s powerful flatulences. His gas is like weed to me, when it comes to side effects, ‘cause I didn’t realize how much time passed; turns out we were like 30 minutes from home now: we did all the trip in one sitting, no pit stops or anything, just like daddy Tim likes it (please forget I called myself like that).

“Well Tim, you did it. You drove us home safe and sound, against all odds.” he mocked me.

“The odds being? You trying to poison me?” I dared to say.

That smirk, his signature smirk once again appeared on his face.

“Bro if I wanted to poison you, trust me, you’d have died miles ago.”

“Oh you trust me, my nostrils are burning.” I admitted.

My friend adjusted his position on the seat one more time in response.

“Just be glad you’re not getting this in your face.” he tried to be serious, threatening, but he just laughed in the end.

I tried to ignore what he just said, which I could easily do given what immediately followed: a loud, manly fart, already the loudest of the bunch. He’s done holding back: he was saving the best for last. The sheer power of the blast quickly renewed the horrid stench tarnishing the car; I felt soaked in my friend’s gas and I knew I had to take a long shower once I got home.

I should be glad this wasn’t in my face, he told me, and while I did want to get that blast up close and personal like we usually do... judging by the loudness, the power, the stench… maybe I should indeed be thankful. 

Dave farted in my face many times by now, and trust me when I say that I endured some of the longest, loudest, baddest farts you can imagine. So when even I tell you that yes, maybe this one blast should be admired from a safer distance, you know things are getting way too hardcore. This latest fart sounded similar to the others, but I could also sense it was raunchier, deeper, dangerous. It wasn’t wet or anything, but it was pure, raw manly power.

Just like my bro wondered how can I survive his farts, I wondered the same about his jeans, how the fuck his farts do not manage to tear a huge hole through of them. Those lucky, lucky jeans.

The fart kept going, so loud that I couldn’t even hear the radio, and while he wasn’t ripped in my face, it could very well have been: I felt the car shake due to its power and through the gas all round me I could taste the twisted, rotten version of the double cheeseburger Dave had not even 2 hours earlier.

Eventually, even this fart had to end, Dave leaning a bit so he could rip the loud last few seconds towards me, clocking at almost 30 seconds in total. An incredible display of talent, further proof that he’s the fart master.

After a few moments of awkward silence, in spite of my boner sucking all the blood from my brain, I managed to be brave enough to speak, ignoring my friend’s smirk.

“I could’ve handle it.” I stated, lowkey suggesting that next time he had a fart like this brewing, he shouldn’t worry about directly blasting my face.

Maybe not while I'm driving, obviously.

“You’re disgusting bro.” he said, without losing his smirk, then called for a brofist. “Respect.”

Disgusted, but amused, he did find impressive that I’m indeed able to endure his incredible blasts. As usual, as annoying as he can be, and as gross as I can be, I couldn’t ask for a better bro.

Finally, about 20 minutes later, in the dark of the night, I parked the car on our front-yard, by the garage.

Both me and Dave left the car gasping for some clean air. Opening the doors of my vehicle felt more like opening a tuna can, with all the smell trapped inside leaving the tiny space it was trapped into all at once: I could still smell my friend’s farts while walking towards our front door, a sign that my hair and clothes were soaked deep into his gas. Even Dave's backpack left a trail of gas.

As we finally stepped into our living room, we felt free, as if we successfully finished a very dangerous quest. My tired bro-roommate patted my shoulder and walked upstairs like a zombie, ready to collapse on his bed and sleep until the end of time probably.

“Thanks for everything, Tim. Told ya the gas was on me.” he simply said, half-asleep already.

Teasing aside, I decided to not destroy him with one of my snarky comebacks and let him go this time, since I had another urgency to take care of. It’s a miracle I managed to resist for the entire trip in those conditions!

I waited for my friend to disappear into his room before rushing into the bathroom, so I could properly get rid of my damp boner. I barely needed to touch my penis, all it took was my fingers tickling it; my dick promptly exploded, the power of Dave’s farts and attitude being impossibly hot for me.

I took a deep breath as I came and I could still feel bits of that stench deep down my nostrils, which made me wonder if I myself reeked of farts and rotten cheese.

…yeah, I’m definitely avoiding cheeseburgers for a while.

Road trips, however, I’m all for it, as long as Dave provides all the gas we need.

End of Episode 22

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #malefarts #gayfarts

[tezla7]

The Queen

It's all pretty strange.

I genuinely don't care about the British royal family.  The UK needs to be a republic.  Because I don't care, I can't connect with people getting angry about them either because, they just do not matter to me.  I've ignored them as much as possible my whole life.

I'm also learning from people around the world about crimes of the British Empire- that I suspected in various ways but never had enough knowledge of because- no Empire teaches that to its own subjects.

https://twitter.com/Aldanimarki/status/1567861763219116032?s=20&t=XO8mujD2X7MnXTG-0KoROw

The UK is experiencing pervasive non-stop propaganda, it's unavoidable.  I tried to find out some information about Manchester airport to pick up my relatives yesterday and I had to get through a splash screen about the Queen just to get to the website.  It's insane.

At the same time as I'm learning from other people, hearing their anger and what it all means for them, there's also this weird thing going on with the nation that I'm not a part of.  This death has a big influence on the UK.  My parents have lived their entire lives with the Queen being head of state.  70 years.  She's been head of state so long that it had this kind of feeling of permanence, that it would always be that way.  Like she wasn't going to die.

It's hard to explain what the monarchy is to British people, it will mean very different things to different British people but, it's all very weird and this is another part of it.  When I was a little child in infants school, about 6 years old, I remember being taken by the school, all of us to the main road to wait for an hour to wave little flags while the Queen was driven past at 40mph.  I can still remember the black Rolls Royce, but I barely saw anything else.  I explained the story to my Dad recently and he sat there and said- he remembers doing exactly the same thing 60 years ago when he was a child.  That's the depth we're talking about- millions of very young children brainwashed their entire lives with the same thing, for decade after decade.  What do you call a nation scale cult?  A religion?

https://pediaa.com/difference-between-cult-and-religion/

A friend and I talked months ago about how when the Queen dies, it will be a referendum on the royal family and this country becoming a republic.  Charles isn't popular and nor should he be.  We expected a huge onslaught of propaganda, the last big huge attempt to save the monarchy vomited up from the British establishment- then, when it fades- people seriously asking the question that surely it’s time to look at getting rid of it.  Except, the Queen died one day after electing a dangerously stupid new Prime Minister with the whole country on the edge of widespread disaster.

The UK government is being suspended for another 2 weeks, but it’s already been in suspension for months while the country slides into an abyss.  All around Europe countries had their emergency sessions and already made emergency budgets in preparation for a winter crisis (of their own making).  Not in the UK.  Boris Johnson resigned but refused to leave office shutting everything down while he went on several holidays.  Everyone else has been holding their breath wondering how they’re going to survive into the next financial year.

The new leader Truss did her first speech saying she would cut taxes.  THE NEXT DAY she announced a plan to spend £150 billion on energy bills and told everyone she would explain the details tomorrow.

https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2022/09/08/gccl-s08.html

The day after they've said they're going to implement the plans but not explain them, while they disappear for two weeks, meaning there may never be any scrutiny.  They're going to tax every citizen in the country the £150 billion like another mortgage- and hand all the money to the private energy companies.  At the same time as Truss did her first speech it was quietly announced the largest donation to the Truss campaign was from BP.  Truss used to work for Shell.

The people in Truss's cabinet are hardcore right-wing neoliberal ideologues who literally wrote a book on how to completely sellout the country.  The reason I was on the Manchester Airport website in the first place is that it’s a private airport, the government sold it.  You have to pay £5 for 5 minutes to drop anyone off, it’s £6 for 30 minutes to pick anyone up.  The airport is understaffed to increase profits, uses robots at passport control that often don’t work, which increases delays which makes them more money in both the car parks and offering things like fast track lanes in passport control- pay £5 to get through quicker.  My uncle was delayed an hour in passport control, because I’d planned ahead, I was waiting several miles away with all the other taxi drivers and people on a surrounding housing estate otherwise it would have cost me £20- for the delay, caused by the airport in the first place.

Why was I picking them up from the airport by car?  UK rail strikes- the trains, tracks and services were sold by Margaret Thatcher- idolised by Liz Truss.

Copy and paste this across public life- road tolls, fully privatised healthcare, no employment rights or protections, no housing rights or protections.  All the things we have to look forward to under new leadership.

EU flags at half mast- unelected anti-democratic ideologues recognise their own.

So The Queen, something that has been there my whole life, my parents whole life and is a huge part of British identity- isn't there anymore.  The money needs to change, flags, signage, plus international flags, signage, currency...

Meanwhile it's all being used as a massive distraction to screw everyone over.  Also at the same time the event does mean something to a lot of people in this country.  Most of them are brainwashed of course but lots of them are just normal people who see a person who they thought was a nice woman and they are sad about the death of a complete stranger they felt connected to.  I remember the same kind of hysteria over the death of Princess Diana.  Diana never really did much, at all.  But she was built into a Mother Teresa figure who was portrayed as a saint.  Ironic perhaps, because Mother Teresa wasn’t exactly who she was portrayed as either.

The Queen of England was the figurehead of an extremely evil Empire, but, she did that job very well.  And that's the powerful contradiction that is hard to articulate.  To her victims she's evil incarnate.  To lots of British people she's this weird supreme civil servant who never did any wrong, was always dependable, always discreet, noble, consistent- a paradigm of virtue.  She was there but not there, like a benevolent demigod that’s been alive so long it seemed like she wouldn't die.

And it's just impossible to reckon with all these contradictions simultaneously right now.  Especially for me because I don’t connect to any of it emotionally.

