#works been kicking my nuts on and off but also just brain things

[aviul]

scent

#abstract art #abstract #had to doodle because i havent drawn anything aside from daily draws for like. forever #daily draws dont really count theyre just like breathing i gotta do em #brains just not been in the creative zone for whatever reasons #works been kicking my nuts on and off but also just brain things #i did get an exercise bike and i have actually been using it #turns out i can trick myself to cycle by reading book while doing it #and trick self to read by cycling while doing it

[wilbursoot-updates]

Interview: Lovejoy Are Taking the World by Storm, One Show at a Time

Lovejoy is in this article!

Lovejoy kicked off their highly anticipated Across The Pond Tour in May. The British rock band, who recently released their third EP “Wake Up & It’s Over,” played shows to adoring fans throughout the U.S. and Canada—wowing audiences with their rambunctious guitars and tell-all lyrics. Before their show at Boston’s Royale on June 2nd, Staff Writer, Elle Dickson sat down with the band to discuss new music and the highs and lows of tour.

SO HOW ARE Y’ALL DOING TODAY? 

Ash Kabosu: Doing good. We’re just plotting world domination at the moment. 

THAT FEELS RIGHT. HOW EXCITED ARE Y’ALL TO BE IN BOSTON?

Mark Boardman: We’ve never been.

AK: Joe loves Boston.

Wilbur Soot: It’s his favorite place in the world. 

AK: Which is why he’s not here, he’s off enjoying Boston. 

LOVELY, SO HOW HAS THE TOUR BEEN SO FAR FOR YOU GUYS?

WS: Very good. Very tiring.

AK: Wild. Yeah, really cool. Just like every end of the spectrum—it’s been amazing, but it’s also been awful at times. Yeah, it’s just been a big mixed bag.

WHAT HAVE BEEN YOUR FAVORITE PARTS OF THE TOUR SO FAR? 

AK: I really liked San Francisco! I think it gets a bad rap because everywhere else we went in the country, we’ve been telling people where we’ve been going, and they say, “Oh, be careful in San Francisco!” and we got there and it couldn’t be finer. There was nothing wrong—it was very pleasant, very green, a lot of fun, and there were lots of cool places to eat. I had a great time! 

MB: I think mine was [San Francisco] too. We have a good friend that lives out there, so it was nice to see them again.

AK: They showed us around, showed us some good food, and we got to see the sunset in a field overlooking the city.

MB: Then, the next day, they secretly opened for us—did an amazing show. They absolutely smashed it!

AK: Yeah, that show was great. It was a really good crowd... Austin, Texas was really cool. I think that was maybe my favorite show, just in terms of crowd and energy and everything. Yeah, it was huge. 

WS: It was daunting. 

AK: I had loads of fun in Nashville as well. That’s where we first went. We were there for a few days. We just went out to Broadway and went to a bunch of bars to listen to the country bands play. They were all just incredible—like it made me aware of the caliber of musicians and it made me nervous. I was like, “Fuck, we really gotta prove ourselves.” 

WS: Yeah, Nashville was really cool. 

WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING TO KEEP THINGS FUN ON TOUR? 

WS: I attack Mark. 

MB: He’s been doing that since before tour. 

AK: Let the record show that I’m actually sitting between them now to prevent Will from harming Mark any further.

YOU GOTTA KEEP HIM SAFE BEFORE THE SHOW!

AK: Just his legs, he could probably beat the drum with your head. 

MB: I don’t know. I feel like I’d get brain damage first. 

THE EP IS STILL PRETTY YOUNG. HOW HAS THAT IMPACTED THE TOUR? 

AK: I’m very impressed with how the crowds have already learned the songs. I did not expect that. I thought there would be one or two stand-out songs or choruses that really resonate with people, but they’re singing every word and that's nuts. Like, that’s dedication that we don’t even deserve, and that's wonderful. 

WS: Yeah, it’s crazy. 

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE ONE OF YOUR SHOWS TO SOMEONE WHO’S NEVER BEEN TO ONE?

MB: Loud.

WS: Yeah. Very loud. It’s not even the sound system or the music—it’s literally just how loud the fans scream. 

AK: Our record was 120 decibels I think, in Texas, which is the equivalent of standing next to a jet engine. We have molded in-ears that we wear for playback while we perform, and if at any point I take mine out, it’s almost deafening.

WS: Every crew member that works in the venue has no idea what to expect then our sound guy tries to tell us–

AK: He tries to tell them, “It’s gonna be loud,” and they’re like “Okay.” Then they go, “Oh fuck, my ears!”

WS: They all put their earplugs in as well. It's ridiculous. 

WHAT ARE Y’ALLS FAVORITE SONGS TO PLAY?

MB: It’s gotta be “Portrait of a Blank Slate” for me. I think it’s really fun.

AK: Yeah, I really like playing “Portrait of a Blank Slate,” but it’s really hard for me to play, so the chances of me playing it well are low—but when I do, it feels really good. “Scum” is also really fun. It has our biggest build. The crowd also always goes wild for “Sex Sells,” so that’s really cool.

WS: “Call Me What You Like” is my favorite because I get to do a fun thing where I just talk.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #across the pond tour #articles

[canmom]

brain operating notes

the thing with ADHD is that it's super paradoxical. I've spent the last 72 hours or so doing almost nothing but making minute tweaks to this fansub, stuff like hand tracking signs in perspective at 800% zoom. it's the 'hyperfocus', and it can feel like a superpower. only the thing is I have no control over when it kicks in and what it chooses to focus on.

I had work to be done on Friday, work I enjoy and is novel and interesting, but this fansub project just jumped into my brain and took over the wheel and said 'you will not do anything else until this is finished'.

this is why the notion of 'executive function' is useful. I think of it like a unifying thing required to both get myself to do a thing that is not particularly novel or engaging in this moment, and to stop myself doing a thing that engages the hyperfocus because I have to eat or whatever. this feels like a finite resource, that gradually replenishes over time.

of course we're all in metaphor here. I don't actually think there's a finite reserve of some substance that I can use to get me to do things that aren't immediately stimulating. but being equipped with this metaphor lets me think of it like... ok, I will let my brain just do its thing and ride the rollercoaster now, so that I can have the wherewithal to do (difficult but important thing) down the line. or, I've been really pushing myself to do stuff recently, I need to take some time to recover the reserves. how good is this model? i'm not sure. probably not great, but it is a model.

anyway things that trigger hyperfocus are a bit arbitrary but common features tend to be...

novel: a thing that I haven't done before is intrinsically exciting - as long as I have some idea of how to get going. in my previous job I'd find excuses to do stuff like 'animate in Blender' or 'hack the graph drawing tool' just to add a bit of spice to rote tasks. thankfully my current job is full of new exciting things.

a steady drip feed of small successes: a big, daunting task is hard to get started on. something that has a clear avenue for recognisable, steady progress is a lot more manageable. 'write the animation controller' is unclear. 'make another animation' feels like progress, and I know where I'm at with it, so I will tend to choose that one given the option.

urgent: if the deadline is imminent and there really is no other option but to crack on with it, the anxiety gives a force multiplier on executive function. which results in a lot of procrastination leading up to mad last minute crunch. it's a pattern that I hate, not least because it's hard to say how long anything will actually take, but is hard to shake.

social: if it is for the benefit of a friend, or I get to show off a bit, it is way easier to get going with it. is it because I am kinda lonely and any time someone wants to spend time with me it feels like I dare not refuse because who knows when they will again? is it because I love to be praised for doing an impressive thing? idk maybe. however this is double-edged because if I feel I'm making something unimpressive I will be motivated to try and make it bigger and more complex, dragging things out, which might lead to not finishing the thing at all.

you can probably kind of see how computer games are a bit of a cognitohazard. especially open-ended games that don't have a finite built-in endpoint. I've gotten better at managing that now.

there are degrees of hyperfocus. there is the maxed out 'I will not eat or sleep until I finish this' mode. there is also the 'I have a new obsession' mode, which is a bit less intense.

the other thing with hyperfocus is that it is time-limited. at some point you just burn out on it and after that it's really hard to jump back into a thing. the unfinished projects on my hard drive are in most cases things I went nuts over for a few weeks and then dropped like a hot stone. this sucks because making anything worthwhile requires sustained effort over a long period.

I've been trying meds but so far no luck. they've currently got me off the meds taking baseline measurements while they figure out what to try next. though apparently the dose of dexamfetamine they had me on is like... so low that it's not surprising I didn't feel it.

gonna have to ask them about it next time I see them. because right now this whole thing feels like a bit of a mean joke. I'm staying in London for the sake of meds that could help, because it would take upwards of a year to get into another clinic, but what's the point if they're not even giving the meds a real shot?

but if there is any chance I can get working meds, I've got to try for it, because I don't think I'll ever achieve much of anything within the limitations of adhd, at least not without finding some new mechanisms to keep me on track. (though 'if I don't do this I might lose my job/the game won't be as good as it could be' works a bit as an extrinsic motivator)

#adhd

[capriciouscaprine]

GOOD morning!!! (numbersss)

feeling a bit wiped after two days in a row of not enough sleep; gonna try to come home and go straight to bed tonight (plzzz)

this morning's breakfast was my usual coffee and a larger than usual yogurt with berries and granola, so we're calling that 250

I actually have packed another yogurt bowl for my 2nd breakfast at my internship!! (it's 4+ hours after I've had regular breakfast, and lunch is another 4+ hours after that) this is my first time doing that; I just haven't felt secure in knowing when I was eating and having the wherewithal to plan ahead, but I'm happy that I'll have something filling and nutritionally well-rounded; I'll be having that with a coffee, so a tidy 250 again

after action report from yesterday's honestly somewhat manic eating: I need to be prepared with a warm, filling, high-protein, comforting meal before I work on budgeting or planning my meals before I go shopping on my limited budget; clearly, it kicks off feelings of deprivation, and the obvious maladaptive self-soothing behavior that follows is eating snack after snack to reassure myself that there is plenty of everything

I'm not gonna focus on it to talk about my previous experiences that led to this pattern bc I'll probably end up back in that cycle when I'm not prepared for it, but it's enough to say I went through some even tougher times before, and I survived them and now I'm here!!

also, being stressed also brings out that manic feeling of wanting a snack; honestly just going to my classes makes me feel that way?? (I've never been diagnosed with mania in any form so don't have any actual experience with it, so please excuse my using it as an honest descriptor for how I have felt on those rare occasions); again, I clearly need to build in opportunities to sate those feelings, bc fighting them seems to make me feel overstimulated instead (all the warning lights going off in my brain and I have to fight off doing the things that would satisfy them like having a sweet or crunchy snack?? nope, that drives me even more nuts)

being prepared for these things would also be good for my wallet, since I can pre-budget for a specific meal in terms of both c's and $'s

ultimately, the constant snacks WEREN'T satisfying, bc what needed satisfying was feeling uncertain/insecure/unsafe; a solid meal that I could savor would have helped more, in part bc I could have taken that time to slow down and address the actual underlying feelings instead of seeking, finding, unwrapping, consuming, and repeating

ultimately, it wasn't too terrible a day to have consumed more c's on: I did a lot of walking around at work, plus hefted grain and concrete bags, and just in general used my muscles a lot, so hopefully a decent amount got used up; if today weren't going to be a long day at my internship, I'd see about jumping on the treadmill to use a few more, but as it is I'll see about doing that tomorrow after work

oh! I had one of those moments where someone was about to throw themself onto an unpleasant task just bc I looked too tiny to manage it!!

