hello there ! iâm poet, big fan of history, video games, reading, and a little table top rpg called dungeons & dragons. original characters, alternate universes, female friendship, & oc crossovers ( with permission ) are kind of the bread and butter of this blog. i am afrolatina, queer, and a general rule of thumb is that my blog & side blogs are all 18+ for mature content.
speaking of side blogs, i have those :
@sainz43 â formula 1 , hockey , general sports yapping
@reevuhs â dragon age , baldurâs gate 3
you can also check me out on ao3 and pinterest if you feel so inclined, and click the read more for some of the work you can find here !
â± OC DIRECTORY â original characters on this blog , sorted by both shows & writing challenges !
â± When Does A War End [ MOTA ; Prompts Based ] | AO3 , Tumblr , fic tag
â± Sad, Beautiful, Tragic [ BOB ; Technically Complete , Being Rewritten ] | AO3 , Tumblr , Closing Note
Going grocery shopping and then writing more cover letters for job applications and then starting off campus while I continue the rewrite. This is how you cope with the end of your eight month situationship everybody
in all seriousness though a fandom doesn't die when there's no new episodes or games or "content" to play with and it doesn't die because people aren't as loud as the day it first came out either. if you're still creating then the fandom is alive. if your mutual who has since moved on still reblogs a post about it every four months then the fandom is alive. if there is even one person out there still engaging in, creating for, or just enjoying that show or that game or those characters, then the fandom is alive.
"fresh content" isn't the soul of a fandom. you are.
âŠ..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.Â
almost 3k words into chapter one of the rewrite and feeling very happy with myself. hereâs a snippet:
â
âMy mother says men get lonely before women do. Gives them too much time to make excuses.â
Rita nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest.
âMrs. Bates sounds like a smart lady.â
Daisyâs stomach twists unpleasantly, lips pressing into a line.
âSome people think sentimentalists are the cruelest people in the world,â Daisy murmurs. Rita gives her a long, blank stare.
âThat supposed to help?â Daisy shrugs.
âNot really.â
âWhatâs that even mean?â Joyce frowns a little, her brows pinching in the middle. Daisy reaches for another plate.
âPeople who care more about feeling good than being good,â she explains with a quiet steadiness to her voice. âLike⊠sometimes people want love to feel beautiful badly enough that they ignore what it does to other people.â
âWell spare me whatever book you fished that one out of, Jesus Christ,â Rita finally turns back to the sizable amount of dishes they still had left to wash. âYâknow what your problem is? You read too much. Need to get out more.â
Pope couldnât stand the smell of a doctors office.
He hated the bright lights that always seemed to be buzzing a noise nobody else was bothered by, the constant shuffling of feet and strings of words overlapping from room to curtain divided room.
Heâd avoided appointments at all cost and Smurf had stopped enforcing them a long time ago, as soon as the doctors started to suggest getting his mental health evaluated almost everytime he was sat on the uncomfortable squeaking leather.
It was almost the same level of hatred he felt towards that feeling between his legs when his shaved hair would start to grow back. Too prickly and quick to irritation, no doubt worsened by his shaky hands and awkward angles while shaving.
Heâd heard Nicky and J mention the concept of waxing in passing, complaining about her bikini line to the younger boy who seemed less than interest in the topic. He didnât pay much attention to it at the time either but then it was time of week to shave again and for a moment he thought about it.
There were four shops before he found yours, the first three he walked out of almost immediately. Either too busy or using those same bright lights the hospitals did, sterile smelling chemicals that burned his nose or an obvious show of recognition on the employees face.
It couldnât be anybody who knew him and that seemed to be almost everybody in Oceanside.
The fourth he actually managed to go through with the appointment but he could almost feel the whispers as he stood and paid after, shifting uncomfortably in place from the new type of burning sensation beneath his jeans.
If they didnât know who he was at the start of the appointment then they definitely had realized at some point and his stomach turned a little knowing theyâd seen something so intimate. He left with a gruff thank you and spent the next few months trying to forget it had ever happened, scorning the idea.