I want the monarchy to end.  But hating people as part of that really means nothing to me.  At the same time this is only my perspective, and it has nothing to do with all the voices I hear from all over the world who have righteous anger.

It's a global event, a truly global deep historical event because the Queen echos back into history directly to the British Empire, nobody else does.  Nothing else like this does.

Lots of people might ask- why should they care?  Well I agree to that sentiment.  What I do worry about is that Liz Truss is genuinely reckless in a very real way- she is arrogant and no has no idea how stupid she is.  Aggressive, with no comprehension of danger- like a true idiot, blundering in making threats at people as if the UK has any real power in the world whatsoever.  It all adds to a hostile global environment already on the brink of war in many places.  

Well, so what?  Why should people care?  Because the UK often obfuscates and enables US NATO aggression.  Boris Johnson was the one who went to Ukraine and stopped peace negotiations.  If he hadn't, we might have avoided the whole crisis that's coming this winter.

The first foreign leader to speak to the newly elected Liz Truss was Volodymyr Zelenskyy.  That doesn’t bode well.

https://consortiumnews.com/2022/09/09/craig-murray-thats-enough-monarchy-for-now-thank-you/

https://jacobin.com/2022/09/queen-elizabeth-ii-glamorize-britain-obituary-royal-monarchy

https://www.mintpressnews.com/queen-elizabeth-ii-her-legacy-21st-century-britain-never-looked-so-medieval/281898/

https://chrishedges.substack.com/p/monarchs-belong-in-the-dustbin-of

Norman Baker https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qunmjOpYps

https://www.bitebackpublishing.com/books/and-what-do-you-do

https://www.thenational.scot/politics/21253709.richard-murphy-one-sentence-told-us-everything-liz-trusss-priorities/

#Queen #the queen #empire #british empire #liz truss #uk #boris johnson #NATO

[danicruel]

Where the grass grows tall (18+)

Jess McCready x Lupe García fic

Alternate Universe - Cowboys Falling in Love

Summary: Lupe Garcia arrives at the McCready farm to do a job - shoe the horses ahead of the Moose Jaw rodeo and maybe stick around as a farm hand if she's lucky. But when she meets the farmer's daughter, Jess, she quickly realizes she's not only in it for the money.

(Or: Lupe Garcia falls in love with the dirty, feral farm boy Jess McCready.)

(Photo Credit: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

Lupe arrives to the McCready farm in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan sweaty as all hell.

The leather upholstered steering wheel of her growling 1995 Ford F-150 is hot under her calloused hands, and both her thin cotton t-shirt and undershirt are clinging to her back. Her dark, chin-length curls are tousled around her face from the earlier highway winds, and she’s trying to get some air flow behind her by sitting forward in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck me,” she mutters under her breath.

It’s mid July, and the truck’s air conditioning has decided to die on the hottest week of summer so far. She’s driven from her little rental apartment in a town called Drinkwater, 30 kilometers southeast of the city, with both of the two-door’s windows cranked all the way down to no relief.

She’s also stressed, so that may be contributing to the sweat dripping from her hairline.

And Lupe knows she shouldn’t complain about today’s high of 29°C, but she hasn’t spent a summer in her home state of Texas for years now. Instead, she’s spent the past few years roaming the Canadian prairies, working as a travelling farrier in the springs and summers for rodeo season and then as a farm hand in the falls and winters when there wasn’t as much shoeing work. She’s built something of a reputation for herself across the prairie provinces, and that’s how Mr. McCready heard of her. Based off the phone call she had with him last week, it sounds like he wants Lupe to work both roles for him.

Today’s her first day, and with McCready being such a well-known name in the rodeo scene, Lupe is determined to prove herself. She could use some steady work and a place to settle for a while. Being on the road has started to wear on her.

She turns down the volume of her ‘50’s Country Hits’ CD as she rolls up the long, gravel driveway, passing several sprawling pastures on her way. When she reaches a fork in the driveway, she slows the truck to a crawl to take in her surroundings.

To the right, there’s a pale-yellow farmhouse with tall double-hung windows and a big, wrap-around porch to the right. A wall of sunflowers sway against the side of the house, and the fenced off garden at the front is teeming with growing produce. Upon closer inspection, Lupe notices there’s a younger man sitting on the porch stairs, hunched over, smoking a cigarette.

From under the brim of his cowboy hat, he gives her a nod.

“You the farrier my dad’s expecting?” he calls out.

“I am – Lupe García,” she hollers back.

“Nice to meet ya, García! I’m Matt. Dad’s in the horse barn,” he points across the driveway.

She raises two fingers on her steering wheel at him. “Thanks, Matt!”

The barn looks straight out of a picture book, complete with red wood, white framing, and two big sliding doors at the front of it. The doors are open, but the inside is too shadowed to see anything from the driveway. Further in the distance, on the far side of the barn, there’s a fenced-off outdoor arena, outfitted with a holding pen and chute.

Another smaller barn off to the left looks to be where the cattle are housed.

Straight out of the early 1900s, Lupe thinks. It's charming.

She parks her truck twenty feet back from the barn’s doors, leaning to grab her ball cap from the passenger seat before she hops out. Outside, the air is sweet with the smell of alfalfa and grass, and the gravel crunches under her chunky, lace-up leather boots. It feels cooler now that she’s not baking in her oven of a truck, and she pulls her shirt away from her skin with a sigh. Stretching her arms over her head briefly, she shakes out her hair before pulling her ball cap snug onto her head.

“García, is it?” a voice calls from inside the barn.

“Hey there!” she calls back, striding toward it.

She’s got her favourite pair of Wrangler jeans on, held up with a black leather belt and her chunky 1994 roping champion belt buckle. In her plain white t-shirt, she suddenly feels underdressed when she spots who must be Mr. McCready dressed in starched jeans and an ironed long sleeve button-up. He’s leaned up against the outside of one of the horse stalls, looking straight out of an 80s Wrangler advertisement with his crisply shaped straw cowboy hat.

He’s also wearing a wide, toothy grin on his face.

“Mr. McCready, I assume?” Lupe approaches him with her right hand out. “Lupe García.”

“Please, call me, Tom,” he says, grabbing her hand for a firm handshake.

Tom McCready is a tall man, at least 6’3 in his boots and hat. He’s lean and a little weathered looking, like most of the older generation farmers are, and there’s a warm friendliness to his tanned face as he regards her.

“Welcome to the McCready farm, Lupe,” he says, gesturing around him.

The barn is even bigger looking on the inside.

There are five stalls and one tack room on both sides of the red brick alley way, and the rich smell of leather lingers in the air. Directly over their heads is what looks to be a loft, accessible by a wooden staircase over to the right, and at the opposite end of the barn is two more sliding doors to match the ones Lupe just walked through. They’re open as well, and from here, she can see somebody riding a horse in the outdoor arena.

“It’s a beautiful place you have, sir,” Lupe says.

“Thank you. It’s been in the family for generations,” he sighs. “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Yeah, please.”

They head further into the barn, passing many empty stalls on their way.

Both tack room doors are open, and from the brief glance Lupe gets as they walk past, they look stocked. She counts eight western saddles, at least a dozen colourful saddle pads sitting on a rack, and upwards of twenty bridles hanging on the walls.

And that’s only what’s visible.

“Most of the horses are turned out today,” Tom says. “You would have driven past the big field they’re grazing in on your way here – you can see it from the highway. The broncs are in another field further out.”

Lupe makes a noise of acknowledgement, wondering to herself how many horses are on the property total, if 10 are just the ones that stay in the stable.

“A few of the horses belong to folks boarding or training with us, but most of ‘em are ours,” he explains. “All of my kids are still so dedicated to it … I suppose they don’t know anything different. They were born and raised in the industry, but it still makes an old man proud.”

“How many you have?” Lupe asks.

“Six – five sons, one daughter. In that order, too.” he says, smiling fondly. “The oldest is 33, married with babies of his own, and the youngest is 25, still living and working here with me.”

Tom McCready is guiding them in the direction of the outdoor arena, and Lupe’s watching the horse and rider circle around the pen at a jog. It’s a long-legged sorrel paint horse, muscled and built out. She’s pretty sure she can make out long blonde hair on the rider, bouncing to the rhythm of the horse’s stride.

“You got a family, Lupe?”

Lupe nods, immediately thinking of her own younger siblings, who she left behind in Texas five years ago when she had been 22. They’ve been able to stay in touch through email, but she’s made a point of being inaccessible to her parents, on the odd chance they did want to reach out.

“They’re in Texas, actually. I moved up here a few years ago and haven’t really looked back. Something about the prairies agrees with me, I guess. But it’s just me here, sir.”

Tom nods thoughtfully.

Now that Lupe isn’t stuck in her stuffy truck, the sun feels pleasant on her bare arms and the back of her neck. The light breeze and shade from the cover of maple trees – in combination with Tom McCready’s warm, pleasant nature – has put her at ease, and she can feel her heart slowing to its regular pace.

As they get closer, Lupe can see that it’s a woman on the horse, wearing dark-wash blue jeans and a white ribbed undershirt identical to the one she has on underneath her own t-shirt. She’s got on a pair of yellow leather work gloves, and Lupe thinks they look almost comically large at the end of her long, lean arms. But then her eyes travel up those arms, and she finds her gaze hesitating at the swell of well-used biceps and triceps, and then further up to tanned, broad shoulders. Lupe also observes the soft way she uses her hands to steer the horse, and how she sits deep enough in the saddle that really only her hair jostles to the rhythm of the horse’s trot.

“Jess, come say hi!” Tom calls out.

The rider – Jess – glances back over her shoulder then, before turning her horse to face them with a small adjustment of her wrist. She’s holding the reins in her left hand, and she brings her right hand up to shade her face and squint across to where they’re standing.