I had to grab more concrete from the store, and the way they were stocked honestly sucked, but I managed to roll the two 60 pound bags I needed down off the self and set them into my cart, and as I was dusting myself off, a man in a clean, professional outfit (not a suit but like what contractors wear, the tucked in embroidered company shirt and relaxed workman's khakis type) had come down the aisle and stopped and asked if I was alright and if I needed any help!

this man could not more clearly have wanted to avoid being covered in concrete dust, but he also seemed to not be able to help himself in asking if the person lifting bags that were approximately half of themself (I'm almost there!!!) could use a hand

even my mom has been sort of pausing to watch me after she asks my to something physically intensive (she has some health problems so it's safer for her to not do those things, even though she still wants to); she's a very 'women are strong and can do anything on their own!!!' person, which is cool when you choose that for yourself, but as a mom that meant she expected me (eldest 'daughter', even tho I'm nonbinary) to do everything, which meant spending more time working than getting to goof off and be a kid as early as the end of elementary school

losing muscle mass and becoming less physically capable is actually super freeing for me; no, I don't need to renovate my house all by myself or manage a full garden or whatever, I can focus on my career and use the money I make there to pay for a professional to do it for me; I don't have to handle everything by myself without complaint, I can ask for and even expect people to offer to help; sure, there are drawbacks (cat litter...), but I know I can rebuild those muscles later; for now, I am excited by the possibility of not being able to lift heavy things and even openly struggling with them, especially in front of someone who has encouraged the idea that smaller = healthier

#cc og #the slimmening

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.15--Episodes 10-11

I have watched through S2E11; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—The absolute cruelty of trying to convince me that Dr. Hopper was dead! I might never get over it *falls dramatically onto fainting couch*

—On the other hand, I now know that Dr. Hopper can bake. 🌟The more you know🌟

—In Storybrooke, Red wears fedoras, fingerless gloves, and vests. In the fairytale world, she wears lace blouses, corsets, and a cloak. Either way I’m happy.

—Pongo crying at Dr. Hopper’s funeral is below the belt. I hate it when dogs cry.

—Is Dr. Hopper going to get Pongo back? I mean, it’s sweet that Henry was deemed Custodian of the Dog, but Dr. Hopper might be lonely.

—I love how Rumplestiltskin has been wearing more crocodiley stuff lately, just to make sure we don’t forget.

—Mr. Gold being good with dog is a pleasant revelation.

—Red having wolf-to-dog communication (wolf-to-dog conversation) is awesome. I love when she uses her wolf abilities.

—Hook’s comment about the poor random sap Cora actually murdered having to look like Archie *contemptuously* was stupid. I’d much rather have a boyfriend who looks like Archie than one who looks like Hook. I mean, I’d like to believe I’d pick brain/heart content and personality over looks, in which case Archie stills wins by about fifty bajillion miles, but tbh I find Archie much cuter than Hook.

—I think one of my favorite things about Belle is that she’s intelligent. OG!Belle? Yeah, she reads, but that’s more a symbol of her different-ness than her brain power. This Belle, however, is a smart person, with solid deductive reasoning skills. She thinks outside or inside the box, whichever will get the job done best, and she only has one blind spot. (That would be Rumplestiltskin.)

—Speaking of which…I knew they weren’t going to have a happy ending. I deluded myself into thinking maybe she could break his curse in the fairytale world someday, but I didn’t really believe it. One of them was always going to end up dead (which I’m not ruling out yet) or amnesiac.

—I knew something would go wrong with THE LINE in this episode. Either Rump’s charm wouldn’t work on him, or a hawk would snatch the shawl off his neck, or there would be a time limit he didn’t anticipate. Basically the only thing I didn’t expect was Hook shooting Belle across THE LINE.

—Rump should’ve killed Hook when he had the chance. I may be a bit more sympathetic to Regina now, but Hook is one guy I will never have any pity for. Also, he’s pretty sleazy. A guy like that I would knee in the nuts without a second thought if he got as close to me as he does to every woman he encounters.

—Seriously, of all people, Belle is the most likely to groin-kick him, and she never got to. Bummer.

—I love, adore, cherish, exalt, laud, etc. Mulan and Belle’s dynamic together. Instead of pulling the standard, predictable crap and having Mulan refuse Belle’s help out of wounded pride or stubbornness, Mulan was like, “Girl, you are one good beast-tracker. Help a sister out?” *And then* Mulan is injured, and instead of pushing it so she could be the hero, she goes, “You got this, Belle. Here’s my sword.”

—They really had to double down on the Beauty and the Beast stories, didn’t they?

—The beastie was pretty fine. Kinda reminds me of Solgaleo (I went for Lunala, no surprise there, but Solgaleo is still cute as heck). I was kinda disappointed when it turned back into Prince Philip.

—Gepetto being sad at Dr. Hopper’s funeral was exactly the kind of angst I needed, but where is my Gepetto and Pinocchio reunion? This is getting ridiculous!

—ooooOOOOOoooo, an unknown person crashed their car into Hook! *bows down* Thank you, mysterious stranger!

—Henry calling Dr. Hopper just to hear his voicemail after his supposed death is too sad.

—Where has Regina got to? I’m assuming the only reason she wasn’t in episode 11 is because she and Cora are off somewhere planning evil things and practicing their evil laughs.

—There’s something interesting to me about the way Mr. Gold’s limp is depicted, but I don’t quite have the brain cells to actually figure it out at the moment. Suffice it to say, it’s not just *this guy has a disability, so he’s obviously weak* or *this guy has a disability, so the disability is his entire character*. We actually don’t even know the specifics of why Mr. Gold (and pre-Dark One Rumplestiltskin) limps. And needing a cane isn’t his entire character, either; nor is it a darkly decorated, scary showpiece to reinforce that he’s a bad guy. It’s just a mobility aid, which he occasionally uses as a weapon; this, in fact, shows it’s even an extra option for him (when traditional weapons don’t suffice). It’s intriguing, and I think very different from the way such a character trait might be treated in a lot of other media.

—I guess Rump will never find his son now. Yet another thing to be sad about. As if there weren’t more than enough already.

#once upon a time #ouat #dr. hopper #red riding hood #pongo #mr. gold #rumplestiltskin #belle #rumbelle #lmao not anymore #mulan #Captain Hook #Cora #regina #Henry #gepetto #martianbugsbunny reviews

[handdrawnfantasma]

making another Extremely Niche AU under the readmore bc the concept just exploded into my brain and if i do not put it out somewhere in the ether my head will EXPLODE but afaik none of my usual AU criminal crowd (tm) have seen the pink shark movie yet

okay but seriously i’ve accidentally tripped into DESPERATELY needing a holy grail war AU lmao like. the building blocks are all already there. the master-servant pairups and pre-requisite parallels between those pairups are all already baked in, this is all low-hanging fruit thematically speaking, both canons even have knights and playing with the concepts of heroes and monsters as a major flavour, i dont even have to REACH here

i havent decided if this is just straight-up the nasuverse or if this is just nasuverse-flavoured nimonamovieverse but ANYWAY Ambrosius is a ridiculously perfect fit as the master from a redonkulously old-ass mage family who has been preparing his entire life for this but similarly to Rin cannot actually turn himself into enough of a machine to be a truly “great” mage. obviously summons the Saber class and just to add another layer of delicious fucked-up-ness to the fucked-up souffle i am creating and really hammer home the parallels HGW AUs excel at OF COURSE it’s Gloreth he’s summoning, like let’s make this even more uncomfortable for everyone by summoning your literal fucking old as balls ancestor

meanwhile Bal is absolutely from outside all this secret mage nonsense world but for this to work he needs to have enough magic circuits to make him a viable candidate for the grail to dump Command Seals onto and since i have the keys to the AU im saying that he has an ASTONISHING amount for someone from the outside. idk exactly what his Deal is yet im still cooking but i think Valerin is kind of vaguely a Waver-esque figure in this AU, from an ancient and powerful mage family herself but has made enemies bc she wants to reform a whole lot of This Bullshit, actually, and she idk saved Bal’s life when he was a kid and he had Some kind of brush with the world of magic that he legitimately should Not have survived?? and so idk maybe they have a vaguely Kiritusugu-Shirou situation going on, again, not entirely sure, still cooking. EITHER WAY THO Valerin still gets murdered on the first night of the HGW and Bal still happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, accidentally summons Nimona (who doesn’t seem to know or care WHAT Servant class she is if any and also like arturia pendragon my beloved can’t go into spirit form (bc shes not a spirit huehuehue)), chaos and shenanigans ensue as these two try to survive the HGW and find out who actually murdered Bal’s kind-of-sort-of foster mother in cold blood and also Nimona is totally out to BREAK the HGW right from the outset im just saying

for extra Drama(tm) Bal and Ambrosius still know each other and are still dating before the HGW kicks off but are both completely oblivious to the other’s involvement in the world of magic and so they both get the absolute shock of their lives the first time they inevitably see each other with their Servants (and then yet another shock when both of their Servants go NUTS as soon as they lock eyes on one another, kill bill sirens blaring) and so this is entirely detrimental to any possibilities of working together at least at first (Gloreth v Nimona cage fight, terrible attempts at solving centuries-old issues with the power of incredible violence)

a running thing is everyone trying to figure out What Class nimona is and not being able to get anywhere bc she seems to have features of all of them and that’s BEFORE getting into the shapeshifting??? eventually people figure she must be either Archer or Berserker via process of elimination after seeing everyone else’s Servants but spoiler alert they are still Wrong, she is an outside-context problem