But it was hard to ignore the fact heâd only felt the sensory calmness he was looking for during the brief few days post appointment, smooth in the controllable way he couldnât achieve with just his leg propped up in the shower and a razor.
So he tried again.
Your shop was noticeably different right from the first few steps in the entrance, a small wind chime above the door to announce his arrival instead of one of those obnoxious pitchy bells.
The building was tucked between a few others, a vape shop and some old shoe leather cleaner he was almost positive was a front for something else, but it somehow managed to keep out the negative energy of the neighborhood.
You had all the windows open which allowed both the breeze and the smell of the ocean to filter through and mix with the handful of non abrasive smelling candles and incense.
It reminded him a lot of his own small house tucked away by the sea, barren of any real warmth and decoration but still containing that large window he found himself sitting at when he couldnât sleep.
Youâd greeted him warmly, hands and body moving busily around the shop that you so clearly were running by yourself. You seemed a little overwhelmed even though it was completely empty outside of you, him, and a bored looking almost teenage girl sitting behind the front desk as she flipped through a magazine.
He wondered if you were just starting up and then wondered how long youâd been wanting to do this, what it took to get where you were because the location might have been questionable but it was clear a lot of time (and money) had gone into the small space.
Then he decided he was already managing to be weird considering you were blankly staring at him and waiting for him to answer whatever you had presumably asked while he was looking around and racking through questions in his mind.
Your face was still kind and overly patient in the kind of way that made his skin crawl, like you thought he was possibly slower to processing than a regular person.
âWhat?â His voice was harder than he had meant for it to be and he was sure his face tightened in the anticipation of you being patronizing.
Luckily it never came, your body language just as relaxed and welcoming as it had been since he walked in. He watched as you set down the handful of things you were carrying and took a few steps closer, his body tensing a little as his fingers tapped against the side of his legs.
âDid you have an appointment?â Your voice was somehow even softer than he thought it might be even though your image wasnât misleading at all.
Pope waited a few seconds before shaking his head, lightly embarrassed that he had forgotten to make an appointment.
He had stopped doing it online after the first two times, realizing putting his name down on the form probably wasnât helping the weird stares he got. Andrew may not hold much weight with people compared to Pope but Cody certainly did.
âWell thatâs fine.â You gave him a reassuring smile like you could sense the inner turmoil, smoothing your hands out into your back pockets and rocking on your toes for a second. âI have plenty of availability.â
The appointment went smoother than your initial introduction and he was slightly thrown by how easy it was when it was you doing it.
Youâd ran into a few awkward instances where you tried to keep a conversation going and he failed to reply in an appropriate amount of time, planning out a response in his mind but not being able to get it out before youâd clear your throat and change the subject.
He realized that was something you did often the more he came to see you, talked to him to fill the silence even though you didnât seem sure if he was even listening.
He barely looked at you when you were between his legs even though he appreciated how detached you seemed to be from the fact he had his pants around his ankles ninety percent of the time you were around eachother. Youâd never know based off of how calm and normal you always were as you spoke about random things.
When you werenât working on the hair below, shifting around with your wax cart or shuffling through the cash register to give him change he always tried to deny, then heâd let himself look. He wasnât too socially inept to think his stare wasnât as unnerving as so many people, his brothers included, would tell him.
But you didnât seem to mind.
Sometimes youâd meet his eye and seem a little taken back by the intensity in his gaze but then youâd smile softly and look back down like you were giving him the space and permission to burn holes into your head.
You were nice, unbelievably so, and he spent weeks waiting to see a crack in the facade but it never came.
The feeling built in him and by the time he realized what it was, it was already too late. He had known your schedule for days at that point, making sure you were never there alone too late at night without his truck parked across the street and heâd already had a less than pleasant conversation with the handful of homeless that haggled customers outside your window.
He understood what it was around the time he realized he was probably going to see you too often, light irritation where hair used to be and a slightly surprised look on your face when heâd show up again.