Lupe adjusts her hat on her head.

Jess trots toward them on the prettiest paint horse Lupe’s ever seen. Soft in the eyes, ears pricked forward with curiosity, their coat is a rich, dark red colour with white patches that look like they’ve just been scrubbed clean. Jess rides with a loose rein, and their heads hangs softly.

Then the details of Jess become clearer, and Lupe finds herself blushing.

Jess has a strikingly angular face, with a wicked sharp jawline and high cheekbones that appear to be in the early stages of a sunburn. The bridge of her nose is narrow, and she’s squinting in the afternoon sun, so that her thin, light eyebrows cast a shadow on her eyes below. From this distance, Lupe thinks they’re probably blue or green based off their lightness.

Then Lupe makes the mistake of looking down at Jess’s mouth – deep pink with pouty lips that are pulled up into a smirk – and her stomach drops between her knees.

Standing there with one boot raised up on the bottom slat of the fence, Lupe suddenly realizes it’s been a long time since she’s felt this kind of electric tension in the air – the kind that prickles along her neck and threatens to produce a shiver. Perhaps, she’s just been so focused on securing work and making ends meet that she’s regressed to some teenage-boy level of touch starvation, she thinks.

But despite her roiling feelings, she forces an easy smile on her face when Jess stops at the fence.

“Jess, this is Lupe García – our new farrier and, potentially, farm hand if she feels like sticking around for a while,” Mr. McCready says, turning to Lupe with a wink.

Lupe chuckles, like she’s not at all flustered by the way it feels to have Jess’s eyes – definitely blue – flit over her, up and down. They jump back up to her face, and the two share what feels like too intense of eye contact for a first meeting. Jess’s lips part, like she’s about to say something, and Lupe’s eyes flick down to them just in time to watch her lick them.

“And Lupe, this is my daughter Jess.”

Daughter.

Oh, fuck.

Note: Hiiiii, thank you so much for reading! This fic is on AO3, and I will hopefully be updating regularly, so please subscribe to get updates on it if that’s your thing. I will try to update it on tumblr, but I likely won’t be posting full chapters again. Love youuu, byeeee 💗💗💗

Link to AO3

#a league of their own #aloto #aloto fic #jess mccready #lupe garcia #jess mccready x lupe garcia #jess x lupe #jelupe #smut #fan fiction #fluff #ao3fic #jesslupe

[everythingstarstuff]

Vent post ahead, of why I am overwhelmed and stressed beyond my limits right now by multiple major changes and situations.....

.I have a heart monitor again for a week because of the continuing mysterious heart problems, likely connected to panic disorder from C-PTSD and irregular heartbeat from sleep apnea but still no concrete diagnosis. I've been to the hospital a couple times of month for the past few months after going a few months without episodes. I am on medication for quitting smoking which is causing depression, irritability and outright angry feelings. There's also a constant horrible taste in my mouth and nothing tastes good, including my rolled tobacco smokes ( which is the point of the medication). I have made progress but in a week and a half I've only cut from around 15 to 5-6 a day, and still vaping though not as much. I'd like to celebrate the progress but the side effects of the medication are nasty and this is honestly harder than when I quit alcohol and all drugs. So, there's that too.

Also, last month I took the initiative to tell my psychiatrist that I feel it's time to start titrating down on the benzodiazapine Clonazepam because I've been on it for a year and the longer your in this class of anxiety medications the more gnarly the effects of coming off them are. I'm starting EMDR work in two weeks and that was part of my decision. Based on two hospital visits this past month I'm going to tell my psychiatrist on the 3rd that in April we need to pause the titrating and go slower cutting down a smaller amount each month starting in May. I believe my heart and circulation and buzzing in my head feeling like I'm gonna pass out having a hard time breathing feelings of impending doom and like I'm imminently going to die episodes that land me in the ER are a combination of still untreated apnea and the large reduction of Clonazepam causing severe panic attacks. I have been having panic attacks every day again since cutting the medicine down. So there's that too.

Lastly, I did not pass my apartment inspection for cleanliness and have received notice they will be doing a second, more thorough inspection to check if I've done the deep cleaning they've asked me to do which I've been and am unable to do on my own. Thank God for my only close friend and caretaker Shanna Detzauer , who talked me down from a panic attack after cooking my dinners for the next week. She also offered to come Saturday and Sunday or Monday if necessary to, with me, pull out the bed and small futon and my desktop computer area as well as a corner with a bunch of cat stuff and clean the floors and corners walls and baseboards. Also we need to clean the tub, detail the bathroom baseboards etc, clean all of the cupboards, clean the fridge and freezer inside and out and clean the stove inside and out as well as the drip pans. Usually I would have to beg my beautiful and always supportive sister Danielle Dail-Orcutt  in times of need for money for a cleaning crew ( which she's done a few times) and consider it an extremely generous birthday or Christmas gift. I am so lucky to have a caretaker and friend that was able to talk me down from an intense panic attack as well as offer to do this difficult extra work to help me pass this follow up inspection, 

I am so stressed out but so grateful for Shanna. Even though I am not close with anyone else enough to accept this kind of help I need to remember that as long as I have what I need I'll be okay. And somehow I always get by and survive so I will get through this really difficult time and handle all of these challenges with courage and grace and faith.If you read all this to this point you are a beautiful human being for caring and hearing me and I want to thank you for giving a shit about my wellbeing. It's been a while since I posted something this revealing and I don't care if people unfriend me or judge me for sharing a of it publicly. The ones who stick around through the hard times are the ones that matter anyhow, right?

Much love. -Josh

sidenote: I’m on disability and am below the poverty line. I barely make it each month with a tiny amount to spare. The emergency food stamps are ending this month and I will now be losing $200 in benefits. I’m not begging here, not asking for help. I know somehow I’ll get through, but I don’t know how right now.

With all that said, again, I will do my best to face these things with courage and grace and the strength of the survivor warrior I am.

[living-with-cml]

Things People Say

This is mostly just me venting, but I have had a lot of really STUPID and unhelpful things said to me in the last five years. For the most part, I am able to let it roll off of me and chalk it up to good intentions, or at worst, ignorance. But there are two that have really gotten to me - one just yesterday.

The first one (and I’m paraphrasing) was that if I was just more optimistic my cancer and treatment and subsequent side effects would improve and I’d get better. Excuse me! What?! There are several problems with this. 1) I cannot Pollyanna my way out of having cancer 2) I’ve always been a realist. This is not to be confused with pessimism. With everything in my life, I face it head on and all the possibilities - good and bad. This is a basic part of who I am, and I am not changing it b/c you don’t think it’s how I should approach my (read MY, not your) cancer 3) No one (and I mean NO ONE) has the right to tell another person how to feel - about anything, but especially about their own illness.

Yesterday, an individual that has barely seen me in the last 5 years said that they were talking to another CML patient and that I should know that I can have a normal life, and some don’t even require treatment. Whew! What a relief! ONE stranger said it to another nonexpert, so it must be true (*heavy sarcasm*). Let’s not even talk about how wildly inaccurate this is. As in, treatment is an immediate necessity unless you want to die, and it is still recommended for a lifetime. However, they are trialing letting people off for treatment-free periods as long as the numbers stay down. I had so many health issues and complications from the cancer and treatment (some of which were life-threatening and some that affected my vision), that for me it was the best choice at the time. It was not a decision myself or my doctor made lightly, and I have very little wiggle room before resuming treatment, whenever that may be. But rest assured, this random person says I can have a normal life (eye roll). Yeah, if by “normal” you mean still being in pain every day and fatigue worsening to the point I had to start PT for cancer fatigue - even with 6 mos. off the chemo. If by “normal” you mean that the number of pills I need to take every day just to function keeps increasing because of conditions that were caused by the treatment or the cancer itself - anemia that keeps worsening, a swallowing disorder, loss of appetite, altered taste, getting sick at the drop of a hat and staying sick for weeks or months, balance issues, the aforementioned pain, walking, the handicap sticker that has switched from temporary to more long-term last month, and the list goes on. I used to have perfect eyes and teeth, too which is no longer true. Can I live for a long time with this cancer? Yes. Is it what I would call “normal”? No! Not even close! I am very lucky to here, but I cannot stand when someone diminishes everything I have been through because their own experience has been (thankfully) different. And when someone that knows me, takes that more to heart than what I’ve gone through. EVERY CANCER PATIENT IS DIFFERENT AND HAS A UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE ON IT! THERE ARE NO TWO EXPERIENCES THAT ARE ALIKE! So, stop trying to fit me into the box you think I should be in or someone else tells you I should be in. Every day has been a struggle, but I still get up and fight. Saying anything less about my journey is condescending and reductive and takes away just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. 

I am still here. But it took a lot to get me to the place I’m in now. And I didn’t do it alone. I know that. But, comments like this are so not helpful. There’s a difference between being positive and supportive, and just being dismissive. Do your family and friends with cancer a favor, and don’t say things like this. And for goodness sakes, just listening to their story goes a long way, too. I think we all want to be seen and heard <3 <3 <3

#CML #Cancer #Venting #Support #thingsnottosay #listen #notnormal #and that's okay #i'm not okay #Still snuck an MCR reference in

[museiamcalliope]

Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome

Hello to all, and welcome to my life with CHS. I made this account, so I can share my story and be there for others who are suffering from CHS, as well as to educate those who may be experiencing this and not be aware of the condition or cant come to terms with the fact that cannabis is making you ill.

Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome is a condition in which the effected person suffers a very wide variety of symptoms ranging from tolerable to extreme. Here are my symptoms in order of severity; extreme nausea and stomach pain, scromiting (scream vomiting), Dehydration, loss of appetite, anxiety night sweats, restlessness. With this condition, your symptoms will only go away if you permanently stop using cannabis. It is believed by some that this condition only effects long term users, but even if you are new to using, if you “green out” often, this could be your first sign that you are starting in on a trail of suffering.