Ambrosius probably still ends up being responsible for Bal losing an arm at some point, sorry guys this is a Canon Event(tm) (EDITED BECAUSE I JUST REALISED I AM VERY DENSE TODAY bc after posting this and going to make dinner i realised that ur command seals show up on ur dominant hand. it happens bc of Bal’s command seals. like Ambrosius did not go into it INTENDING to cut the entire fucking arm off or even part of the arm off but that is what ends up happening when things somehow Escalate Quickly. (his actual intent was probs to get Bal to just give up his command seals bc then he’d be out of the war, what he did not count on was a) that Bal is still determined to find out who actually killed Valerin and bring them to justice bc by this point he is probably a legit suspect and has been dodging arrest for days and he KNOWS he is not going to find out who killed her unless he sticks around in this stupid mage world for a bit longer, and b) that by this point Bal has already bonded with Nimona and giving up his command seals would feel a lot like betraying her, which?? no??? (this of course has a heaping of delicious irony added on top of it when it transpires that actually Nimona can get by quite well without any Command Seals holding her anywhere, ut-oh))

the Director is pretty much literally Kirei Kotomine here by which i mean she’s supposedly the neutral Overseer for the HGW but is actually breaking so many rules bc she has her own Servant (Assassin just to be REALLY on the nose), and ALSO Valerin’s Lancer-class Servant that she stole from her on the same night she murdered her and took her Command Seals. is Worryingly invested in Ambrosius winning the HGW

idk who the other Masters are, Todd maybe??? (with a Rider-class Servant???) and maybe Meredith from the comic (with a Caster-class???) to round things out??? who knows who the mysterious 7th Master is

anyway this fic is absolutely also an excuse for a Gloreth redemption arc, nothing like being summoned to a time a full millenium after you’re dead and seeing the full ramifications of just HOW MUCH the legacy that came out of something you did as a scared kid turning on your friend fucked literally everything up not least the descendant that summoned you

im finally running out of steam now thank the lord but im also now turning over and over the conviction i have that nimona would absolutely DESPISE the very CONCEPT of the Command Seals and how this could be an in for some spicy Drama... i am Considering...

if you actually read all this then thank you for getting through the Mess of me exorcising this from my brain, that was extremely lush of you :’)

#for the curious. this is bc i was reading the soulmates (derogatory) fic that has been updating in the ao3 tag recently. #and the worldbuilding in there had INTENSE fate/magus style fcked-up family dynamics it was chef's kiss. #and the part of my brain that got snagged on the tohsaka-matou drama in 2013 woke up and is now out for Blood #the au witch strikes again

[keefwho]

July 10 - 2023 Monday

11:14 PM

I’ve been slacking writing about my day. The whole point, as much as it might feel wrong sometimes, is to treat myself like my day mattered enough to write down. I did stuff that affects myself and others and I deserve to broadcast it, even if to no one. 

This morning I was still recovering from last night’s horrible tummy issues. Breakfast kinda sucked, I made soup but didn’t really like it. I was SUPER tired from getting poor sleep but did half of this guy’s commission stream anyways. I’d say it went well. Before my shower I shaved because I was getting tired of my pubes tbh. Not that they were that bad but I’m starting to hate even a little hair. I skipped my workout on account of being too tired and had a good nut in the shower. Lunch was some decent Rice a Roni and during my afternoon work, I idled in VRchat for a little bit. In one Black Cat instance, I got kicked within 30 seconds for being a furry. I was finding VR to be distracting because I wasn’t really satisfied with the worlds I was finding so I kept hopping. Eventually I settled in my own world in a group instance under the Furry group but no one joined. I swear that world is cursed to never get traffic. Maybe if I updated the thumbnail, something about it could be putting people off for some reason. While working on my world for an hour, I got very focused which was nice. I had fun and made an animated sink. In the afternoon I joined a friend’s server for just a little bit and had a nice short chat before leaving. I wanted to hang out with someone else but they seemed busy and I really think I need to work on being myself more anyways. I’ve had trouble being on my own today because it’s hard to stop thinking about that one thing you want to do. I played some Zelda and watched MoonMoon stream. Earlier I got into a futa mood because Daisy had a dream about it which was very hot. She also cucked me with AI Sidon a little which got me totally cuck brained. I was super into it for a bit, I don’t know what it is that I like so much. Maybe it’s just a special kind of humiliating, and I like my humiliation. I also had a drink tonight since I didn’t have one last night, made the night a little more fun. After Daisy called and went to sleep, I found an excellent IRL cuck video that I utilized. 

I’m thinking maybe I could try journaling throughout the day if I remember to. Sometimes I want to rant about something in the moment but not at the end of the day when I just wanna go to bed. I also want to evaluate how I might have done today differently or what could have made it better. Asking Daisy for time this evening would have been nice, even if she said no. I have a habit of worrying I’m being too much so sometimes I try to reign myself in even though that means I might be missing chances to fulfill my social wants because they might want to hang out just as much as I do. I don’t actually know until I ask. I also wish I had focused more in general but I always wish I could do that. It sure would help me to stop thinking about certain things sometimes and would benefit self exploration since I’d be able to take in new information better. If I had remembered before I started shaving, I could have attempted to workout despite how tired I was. Now I have to make up for it tomorrow. 

[the-firebird69]

Watch "JOKER | I got nothing left to lose. Nothing can hurt me anymore. My life is nothing but a comedy." on YouTube

Because it's about time to join the club you know he doesn't mean it but it hurts because this club is terrible if we have nobody we're in trouble a lot of trouble I'm not rushing but I'm the grandson of trump and I see what happened to him and it's horrible and it's Billy z still a major problem and the max me getting beaten terribly by him if they re cover then it's them, makes sense that they planned it but Billy's he knows it a friend helped him and then Billy z dropped him on his head as we do from time to time and at this point he thought that would be just keep doing it and it kind of got mild a little then mild and he thinks that it might stop becoming harsh and we'll focus on Max and the clones and get kicked out he also thinks that Trump will probably not control himself at all let me see him in the future movies and he's going against everybody I have a tire too was the final straw for me Avatar too not to mention X-Men apocalypse the X-Men series The avengers everywhere you look he's opposing us making any progress he's been trying to do it and the only thing we should do and can do is what we don't want to do is put him out front and watch him go and they say that got rid of the Benedict parameter and it sort of did but he's willing to do it it is a smart thing to do because we can't stop him and get back stabbed constantly if we're out front s and then you leave after getting some fights with him and that's how it works and you'll see that he doesn't do much and I do understand what he's saying that's why he's our friend and Trump you left I know you left us too what can I say I sympathize with him cuz you left your own family you completely left and your Palazzo and you're nuts you don't have it and he has to prove it to you and you won't listen and all of a sudden I see what you need you said they have thousands of these matrix places and they do not they have millions and what he says is they go after enemies matrix systems and you should see what I'm thinking this kind of smart but he got it from some of our people who are cops and stuff so he's trying to figure out and here's the method you say he's got some over here and we think they're functioning and we think he's grabbing your guys or us and he'll go after it and then you say this guy over here say Brad and it was BJ the first time hasn't down here in the south and he'll go after it and people like Brad and PGA kind of think they still run it and they don't and what I know is BJ should know it but he doesn't he's also a wacko thinking they took it over so he goes around like me laughing he's really helping people who are more like and the people on the train were more lock and didn't like it so he's working on stuff that you don't like because your head is in the sand so go to San Francisco and leave him alone I can come out alive I'll let you bother me 20 times in one day but if you don't want to go it seems you have a brain left they stopped and thought about it harass me badly you can see in the movie they pack off and leave let's say they're going to San Francisco and they said this on the way out we're going to go there and come back and torment you 20 times and I heard that they left his people say they didn't make it because nobody does

He says that the people at the apartment were killed but just the bodies that the brains are probably in cryo because Billy's he has all sorts of stuff to show me and prove and question people you can make them say stuff at that point he believes so stay tuned we know what to do okay we know how this is and it sounds very real because I've seen it things like it

Nightcrawler

[petnews2day]

Andrew Bird Lets The Inside Out On 'Inside Problems'

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/?p=50119

Andrew Bird Lets The Inside Out On 'Inside Problems'

Prolific might be an understatement when it comes to Andrew Bird‘s work across a myriad of mediums. In addition to his own work, the GRAMMY-nominated singer/songwriter is a renowned whistler, and was a member of Squirrel Nut Zippers for several years. Bird’s 1996 debut album, Music of Hair, was followed by about 16 solo records (some with/as Bowl of Fire), not to mention a variety of collabs. And let’s not forget the live albums (six), EP’s (10) and film and TV projects, including acting on the FX drama “Fargo.”

So it’s perhaps unsurprising that Bird has managed to follow up an album — the somewhat winkingly titled My Finest Work Yet — with a record that might be even finer. Inside Problems, released June 3, offers 11 often poignant, quietly passionate songs produced by Mike Viola (who has also worked with Mandy Moore, Panic! at The Disco and Jenny Lewis). Bird will support his LP on a tour that kicks off June 15 at Los Angeles’ Greek Theatre.

Via phone from his L.A. home, Bird, a low-key and thoughtful native of Lake Forest, Illinois, talks about pandemic-inspired “inside” stuff (his brain, his home) and the resultant songs that populate his latest, and maybe, greatest work.

When did you start writing the songs that would become Inside Problems — before, or during the pandemic?  

Some of them started before that. There are always things that have been kind of simmering for five or six years that I just find the moment to organize. It was strange; I was wondering if just being in one place was going to affect my writing, because I always thought that traveling and performing informed my writing. Going from one place to another, just the act of leaving your home can give you perspective that kind of triggers things. And then being on stage, that sort of sense of a dialogue with an audience; I thought [that] was part of my process, too. But it turns out it wasn’t that essential, and I needed the songwriting process to sort of keep my sanity and sense of purpose.

Was there a song that ended up on Inside Problems that set the tone when you realized, OK, this is where this record is going? 

I think of “Underlands” as a sort of template for the album. But the one that I spent the most time on was “Faithless Ghost.” And that’s kind of an outlier. It started, I think, when my son — during the pandemic, we just all hung together — started being the DJ around the house. And he was playing a lot of John Cale. And Velvet Underground, but the John Cale, “Paris 1919,” particularly, that song was just on every day.