He didnât want you to have to tell him you couldnât wax him again so soon, so he looked into your other services.
Pope was suddenly walking around with perfectly filed nails and his pores the cleanest theyâd been since he hit puberty. Sometimes youâd laugh when he booked another random appointment, heâd tense up and prepare himself for you to call him out for how obvious he was being, but you never did.
He halfway figured it would be stupid for you to turn down such a dedicated client but you never accepted his big tips so he let himself believe just for a moment that you enjoyed seeing him too.
It was a constant battle with himself to not scare you, to push himself to give you replies in conversation even if it was just a single word or a nod of acknowledgment.
Sometimes youâd go quiet and look a little far away like you were embarrassed by the one sided conversation and that rejected look on your face made him far too sick to let it continue.
Youâd told him in passing when your flowers outside died that you liked orchids best so he left four pots near the doorway the next weekend.
One time you scolded your sister, the bored teenager at the front desk, while he was waiting to be called back. Your voice was hushed but the most distressed heâd ever heard you as you lectured her about how dangerous her old beater car was. He changed her wavering tires to brand new ones while she was at school.
He spent an entire appointment staring at the way one of your drawers full of aftercare materials was leaning just to return an hour before you closed with his toolbox.
âAndrew.â Your eyes widened a little like you were startled to see him, humming too loud to hear the chimes as he entered the lobby. âIs something wrong? Does it feel okay?â
Youâd done his eyebrows earlier that day even though it technically wasnât a service you actually offered but he was running out of ways to be pampered and you seemed excited to try something new. Your smile had been so big when he agreed to let you experiment on him that he probably would have been okay with you shaving them off completely.
âNo.â He said gruffly but you were already walking closer to him and letting your hand come up to his face, slowing when he flinched back slightly but still rubbing your thumb over his eyebrow bone. âEverythingâs fine.â
You spent a lot of time touching him for cosmetic purposes but his neck felt warm at how causally youâd done that.
It seemed like you had only just noticed the toolbox he was gripping, eyes flickering down and then back up to his face with furrowed eyebrows.
âAndrew itâs okay I can hire somebody.â You said softly with a shake of your head like it genuinely bothered you to inconvenience him.
âIâm already here.â He replied and he felt a surge of relief when you sighed in defeat and acceptance, his logic sound.
You stepped back to let him lead the way since you werenât even really sure what he was trying to fix, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest as you watched him approach the cabinet and fall to his knee to inspect it.
âIâm paying you for this.â You said lightly and he scoffed, both at the idea of you giving him any money and the way you sounded when you tried to be firm. âAndrew seriously.â
âGive me a discount next time I⊠get whatever.â He waved a dismissive hand at you even though you both knew he would pay you far more than necessary for any thing he got done at his next appointment.
It was different to be alone with you in the building after hours, the bigger lights turned off allowing your various lamps to fill the space with a warmer tint. The sun had started setting and it was one of those nights he figured youâd stay late and heâd be stuck across the street in his truck to make sure you got home safe.
You seemed less inclined to make conversation now that you werenât on the clock and had finished a whole day of work but you stayed in the room, watching him in a silence that felt comfortable.
He was surprised when you softly announced youâd close up early once he finished fixing the drawer (and three more little things he noticed on his way out). You both stood out on the sidewalk as he waited for you to finish locking up the door, turning to face him before you paused.
Your eyes drifted down and he watched your face for a few extra seconds before he was following your line of sight, tensing when he noticed you were looking at the flowers.
âThank you.â You whispered and you were back to looking at him fondly.
It could have been your thanks for the maintenance work heâd done but he knew better, could see it in your eyes that youâd been aware he was the one giving you random gifts.
He hummed in acceptance, not able to bring himself to verbally tell you it was no problem at all.
Youâd waved at him as you pulled off and he had to stand there for a long few minutes extra before he was able to pry himself off the sidewalk and across the street to his truck.
The next appointment Pope had, you were actually busy. It wasnât uncommon to see a person or two leaving as he entered or waiting around when he finished up but heâd never seen the half dozen women currently inside, most of them surrounding the front desk you were standing behind.