I had been using for 5 years and I had my first battle with CHS this summer, 2022. At first, I didn't want to believe that it was the cannabis that was making me sick because I liked using. The first bout I had my symptoms lasted 10 days with the first 5-6 days being the most severe, then gradually I got better and the symptoms stopped. And I had stopped using during the 10 days. I went to urgent care on day 3, where the Dr thought it could be many things causing my extreme discomfort. After lots of questions and working together to get to the bottom of this the Dr asked me if I used cannabis to which I answered “yes” and then he said it's possibly CHS, stop using and see if this comes back. I did stop using for the whole time I was sick and then when I got better I decided to try using again. I was okay for a few months with occasional morning sickness, but I thought if tat was the extent of it than I might as well continue.

I continued smoking for the next five months, which brings us to now. And let me tell you, the second time around this has been so awful, and scary and not to mention strenuous to my mental health. I had all the symptoms as the first time, but when compared, this time is literal hell. I can't count how many times I told my SO that I thought I was going to die. I had to go to the ER because after 5 days of constant vomiting, I was so dehydrated that I could feel my heart beat in my kidneys. At the ER they were able to replenish my hydration through IV and they had also administered nausea medicine and pain medicine through the IV which only gave me relief for what felt like 15 minutes, but I have only thrown up once since my treatment, even though I'm still queasy. This started on the 5th with throwing up in the am and going down hill for what felt like weeks but in reality was just two days, going to the ER the night of the 8th. Finally coming to terms with the fact that it was indeed the use of cannabis causing this condition, I completely stopped using on the 6th of this month and I will never use again.

If you think you might be suffering from CHS or are experiencing any of these symptoms, no matter how severe, you should definitely ask your Dr about CHS.

You are not alone! Please reach out if you would like my additional support/input as a sufferer of CHS. Also feel free to leave any questions in the comments below.

#cannacommunity #health #awareness

[melmac78]

Football snarks, sass and observation…

10. No air horns in stands… nice, because the little one that the person liked to chirp, chirp I feel cost the team the last home game victory making referees mad.

Plus… it didn’t have me hoping the weather didn’t freeze it so they’d not use it for a Toot concerto. (Let’s say chirp, chirp is nice… as is toot when they used it as they did)

9. Folks think it’s freezing at 50*F here and thinking it’s odd I wear a sweatshirt and jacket.

I said “this is nothing - try covering soccer games in the winter.”

No seriously - I nearly got hypothermia at one match bundled up. In East Texas.

This was nothing.

8. The goal of the game is to run down the field and score.

It is not try to set a record for weeks you bowl over the chain gang. (The folks who hold the orange markers for 10 yards and the sign numbering downs).

Two weeks in a row so far for bc a full out take down.

7. Yes… I want to give you $8 for nachos and a drink that is $6.

You’re the band, you need money, and I like helping the school.

I get you may get playoff games for other teams, but you can’t guarantee that beyond maybe a 6-man one because our stadium, while needing adjustment for that type of field*, is seen as a step up.

Plus, unless I am stringing for a sister paper, I usually help you in the stands if I’m not busy.

6. It’s good to see the contest I helped create to help boosters sell more programs to help fund students is working.

But seriously - the paracord keyrings are staying. No muss, fuss or thinking of 8 different designs. (I heard a comment about the change this year from a repeat winner. If they had to build the paper the past 3 weeks, he’d understand why this is better.)

5. Hornets and Yellowjacket mascots are too similar. I keep getting the schools that use the same mixed up.

At least only two schools in our class this area have insects, and is not the 7 different forms of sandstorm West Texas high schools use.

Where Texas is fortunate that Winters is more central Texas or they’d have to add the Blizzards to Whirlwinds, Sandies, Golden Tors… etc.

Yes, there’s a team called the Winters Blizzards. There’s also the Brazosport Exporters and Lubbock Westerners, Atlanta Rabbits, Cuero Gobblers and Waco Robinson Rockets that are super unique (redundancy intentional).

4. To the announcer - some of us our go to snack is Nori (seaweed), so the “nutritious snack” joke for concessions does get a bit old.

Plus, there are substantial foods there that fill and you don’t get hungry again like burgers.

(FTR, I got the nachos because the burgers sold out and I needed fuel on top of getting warm).

3. Sound system works… I think they hear you in the next town. The volume can change based on attendance.

(I’ll concede after fixing the pink lights with proper LED ones the sound system needed fixing, but still)…

2. Yes, 26/24 years later I still know my mascot dance steps. Yes, I will on occasion react like a mascot to announcements. (Years reflect both times I’ve been a mascot).

Finally..

1. WHY are you playing the theme to “Die Another Day” when your team hasn’t won a single game all season?

Seriously… It Was the most baffling. Surely the band director KNEW the song’s use.

I guess I concede that at least no one was injured when they played it.

And this wraps up another of Mel’s snarky football recaps.

•••••

*(6-man football is played on a field that’s 20 yards shorter and about the same on width. The extra points system after a touchdown is reversed, 2 for kicking it and 1 running in.

They also have a mercy rule system - about 50 points ahead at half.

11-man doesn’t have this as of yet, but coaches can agree before the game if a score goes beyond x point the clock runs down UNLESS official time out or an injury.

If you’re confused - good. I cover it too and still am).

#melmac78 observation

[the-anonymous-vent-blog]

tw for sh and ed

this is kind of awkward, i don’t really know how to do this cause i’ve never done anything like it before haha. basically i’m in recovery for an ed and it’s really really awful and i don’t have anyone to talk to about it. i’ve been put on a meal plan which means i’ve had to go from eating 1-2 times a day to eating 6-7 times a day. it’s been two weeks and i’ve gone from 45kg to 46.2. i know objectively that’s not a lot but it feels like a lot. i’m full all the time, i feel sick all the time, i’m bloated, i don’t want to go anywhere or see anyone, i’m bitchy to everyone around me and i feel like i could just break down at any moment. i hate this. i’m not pro ana, i cannot stress that enough, but i never thought i had it and i just don’t think it’s as big a deal as everyone else thinks it is. it’s gotten so bad that i had a sh relapse about a week ago, my parents don’t know about it. this whole meal plan recovery thing is supposed to help me but it’s making my life miserable. i just don’t know what to do anymore. and i don’t have anyone else i can talk to about any of this stuff, i have friends i think, but not the kind of friends where we tell each other this kind of stuff. plus i’ve been having various different mental health problems for a couple years now and i feel like it’s always all about me and i don’t want to always make it about myself, i feel like they’re probably tired of it. and i can’t tell my parents. i just want to be able to choose how i live but i can’t because if i refuse to do the meal plan they’ll put me in a hospital and the nearest one is two hours away from my family and friends. i just hate feeling like this all the time.

For the record, if you don't want to overburden your friends the doors here are always open to return to. I myself, have multiple online spaces to rant towards.

I also wanna say, it is exceptional that you've been able to follow your meal plan. From 1-2 meals to 6-7??? I think i'd die. I sometimes feel nauseous just thinking about trying to meet the 3-4 meals a day im supposed to be getting. Such a drastic change is absolutely incredible to keep up with.

You may be tired of hearing it, but it does really get better. Kinda like coding, fix one problem and a lot of new things pop up, but it's progress. With a large increase in food, you'll find you have more energy to do things. Your body needs a lot of time to adjust to this change, and reacting negatively to positive change is not uncommon when it comes to recovery. The human body absolutely detests being thrown out of routine. While sh is pretty bad, its not something to have a crisis over. You might need a way to take out this newfound anger(?). For me exercise works pretty well for getting me calm and making me less snappish, also helped me increase my appetite. Though it would be very difficult with bloating, it would also help with the feeling of being full all the time and help your body with the new influx of material it's getting. I'm not a medical professional though, so take my words with a grain of salt as your doctors might not approve of that. At the very least having some sort of punching bag would be good. Might not help, but it's something to try.

Don't forget some over the counter nausea medicine if you aren't already taking some. Doesn't really work for me but tea usually works to sooth my stomache enough.

#vent blog #vent #anonymous vent #tw self harm mention

[anonymousjos]

Six:

God gives blessings in strange ways: Reading Day 6

Happy Birthday to meeeee! I am 33 today. We bought a new battery for my husbands van and I no longer have to start it every morning before I leave the house haha. It’s just a boring old Wednesday and I’d rather die than take my children into a restraunt so tonight we are going to get burgers at the dairy bar and eat outside on the pic nic tables. It is officially my faviorte time of the year, Summer- Sigh in contentness. I live for summer. 

Also, just a quick health update. Today I am down 18 pounds. I will admint that I’ve been a little bit embarrassed about the fact that this drug has made me drop so much weight so quickly when I have been unsuccucessful on my own and I’ve worked so hard at it. But yesterday I read something in a group I follow and it really resignated with me. Also, it just so happed to come from the girl who first told me about this drug. She said this medicine is life changing, it’s too importiant to gate keep. She’s right. If she hadn’t told me about this drug I would not have done my research and decided to give it a try. I would not be down all of this crazy inflimation from my auto-immune issues and I would not be feeling like myself. So, thank you to her.  My ankles have not been this skinny in FOREVER. On that note, I had a realization yesterday! Since my double steroid shots a week and a half ago I have not taken an antiinflamitory! I think it’s a combanation of the steroid shots (although my knee hurts again lol) and the simaglutide but (fingers crossed) I think the combo may have pushed me out of this crazy four month long flair I was  having! I am so happy and shocked. I thought swolen pain was just my life now. Thank you, God. Amen. I do wish I could have gone to the Rumo during the flair but I hope we can just still move forward with a diagnosis without the flair.  