I was listening to lyrics about this ghost that is sort of a coy ghost, it doesn’t ever show up when you expect it to, doesn’t stick to appointments. And I thought I’d take that idea and kind of expand on it. I guess it’s the way you feel when you’re sort of chasing down things creatively too. But that one was a very specific melody that I’m trying to just point in the general direction of this idea about this coy ghost.

May I ask how old your son is? 

He’s 11. He was 9 I guess at the start of the pandemic.

That’s still a pretty interesting song choice for a kid to play, right? 

I mean, it’s kind of funny. He lives in our universe. So from an early age, I never understand when people would  say ‘Oh my kid listens to this horrible pop music and I can’t do anything about it.’ Like, why can you do anything about it? They’re living in your house.

Not like we’re militant about anything. He complains about going to birthday parties and having to listen to Post Malone or whatever. He’s like, ‘Why do they think kids like that music?’ Anyway, that’s a rant. But if I play one Nick Drake song, he starts  playing it all the time. And I don’t really listen to music that much. So he’s actually influencing me. And he’s actually becoming a pretty good guitarist.

There are so many beautiful references and lines in your lyrics. I was curious about “Lone Didion,” —  and I’m wondering if you read Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking about losing her husband and then daughter? 

Actually before I read it, I was talking to a friend who used to host at a restaurant where Joan Didion and her husband [John Gregory Dunne] used to come in as regulars, and they would get the same table and order the same thing. This is around 2003. Then she didn’t come in for like several weeks. And she came in one more time, alone. That story struck me and then I read the book.

You explore what you call the “threshold” of who we are in the moments “in between”? A liminal space might be one term.

I just want to acknowledge that internal world that we all have, that is usually not known to anyone else. It can either drive you insane, or it could be the best companion. If you can cultivate that internal world in the right way, you never have any good reason to be bored or lonely sometimes.

I just became more acutely aware of that during the pandemic, during insomnia…and it was like, Okay, I’m here, I’m stuck here. I can’t sleep for two hours. I can either spiral — as we tend to in the middle of the night — or I can try to put everyone to work, and pull out a melody and play it back in my head. While I was working on these songs, it really, really helped me get through that. Once I was done, those demons came roaring back.

I watched the Nexflix film The Bubble and enjoyed it. You were a composer on the movie; how did you get  on board? Did that work affect this record?   

I did that after the record was finished. I know Judd [Apatow] and he asked me to play a bunch of his Largo shows. They were doing once-a-month charity shows, and I would do those and hang out and I got the sense that he might have been kind of circling me and waiting for a project to offer up. [He did] I came in, in the final two months of the score work to work with Mike Andrews. Mike is his longtime composer and I was sort of artist-in-residence, I guess. It is a very complicated score because you have to score the movie within the movie. And I luckily didn’t have to deal with…

Dinosaurs?  

Yeah [laughs]. He’s very exacting and has very very strong ideas about music, Judd does. So, it was a long, long process. But it was good. I came at a good time: I was finished with the record; I needed a project. But you have to generate a tremendous amount of music to satiate Judd. So it was five or six weeks, just churning out many, many cues.

I know you had a song in Orange is the New Black and other visual projects. How often do you write a song that you feel is super cinematic? Or are there times when you’re watching something and you feel inspired to write? 

Writing a song for a movie is the ultimate challenge for me. Doing [an] instrumental score is cool, but writing a song with lyrics specifically for movies…. I’m thinking like Harold and Maude as the ultimate project that I hope would someday come along.

It’s just so challenging to try to do; to address what’s happening in the movie without leading the viewer and hitting it too close. I feel like I would be well suited to that because my lyrics, they can be a bit ambiguous sometimes. When I was writing “Underlands,” at first it was simply a melody. I was like, wow, this sounds like a film score scene. I was working with T-Bone Burnett at the time on [HBO crime drama] True Detective and I played it for him. He said, ‘that’s like the theme to a great ’70s movie.’

When I first came out of music school, that’s what I thought for sure wanted to do; film score work. But then I got a conversion van and a band, and hit the road and started playing rock clubs around the country. And that became the buddy road movie of my 20s.

I understand there’s an unusual guitar on Inside Problems, the one that starts out “Underlands”?  

My good friend Reuben Cox has the guitar shop Old Style in Silverlake. When I was working with Blake Mills on [Bird’s 2006 LP] Are You Serious, he was working with Blake. First we had these electric banjos that we were all collecting. And then they’re very weird, rare harmony, electric banjos. And then Reuben started putting rubber bridges on these strange old guitars. It’s not that radical to mute the instrument, but it’s like you commit to it.

Like permanent mute.  

Yeah, it’s hard to explain but what Blake was looking for… Well, guitars can chew up so much space because they resonate so much, sonically. So you take all that and then it creates these weird overtones too, if you distort it in the right way. It sounds otherworldly. I found when I started playing these guitars that it was kind of like pizzicato, but not quite.

It’s funny what started with Blake and me and during that time , you hear it a lot now. You hear it kind of affecting the music that’s being recorded. It was this particular Harmony guitar called the Caribbean, kind of art deco and very cool looking. It’s the thing I just reached for when we were recording; it just worked. From “Underlands” to “The Night Before Your Birthday,” it can go from this beautiful pizzicato to a Keith Richards rock ‘n’ roll thing.

The album closer, “Never Fall Apart,” seems to end things on a somewhat upbeat note.  

For “Never Fall Apart,” my old guitarist, Jeremy Ylvisaker, sent me an EP he had done and [it] goes into the sort of Kevin Shields, My Bloody Valentine territory. He had this melody in there, and I thought it was so beautiful. And the song was called “Never Fall Apart,” but it had no lyrics. I sat down, took the melody and over time it kind of evolved. I wrote that one fairly quickly, really inspired by that melody.

The last two songs on the album [“Stop n’ Shop,” “Never Fall Apart”] — from the title of my record, people are describing it as maybe not addressing all the upheaval that My Finest Work Yet was, but it really does have as many songs addressing what’s happening in the world. “Stop n’ Shop” is trying to understand what’s missing in our lives that so many people need guns or walls or trucks to kind of fill a void in their identity. And then “Never Fall Apart” tries to answer that question.

Would you always keep those two songs connected in a live set?  

I do like to keep things [together.] The sequencing of the live set is a huge part of my job. Not just what key, what tempo and the segues in between, but then the scenes and everything. It feels like half my job is sequencing. Whether people pick up on that or not, I don’t know, but it’s  important to me.

Bobby Z. On ‘Prince And The Revolution: Live’ & Why The Purple One Was Deeply Human

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#Birds News

[conretewings]

I nnnneeeeddddd angry/fight sex and make up sex headcannons for Vander.

-OH OH YOU HAVE NO IDEA-I've been thinking of doing a Vander headcanons part 2 and some of my ideas involve this very concept 👀👀

*THIS WILL GET NSFW HERE'S YOUR WARNING*

Angry-

Despite being older and wiser, this man still can have a short fuse depending on the day and situation

Doesn't like to fight or argue but has no problem doing so if he believes he's in the right

Especially if anyone's safety is in question

'Because I know better'

His stubborn streak isn't helping

Sometimes in the middle of your shouting match something clicks in his brain

Your reddened face, sharp gaze and equally stubborn refusal to back down is suddenly...pretty hot

The adrenaline pumping quickly goes to other areas

There's only one way to settle this now

Grabs you and crashes his lips into yours, lifting you by the thighs or pinning you to the wall/the bed

You're startled and confused for just a second before joining in-you'd honestly been thinking the same thing anyway

Because you found privacy to argue you now have privacy for other things 👀

Make-up-

You two got into an argument, or had a misunderstanding, or just haven't been able to see each other for a bit

Either way he wants to make it up to you

Asks you to come over one evening when it's quieter and leaves his part-timer in charge

Quietly leads you to the bedroom 'for a chat' but when he opens the door there's a few lit candles around and the bed is actually neatly made

"I don't like it when we're not seein' eye-to-eye love...let's try and fix things..."

Any serious talk is done first, then lighter topics...then you two's hands start wandering

Angry NSFW-

Doesn't waste time with foreplay (and you don't want it anyway)

Slams his cock inside you and just goes at it

Fingers digging into your thighs/hips/ass as he just roughly pounds you

Probably also nipping at your neck/shoulders

DIRTY TALK and lots of downright feral groaning 🥴

"That's right-where's that tough talk now eh? Speak up darlin'-make some noise for me-yeah, like that-"

All that adrenaline makes him extra sensitive so he ain't lasting long

You don't have much time to decide where that cum is going better hurry

Loud moans and curses when he cums and will probably end up biting or leaving bruises on you (not that you mind)

Afterwards it's-wait what was the fight about again?

The post-nut clarity kicks in and he apologizes for losing his shit, as do you, and you guys manage to work it out

Make-up NSFW-

Soft kisses turn into deeper and hungrier ones

Strips you and takes a moment to kiss and appreciate each newly revealed spot

You do the same to him, reveling at how sexy this man is and the sounds you can coax out of him

Who's on top? Why not take turns 😏 this is about fairness after all

Takes his time entering you, enjoying your reactions

Murmurs both sweet and filthy things in your ear

"That feel good yeah? Oh I know it does...I know 'ow much ya love when I fill ya like this..."

Slower pace at first, until you're softly pleading for him to fuck you harder

"Yeah? What's that darlin'? Ya want more? Lemme hear it-damn-ah, that's good...a'right then...I want to make ya feel amazin'..."

Holds off his own release until you're an undone, sweating mess

When he does he just shudders for a minute and moans your name and praises into your skin

Afterwards cuddles you and tries to not immediately fall asleep

Might smoke if you don't mind

After inevitably passing out, more cuddles and talking about how lucky he is

#ask and you shall receive #spicy asks #vander x reader #vander x you #arcane vander #vander arcane #arcane headcanons #nsf/w

[ystrike1]

My Next Door Neighbor, the Handsome Stalker Boy - By Teamgogi (6/10)

This one is really tame. It's a comedy, but it's not that funny. The high school setting is very basic. This is a simple stalker story with no real plot at all.

Nam Jayeong is a likeable main character. She's a tomboy with short hair, and she can be violent. She saves kids from bullies, but she also slaps people alot. I liked her in the beginning because she felt like a teenager. A carefree girl with a strong sense of justice and no filter. She's rude, but she's not a bad girl.