You looked a little frazzled and his hands clenched around his seatbelt as he removed it, wondering if they were hassling you about something.
One of the three women glanced outside and seemed to notice him, posture stiffening. She wasnât at all shy about the way she pointed her thumb over her shoulder in his direction and your eyes followed, still bothered in a way that made him sick.
Then you also tensed at the sight of him and now he really felt close to throwing up.
He didnât recognize the women, he never did know the people who would sneer at him on the street or move away from him in restaurants, but it was clear they knew who he was and now they were making it their duty to inform you.
When they finally left, two of them went into the yarn store three buildings down and he realized theyâd probably seen him coming in and out. Maybe even caught him coming by late at night to make sure your windows were tightly locked and leave fresh flowers biweekly.
Pope had every desire to get back into his truck and leave, never come back and pretend the connection he had built with you was nothing. It probably was nothing because you were just doing your job and he was the one coming by twice a week to waste his money and stare at you blankly.
His jaw tightened and he was moving to open his door back up when he looked at you through the window one more time, freezing when you met his eyes and gave him a soft smile.
It wasnât quite the same as your usual ones, a little empty and struggling to meet your eyes but you still smiled and tilted your head like you were confused why he was still out there.
He waited to see the fear on your face, the understanding of who he was and what he had done.
He wouldnât be able to stomach lying to you and he was sure the rumors could be exaggerated but most of it was true, some things still hidden that were most likely ten times worse than the average old lady could gossip about. If you asked him about what he did heâd either have to lie or disappoint you and he couldnât do either.
But he also couldnât bring himself to leave when you were standing there so clearly waiting for him to come in and prove those women wrong, to show you he was just the nice guy who helped you around the store and had a habit of being freshly waxed.
So he swallowed any inch of self assurance he had left and went inside, the chimes sounding unusually loud and chirpy.
He didnât go as far in as he usually did, not approaching you behind the desk counter or going further into the waiting room. His frame was tense by the glass door, his hands curling into fist repeatedly but stopping when your eyes flickered to the movement.
He didnât want you to be afraid of him if you werenât already.
âThe flowers were beautiful this week.â You say softly and the shattering of the silence is less painful than he expected, maybe because how warm your voice still was. âThank you.â
He froze at the unexpected casual comment before he was nodding in acknowledgment, feeling the weight of it being the first time you directly admitted you knew it was him.
You sighed at how tense his posture still looked like you were disappointed he wasnât able to go back to normal, walking around the counter slowly like you were afraid to startle him.
âOld ladies they⊠get so bored.â You continued moving until you were right in front of him and his jaw clenched when your hand was touching right above his elbow, ducking your head to try and meet his eyes until he finally flickered them up to yours. âThey talk.â
You were clearly making excuses for what you had heard and he wasnât sure if you were naive or just didnât care about what they said to you.
He wondered how bad it was, if theyâd even been able to fully convey just how rotten he was. Because you were so clearly still looking at him like you thought he was the opposite.
He didnât get a chance to ponder over it for too long and he was sure heâd live in delusion with you if thatâs what you were wanting to do, tell you the truth when you asked but keep his mouth shut otherwise. It was a bit pathetic but your hand rubbed up his arm and he decided pathetic wasnât such a bad thing to be if it meant you smiled at him the way you were right now.
âMaybe next time letâs go pick them out together?â
"I've never heard of Megan Thee Stallion before" if you've ever said any variation of "Hot Girl Summer" then congratulations you've benefitted from an internationally popular Black female artist's creativity
"I thought those were just memes" yeah y'all tend to do this to a lot of things Black people create and/or do, while conveniently cutting them out in the process. You should really consider how easy it was and why that is. I do have a suggestion.
It might bother me a little less (but not much) if I didn't have to log on and there's Random White Guy/White Girl #262849 that we're all apparently supposed to recognize as Pivotal Pop Culture, but Black artists who've been putting in work for years and actually affecting your entertainment in ways you don't even bother to perceive are somehow "just celebrities" that you missed. You're telling me I'm supposed to know who Jerma is, but Megan Thee Stallion is miss-able? Mmmm Something's Fishy...