Anywho, back to business… This morning on my way to work I listened to Genises 19-21 and let’s just say that that esclated quickly! I’m talking Angel murder and insest.

In today’s passages two angels go to Sodom and Gamorrah to see if it is as wicked as believed and Lot convinces the angels to stay at his house instead of the town square,  in an attempt to save the city. The men of the city come to Lots house to find out who the men are. Lot begs the townsmen to not be wicked and even offers them his two virgin daughters- um, thanks dad! The men refuse and try to break into Lots house. The angels tell Lot to take his family and leave. Lot tries to warn the two men who are to be his son in laws but they think he’s joking. When Lot is hesitant to leave the Angels throw him, his wife and two daughters out of the town. In the valley, Lots wife turns back and turns into a pillar of salt. For whatever reason Lot decides to take his daughters into a cave instead of the city he was fleeing to. In despair the daughters decide they will never have husbands so they get Lot drunk and sleep with him so they can both get pregnant. Seriously, like what? 

We then go back to Abraham and Sara. Although the timing is unclear, Abram and Sara go to ANOTHER King and present Sara as Abrams sister (also, she is his half-sister we discover- I guess that was a thing in those days) instead of his wife. The king takes Sara but before he touches her God comes to the king in a dream and tells him he will be destroyed for taking another man’s wife. The king points out that he did not know and was innocent. God tells him to return Sara and be spared. The king does and asks Abram why they would do such a thing. Abram told the king it was because he does not follow God. The king gives blessings to Abram and declares Sara innocent in the whole fiasco.

Then, Sara has her son and catches Hagar’s son laughing at him. She makes Abram (even though he does not want to- but God tells him to do what Sara wants and he will take care of them) throw them out into the wilderness. – This is the servant that she gave to Abram for the sole purpose of having this son. The boy grows up in the wilderness and Hagar gets him an Egyptian wife.

So- everybody following? Stay tuned and we will see what happens tomorrow.

[tonkini]

Drama queens podcast

#Drama queens podcast how to

#Drama queens podcast professional

Are Brooke, Peyton and Haley your BFF goals? These Drama Queens are getting back together!! Bethany Joy Lenz, Hilarie Burton and Sophia Bush are the biggest Drama Queens and they are here with you to dissect every episode, deliver every detail you must know, and devote themselves to you as you rewatch every single scene together. Sign up to get unlimited songs and podcasts with occasional ads. Is 23 more than just a number to you? Do you respond to people by saying I don't wanna be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately? Do you expect to have life-changing moments while caught in the confetti or the rain? Are you One Tree Hill obsessed?.it's OK.we're here for you. With opportunities for performance, poetry examinations and most. The ups and downs, the loves the losses, the struggles the triumphs, being together with your friends.feeling every emotion of it. Listen to 23 episodes of Drama Queens on Podbay - the best podcast player on the web. Check out the trailer for the One Tree Hill re-watch podcast and see for yourself!Ībout Drama Queens: Take yourself back in time.back to high school. He has completely moved on and doesn’t feel the need to engage in this type of behavior.Hi, SMNTY fans! We know you love great podcasts, which is why we're excited to introduce you to a new show we think you'll enjoy called Drama Queens. “Thirteen years since his divorce from Sophia, he has a very happy family life with his wife and children.

#Drama queens podcast professional

Chad conducts himself in a completely professional manner and would never marry for any reason but love,” the statement read. Murray, in turn, slammed the claims in a statement via his rep. When asked why she tied the knot, she responded, “Because how do you let everybody down, and how do you - what’s the fight? And when you have bosses telling you that you’re the only person who gets a person to work on time, and 200 people either get to see their kids at night or they don’t because our days start on time.”

#Drama queens podcast how to

Ladies have to learn how to take up space in the way that men are taught they are entitled to.” In 2018, the John Tucker Must Die star was asked about her marriage during an appearance on Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohen, during which she said, “It was not a thing I actually really wanted to do, but you know, it’s cool. Twenty minutes a day, five days a week, ready by 6 a.m. The biggest stories of our time, told by the best journalists in the world. The House of Wax star went on to marry Sarah Roemer and the pair share two children. Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Sophia Bush may be recapping One Tree Hill on her Drama Queens podcast, but she has no plans to discuss her relationship with former costar Chad Michael Murray. It’s not a place where I harbor ill will or anything.”īush and Murray split five months after marrying in 2005, finalizing their divorce the following year. “I think you have to, like, laugh at who you used to be, but when people ask me about history that involves someone else … it’s not worth my time. I’m not allowed to because I’ve tried to poke fun at being a dumb kid and whenever I’ve done that, it gets twisted into I’m talking s–t about somebody who I don’t even know anymore, who’s clearly a grown-up,” she told the Smallville alum. Some of our favorite celebrity couples are people who married the fourth costar they dated.”įollowing that conversation, Rosenbaum, 49, asked about meeting Murray - a topic that Bush quickly shut down. “We act like it’s not common and it’s wildly common. When you spend 100 hours a week on set and you don’t even get home for eight hours to sleep, like, yeah, I’m not surprised that every 20-year-old on a set has dated every other 20-year-old on a set,” the Love, Victor star explained. “You realize that everyone you’ve ever met in this business has, like, dated everyone else. She later had an on-off relationship with Chicago P.D. Sophia Bush may be recapping One Tree Hill on her “Drama Queens” podcast, but she has no plans to discuss her relationship with former costar Chad Michael Murray.ĭuring the Tuesday, August 10, episode of Michael Rosenbaum‘s “Inside of You” podcast, the False Positive star, 39, reflected on dating costars.īush was married to the Cinderella Story actor, also 39, from 2005 to 2006, and went on to date One Tree Hill‘s James Lafferty and Austin Nichols.

#Drama queens podcast

[dazenightmare]

I really just want to make a grocery store AU but all I have worked out is:

George as security cam boy that sleeps and only seems to wake up when something interesting is happening

SBI taking over the deli section, with Techno handling the meats, Phil making the food, Tommy serving people at the counter, and Wilbur who does literally nothing but just vibe and talk and nobody knows how he’s managed to keep his job

Tubbo as the roller-blade help boy who has a headset and roller skates, and does whatever task needs to be done (mainly restocking shelves). He is summoned if his name is even uttered into the walkie-talkie system

Sapnap as security near the doors who flirts with timid cashier Karl and goofball janitor Quackity, and somehow gets in a relationship with them both

Dream as the manager who’s always doing paperwork in his office, but always knows exactly what is happening in his store and takes over the store’s intercoms if need be

Eret as the receptionist at the help desk who every customer loves

Niki as head baker with the help of Ranboo and sometimes Fundy (god help them when Fundy’s in the kitchen)

Fundy and Awesamdude as the dudes in the back of the store who’s always unloading the trucks and keeping everything organized in only a way they and Tubbo can understand. Trust them, Dream and Techno tried.

Purpled as a cashier who if is encountered with something without a tag, will just silently put it in the bag depending on what it is

And Schlatt as the drunkard who buys drinks from the store and is always entertaining when he comes in

And the only scenarios in this AU I’ve worked out so far is:

1. If aggravated at someone(s) who works on staff, Tubbo will just say into the talkie system they have five minutes. When that five minutes is up, Dream goes onto the intercoms and says “Attention all customers and staff, be cautious, as rollerblade-boy Tubbo is now hunting (insert name) for sport around the store. Stay clear if you hear shouting or screaming, and cover minor’s ears in case profanities are used. I repeat, Tubbo is hunting (insert name) for sport. Teens, I suggest you get your cameras out.”

And sometimes, about ten seconds later, he comes back on with, “ATTENTION STAFF MEMBERS, TUBBO HAS THE CELERY STICK, I REPEAT, TUBBO HAS THE CELERY STICK! IF YOU WANT TO LIVE ANOTHER DAY, DO NOT HELP (insert name) IN ANY WAY!” And all staff members are just filled with fear, because only they know how painful it is to get smacked by Tubbo with The Celery Stick

2. The first time Schlatt stumbled into the store, he was high off his ass, and just looked at Quackity and Tubbo who were talking nearby and decided mine, proceeding to pick them up like sacks of potatoes and running towards the doors like a madman while the two teens screamed. This event continued as such: Schlatt being chased around the store at first by only Sapnap, but gains more chasers the more departments they stop by. This ends with him being chased by Sapnap and Karl (for their boyfriend), SBI (for their adopted brother), and Sam (for his unofficial son). It only ends when Purpled drops down from the fucking ceiling to crash Schlatt into the ground yelling “BEDWARS!!”

3. Sometimes, an absolute Karen will just be yelling at a bored looking Purpled for how “disrespectful” he was being, demanding to speak to the manager. He tells them he should be here in five minutes, but then the Karen goes “you haven’t even contacted them! Contact them right now!” After this, Purpled just smiles bitterly at them before going on to the intercom, saying in the perfect customer’s service voice, and I quote, “Attention all shoppers, there is a Karen on Aisle Five. Please stay clear if you see an angry tall man in a green hoodie walking to said aisle. Don’t want anyone unsuspecting to die. Again, if you see an angry tall man in a green hoodie walking towards Aisle Five, stay out of his path. Fellow teens, I suggest you get your cameras out.”