When she finds out that her handsome classmate, Beom, has been stalking her she panics. She bashes his head in with his own camera and runs away. Again, I liked this. I didn't expect this. Nam treats him like a stalker pervert. She doesn't scream or cry for help. She just kicks his teeth in and runs away.

It was great.

Then Beom moves into her apartment building and nobody helps her. When she tells her friends he's a freak none of them believe her because he's hot. Her own mother doesnt believe her because he's polite??? Huh??? Ma'am criminals act polite in public all the time. Why are you blowing off your own daughter??? What?? Nobody in this webtoon besides Nam has a brain. It gets annoying fast.

Beom is an organized and determined stalker. He has thousands of photos of Nam, and her follows her everyday. He is everywhere she is, but nobody suspects a thing. Nam's best friend, Marie, is obsessed with romance and she thinks they're cute together.

The entire class thinks they're secretly dating.

Beom doesn't deny it, and the situation worsens.

Nam gets tired. She hides in her house for a while, and tells her mom she wants some alone time. She literally has to beg her mom to keep him away from her. Her idiot mom has given Beom permission to come into the house whenever, because he was Nam's classmate in elementary school. She locks the door herself and goes to her room for one day, but then she hears a click.

Beom has JUMPED from his balcony to her balcony to get into her bedroom. She lives on the eleventh floor. He's CLEARLY nuts, but when her mom comes in she just laughs and says hello to Beom. Nam loses her shit and starts punching her stalker, but he just dodges. He won't go away, and apparently everyone Nam knows is brain dead.

The story isn't believable at all, and I didn't find it funny.

If you like smug stalkers who are clingy as hell this may work for you. It is a yandere story but...It's just...aimless. there's no real plot and Nam is the only decent character. She's not that great later on either. She just starts punching everyone, and that doesn't solve anything.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon

[bruhstories]

You Truly are Beautiful when You Cry

Summary: Y/N leaves a party only to find Eren in front of her apartment. Shit happens. Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader, mentioned Eren x Mikasa (modern AU) Warnings: language, mentions of loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), masochist!Reader, toxic and dominant Eren, sadist!Eren, face slapping, mentions of blood, mention of toxic relationships, dacryphillia — Eren’s nuts, just fiy Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: I just wanna say, I have absolutely nothing against Mikasa, I like her a lot, but for the purpose of this fic, Y/N hates her. Also, shameless smut y’all. I feel like this needs a part two  — who knows, maybe one day.

You and Eren have been friends since childhood — not inseparable, like he was with Mikasa and Armin, but good friends nonetheless. It came as a shock to you when him and Mikasa started dating, almost feeling disgusted, considering they were practically siblings. You tried your best to be supportive of their relationship, but Eren knew you too well for your own good, and sometimes you had to swallow down the vomit when you saw them together. It was even more shocking when you left Connie's party and found Eren on the stairs leading up to your apartment. He had a blank stare, not a single hint of emotion behind his emerald eyes, his lips pursed and waiting for you. You almost didn't recognise him in the dim light, his bun dishevelled, locks of hair covering his face.

"Jaeger? Is that you?" You asked, keys between your fingers, ready to hit.

"In the flesh, Y/L/N." He replied, his voice empty. You two had a habit of calling each other by your last names ever since you met in kindergarten. You lowered your hand and rushed to him, wondering if something happened tonight.

"Are you okay? You disappeared from the party all of a sudden. Armin was worried sick-"

"We broke up." The words caught you off guard, but in a sick twist of events, you were happy to hear that. In a way, you knew their relationship was doomed from the very beginning, surprised that it even lasted three full years.

"Shit." You chewed your lip in the darkness of the hallway. "Come on, let's go inside, you can tell me everything."

Eren looked at the hand you extended and gripped it tightly, helping himself up. The two of you had an odd friendship, to say the least. Before Mikasa, Eren would tease you, sexual innuendos all over the place, he'd seen you naked countless times, you caught him jacking off once. You both lost your virginities to one another, no strings attached. But you did get attached. You got so attached when him and Mikasa started dating and the rotten feeling ate you from the inside out.

You flipped the switch inside your flat and threw your backpack on a chair, along with your jacket. Eren kicked his boots off and threw himself on the couch with a growl while you pulled out a bottle of vodka from the fridge. He always acted like your apartment was his.

"Food?"

"No."

"Alright. Now tell me, what happened?" You asked, seating beside him and passing him the alcoholic beverage. He took a sip to wet his dry throat and threw his head back.

"We went in a room at Connie's. I wanted to tie her up with that stupid scarf she keeps wearing — my scarf — and she kept saying no." Eren explained before taking a few more sips. You nodded, eager to hear the rest of the story and trying your best to contain your giddiness. "I didn't force her or anything. She started spewing shit about how I changed, how I'm always angry and aggressive, how we don’t make love anymore. How I'm not the pure, innocent boy she fell in love with." He practically mocked the sentence. "And then that was it. Said we aren't compatible anymore and that she wants out of this 'toxic' relationship." Eren gestured quotation marks in the air while you took the bottle and downed some vodka yourself.

"Man, I'm really sorry to hear this." You lied. The sound of his dark laughter sent shivers down your spine, the little hair on your arms and the back of your neck standing up. "Something funny, Jaeger?"

"You're such a terrible liar, Y/N." Eren slightly turned his head to look you in the eye. Your own name rolling down his tongue sounded so natural, so perfect. You tried to speak, but the words stopped in your throat when he moved closer, his figure hovering above your petite frame. "What, you think I didn't know?"

"K-know what?" You finally managed, a short-circuit in your brain.

"That you're so obviously in love with me." Eren flashed you a sneer.

"Am not—" slap

His palm met your cheek, hard enough to flush it crimson, but not hard enough to hurt. Mouth agape, you just couldn't respond. For three long years you waited for this man to come to his senses and realise how much you truly loved him, how much you devoted yourself to him, how much you support him. Not Mikasa, you.

"You don't have to hide anymore, Y/N." Eren kissed your forehead and you were putty in his hands. "I know you’ve loved me since we first fucked. I know how much you yearn for me to fuck you again."

"You're delusional!" You finally told him, despite how correct he was.

"Prove me wrong then. Go on, yell at me, shove me. Do it." But you couldn't do it, could you? Your luscious lips parted open, then they closed. "That's what I thought." He crushed his lips onto yours in a sloppy, wet kiss, your hands tangling in his messy hair, the bun long gone. Eren's calloused hands snaked around your waist and under your shirt and, in a moment of clarity, you stopped him.

"W-wait, you two just broke up! I don't want to be your rebound—"

"Who said anything about that?"

"Are you insane? You loved her!"

"Have I?"

The simple question made you realise that Mikasa bight have been right all along. That something was indeed wrong with Eren. The lack of empathy and emotion, the aggressive behaviour, the manipulation. Yet, it didn't bother you, because he came to you specifically. He could've hooked up with any other girl from the party, but he wanted you.

"Don't spoil the moment, Y/N. I might change my mind."

"No, please!" The words came out of your mouth without a warning, strengthening the fact that you were completely and hopelessly desperate.

"Perfect." Eren purred in your ear. That was all he needed to hear before his shirt was on the floor and his hands on your thighs. You tentatively pulled your skirt up, spreading your legs for him, just for him. "Good slut."

The degrading praise earned him a mewl from you, your hips thrusting into his touch, wanting more. Eren didn't waste any more time, and his fingers rubbed your wet folds through the fabric of your thongs. Your muscles instinctively flexed at the touch, your body burning with need and lust. His other hand trailed off to find your perfectly soft, round breasts. Your own hands roamed through his black hair, fingers tangling in the locks as you merely whispered 'more', unable to speak louder.

"Tell me, have you been whoring around these last years?" Eren demanded, fingers pushing your panties to the side. It slightly bothered you how much he talked during this, but, as always, Jaeger got what he wanted.

"N-no..." You told him, quiet as a mouse, but he wouldn't have any of that. Like a maniac, he ripped the lace lingerie off of you, scratching your thighs in the process. You could feel the burning sensation in the markings he left.

"I told you, Y/N, no fucking lies. I wanna know every single man who's touched you."

"W-why? Why does it m-matter?" You stuttered, your eyes searching his. Why did it matter, though? It wasn't like he cared about who you fucked. Unless... unless he did care. And his relationship with Mikasa was nothing but a mistake on his part.

"Because," Eren oh so slowly caressed your folds with his long fingers, "you're mine. Always have been, always will be." He easily slipped his index finger inside of you. "And I won't fuck you unless you tell me who else you slept with."

"Ah– w-with Jean!"

"And?"

"And R-Reiner!" You whimpered, frantically fucking yourself with his hand. You were a sight for sore eyes, sprawled on the couch and longing for his touch.

"And?" The word accentuated so hard that you thought he was about to kill you on the spot.

"Fuck– P-Porco and Ah-Annie! I swear, that's it!" You promised, your breath hitching, heartbeat raising.

"One more thing, Y/N. Did you think of me while you fucked them?"

"Yes! Always! P-please, Eren, please fuck m-me! I'm begging you!"

The little plea seemed to satisfy Jaeger. Or so you thought, because he grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you all the way across the apartment to your bedroom, unbothered and unphased by you screaming how much it hurt. He threw you on the shaggy rug in your room, and as you scrambled to gain your composure, you heard Eren's belt hit the floor.

"You should be an expert in sucking cock by now. Prove me how much you want me." He commanded. His voice was low and dangerous, he didn't have to yell to make you scared shitless. Obediently and afraid, you crawled to the bed on all fours, removed your shirt and palmed his hot, hard member. It was already leaking precum, and so your tongue sensually licked the droplets, the saltiness mixed with the aftertaste of vodka in your mouth sending you in a frenzy. He scared you — no, he terrified you, but you couldn't deny you were enjoying this. Mikasa didn't like it rough? Fuck that, you would let Eren kill you if it pleased him. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock and worked your way down his shaft, guttural sounds coming from his throat. His hand found its way to your head, and he forcefully pushed it down, stuffing your mouth and throat with his (too) thick member. Tears from pleasure and pain pooled at your Y/E/C eyes and he held you there for a good ten seconds before releasing you.

"Did I make you cry?" Eren asked, his voice almost concerned.

"Mhm." You sobbed with a nod, and he once again grabbed you by the hair, pulled you up and bent you over the wooden bedframe. So much for concern.