Post isn't specifically about knowing Megan. It's about the constant theft of Black creation and erasure of its Black creators. That ever-relevant Delta Slim quote applies here (and PLEASE don't tell me you haven't seen Sinners if you're an American, I don't wanna know đ)
iâll leave the porch light on âą rated m, read it on ao3 !
This is the part where sheâs supposed to tell Jack goodnight and immediately get out, walk to her front door and start remembering how to be a person after the shift sheâs had. Sheâs supposed to strip herself of her scrubs and bathe and eat and watch Love is Blind until she passes out so sheâll be able to talk to Shen about it on their next shift together. She doesnât do that, though. She just sits there â quiet and contemplative before looking at Jack, whoâs been staring at her quietly for at least a solid minute.
âIâm⊠really glad you were there today,â she admits quietly. Itâs the heaviest thing she can manage. The one admission she can make right now that doesnât require more digging, doesnât feel like a failure on her end. âI thinkâ I mean we all were but⊠you know what I mean.â
He gives her that tender half-smile again. She wants little more than to ask him to come inside, and part of her knows he would. Heâd stay, if she asked.
Which is, funnily enough, exactly why she doesnât say anything.
Four times that Jack Abbot and Juliette Carpentier end up on the other's doorstep, and the one time that one of them asks the other to stay.
Final OCD post for the night, about something rarely spoken of but countless people have experienced:
OCD can exist very physically in the body. A very normal OCD symptom is the groinal response:
Groinal response is a feeling of arousal. It can include swelling, tingling, warmth, moisture, lubrication, tumescence (swelling or feeling of fullness), sensitivity to small movements, partial erection or full erection. A groinal response in OCD is often linked to an intrusive feeling, thought, urge or image. (NOCD)
It's common among people with P-OCD (pedophilia intrusive thoughts), intrusive thoughts focused on incest, attraction to pets and other animals, sexual orientation, or fear of any other unwanted attraction.
People experiencing intrusive thoughts often engage in 'Checking' compulsions. Or repeatedly going over the same information to reassure yourself (NOCD). In this case, the information comes from your body:
You're afraid you're attracted to your brother. When you see your brother, you focus on your body to make sure it's not experiencing any sensations that 'confirm' your fear.
By focusing so intently on the body, Checking can actually trigger the physical response you're most afraid of.
Although not to be confused with pOCD, which is perinatal and postpartum OCD, P-OCD and Harm OCD are common in people WITH pOCD. pOCD may develop both in the birthing parent and other caretakers, igniting terror that they are unsafe and unable to care for their infants (iOCDf).
Understanding OCD is lifesaving information. You are not your intrusive thoughts. Your intrusive thoughts are not your secret desires. Every single person I've ever known with OCD has feared that they don't actually have OCD and that they're the one person whose intrusive thoughts are real.
Spoiler: That wasn't true for any of us, and it's not true for you.
You're normal. Having OCD is normal. Your intrusive thoughts are normal. Best of all, you don't have to live in fear forever.
Recovery is possible. Even without professional therapy. Okay, I love you.
If youâre experiencing recurrent intrusive thoughts involving a worry or fear that you could be a child predator, it may be a sign of OCD.
Common symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder include frequent and unwanted intrusive thoughts, avoidance behaviors, and anxiety-induced
Obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) is a mental health disorder that affects people of all ages and walks of life, and occurs when a person
Self Directed Treatment for OCD The Irony of Doing the Opposite By Paul R. Munford, Ph.D. Â Â Â Â Â I remember a movie in which one of the char
A list of recommended books on OCD listed by population, specialty area, and other criteria.
i cannot begin to explain the emotions i feel every day knowing that this post i made in the middle of playing tf2 when i was 16 is going to be the one thing of mine that has made the largest impact on the world by a fucking mile