The Karens never come back to the store after listening to an angry Dream teach them common manners while a handful of youth were recording the interaction from a safe distance

4. “Bakery. Cashiers. Deli department. Management. My older sibling used to tell me stories about the old days, a time of peace when Tubbo kept balance between the bakery staff, cashiers, deli department, and management staff. But that all changed when Tommy of the deli department attacked. Only Tubbo mastered all four departments. Only he could stop the ruthless staff of the deli department. But when the store needed him most, he called in sick. A hundred hours have passed and the deli department is nearing victory in the Helper War. Two minutes ago, my sister and her friend journeyed to the cash registers to help fight against the deli department, leaving me and me alone to look after the bakery. Some people believe that Tubbo may not return within the next week, and that chaos will reign until then. But I haven’t lost hope. I still believe that somehow, Tubbo will return to save the store.” -Ranboo, during the Helper War

5. For months Quackity held a grudge against George because he somehow got locked in the supplies closet and the only person that would notice was, you guessed it, the person manning the cameras. But of course, THAT MOTHERFUCKER STAYED ASLEEP, LEAVING QUACKITY STUCK IN THE GODDAMN CLOSET FOR NEARLY FIVE HOURS BEFORE ERET FOUND HIM BECAUSE THEY NEEDED A BROOM

6. One day, nobody noticed that Wilbur wasn’t in the deli department until the intercom clicked on, followed immediately by, “Hello shoppers and staff! Welcome to another episode of Why Haven’t I Been Fired Yet? I’m your host, Wilbur Soot of the deli department. Today, we’re going to fill the manager’s office with as much glitter as possible before he gets back from the local Taco Bell, when I will be inevitability killed. Teens, I suggest you get your cameras out, because today will be a fun episode.”

#ask me about this AU #please ask me about this AU #anything you want #I just want to come up with stuff and ramble #store AU #mcyt #tubbo #tubbo_ #tommyinnit #dream smp #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #fundy #fundylive #philza minecraft #philza #technoblade #sbi #sleepy bois inc #georgenotfound #sapnap #karl jacobs #quackity #awesamdude #purpled #ranboo #nihachu #eret #schlatt #jschlatt

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons

[uvobreakmylegs]

The Sixth Floor Game

heavy inspiration from the Elevator Game, as well as the Three Kings Game and a little bit of Silent Hill 3

demon!Shalnark

Warnings: blood, death, kidnapping

The Sixth Floor Game is a ritual that will put you into contact with otherworldly forces and, if done correctly, can take you to a world that exists outside of our own. To play this game, you must follow all of the instructions that have been written below. Take care to remember all of them, as one mistake could result in death.

First you must enter a dark and empty building that has an elevator and only five floors in between the times of 3 and 4 AM. The only items you can bring with you are a fully charged cellphone, an item of sentimental value to you and an offering for the demon.

It is not recommended that you give an offering that bares any resemblance to that of a clown or magician.

When you enter the elevator, you need to ride it up to the 5th floor and leave the offering just outside the elevator doors and then head back down to the 3rd floor. When you reach the 3rd floor, you then need to exit the elevator and use your phone to call the last person in your call history. The game begins when you call that number.

When the line is picked up, you must say “I want to visit the 6th floor”.

Be warned that at this point you may hear strange noises on the other end, as calling the number at this time and place has put you in contact with a demon. It is possible to gauge whether the demon is happy with your offering or not based off the things he may say, if anything at all. Do not hang up on the demon; you will go back up the elevator when he hangs up on you.

There are three possibilities awaiting you when you go back to the 5th floor to see what has happened to your offering.

If the demon doesn't care for your offering but hasn't been upset by it, you will find it in the same place as you left it outside the elevator. You must then collect the offering, go back down to the first floor and leave the building.

If the demon has been offended by your offering, you will find the offering destroyed in some way. Leave the building immediately if you find this, as it means that the demon is angry with you and will try to kill you if you stay too long.

But if the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor. If this has happened, you must close the elevator doors and then hit the button for the 5th floor again. This time, instead of the doors opening again, the elevator will begin to move up, taking you to a 6th floor that shouldn't exist.

The amount of time it will take to reach the 6th floor varies from person to person, but it should not take longer than two minutes.

When you reach the 6th floor, you will find yourself in another world. Accounts of what this other world looks like also varies from person to person. Some have said that the floor they entered was run down and wrecked to pieces in some parts. Others have said that the floor didn't look any different from the other floors. Regardless of the state of the floor, the one thing that is consistent is a giant glowing red cross that can be seen if you look outside. You will see nothing else outside aside from the cross.

It is not recommended that you to try to open any windows or try to climb down the building.

You are free to explore this other world until you are ready to leave. It does not matter how long you stay in the other world. When you want to leave you must simply walk back to the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. It is possible that you may come across the offering that you left for the demon earlier while you explore.

Do not take the offering back; it now belongs to the demon.

Reality on the 6th floor can be distorted and you may find yourself becoming confused. If you find yourself entering into such a state, take out the sentimental item you brought and focus on it. It will keep you from losing yourself and allow you to continue as you explore the other world.

Above all else, while exploring the other world, you must never look behind you. Even though the demon may have liked your offering, he also likes trickery and will try to make you turn around to look at him by making noise or by speaking to you. If you look at the demon you will be unable to leave the 6th floor and he will keep you there forever as he has claimed you as his.

It is not recommended that you speak to the demon even if you don't look at him.

Regardless of the outcome of your offering, when you have returned to the 1st floor you must exit the building and you cannot enter the building again for any reason until the time is 6 AM.

If you have upset the demon with your offering, it is not recommended that you try the game again.

There is no reward for playing this game. There is only the experience of leaving this world and venturing to one beyond our own.

This game is dangerous and could result in the death of the player, so please consider the possible outcomes of playing before you decide to do so.

You finished reading aloud the instructions displayed on the sketchy-looking site and looked to your friend Farah, who had her hands clasped together as she looked hopefully at you and the rest of your group who had gathered in her apartment.

“Well?” she asked after a moment, “what do you think?”

“.... Why does a demon have a phone?” you asked.

“Yeah and what phone company does he use?” Cliff asked after you, “or do demons have their own phone companies.”

“You're missing the point!” Farah exclaimed.

“And the point is....?”

“We need to try this!”

There was a collective groan throughout the apartment. The other one in the group, Carmen, rubbed their forehead as they told Farah “you're our friend and we love you, but I don't think any of us want to repeat that time we tried summoning ghosts in a public bathroom.”

“This is nothing like that!” Farah insisted, “it said that we need a building with five floors and an elevator! I promise, there won't be anything gross!”

“Where do we get a building like that?” Carmen asked.

Farah pointed to Cliff.

“You work security overnight at that one office building, right?”

“Do you seriously think I'm going to risk my job for this?” he asked.

“We won't do anything bad! We'll just play a game and leave some stuff on the top floor. If the demon doesn't like it we'll take it with us. It's literally in the rules that we need to clean up after ourselves.”

Farah stopped herself, but you could tell she wanted to continue about getting a chance to visit another world. She loved the supernatural and those kinds of urban legends, but she never wanted to try these things on her own.

Carmen sighed.

“Is anyone else even remotely interested in trying this?” they asked.

Neither you or Cliff said anything at first, and Farah's face began to fall as no one volunteered. Then, when it looked like Carmen was about to speak again, you tentatively raised your hand.

“It might be fun,” you said. At least in terms of memories of 'dumb shit you did when you were younger'.

Farah beamed while Carmen gave you a look that screamed 'I hate you'.

With you willing to give the game a chance, the other two ended up conceding to do the same, and Cliff had been convinced by Farah to let you all in a week from that day when he worked at that particular building. With his shift being 11 PM to 7 the next morning, there would be plenty of time for you to play the game and then let him get back to work. As long as nothing was messed up by the end of it, there would be no harm.

At first you were rather stumped on what to give the demon as an offering. Farah was the same, but she ended up deciding on a horror anthology book from the 1920s. Carmen just got a shirt they had been wanting since they were certain that this ritual wasn't going to work and they wanted to spend the money on something that was useful to them. Cliff went out of his way to get a particularly creepy clown doll. He claimed that he wasn't annoyed by all of this, but you found yourself questioning that statement when he sent a picture of it through the group text. You had no clue where the fuck he had found something that unsettling.

The night you all had settled on was approaching and you still didn't have an offering. It shouldn't have been that hard, and yet you felt like if there was the chance that you were going to run into some otherworldly creature, you didn't want to half-ass it and make it upset. If the supernatural was real it seemed better to try and keep it on your side.

You found yourself browsing a few online forums where people were discussing the game. Unsurprisingly, most said that the ritual didn't work, and the few that claimed that it did had written some uninspired stories about how the demon had told them how they were going to die or when the world was going to end, with at least one mentioning the coming of the Antichrist. When you scrolled down to the end of the page you were pretty bored of all of the comments you read and you were about to exit the page when one particular comment caught your eye:

the demon likes bats

It was buried beneath the comments of others, and nobody had interacted with it. Common sense would tell you that this was just more bullshit, but it just seemed like such a random thing to make up. Nowhere in the instructions had it mentioned bats, and no one else on the forums had said anything about it either. The user who had posted it hadn't interacted with anything else and seemingly just came on to put out that little tidbit. For that reason, you found yourself wondering if their ritual had been successful.

You leaned back in your chair while you considered the information.

Bats, huh?

And then by complete chance the next day, when you were in the mall trying to find something because it the date you'd set for the game was only hours away and you still had nothing, you spotted something through the window of a toy store: a pink stuffed bat plush.

It was rather overpriced, but if that comment was correct, then it should be worth it. If not, at least you got something cute out of it.

Surprisingly it was Carmen and Farah that had been less than impressed by what you had brought.

“I didn't realize you wanted to offend the demon too,” Farah commented bitterly.

“Maybe the demon likes pink,” you responded as you shrugged.

Nothing more was said about it as Cliff opened the front door of the building. In exchange for doing this, he made the rest of you go about the building to turn off all any lights that had been left on which you all grumbled about but agreed was fair enough. By the time you were finished scouring the building, it was 3:13 in the morning.