"Good." Jaeger slapped your ass so hard you screeched and dug your fingernails in the wood. "Remember what I told you first time I saw you cry?" He asked before positioning himself at your entrance. You nodded — how could you forget? You were both 13 and you got a bad grade, crying your eyes out and thinking that was the end of the world. Normal people would have tried to comfort you and tell you to stop crying. But not Eren. He told you he's never seen anything more beautiful. That should've been a red flag. That should've been a sign to run. Instead, you kept crying as he told you he wanted to see more. A sadist from the very beginning, and you — nothing but a slave.

Eren's thrust woke you up from the distant memory and you arched your back in response. He stretched your walls and it felt like his cock was made for you.

"You don't happen to have any rope, do you?" He asked so nonchalantly.

"N-no-"

"'S alright, we'll just use my belt." Jaeger pulled out and a sense of emptiness filled you. He belonged inside of you — you knew that for a fact — he was meant to be with you. Eren cracked the belt and whipped it all over your exposed ass, your pain-filled scream bringing joy to his ears. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel his sadistic smile burning like the sun on your nape. Before you knew it, he had your wrists tied behind your back, the thin wooden frame pushing into your skin.

"Much better." He decided as he thrusted back inside. You whimpered, moaned, groaned, all sorts of sounds came out of you as his fingers dug into your flesh. As much as you wanted, you couldn't move, gravity pulling you down. You didn't know what hurt more: the bedframe sinking deeper into your abdomen, his deeper thrusts or the tight belt around your wrists. It was safe to say your knees were wobbly, and you could feel the climax getting closer. God, you were pathetic. He barely fucked you and yet you were done for.

"E-Eren! I'm c-coming!"

"I know." He told you absentmindedly, his hand moving from your hip in-between your thighs. "I want you to be good and cum, alright?"

"Yes! Oh, fuck!! Harder – faster!" You moaned as Eren rubbed your swollen clit. A wave of pleasure took over your entire body, your legs trembling as you came all over his cock. He didn't stop, despite you begging him you couldn't take it anymore, instead he kept fucking your numbing cunt, longing for release. It hurt like a bitch to feel his thrusts, and you really wanted him to pull out, but at the same time, you had to do it — for him.

"Whoever told you that you get to tell me when to stop?" Eren bent over and grabbed you by the neck, bringing you closer to him. The fingers around tour soft neck would definitely leave a mark next day. "I'm your god, Y/N!" He groaned in your ear with one final thrust. You both sighed as he pulled out, cum leaking from your folds. You were extremely thankful to be on the fucking pill. He untied your wrists and gathered his underwear and jeans from the floor.

When you noticed him getting dressed, anxiety seeped into your veins. Wasn't he going to stay over? At least for the night? Take a shower? Anything!

"You're leaving?" You asked him, surprising yourself with the condescending tone of your voice.

"Yes?" Eren retorted, baffled by the audacity of your question.

"B-but, where are you going??" Now you just sounded desperate. “We can stay in silenc—"

"To get back with Mikasa."

Your heart sank to your stomach. To do what? Mikasa? How could he do this to you? Shit, it would've been better if you were his rebound, but this? This hurt worse. Your entire body shivered, and not from your climax. You were trembling with anger, disappointment.

"N-no, you're not!" You ran to the front door, despite the pain in your abdomen caused by the wooden bedframe. "Eren, plase! She'll never love you like I do! Please don't go, I'm begging you!"

"Don't be pathetic, Y/N." He rolled his eyes. That stupid brain in your head made you fall down your knees in front of a fully dressed Eren, tears rolling down your cheeks and trying everything in your power to stall him from leaving. "You truly are beautiful when you cry." He pushed you with his leg and walked past you. You tried to grab his sleeve, his hand, anything, but it was too late.

When the door closed behind him, he didn't know what he'd created. There, on the floor, you swung your body back and forth, knees to your chin, makeup ruined, matted hair. Your fingernails clawed at the wood underneath you until the nail polish chipped and blood seeped at the tip of your fingers. Eren Jaeger broke you into a million pieces, he ripped your heart out of your chest and ate it. But it’s alright, you told yourself between indiscernible words. The only word that you could coherently say over and over again was revenge.

#aot #snk #eren jaeger #eren x reader #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #tw. toxic relationship #tw. manipulation #tw. abuse

[daringyounggrayson]

misplaced guilt

(Read below or on AO3)

It’s been a while since Bruce has been to one of these galas, and for once, he is neither hosting nor making a speech. It’s a nice change, to say the least.

Dick is sitting next to him, kicking his legs under the table. Bruce would tell him to stop, but at least he’s actually using the chair as intended with both feet closer to the floor than the chair, so Bruce lets it go for the moment. If it gets too out of control, he can always reach out and stop him, but for now, he’ll let the kid release some pent-up energy.

Bruce keeps half of his attention on Dick and the other half on his conversation with Jasmine Owen, a woman who works at one of Gotham’s youth centers. Bruce knew from the second she introduced herself that she came over in hopes of getting a donation, but he doesn’t mind; that’s one of the main purposes of these things, and Bruce is happy to help however he can.

“Babs,” Dick gasps excitedly, shooting upright when he catches Barbara walk into the room, Commissioner Gordon by her side. Bruce looks over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Dick smiles back, asks in his I’m-in-public-so-I’m-behaving-like-an-angel voice, “May I please be excused?”

“Hnn,” Bruce says, pretending to think over his answer.

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

Bruce smiles. “Alright. But stay in the ballroom. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

“Okay, thanks!” he slides out of his chair and offers a wave. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Owen.”

“And you, Richard,” she smiles back. When he’s gone, she turns to Bruce again and says, “He’s a sweet kid.”

Bruce can’t help but think at least in public, and at least to people who aren’t me. He’s half-joking, but there’s some truth to the statement: Dick has always seemed to behave better for Alfred, and he’s nothing if not an angel around strangers, even when he’s mad at Bruce.

At home, it’s not that Dick isn’t a good kid—he is—but he’s still a kid. Dick can be sassy, and he has a taste for anything that will make Bruce’s hair turn gray (usually dangerous, usually far away from the ground). He also has no qualms about making fun of Bruce when Dick feels it’s called for. Then there are the arguments, the borderline tantrums. Both have been decreasing in frequency, and Bruce attributes most of them to processing and coming to terms with his parents’ murder, but they are—difficult, to say the least. Dick will have these rough days—sometimes rough weeks—where he’ll lash out at Bruce over the smallest things. Sometimes it seems like he yells at Bruce just to put his hurt somewhere.

Bruce tries to take all of it—from the jokes at his expense that even he has to admit are funny, to the meltdowns—as a good sign, one that says Dick feels secure and knows that Bruce will love him regardless of his behavior or attitude. But there are certainly days when Bruce thinks it would be nice if Dick would listen to him like he listens to Alfred—like when Bruce tells him to get off of the unstable shed roof, for example.  

Despite the challenges that come with raising a child, there are also so many blessings. There’s no other word to describe it. Seeing Dick learn and grow and thrive is something Bruce will never get tired of. On top of that, Dick is just this brilliant, funny, and kind child. He has the biggest heart Bruce has ever seen, and he cares so deeply and widely. Bruce doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Dick is Bruce’s light, his whole world.

Bruce pulls himself out of his head, says, “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It’s something he can say with complete honesty. “Do you have kids?”

“Oh god, no. I think I’m still a little young for that,” she laughs. Then, thinking about what she said, her face falls. “Not that you were too young, just for me, I’d rather—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He puts his hands up and smiles. “I was really young when I took Dick in. I go to parent-teacher conferences, and most of the other parents are at least ten years older than me. But I like to think I’m doing alright, and Dick’s happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She smiles, but looks down at the table.

“So, what’s it like day-to-day at the youth center?”

She looks up, coming alive again, and the conversation picks back up.

oOo

After dinner, Dick and Barbara disappear again, and Bruce is left alone to mingle. Most people come to him, but he only has to escape a few times, so it’s going about as good as these things can go.

That is until a very urgent Barbara runs into him and tugs on his arm. “Sorry everyone, but I need to borrow Brucie for a second.”

Bruce ducks down to look Barbara in the eye. “What is it?”

“Dick. Just come with me.”

He follows her without another word to the group of people he was talking to. She leads him into the hall and toward the lobby. When they turn the corner, Dick is on the ground in a lateral recumbent position. Gordon is talking to him gently, though Dick seems unresponsive.

“Dick.” Bruce lurches forward, falling to his knees and reaching out to find Dick’s pulse and check his breathing. “What happened?”

“Barbara thinks he had a seizure,” Gordon answers. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

Dick’s breath hitches and he lets out a low moan that feels like a twisting dagger in Bruce’s chest. His eyes find Bruce’s, and he unwraps one hand from his stomach to reach for Bruce’s. Bruce takes it, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner.

“I’m right here,” Bruce promises, running a hand through Dick’s hair.

“It hurts,” Dick gasps.

“Shh, the paramedics are going to be here soon. We’ll fix it.”

Dick shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t feel right.”

Bruce tightens his grip slightly, hoping to keep Dick conscious. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Head, stomach,” Dick mumbles. “Feel hot, an’ dizzy.”

Bruce frowns, trying to determine what could be causing Dick’s symptoms. Is this the beginning of an illness, or a seizure disorder? Has Dick been poisoned? There was a run-in with Scarecrow a few nights ago, and Dick had needed to take an untested antidote for the fear toxin. Could this be a delayed reaction to the concoction Bruce had come up with?

Dick’s grip loosens.

“Dick?” Bruce calls urgently. “Dick!”

He gets no response.

oOo

Dick is staring at a white ceiling when he realizes he’s awake. Sunlight is streaming in through a giant window on his right, and there’s a framed painting of giraffes across from him. He’s tired and confused, and his gut tells him that something is wrong, that something bad happened. His first thought is that he wants his mom.

He turns his head to the left, finding Bruce in a chair and holding his hand.

“Hi,” Dick says, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Bruce grunts some kind of greeting and raises Dick’s bed while Dick takes in the medical bracelets on his wrist—one ID bracelet and one that indicates that he’s a fall risk—and the IV in the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Bruce shifts in his chair, face serious. “We were at the gala. You were poisoned.”

Dick matches Bruce’s expression, trying to think. He remembers being with Babs, telling her that something was wrong. Then he’d been on the ground, and there’d been sirens.

“The man who poisoned you had planned to offer me the antidote for a price, but he didn’t realize that you would react to the poison so—so severely,” Bruce explains, rubbing his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. “He was working as one of the waiters and heard the commotion. He came forward shortly after the ambulance left and he’s currently in custody.”

Dick swallows. “Why did he . . .” Why did he poison Dick in the first place? Need money so badly? Feel that poisoning Dick was the only option? “Would it have killed me? If he didn’t give us the antidote.”

Bruce, like always, is honest with Dick. “The doctors were able to stabilize you, but they needed to neutralize the poison quickly, and the antidote did that. It’s hard to say what would have happened without it, but things were touch and go for a while.”

Dick nods, not sure what to say as he takes it in. Eventually, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. You woke up a few times yesterday, but you were incoherent,” Bruce says.

Dick wracks his brain, trying to pull up some inaccessible memory.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Dick.”

Dick squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“Hnn.”

“What? Are you seriously guilty that you didn’t taste all of my food first or something? ‘Cause that’s nuts, B.”

Bruce says, “You are my child. I am allowed to feel guilty when I fail to protect you.”

“You didn’t fail,” Dick interjects. “I’m okay—really.”

Bruce’s face is still pinched and concerned, and he’s looking at Dick like he might fall apart. Dick leans toward him and stretches his arms out, and Bruce quickly pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce,” Dick promises. And even to himself, it doesn’t sound like a reassurance most nine-year-olds should be giving. But it fits with his new life, he supposes. “I’m okay.”

Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin, says, “I was . . . I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Dick nods into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be held for another moment. It’s not the hug from his mom that he woke up wanting, but it’s close. It makes him feel safe and reminds him of home, and maybe that’s all Dick needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #tw: seizure #elizabeth writes

[johnkrrasinski]

be my baby; 

full masterlist

Pairings: bucky barnes x camgirl!reader (modern au)

Word count: 1,834

Warning: SMUT. sexy times, cuss words, masturbation, (female & male). MUST BE 18+ 

Summary: you were a camgirl and bucky barnes was your favorite regular client. what happens when you realized you were catching feelings? 

a/n: this one’s written for @candy-and-writing​‘s 1000 followers writing challenge. congrats girl! i chose the prompt “you’re fucking beautiful.” 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The screen of your laptop lit up, illuminating the dimmed room you were unchaperoned in. The ringing tone reverberated, waiting for you to accept the call, and the familiar face and those sapphire blue eyes emerged.

"Hey there, handsome." You coquettishly whispered.

"Hey, baby. You ready to make daddy feel good tonight?"

"Yes, daddy. I’m always ready for you." You writhed for the man on the screen.

Bucky had been one of your regular clients for three months now and he was irrefutably your favourite. Those hypnotizing blue eyes and that deep gravel voice, especially when he went into the full commanding mode, mandating you to please him; that smug look on his face when he triumphantly made you roll your eyes to the back of your head, and the way his gentle words would soothe you afterwards made you wish he was right there in the same room as you instead of being linked by internet access. Sometimes you'd think that you were falling for the man, but the stringent voice in your head would quickly clear those daydreams away saying, "no! you gotta be professional. He probably has a girlfriend or a wife in real life." (and you swear you didn't hear your heart fracturing at the thought)

"Good girl. Always so obedient for daddy, huh?" you nodded. "Now take off that bra and those panties, then lean back and spread your legs wide for me."

"Yes, daddy," you followed his orders; spreading your legs wide, putting each on the sides of your laptop, giving him a full display of your glistening cunt.

"Such a pretty cunt. Now, rub that clit for me, c'mon."

You slowly slid your fingers down from your bare chest, to your belly and then to the spot that he wanted you to touch. You made a circling motion on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You shut your eyes as you let yourself relish the pleasure. You whimpered with your mouth open and bit your lip to suppress it.

"Play with your tits baby." Your other hand move to your breast and you groped the globe and then you pinched the nipple. "Yeah, just like that. God, you're so fucking beautiful." You moaned at the piquant sting, and you rubbed your clit more furiously as you felt yourself getting more soaked. You felt the familiar bubble forming in your abdomen ready to burst in seconds.

"Can I cum daddy, please?" You whined as you kept playing with your breast and fingers nudging the bud.

"Not yet babygirl, now insert two fingers inside that cunt."

You did as he said, and shoved two digits through your tight entrance and you moved them in and out as you felt your fingers getting drenched, the squelching sounds elevated the eroticism in the scene.

"Keep one hand on your sexy tits baby, yeah fuck that cunt for me."

As you shut your eyes once more, trying to focus on stroking the spot that pushes you to the edge every time, you heard the sound of him unzipping his pants, and he pulled down his boxer to his thighs, just enough to let his massive cock spring free.

His fingers circled around his shaft, pumping himself up and down, as he kept his sight fixated on you, watching every movement you make, the way your face contorted in pleasure and your brows furrowed, and euphonious sounds escaping your lips, it riled his cock more and more, getting it as hard and as stiff as a rock.

"Goddamnit, you're so fucking gorgeous." He grunted through his ragged breathing. "Think of my giant cock destroying that cunt, using you like the dirty little slut you are." His words caused shivers cascading your spine, as you envisioned being pinned underneath him with you ass up in the air and your face squeezed to the pillow.

You squirmed as your cries grew an octave higher, picturing his hands wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you vigorously from behind, not giving you any mercy or repose.

"Gonna fuck you until you're braindead until you can't do anything else but beg for my cock to make you cum like a whore." You picked up the pace, shoving your fingers relentlessly and thrashed around on the sheets.

You felt yourself clenching around your own digits, the tightening coil was seconds away into plummeting you into bliss. "Oh god, please, I'm so close daddy, please!" You pleaded through your ragged breathing as you arched your back.

"Beg louder, baby."

"I need to cum now, daddy! Please!" Your heart pounded against your ribcage, a common aftereffect from your sessions with Bucky.

"Attagirl. Cum for me babygirl, show me what a dirty little whore you are for me."

A few more vehement onslaughts and your abdomen convulsed. Your orgasm erupted, clouding your brain with euphoria, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Your body shook as your cries echoed on the walls of your room.

Bucky was still running his hand up and down, reaching his own impending climax. He felt his cock twitching and in a few more pumps, he shot out ribbons of his thick load all over his stomach. He growled as he envisioned painting your womb white with his seed, burying himself deep inside you until every last drop was stored.

He threw his head back and cussed in front of the camera. It was truly a magnificent sight. Man, Bucky knew what he signed up for in the first place and that every girl on this website would keep it strictly professional and online but, the number of times he’d fantasized about taking you on a date to a nice restaurant and then bring you home afterwards to fuck you against the bathroom wall or in front of the mirror all night long would easily give you a reason to kick him out or conclude any sexual engagements with him in the future. Bucky was too madly infatuated with you to risk it.

You were the only thing he looked forward to after a long, dull day at work. You had an edge around you that just pulled him in like a magnet, once he had a taste of you, he was addicted. And he hadn’t even physically tasted you yet. God, he could imagine just how sweet you would taste on his tongue. But you were also capable of being the ideal submissive that he desired. Those doe eyes looking at him through the lens and the way you’d bite your lip innocently, teasing him like the devil. It drove him nuts. And he only longed for more.

Bucky always thought that he wasn’t the type to settle down in a relationship but, if he were, you would exactly be the type of girl that could make him change his mind. Sometimes within the one-hour sessions that he had with you, he would tell you about his day and get all the tension of his chest to you and you would be an excellent listener, always paying attention to every word and never failed to making relieve him of the stress. Along the way, you both felt like you had known each other better than most people that you interacted with in real lives.

Was he catching feelings for you? No, no, no, for fuck’s sake, get it together, Barnes! She only saw you as another of her client!

The thought of you exposing every inch of your body to other men and women caused an extreme detestation in him and it was bugging the hell out of him.

“You did good, babygirl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Do you feel good?”

“Absolutely.” His smile was warm, a contrast to the one that would show when he was tormenting you.

“Do you wanna talk about your day, daddy?”

“Nothing new. Just another boring day at the job.”

“Well, at least mine is the complete opposite.” You winked at him.

He chuckled, amused by your witty remark. Then it was quiet for a few seconds.

“Babygirl, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah? What is that, daddy?”

“I know I agreed that we’d keep it strictly professional but, goddamnit, I can’t get you out of my mind for the last few months now. And you’re just… God, you’re fucking amazing. So I was wondering, would you like to meet up? I’ll take you on a nice date, and I’ll pick you up wherever you are.”

You were tongue-tied. You’d always thought that Bucky was never interested to see you in person. You always wondered about him, composing fiction in your head, every night before you drift into a deep slumber, based on all the data that he decided to share with you. You always imagined about kissing him, being on your knees for him as you wrapped your lips around his manhood, and using your body like a ragdoll. Because that’s the only place where you could touch him and feel him.

And now here he was, asking you if you were interested in meeting him in person and go on a date with him. You know that when you first applied for this job, you vowed to yourself that you’d keep it strictly professional and that you’d never let your feelings defeat your common sense. But those oaths were disrupted since the day this job introduced you to Bucky.

You couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or woeful for that.

But now you knew that it was the former. Because everything you had dreamt of for the last three months came true and you were bubbling with joy. You were ecstatic, like a girl who had just been asked by her crush to go to prom with him.

“Yes, yes daddy! I wanna go on a date with you.”

“You serious?” His expression was elated.

“Yes! I’d love to know you more, daddy.”

“Oh man, I should’ve been more prepared, so… How about you give me your number and text me your address later? This Saturday, 8 PM. Sounds good?”

“Yes, daddy. It does.”

“Alright. God, I can't fucking wait to see that beautiful face in person… Oh and by the way, you don’t have to call me daddy when we’re not getting each other off, baby. You can call me Bucky. I love to hear the sound of my name rolling off your tongue.”

“Okay, Bucky.”

You exchanged number before you ended the session and you instantly texted your address. What an odd coincidence it is that you both lived in New York. He worked at Wall Street and he reminded you that he was going to be at your front door at 8 PM this Saturday. You were jittery, anticipating for the weekend. You didn’t know if he was going to be as wonderful as he seemed to be in real life or if the date would lead to something more between you, but one thing that you knew for sure was that you certainly needed to shop for a new dress.

#candys1000writingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan

[babbushka]

The Rabbi Is Coming

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

A/N: This oneshot is based entirely off of one of my favorite videos of all time, Company is Coming by Chris Fleming. Every time I see it, it reminds me of preparing for my own family holiday gatherings, so I’ve taken it and run with it lol. I just wanted to write something short and silly for Passover, lol, and I hope you enjoy! 