It had been agreed that Farah would go first, and the rest of you waited in a darker spot of the parking lot while she went in, watching the building to see if you could spot her movements through the windows. You had pulled out your phone, as you were the last person she had called. It would probably be proven pretty fast if this was real or not if she called you and it went through to you, though Carmen had said that they felt it was likely that Farah would probably not call and just say that she had.

You checked to make sure the sentimental object you had brought was in your pocket: a small, stuffed bear keychain that you had gotten as a present from a childhood friend. It was special to you, but you didn't feel like you'd be absolutely devastated if anything happened to it.

Farah came out a few minutes later, carrying her book and looking disappointed.

“It didn't work,” she said as she sighed.

“Did you call?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat indignant. To prove that she had, she pulled out her phone and opened up her call history. It listed her last call as being made to you only a few minutes ago. When you opened up your own call history, it showed that she had called you over an hour ago.

….. Okay. That was weird.

Carmen went next, and it was the same story with them, as they came out a little bit later still holding their shirt. Unlike Farah, they didn't seem too upset.

Cliff went after, holding that creepy clown doll and waving it around a bit as he walked to the elevator.

It was quiet again after that. You, Carmen and Farah waited patiently in the parking lot while the electric lampposts around you hummed. Cliff had been talking earlier so you hadn't noticed it, but it seemed eerily quiet outside. Usually there were bugs or other forms of wildlife at night that would keep things from being silent, but right now there was nothing; only the humming electricity of the lot and the occasional comment from Carmen.

Farah seemed anxious as she looked at the building, her hands playing with the charm on her phone while she waited for any sign of Cliff. The thing with the phone history seemed to convince her this was for real and she seemed nervous about Cliff's offering. Carmen didn't appear to be the same way and seemed more impatient, who'd begun to tap their foot as they waited.

“Did you hear anything when you called?” you asked the both of them. They looked at you, and both shook their heads.

“It was quiet when I called,” Farah said.

“Same here,” said Carmen. Farah smiled at that.

“That means that it's real, right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Carmen wasn't the best person to be around when they were tired and cranky, and you could see that Farah wasn't trying to take it personally. But looking back to Carmen, you noticed a slight furrow to their brow, and the impatient tapping seemed to have increased. At first glance you would have assumed that they were just really done with this whole thing, but as you kept looking, it seemed less like they were annoyed and more more like they were apprehensive.

“Cliff's taking a while,” they commented.

It was taking Cliff longer than the two of them, you realized, and you were about to try and crack a joke about him making it to the sixth floor when you saw the elevator doors in the lobby slide open, followed by Cliff walking out.

More like storming out, actually.

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed as he shoved open the main doors.

“Don't shout!” Carmen responded, “this is your job that we're not supposed to be doing this at, remember? What're you going to do if someone calls the police on us?”

Cliff ignored them, looking to Farah as he continued “are you serious? You want this stupid thing to be real that badly?!”

He was holding something that he then thrust in front of Farah's face. It was the clown doll that he'd brought.

Or at least, what was left of it.

It looked like it had been stepped on repeatedly, the body broken and the head having been caved in. One of the legs were also missing, you noted.

“You.... You think I did that?” Farah asked.

“Who else!” Cliff yelled.

“I've been here the whole time!” she shrieked back.

“She has,” you added as you felt the need to jump in, “none of us have moved from this spot.”

“Oh fuck off,” he answered, “I needed to return this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you shouldn't have gone out of your way to be an asshole,” Farah spat back.

It quickly devolved into an argument between the two, with Carmen pulling you back when you tried to jump in again. It made sense why Cliff was upset, but Farah hadn't done anything.

“.... Should I not go?” you whispered to Carmen after a bit.

“No!” Cliff exclaimed, this time at you, “you should go! Do this stupid thing, and then let me get back to my work!”

“You're not allowed to go back in for the rest of the night,” Farah pointed out.

By that point Cliff was done, and he stormed off to another area in the lot. Carmen motioned for you to go while Farah quietly steamed. It wasn't the first time those two had fought, but the arguments seemed to be getting nastier every time they happened. Best to get this over with so they could be separated and have the time to cool down.

You walked through the darkened lobby of the empty office building, your path illuminated only by the streetlights outside. There was something about darkness and artificial light that somehow made it feel more foreboding, more dangerous. Even though you were an adult there were still thoughts that ran about in your head of creatures that you couldn't see awaiting you in the dark, and those thoughts made you tense a bit. It was such an irrational fear, but one your brain wouldn't let go of. The argument between your friends had only put you more on edge as well.

The elevator doors slid open, the bright blinding lights hurting your eyes for a second before they adjusted to them, and you stepped in the car, pushing the button for the fifth floor.

Fifth floor, leave the offering, then down to third.

There were some bits of Cliff's creepy clown doll that were in front of the elevator when you reached the top floor. It vaguely occurred to you that the instructions said to leave immediately if the offering had been destroyed, but it seemed like Cliff had tried to clean up some. Though that made sense, since he didn't want to leave a mess behind after his shift.

You pushed away some of the leftover bits with your shoe, and carefully placed the bat plush laying on its back in front of the doors.

Down to the third floor, then.

You checked again to make sure that the bear keychain was still in your pocket during the ride down, stepping out when the doors opened after you confirmed that it was.

Now to make the call....

There hadn't been anything saying you needed to wait until the doors closed to begin, but you waited anyway. When the double doors slid shut behind you, you hit the button on your screen to call Farah, the last person on your call history.

It rang twice before the call was picked up. Just as Farah and Carmen had said, it was silent on the other side. You cleared your throat before saying the words that had been instructed.

“I want to visit the sixth floor. Please.”

There was nothing that said you needed to be polite, but you figured it couldn't hurt.

You still didn't hear anything from the other end, and that silence continued for several more seconds. You held the phone close to your ear, straining to hear anything, any sort of indication that someone was on the other line. The “demon” was supposed to hang up first, you remembered, so you were stuck until something happened.

“.... That's actually cute.”

The male voice you heard on the other end was unexpected, but you didn't get a chance to say anything back before the phone call ended.

You stood very still for a few moments.

That.... That hadn't been any of the others who were still outside. Unless they had gone so far as to hide someone out there and have them answer the phone when you called Farah and all of this was just an elaborate prank. But none of them were really the kind of people to do things like that.

Remembering the instructions from the site, you turned back to the elevator and got on when the doors opened, pushing the button for fifth floor once again.

If the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor

The ding of the elevator signaled that you were once again at the top floor of the building, and when the doors slid back open and you looked to the spot where you'd left the bat, you found.... Nothing.

That space you had cleared from the broken bits of that doll was empty, the white tiled floor shining in the light that came from the elevator.

….. If this was all just a prank by your friends, you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust them after this.

The doors closed once again, and you took a deep breath before you pushed the fifth floor button.

The elevator began to move up.

There wasn't a sixth floor; you'd double checked that the building only went as high as five.

You told yourself to wait until the doors opened before you jumped to conclusions. You'd need to see this “other world” before you could say for certain that all of this was real.

The website said that it could take up to two minutes, but mere seconds later did the doors slide back open.

Everything looked normal. Just another floor of an office building.

Or it would have looked normal, had it not been for the fact that everything was bathed in a red glow that came from the outside.

Clutching your phone in one hand and the keychain in the other, you took a small, tentative step out of the car, looking to either side of you.

The hallways were empty. Nothing jumped out at you.

Slowly, you walked over to a window.

In the distance stood a glowing red cross.

…. This was real.

This was actually real.

It was almost too much to process for your shock-addled brain, and you had to wonder if anyone else who had been successful had the same reaction as you, to just stare dumbly at the scene before you.

It then occurred to you to get proof for when you went back.

You pulled up the camera on your phone. Or you tried to at least. Of all the times for your phone to act up, it needed to be when you needed to get a picture so people would believe you. The app kept taking forever to pull up before it would close and you repeatedly tapped on the screen as you tried to make it work. Somehow you managed to snap a few pictures of the cross before the camera closed again and you weren't able to open it back up. The lighting and your uncooperative phone made the pictures appear quite blurry, but one would be able to tell what they were looking at. No doubt some people would claim that it was fake, but it was enough to satisfy you.

You checked the time, finding it to be 3:30, if the phone was to be trusted. You wished you had checked before you came up here, but it was a bit too late for that now.

You stepped away from the window and went down one of the halls, looking all around before you remembered that the site said that you shouldn't look behind you. Or was that only when you heard the demon? Regardless, you kept glances behind yourself to a minimum as you made your way through the floor.

Aside from the red light that covered everything, it looked like a normal office floor, filled with different offices and supply closets and nothing that was particularly interesting to you. The one strange thing was that the red cross outside seemed to move along with you, as when you would move to a different room you would still be able to see it clearly outside. You went back to the windows a few times and tried to see if there was anything else outside, but all you found was an endless darkness with no signs of any kind of life or structure. Unsurprisingly there was also no sign of your friends down below, though it would have been hard to see where they were standing outside anyway given the angle.

The red light made you slightly sick after a while, and you tried opening up the flashlight option on your phone. But it refused to turn on. In fact, nothing on your phone was working now, and when you looked at the clock, the time was still 3:30.

Either time was being distorted or your phone wasn't able to function properly. Given how your phone was acting earlier the latter would seem to be the most likely option, but you also weren't sure what the rules of this place were. There was nothing that said that this world was bound to time in the way yours was.

The website had said that you could stay up here for as long as you wanted, right?

You began to see things out of the corner of your eye, little bits of movement in the darkness that dared you to look at them. You did a few times, mentally slapping yourself as you remembered what the instructions had said as you were now desperately trying to remember everything that had been written so you knew what you could and couldn't do. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time as you recalled what the site had said about possibly dying to this game, and at one point you felt so overwhelmed that you thought you were going to throw up. You managed to keep it down, but after that you decided that it was time to leave.