Also inspired by this prompt sent in by anonymous: From your Passover prompts, will you please do this one for Flip? It sounds just like him!“They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.”

2k, crack treated seriously lol, humor. Putting a small cw for the Zimmerman’s son, in case folks don’t like reading about kids (this is the last time he’s mentioned for a while I promise lol)

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

Early in the morning, just after sunrise, Flip yawns and stretches awake. The golden light of morning shines through the curtains that gently move from the breeze of the ceiling fan, and a melody of chirping birds signal the official start of morning. Despite having to get up early for work every day, Flip isn’t much of a morning person. But something about Springtime and the warmth that’s on the way makes him appreciate getting up, even on the weekends.  

“Good morning, sunshine, light of my life – ” Flip rolls over onto his side, ready to coax you out of your sleep as well, ready to kiss you and start the day together, but when he reaches you’re your sleep-snuggled body, he finds the bed empty, and frowns.

Sitting up, he looks around the bedroom. Your side of the covers are neatly made, and Flip can only blink, his frown deepening. He clears his throat, raspy from disuse overnight, “(Y/N)?”

It isn’t until he hears the vacuum cleaner going downstairs, followed by a frustrated groan echoing through the house, that he remembers just what day it is, and falls back onto his pillow with a wince, lighting up a cigarette and scrubbing a hand over his face with a low,

“…Oh shit.”

He checks the clock, sees that it’s practically seven o’clock, and gets out of bed. Pulling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he leaves his room to see his son standing tentatively in his own doorway, as loud sounds come from downstairs.

“Pop?” The five year old asks with no small amount of hesitation in his voice, immediately reaches for Flip, who scoops him up and balances him on his hip.  

“Mornin’ honey.” Flip kisses his son’s cheek, and the boy giggles, clinging to him as Flip walks down the stairs.

He’s obviously annoyed that it’s not you who gets to wake him up and carry him downstairs, as he normally prefers, but Flip doesn’t know how to tell him that today isn’t a normal day. Still, the boy is always filled with questions, and his little eyebrows furrow into an all too familiar frown as they move closer to the chaos that is you deciding to vacuum first thing in the morning.

“Why is Mama acting like that?” He demands to know, as the two of them stop at the landing, watching as you, still in your pajamas, are fighting with furniture.

“Tonight’s the first night of Pesach.” Flip explains.

“So?” His son challenges, and Flip wants to laugh, because he agrees with the kid, but when you get into a mood like this, there’s no stopping you.

“So, there’s a very special guest coming for dinner tonight, and she wants to make sure the house looks nice and clean for him.” Flip sets the boy down, and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to assess the validity of that, eventually settling on complaining,

“But we already cleaned the house.”

Flip sighs, because he’s right, you spent the entire week cleaning to prepare for Passover. It wasn’t like a normal house cleaning, Passover had special rules that had to be obeyed. One of which, was the complete and total elimination of chametz, or food made from leavened dough. The other, was the koshering of the kitchen.

But he wasn’t so sure his five year old would care to hear about all that this early.

“I know son. Let’s go see what she fixed up for breakfast,” Flip leads his son through the living room carefully, before crouching down to his level and saying very seriously, “And then when you’re done eating, just do whatever Mama says, you hear me? Whatever she says.”

Just then, you come barreling through the living room with the vacuum and a tangle of cord in your hand, shouting at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour, “Zeeskiet if you haven’t made your bed just throw it away it’s too late to make it now!”

The boy looks up at Flip, and Flip immediately shakes his head and amends, “Not that.”

Flip is a good helper. He likes to help, and he wants to help, but sometimes when you get like this, it’s a danger to himself and everyone around for him to try and insert himself into a situation where you are a hurricane of anxious energy. He busies himself with getting your son settled at the kitchen table, giving him a big breakfast of fresh fruit, nuts, and yogurt, before bracing himself to venture back towards the dining room.  

“The Rabbi is coming – get rid of the couches we can’t let people know we sit!” You shout, pointing an aggressive finger at one of the dining chairs, “This chair needs to be pushed in, there cannot be any signs of living in this house.”

Flip is quick to do as you say, even though what you’re saying is nonsense – he knows better than to point that out.

“I don’t care if we have to throw everything out,” You’re mostly talking to yourself at this point, just…loudly, and aggressively, “I want this place looking like a contemporary fusion restaurant by noon.”

It was a miracle and a half that the Rabbi agreed to lead your Seder dinner, and to say that the pressure was getting to you was the understatement of the century. You had everything picked out, what you were going to wear, what Flip and the kids were going to wear; you’d been cooking and prepping all week, and now the day was finally here and you were totally freaking out.

“Flip?” You shout, walking in circles around the dining room, trying to get rid of any possible point of contamination of chametz.

“Yeah?” Flip replies, already knowing that because he’s in the other room, you probably can’t hear him. He already is walking towards you when he hears you again.

“Phil!” You call a little sharper, and Flip huffs out a laugh, his suspicion correct.

“I’m right here ketsl, what can I do?” Flip startles you by suddenly being behind directly behind you, and you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“Oh my god – we need more pillows.” You gesture to the den where the conversation pit is decked out entirely with pillows. “Can you fluff the pillows? I need these things looking fluffed.”

Flip does exactly as he’s told, and the rest of the morning follows suit.

You wandered around the house cleaning; vacuuming sweeping dusting sanitizing every possible surface, the floors, even the ceiling, shouting out random demands and requests like:

We need more flowers. We gotta put flowers in every window. Philly can you put flowers in the kitchen?

We can’t have any clothes! Everyone take off your clothes!

At that, your son cast a semi-distressed look to Flip and asked, an uncertain, “Pop?”

“Not that either!” Flip immediately answered, lest his son think it’s okay to go running around in the nude tonight.

Somewhere around hour two, your mood shifts from manic to meltdown. Your son had been instructed to make sure his toys were all nicely put away in his room, mostly to keep him out of trouble or to prevent any accidental tripping over wires. Flip though, is still running around trying to keep up with you, out of breath from your own chaos.

“What is this?” You yank the perfectly good little towel out of the oven door handle where Flip had just watched you place it, and near-tears, you groan, “This is a dish towel! We need a hand towel! What are we, barbarians?”

He’s about to say something, try to console you or at the very least calm you down, but then you come to a complete and sudden stand-still and point out, “Phil oh god there’s muffins on the counter.”

Frowning, Flip whirled around and wondered how the fuck those even got there. All of your friends knew that there was absolutely no leavened product allowed in the house, Rabbi or no, and he’s trying to wrack his brain around where they came from as you back against the wall.

“Oh my god oh – that’s it -- we have to go into the witness protection program folks!” You chuckle humorously, effectively giving up. “Shalom Rabbi! Welcome to the Zimmerman household. We live outside. We eat mud. And sticks.”

At this, you give one big overwhelmed sigh, and a little sob hiccups out of your chest.

“Hey,” Flip frowns, kicking himself for not trying to get you to take a breather earlier than this, “Hey it’s going to be okay.”

Flip gets down on the floor with you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You shove your face under his neck and cry it out, and Flip soothes your back. He knows how big of a deal tonight is for you, and he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, but letting this go on any longer won’t be good for anyone.

“I’ll get rid of the muffins, we won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” He pulls you to face him, your eyes wet and wide, your chin wobbling. He thinks you’re so ridiculous, working yourself up like this, but he loves you so much to see it regardless.

“Did you fluff the pillows?” You ask in a small sad voice, and Flip nods seriously, brushing some of your stray locks that escaped the scarf you have wrapped around your head to protect your hair, away from your face.

“Yes ketsl, I fluffed the pillows.” He kisses each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead.

“Okay, alright okay, everyone calm down.” You say, wiping your tears away and taking deep measured breaths, suddenly asking, “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Flip cranes his head around to try and catch a good glimpse at the clock on the wall, wondering how the hell it’s only, “Nine-thirty.”

You blink, and blink again, and then shuffle to sit upright there on the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” You reply, pursing your lips and scratching the side of your jaw. “In that case…I’m going to take a nap.”

Flip chuckles and lets you go. You’re too much all the time, and that’s exactly why he loves you. He’s never met anyone who cares as much about something like this, than you, and he wants you to go relax while he takes care of everything.

And he does, his son a proper helper as you snooze in bed, already having worked yourself to exhaustion and needing your strength back for the long dinner that’s going to come. The offending muffins are given to a neighbor, the surfaces re-sanitized, the kitchen all prepared. Your son even sets the table all by himself, enjoying being tall for his age thanks to Flip’s genetics.

When evening falls much later, and all your other guests have arrived, you feel your pulse spike as the doorbell rings. You’re dressed to the nines, as is everyone else, but Flip thinks that you’re the most radiant thing in the universe. You’re holding your son on your hip as Flip opens the door, already extending a hand for him to shake.

“Shalom Rabbi, thank you so much for joining us tonight, we can’t tell you how much of an honor it is.” You beam, as if you hadn’t had a total breakdown only that morning, as Flip invites the Rabbi inside.

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, the honor is mine. And may I say, you have a beautiful home.” He looks around appreciatively, giving a nod of approval that has all the air rushing out of your lungs.

“I’m thrilled to hear you think so.” You grin, leading him through your home and into the dining room where your other guests have been happily entertaining themselves, “Shall we get started then?”

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Flip announces, and that has everyone laughing, including the Rabbi.

And as the Seder commences, Flip looks across the table and gives his son a wink. In return, he lets out a small giggling laugh, glad that all the preparations and chaos you put them through have successfully paid off.

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

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky​​ @sacklerscumrag​​ @artsymaddie​​ @bitchydecisions​​ @direnightshade​​ @reyloaddict55​​ @thembohux​​  @sunflowersinthesnow​​ @babayagakeanu​​ @safarigirlsp​​  @steeevienicks​​  @the-unmanaged-mischief​​ @materialisthicc​​  @hswritingrecs​​  @han68000​​ @rosi3ba3z​​ @chapterhappygirl​​​ @loverofallthings​​​  @bxnnywriting​ @groovetoob​ 

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman fanfic #adam driver fanfic #adcu #passover #my writing #jewish!reader #flip zimmerman fluff #idk how to tag this lol

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​ 

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman imagine #Nathan Bateman drabble #Oscar Isaac Character Fanfiction #Wookietales #Nathan Bateman