When you started to head back to the elevator was when you felt a headache coming on. It was mild at first, but when you went further along your route to the exit it started to hurt more, turning into a stabbing pain that jammed into your skull.

Had the website mentioned this? You couldn't be sure. Where were you even going again?

You stopped at an open door, leaning against the open door frame to rest. There was movement from inside the room, and without thinking you looked over to it.

The bat you had left on the fifth floor sat in the room in front of a whiteboard. A whiteboard that had been absolutely covered in drawn on hearts and your name repeated over and over.

…. The website hadn't mentioned that.

“Do you think it's a good place for him?”

The voice you heard came from a few feet behind you. The same voice you had heard over the phone.

You needed to get out. Now.

You brushed your hand against your pocket as you tried to stand up straight again, still fighting the pain of the headache when you remembered the little bear keychain.

It will keep you from losing yourself

With that thought in mind you pulled it out and focused on it, and the pain seemed to lessen by a good amount.

“You've got a thing for cute stuff, don't you?”

The voice came from directly behind you this time, like whoever was speaking was staring down over your shoulder as they were practically on top of you.

Don't look don't look don't look

You pushed off of the door frame, the keychain still in hand as you power-walked back down the hall. The headache was still there a little bit but it was nowhere near as debilitating as it had been before.

The voice whined from behind you.

“You're leaving already? You just got here.”

Don't speak. Don't look.

It was following you. You could hear the footsteps that trailed after yours, keeping up with your pace and almost being purposefully loud. Sudden noises accompanied the footsteps, making you jump and urging you to turn around. It was a natural thing to react to sudden sounds like that and you needed to catch yourself a few times from looking behind.

It was trying to keep you here and you didn't want to stay to find out why that was.

You turned several corners and walked down many halls, and the elevator wasn't anywhere in sight. That wasn't right. You had made a mental note of where the location of the elevator approximately was. As much as the headache was still messing with you, you should still be able to make it back. You knew where it was, goddammit.

…. Was it just you, or were these hallways getting longer?

A chuckle came from behind you.

“You didn't think I'd let you go that easy, did you?”

You started to run.

You weren't sure how long you continued like that – time didn't seem to be a thing up here. Around you the halls extended, stretching out and prolonging your time in this hell as you turned corner after corner and you still couldn't find the fucking elevator. The temptation was there to look behind and see how long the halls had become, but the laughter that followed you kept your eyes straight ahead.

Turning another corner, the doors to the elevator came in sight, and you let out a gasp of relief as you ran faster. Just a little bit more and then you'd be free.

…. The elevator seemed to be was moving away from you, messing with you just as the halls had done before.

You could hear him breathing directly in your ear as you ran. Still trying to freak you out, still trying to make you turn around. He hadn't touched you at all, though, and you wondered if there were rules for him that prevented him from doing so.

The attempts to get you to look back at him seemed to be getting desperate. If this thing was getting to a point where even he was desperate, you didn't want to know what the hell he'd do to you if you made the mistake of turning around.

Despite it all the elevator was getting closer. Escape was literally in your grasp-

And then something in the floor shifted that caused your knee to buckle and you were sent flying face down on the flat white tile.

The phone and keychain went flying out of your hands and there was blood in your mouth as you bit your lip. Your head ached again, though you weren't sure if it was because of him or because you'd just landed on the solid floor.

You lay there for a few moments, catching your breath as you tried to compose yourself.

You then became aware of the presence that was standing over you. He was quiet now, but you could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, as if trying to will you to look at him.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you began to crawl forward, your hands searching for the phone and keychain that had gone flying and had vanished into the darkness, the light from outside now much duller than it had been when you'd first arrived.

Don't look don't look don't look

He can't touch you

He can't force you to look back at him

Just keep facing forward and-

A horrifically loud shrieking noise sounded through the hall. It was the loudest thing you had ever heard in your life, the noise so great that you felt the floor vibrating, and your hands immediately went to cover your ears to protect your hearing as best you could.

Don't you dare fucking look back

With your hands still over your ears, you crawled forward on your knees. It was slow and it had gotten so dark that you couldn't see the elevator anymore, but it was still progress. When your knee brushed against your phone you ignored it. Who gave a fuck about proof anymore? You just wanted to get out.

But you were still trying to keep a lookout for the keychain. It had helped before; if you could find it, it would probably make getting out easier.

You put out one hand on the floor as you blindly searched for your sentimental item, your eyes scrunching up in pain as the horrible sound continued.

For a split second your fingers brushed up against something soft.

You grabbed it.

Immediately after the shrieking noise stopped.

For just a moment, there was relief, even though you still had that noise ringing in your ears. But it took only another moment for you to realize that something was wrong.

You hadn't grabbed that bear keychain. It was larger and heavier.

Opening your eyes, you found that you were holding that fucking bat plush.

“Ah. You messed up.”

A hand reached from behind you and grabbed the plush out of your grip. A different hand was placed on your shoulder and you were spun around on the floor.

A fair-skinned man with what looked to be blonde hair stared down at you, one hand still on your shoulder as he waved the bat in front of you.

“You're not supposed to take this back, remember?” he asked as he smiled at you.

“No.... I didn't...” you trailed off.

“But you did, though! You grabbed and picked it up,” he said.

That wasn't possible. You had left that thing behind in that room that felt so far away now. But as you glanced to the side you saw that, to your horror, you were sitting next to that room again, the hearts still visible on the whiteboard. You were barely able to note that it had gotten brighter and that somehow the red lighting seemed less harsh before he was talking to you again.

“So you lost and now you don't get to go back,” he told you.

“No.... You cheated.”

It felt so juvenile to say that out loud, but it was all that could come out of you in your current state.

Strangely though, he didn't deny it.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “I've never gotten a visitor as charming as yourself. When I heard you on the phone and saw what you left me, I just needed to keep you.”

He looked at the bat plush again and smiled at it as he sat down in front of you.

“Did you just pick this at random, or was it something else?”

You struggled to comprehend the question, and it took you a bit before you were able to blurt out “someone else said you liked bats.”

“So you mean you went to the trouble of looking up what things I liked? That's adorable. I love it!” he exclaimed.

You tried to subtly scoot away from him as he sat in front of you but you were noticed instantly.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked. The look he gave you was so innocent.

“I-I need to go home. I want to go home,” you insisted.

“That's not an option, remember?” he asked, waving the bat around again.

You shook your head.

“You cheated. I should be allowed to leave because you did that.”

He laughed.

“There's no rule against cheating. As long as I didn't touch you it was fine. Don't be a sore loser.”

“Fuck you.”

You spat out those words in a bout of frustration, trying your best to sound strong, but it probably just made you seem more pathetic.

He only hummed at that, just staring at you for a moment.

It had been getting steadily brighter, the red going away with every passing second and you were able to make out different colors. The purple and teal on his clothes, the shade of blonde his hair was and the blue of his eyes were visible to you for a few moments.

He set the bat plush to the side, and the world began to darken again as red and black took over.

“That's okay,” he said, more to himself than to you, “you're scared and that kind of reaction is normal, so I'm not too mad.”

It was getting harder to see him, but you could see movement about him, things about his body changing. Horns that slowly curled out from his forehead. The tips of his fingers that darkened around long claws that took the place of his fingernails. Large, bat-like wings that unfolded from behind him and spread themselves.

You caught a glimpse of his teeth in the low light, and they looked sharper than they had before.

Panic shot through you as you began to scramble away from him, but your escape attempt was short-lived as something wrapped itself around your legs and pulled you back towards him.

A tail? Oh God that was a tail.

He was on top of you, and he caged you in his arms as he leaned down to whisper in your ear “don't worry, I'll go easy on you this time.”

You tried to push him away, but he ignored it.

“Oh! Before I forget, I should introduce myself shouldn't I? I'm Shalnark. Nice to meet you.”

With that, his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss.

Your friends had been waiting a while.

Farah and Carmen stayed where they had been directly next to the building while Cliff hadn't moved from where he had stormed off to. Farah had been getting upset as she had become convinced that you were being an ass to her as well with how long you were taking. It was all Carmen could do to try and keep her calm.

Because of his distance away and how distracted they were, neither of them noticed the state Cliff was in.

They only noticed when he began to violently cough.

With Farah still slightly bitter from their earlier argument, Carmen was the one to check on him, asking if he was alright as they walked up to him.

Cliff gave no answer as he had begun to cough up blood.

Carmen's hands fumbled when they pulled out their phone to call emergency services, and they yelled at Farah to go inside and get you. The sight of the blood Cliff was coughing up had Farah sprinting towards the building, throwing the front doors open as she made a beeline for the elevator.

Carmen didn't notice it at first when Farah fell to the floor. Only when the ambulance had been confirmed and they looked back to the building to see if the two of you were coming out did they see her body lying limply on the floor.

Ambulances and cop cars arrived eventually, and both Cliff and Farah were declared dead at the scene. The autopsy reports later would declare that they had been poisoned. A thorough search of the building would find no source of where the poison had come from.

Nor did they find anything from you.

Carmen had told them that you were in there, but when they searched they found no trace of you. No personal belongings and nothing to even indicate that you had entered the building. When the search for you grew beyond the confines of the office building, there was still no trace of you. You simply vanished into thin air.

The case would puzzle investigators before they would ultimately put it aside for other cases that needed their attention. It would only gain some traction online when the files were released to the public and certain parties saw that you and your friends had been playing the Sixth Floor Game. For some people it added weight to their beliefs that the game was real and needed to be avoided. For others it was just a coincidence.

Regardless of what they thought, you remained a missing person that would never be seen again, forever immortalized by your unexplained disappearance and an urban legend.

#reader insert #Shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere shalnark #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter