#CBD College

[candaceclaire]

SEW, I bought a Business...

It is not very often that a beautiful story falls into your lap, and you have the opportunity to become part of it. I am blessed to say this has happened to me and I have found a place I didn’t realise I was looking for, but I now know feeds my soul. My husband is a serial entrepreneur, and he finds it enthralling to either start businesses or buy them and grow his current crop. For me, I left…

[champagnemoon]

That period of time when every mom was in a pyramid scheme was so hectic and draining

[baronessvonglitter]

Holiday Heat

Joel Miller x f!Reader | WC: 2.3K

Summary: Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Only one bed/forced proximity trope (with a dash of sunshine x grumpy because we love a cantankerous Joel). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel's in his 50s). Strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping together to stay warm. Unprotected p in v. Fingering. Reader has very little description apart from having hair long enough to get in her eyes. No use of y/n. Please lmk if I've forgotten anything!

Author's note: It was my pleasure to step in to gift this fic to @frannyzooey for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange! I hope you had a great holiday and have a wonderful new year, hon! ❤️Also, huge shoutout to @pedrorascal who so generously created the ✨gorgeous✨ banner for this story!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wind and snow roar outside as the taxi pulls up to the last motel for the next hundred miles. The driver doesn't dare to drive any further in the snowstorm, and offers to bring you to a place where you and your fellow passenger, a gruff, unsmiling man named Joel, to stay warm and have a roof over your head.

"This place is a shithole," he grumbles as you're pulled to a stop.

"It's quaint," you say, refusing to let his sour attitude ruin what's left of your holidays.

You're both heading home for the holidays: you're returning from your senior year at college and he reluctantly admitted he's returning home as well from an extended trip north to visit his brother.

Despite the fact that you're both Austin citizens just trying to get back to your loved ones, Joel remains a total grinch. You've had to endure this man the entire drive from DFW airport. He sat in the aisle across from you on the flight down from Nashville, sighing and making exasperated grunts every time a baby cried or a young person took a selfie. His legs jittered with impatience. You took pity on him and offered him a CBD gummy, hoping to ease whatever stress he was under but he brushed you off with an annoyed groan.

When you found out there were no connecting flights to Austin, you and Joel were the last in line for a car rental. And of course, the last one was rented out to a couple in line ahead of you.

You saw this as an opportunity to help your fellow man, especially as it was the holidays. But all Joel did was shrug when you offered to split a taxi to whichever hotel was closest.

"It's not the Hilton, but it'll do for tonight," you tell him, persisting in your sunny outlook, hoping it will catch on.

The bored-looking eighty-year-old man in the motel office tells you that due to high demand and the inclement weather, there's only one room left, with a single bed.

"We'll take it," you bounce on the chance, much to Joel's chagrin, offering your credit card. Your surly traveling companion offers to split the room, but not without complaint.

"No way in hell am I sleeping on the floor," he says as soon as he steps into the room. There's a stale stench of cigarettes that the cinnamon air freshener on the small round table can't mask.

"Of course you're not. We'll just.. divide the bed. I'm good at staying on my side."

"You'd better be. I don't need you grabbin' onto me in the middle of the night 'cause you're havin' a nightmare or somethin'."

"You wish." It's the only thing you tell him that has some sting behind it.

"Just don't steal all the blankets, sweetheart. Gonna need 'em with this deep freeze comin' through."

"I'm gonna shower first if that's all right with you. I need to warm up." You grab your pajamas from your bag.

"Don't use up all the hot water," he calls out before you close the bathroom door.

"If there's no hot water to spare we could shower together." You glance behind your shoulder, eager to see his reaction.

The look on Joel's face is priceless as he nearly chokes on his next breath. "What? Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm showerin' with you!"

You grin. "Gotcha."

You step out, hair still damp, towel wrapped around you, shyly going back into the room. "I forgot my panties," you say softly, going to your bag.

Joel tries not to stare too much, but it's a challenge.

"Turn around," you tell him so you can have privacy.

"Go change in the bathroom."

"I had a hot shower, it's still humid. I can't get dressed in there. Just close your eyes."

He grunts but accedes to your request, leaning back against the headboard as he puts his hands over his eyes. His heart is pumping madly, listening to the rustle of clothes as you get changed. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts instead of wondering what the shape of your body looks like.

Relief is a brief respite before he sees what you're wearing to sleep. He thought you'd wear something comfortable and decent, like those fuzzy plaid pajamas girls your age like to wear during the holidays, but instead you're in an oversized t-shirt, the hem down to the middle of your thighs, revealing your bare legs. He puts a pillow on his lap to hide his growing erection.

You get onto your side of the bed. "The shower's free if you want it."

Joel swallows hard before he forces himself to think about something other than you in the bed with him. "Yeah, uh, thanks," he says gruffly, his voice strained. He quickly gets up, trying to hide his aroused state, and gathers his pajamas before he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. For good measure he locks it.

"Get it together, Miller," he tells himself, splashing some cold water on his face. He can't deny the effect you have on him, but he also knows it's impossible to act on it. He barely knows you. You could have a boyfriend or a husband for all he knows, though there's no ring on your finger.

He showers, hoping to stay in as long as he can to avoid you. But it's a shitty motel after all, and soon he runs out of hot water and has to rinse the shampoo from his hair under the icy cold spray.

Dried off and clothed he steps back into the room and finds you on the bed, rubbing lotion onto your arms and legs. The sight nearly takes his breath away. He tries to look away but his eyes are drawn to your glistening skin.

"Good shower?" you ask, catching a whiff of his body wash, something fresh and woodsy. From lowered lashes you check out how he looks in his sweatpants.

"Yeah," he replies. "Outta hot water though. Since you used it all up."

You roll your eyes and go back to applying your lotion.

"Smells nice," he says, sitting close to you.

"Thanks. It's coconut."

The sweet scent hangs in the air as he watches you spread the white lotion across your skin, giving rise to lewd thoughts about what other thick white substances would go well on you. The coconut aroma, the sight of you touching yourself, the forced proximity and having to share a bed.. it's all sensory overload.

"I like coconut," his voice is thick with restraint.

Your hands stop and you hand him the bottle, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "Will you help me?"

He takes the lotion from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours a moment. "Where do you want me to start?"

"My legs," you tell him, spreading them slightly as you lean back.

Heat pools in Joel's groin and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. He squeezes out some lotion onto his palm and kneads it into your shin and calf, his touch gentle but firm, lightly massaging. He spreads it up to your knee, brushing against the tickly spot right beneath and smirking when you try to stifle a sound.

"Feels nice," you eke out.

"Your skin is so smooth," he murmurs, eyes drinking in the sight of you looking both relaxed and wanting. His hands move over your thighs as they part and he realizes you're not wearing panties after all. His brain goes haywire for a moment, unsure if he should call attention to your undressed state or not.

The scent of your arousal reaches him, and he dares a glance between your thighs. His dick pulses when he sees the telltale sheen at the apex of your inner thighs. His eyes meet yours and there's a charge, a current that passes between you.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

It's too much, too fast, but the part of you that doesn't care wins out, falling for his low, silky remark.

"Joel.. put your mouth on me," you whisper, legs parting further, an open invitation.

His eyes darken to nearly black, all semblance of restraint breaks as he leans forward, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath warm on your inner thighs. "As you wish, sugar," he rumbles, placing a soft kiss on your soft flesh. His kisses move higher and higher up, and he gently moves your legs over his shoulders as his kisses get more persistent.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your belly and the mounds of your breasts, your nipples hard in anticipation. Willfully trapped beneath him, you're at his mercy when he finally buries his face in your cunt, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

His tongue runs over your soft, saturated folds, tasting you and listening to the sounds of your moans and gasps. He laps at your softly, then adding more pressure, dipping his tongue inside and swiping at your clit, teasing you just enough to get you screaming for more. A strange sense of tenderness surfaces among the lust of the moment as he brings you to life. There's no denying there's something inherently sweet and affectionate about the lascivious act.

Joel can't get enough of your taste, your smell, the way you feel against his mouth as you desperately grind against him. He's lost in the moment, his every sense consumed by you. Hearing you panting his name he hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, and he gladly licks up the nectar you gush out.

"Oh! Joel! Keep doing that!" you gasp, tugging at his greying locks. His mouth is hot against your pussy, tongue stiff and pointed, soft and wet. The pleasure seems neverending. Just when you think you know the pattern, he switches it up, licking harder or softer, tracing shapes with the tip of his tongue. "Please.. don't stop.. I'm gonna.."

Pleasure blossoms from within, too big to keep in, and you come apart beneath him.

There's a feeling of ownership, something dominant and masculine and protective in Joel as he works you through another one, his hips rutting against the bed in need of his own release. At last he moves over you, bodies pressed close as he kisses you for the first time. It's sweet and soft, the taste of you still on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

"Thank you," you sigh, your foreheads touching, breath mingling.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," he says quietly, brushing loose strands of hair from your forehead.

You're still feeling the lingering traces of pleasure, but even you can feel the cold seeping into the room. "Get under the covers with me," you tell him, and giggle at the speed with which he pulled both of you under the western-themed duvet.

Clothes fly off, thrown over the sides of the bed, landing in haphazard piles. Joel slots himself between your legs again. Desire grows bright in him, making him feel like he's burning from the inside out, starving for the taste and feel of you.

Your body is a perfect fit for him, the glorious slide of his flesh into yours causing you both to cry out. He's completely sheathed within you, surrounded by your perfect, tight, wet heat. Thrusting slow at first, he watches your expressions, planting little kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, drinking up your moans as his tongue slips between your lips.

"More," you whisper as his lips graze your neck, gently biting your ear lobe, and you're rewarded with a more forceful pace as he spreads you open, angling your hips up to get in deeper, finding that sacred spot within that makes you see God. He plants one hand on the headboard above you for leverage as his other hand kneads your breast, tweaking your nipple as your own hands grip his sides, digging your nails in as you blissfully curse with each push of his hips.

"That's the spot, ain't it?" he grunts above you. "Right.. here."

Stars collide behind your eyes as he gently glides over your G-spot. His lips curve into a smile when you clench around him, but he slips out before he can come, replacing himself with three fingers. "Come on them, sweetheart. Come on my fingers then you can have my cock again."

You're lost in bliss as he glides his fingers in, curving to get that spongy spot, eager to make you scream. You bring your own fingers to your clit, gently pinching and rubbing until you feel your climax begin in your extremities, gathering pressure within until it's released, your orgasm shattering you with Joel's name on your lips.

He gives you a moment to come back before he lays down, letting you straddle him. Though he was just inside you, it's still a stretch to fit around him, and you slide down slowly before you're comfortable enough to start riding.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmurs, large hands on your hips. "Do what you need to do to come on my cock, baby."

In a delicious haze of pleasure you ride him, switching up the pace, going slow and deep before slamming down on him, making him groan as he tries to hold back. Your slick is pooling on his groin, coating his balls. Holding your hips steady he rams up into you, eager for you to come all over him again.

You're positively feral at this point, shaking and crying out as you come harder than any other time before, and Joel follows soon after, spilling inside of you, his dick twitching.

Hours later you're curled up together under the thick blankets, sharing and savoring what warmth you've generated.

"Thank god for this storm," Joel murmurs, holding your back close to his chest as he spoons you.

"That's the first positive outlook you've had all day," you smirk, snuggling against him.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

[catboymoments]

btw I apologize for the inactivity I’m kind of getting my life together for the first time???? Ever???? It’s crazyyyyy

I got accepted into my university of choice for this fall and I have work and one class at community college this semester but I’ve been like. Hitting the thc cbd combo which is doing numbers for my anxiety and depression/paranoia and resting and drawing original stuff and actually getting comms done consistently and getting properly medicated and I feel great. I’m never kitty stressed when I do my kitty best.

Also a Hazel comp for you all

[anonymous-dentist]

Um, It's Kind of a Lot…

Or: Lukey's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Or: Have you considered a supervillain au?

Read on AO3!!! (It's 5k words lol, you might be better off reading it there.)

The Pangolin's design is officially inspired by @imhyperfixatingrn's art!

-

When Lukey steps out of the coffee shop to take his break and he’s immediately met with a gun to the face, all he can do is sigh because, somehow, being held at gunpoint is not the worst thing that’s happened to him in recent memory.

He still has his apron on, and his cellphone is in his hand with his thumb hovering over Newt’s contact (he’s still working out how to actually call people, but at least he knows where the contact list is!) His fingertips are stained brown from coffee grounds, and flour is practically caked onto his right cheek after a mishap with the electric mixer earlier in his shift.

Lukey, these days, is a barista, and a shitty one at that. He’s better with the baking, but the kitchen’s electric oven still gives him problems even after four entire shifts trying to learn it. He does the math in his head when someone tries paying in cash, and he has to fight with the cash register to get their change out without having to put their order into it.

He is a barista. He is twenty-one years old, and he is a community college student, and he is a barista.

“Hands up,” his assailant barks, voice hardly muffled by the black bandana tied around the bottom half of their face, “scientist. And drop the phone.”

Slowly, Lukey lowers himself to the ground. He raises one hand, keeping eye contact with his attacker, and he uses the other to turn his phone off and place it gently on the pavement.

And then the bastard slams the heel of their combat boot right into the screen, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Lukey looks up at them in horror. “Ex-cuse me? Do you know how expensive those things are?”

He knows. He was there when Newt bought it for him, and his eyes just about fell out of his head when he saw the price tag.

The gun is pointed at the top of his head in response, cold steel digging into his scalp; he shivers and raises his other hand and shuts the fuck up.

“Don’t say a word,” his, what, kidnapper(?) snaps, “stand up, and follow me.”

Lukey nods shallowly.

They’re in the shady, smelly back alley between the coffee shop and the CBD store behind it, alone. Nobody would even hear if he screamed.

So he stands, hands firmly raised in the air.

Lukey, somehow, is a barista. He doesn’t know how to make anything fancier than a black coffee, but he can bake a mean croissant.

But he nods his head again in acknowledgement as his kidnapper orders, “Move, scientist. There’s a car that way.”

They put the gun against the small of Lukey’s back and push him to the left towards the mouth of the alley near the neighborhood drugstore.

And so Lukey walks, hands up and face flat. This isn’t his first kidnapping (he thinks), he knows the drill.

There’s a black van parked in front of the drugstore with someone leaning against the outside of it holding an honest-to-God whip in their hand; as Lukey approaches, the whip cracks and ends up tied around one of Lukey’s wrists.

“Scientist,” Whip lowly says. “Nice of you to join us.”

They yank their whip, pulling him a few stumbled steps closer.

He smiles as placidly as he can. “Of course! Anything for a fan.”

Whip laughs. Gun shows their amusement by slamming the butt of their pistol into the base of Lukey’s skull.

He falls forward right into Whip’s arms, and the world goes dark.

-

(Pangi orders a croissant and takes a seat with it while he waits for Ros and Aimsey. The guy behind the counter- almost as pale as the flour stuck to his face- steps out back to go on his break.

The croissant is good.

The guy who supposedly made it doesn’t come back from his break.

A black van speeds down the road outside.

Pangi's phone dings, and he checks it.

With a sigh, he grabs his backpack from the chair next to him and stands.)

-

Cold.

Once upon a time, Lukey used to like the cold. The cold meant snow, and snow meant snowball fights with Newt and hot cocoa from the nice old lady from the flower shop. He used to try and catch snowflakes and put them under his (stolen) microscope to spot the differences.

Now, though, Lukey’s wavering consciousness tells him that he’s somewhere cold, and he almost wishes he was actually fucking dead, actually, instead of awake and blindfolded and tied to what feels like the world’s most uncomfortable metal folding chair.

Even with his eyes closed from the blindfold, the world is spinning around him. His stomach is in knots, there’s bile in his throat, he’s sweating despite the cold- concussion, almost definitely, which is fine. He’s gotten over concussions before, nothing new there.

Lukey grimaces down a wave of nausea. The concussion might not be a new experience, but that doesn’t mean it’s a pleasant one.

Okay, he thinks, take stock.

Blindfolded, but he isn’t gagged. His hands are tied behind the chair’s back, but they haven’t been tied long enough to go numb; he wiggles his fingers one after another, and they all cooperate well enough. Each ankle is tied to one of the chair’s front legs. Restraints are rough against his wrists- rope?

Wherever he’s been taken is quiet save for his own breathing and a faint rumbling. It smells of metal and, comfortably enough, blood.

Scientist, his kidnappers had called him. Hah! He wishes!

His memory is foggier than it used to be, but he remembers being handcuffed the last time he was kidnapped. So, really, these guys are a downgrade.

But. It’s cold.

Lukey bites his lip and huffs a tense breath out of his nose. He is fine. He’s fine, and he’ll be back at work, and he won’t even get fired for disappearing before end of his shift; he’s only met his manager once, but Bad seemed nice enough, he would probably excuse a kidnapping and just schedule Lukey for an extra shift over the weekend, it’ll be fine.

-

It isn’t fine.

By the time the kidnappers stomp their way into the room, Lukey’s hands and feet are all numb and his brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears. His teeth are chattering. He’s one bad memory away from a panic attack, and the horrible cold feeling in his bones is not helping any.

Still, he tries to sit up straight as the heavier of the two pairs of footsteps approach him- Gun was bigger, it’s probably them.

And, indeed, it is, because they laugh lowly and say, “Well, well. Looks like the scientist is a little chilly.”

Whip adds, “Poor guy’s nose is blue!”

Lukey’s nose sure feels blue. It’s so numb that he can only imagine that it’s already fallen off him from frostbite.

“Heh,” says the wise gunman.

And then, suddenly, there is light as Lukey’s blindfold is ripped off.

He instinctively flinches back and cringes into himself, a near-perfect recreation of his performance a week prior. This time, however, he makes a point of keeping his eyes open, even if it makes his head pound and his stomach coil in upset.

The walls are metallic and covered in frost. Slabs of meat hang from the ceiling from hooks, and cardboard boxes labeled with various vegetables are scattered about. There’s one door, and Lukey is looking directly at it; between him and it, though, are his two kidnappers.

Whip has taken their makeshift mask off, revealing… an absolute nobody, the most white bread-looking person Lukey has ever seen. Their whip is on their belt, rolled up, and they themselves are leaned against the door casually with their arms crossed.

Gun is still masked up, and their gun is still drawn.

Lukey looks at the gun.

The gun levels itself neatly with Lukey’s jugular.

Gun tilts their head, eyes squinting in amusement. “Alright, scientist, don’t look so scared yet. You aren’t gonna die.”

“Yeah!” Whip agrees. “We need your help!”

Lukey blinks. “Excuse me?”

Whip beams. “That’s right, scientist. We’ve heard aaaalll about you.”

God, they say ‘scientist’ like it’s a slur.

Lukey blinks again; there are spots in his vision, and they’re dancing.

“Ahm,” he tactfully says. “What have you he-”

His voice cracks.

He coughs and tries again: “What have you heard, exactly?”

(Step one of the scientific method: posit a question.)

Whip’s smile flickers like a dying lightbulb, their shoulders tightening minutely.

Gun’s aim wavers slightly, their grip on their weapon going white-knuckle.

(Step two: search for background information. Research.)

“Turn him around,” Whip orders.

Gun does as they’re told and grabs the back of Lukey’s chair with their free hand, elbowing him in the nose as they roughly jerk the chair onto its back legs and spin it 180 degrees.

Lukey’s stomach churns from the sudden motion; it’s enough to make him swallow his own vomit, ough.

The feeling doesn’t subside as the chair goes level again and he finds himself just a few short feet away from a corpse laid out on a plastic folding table.

Gun’s hand moves from the chair’s back to Lukey’s shoulder; it squeezes tightly, nails digging in like dull knives.

“Oh,” Lukey says.

The corpse’s skin is as white as the frost gathered on its clothes. Its eyes are closed, and its hands are clasped across its chest like a prayer.

There’s a big hole blown in the side of its head, and Lukey knows fire damage when he sees it.

“The Red got him,” Gun quietly says.

Lukey swallows. “I’m sorry. But I can’t-”

The gun presses against his temple; somehow, it’s almost warm.

“Nah,” Gun interrupts, “you can, scientist. We’ve heard all about your dad’s little experiments.”

“The Corruption,” Whip elaborates. “Dr. Lucas Teevee learned how to harness its power and control it.”

The Corruption…? What in the…

Gun snatches Lukey’s head by the hair and turns it harshly to the right, where one singular cardboard box sits on the floor. Just one box, small and taped shut with just one tiny piece of masking tape across its middle seam.

The gun shakes against Lukey’s head.

Gun breathes out ragged, says, “We read your dad’s journals. In the library. They say the Corruption can bring the dead back to life.”

That’s when Lukey notices the faint purple stain to the box’s corners.

He jumps in his seat as the box suddenly rattles and skitters an inch or two across the floor towards him.

For whatever reason, he suddenly feels faint. Maybe it’s the concussion. Maybe it’s the lore dump- who do they think he is?

(Step three of the scientific method: construct a hypothesis.)

“If my…” Lukey licks his dry, chapped lips nervously, lets out a breath, “…father is the Corruption expert, just get him to help you. I’m not a scientist. I’m-”

He shuts up as the gun’s safety clicks off.

He swallows, nods.

“Your dad is M-I-A,” Whip explains. “But we have it on good authority that you’re just as good as he is. So here’s the deal, scientist. You use the Corruption in that box to bring our friend back to life, and you get to go free.”

“If you don’t,” Gun continues, “we’ll end the family bloodline right here.”

(Step four: experiment.)

Lukey’s dad died in a house fire in 1974.

The Corruption was called ‘Substance A-7-1’ when he last played with it. Epsilon called it ‘that fucking sludge’. Newt preferred never to speak of it at all.

Lukey is a community college student and a barista with a concussion and a gun to his head. He’s two seconds away from passing out, his hands are numb, he’s about to throw up all over himself and this stupid corpse in front of him, he’s twenty one, and he’s fucking cold.

So, naturally, he bites back a sob, tilts his head back, and offers his kidnappers a weak smile instead.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. “But I’ll need my hands freed.”

He thinks he has frostbite. He tries to do jazz hands, anyway.

“And some gloves and a scalpel,” he quickly adds. “If that’s not too much trouble?”

He tries to look scared and adorable, which is easy enough to do when he’s one wrong word away from a bullet to the brain. He even bats his eyelashes (it always works on Newt, so it’s worth a try.)

Gun narrows their eyes.

Lukey politely asks, “Please? I can’t get into the lungs without one.”

(He isn’t getting into the lungs to begin with, but they don’t need to know that.)

“Oh,” Whip huffs, “just get him what he wants. If it’ll get Jeff back, do it.”

Gun sighs, but they back off and lower their gun.

Soon enough, the ropes are falling from Lukey’s wrists, and the show can really begin.

-

Before he wanted to be a scientist, Lukey wanted to be an actor. He even did a community theater production of The Wizard of Oz as the dog when he was a kid because it was easier to wrangle a child on stage than an actual dog.

Lukey rolls his sleeves up and tries not to flinch at the sight of his own goosebumps. He is cool.

(And very, very cold.)

The corpse formerly known as Jeff has had its chest shaved via a very irritated Gun. There should hypothetically be easy access to what remains of the lungs, Lukey will just need to break a few ribs to get there first.

Lukey’s feet were not untied, so he stands next to the body with the chair’s seat digging uncomfortably into the backs of his knees in an almost sort of straddle type position. His hands are mostly back (he can move his fingers again, at least), and his blindfold has been adjusted to act as a makeshift mask over his nose and mouth.

Gun is directly behind him with his weapon poking obtrusively into the small of Lukey's back. Their partner is gone, Lukey having (politely) sent them to the closest pharmacy for some painkillers.

("When he wakes up..." Whip had hesitantly asked. "Will he be, like... still in pain?" Lukey looked at the enormous hole in Jeff's skull and the shriveled remnants of his brain. "Maybe," he replied. "But it's better to be safe than sorry, right?")

There’s a series of cooking knives laid out on the top of a tall box next to him, a meat tenderizer, a stapler, a pair of scissors, and a pair of yellow rubber dish gloves. (As it turns out, Jeff’s parents own a restaurant, and they’ve teamed up with Whip and Gun to preserve their son’s body in their kitchen’s walk-in freezer like absolute freaks. Someone needs to call the health inspectors on them, because just how many people have eaten food corrupted by both a literal dead body and the literal Corruption??)

The box of Corruption is next to the body’s head. It smells like wine, but he knows from experience that it doesn’t taste half as good.

Lukey isn’t an actor anymore (as if he ever actually got to be one), but they do call it an operating theater for a reason!

“Okay,” he says, “my father didn’t tell me too much of what he’d been experimenting with, but-”

Gun cuts him off with a clipped, “Get on with it."

Lukey raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't argue.

He pulls on the gloves and picks up the meat tenderizer. He bounces it in his hand, tries a twirl of it, fails, flushes, and shoots a nervous look at the box of Corruption.

Right. Surgery on a corpse. A reverse autopsy, almost, considering how he's supposed to be bringing poor dead Jeff back to life.

As Lukey raises his arm, he tries not to remember the last time he ran this kind of experiment.

He slams the tenderizer down onto the body's ribcage; he full-body cringes as he hears the first 'CRACK!'.

"Hey!" Gun shouts. "Be gentle with him!"

"Sorry!" Lukey exclaims, more so to Jeff than to the asshole pointing a gun at him. "I just can't get to the ribcage if-"

He snaps his mouth shut as the gun pokes at him.

He nods, offers a silent second apology to Jeff the Corpse, and raises the tenderizer again.

Back in his day, he wasn't able to get any human test subjects, alive or otherwise. He made do with the rats that liked to live in the lab's walls and the occasional stray cat that looked one sneeze away from death's door. It was messy, but it was necessary.

(Step five of the scientific method: collect data. Step five-point-five: attempt experiment again should data be unsatisfactory.)

For science, Lukey thinks as a portion of the ribcage collapses beneath his mallet. He can't do any more science if he's fucking dead.

...Doesn't mean he isn't sick, though. The second he's home, he's going to crawl in front of his toilet and stay there for however long he can get away with- ouagh, gross, a rib is coming out of the skin, ewwww.

Lukey isn't a doctor. Not in this way, the medical way. He's always liked the little things more than the macro-organisms Epsilon was always obsessed with.

There's a peal of laughter from the kitchen outside, music blasting from the restaurant proper; Lukey wrinkles his nose in disgust. How can Jeff's creepy parents keep the party going when their son is literally dead and in their freezer?

But Lukey isn't a doctor. Even as he swaps the meat tenderizer out for the sharpest of the knives he's been given, he doesn't know if the Corruption will actually bring Jeff back to life; none of his old experiments showed evidence of resurrection, where did those so-called journals get that information from?

(Then again, it has been 39 years.)

Still, what else can he do but go along with his kidnappers' assumptions? Refusing would mean death. (Technically, failure will also mean death, but maybe Lukey will have actually figured out a plan by then.)

He starts the incision without really knowing how far to cut. (He failed human anatomy! Twice! What! Is he doing!)

Sternum to abdomen seems right...

God, how did Newt say do it back then? One big cut, then smaller ones? Ugh, but Newt was a chemistry student, what was he doing trying to tell Lukey how to cut a patient open??

Luckily, Lukey doesn't get far enough to start experimenting with secondary incisions before the freezer's door is slamming open and he's jumping out of his own skin and dropping his knife to the floor in shock.

He swears and falls back down into his chair, but Gun doesn't try and force him back to his feet.

No, Gun is, instead, running towards the door and grabbing a gasping Whip and pulling them inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

Lukey scoots his chair around in a rough circle so he's facing them both. (Come on, if he's going to be a hostage, he at least needs something to keep his mind off of the surgery he's supposed to be doing!)

He gags and rips his gaze away and to the frosty metal floor immediately, though, because Whip is...

"Darla!" Gun cries. "Where did your fucking arm go!?"

Whip is bleeding. Missing an arm and bleeding. It's caked across their entire left side and still drip-drip-dripping onto the floor.

People are screaming outside, Lukey can hear them now that he isn't caught up in his own spiraling thoughts.

(God, it's cold...)

Whip groans and retches and audibly staggers into Gun's increasingly-distressed-sounding arms.

"Is that really what you're fucking asking right now?" they moan.

"Who did this?" Gun demands.

"We fucked up," Whip responds. "We fucked up, dude. We kidnapped the wrong guy."

Lukey can't help but snap his head up at that.

He meets Whip's eyes, and he can't help but smile just a little at how fucking terrified they look all of a sudden.

"I told you," he innocently says, "should've gone for my father."

Gun sneers at him. "You-"

But they don't get to finish their statement. Not before the freezer's door explodes, sending both Gun and Whip flying across the freezer and into the opposing wall.

Even Lukey's chair is tipped over; he falls with it to the side, just barely catching himself on his hands before his head has a chance to hit the floor and make his concussion actual brain damage. (He's already had enough of that, thanks!)

The world is silent save for a faint, annoying ringing sound coming from the inside of Lukey's poor battered skull.

Smoke pours in from the open doorway. Red emergency lights from the kitchen backlight the figure slowly picking their way through the rubble, but all Lukey can see from his position on the floor are a pair of bloodstained black combat boots and a pair of red-stained cargo pants.

People are shouting, Lukey thinks. But he can't tell, it's all so quiet. Quiet and cold like fresh snow.

Lukey blinks, and then he sees it: the box of Corruption has fallen from its spot on the table and is just inches away from his face.

The tape is gone.

Then, suddenly, the world erupts back into focus: Lukey bites back a cry as sound floods his ears again. Screams and sirens and the crackling of flames and crying- so much crying. And-

"No, please!" Gun is screaming. "We didn't know! Honest! We didn't know he was yours!"

Lukey grits his teeth and tries to push himself up, but the chair he's still attached to just weighs him down. All he can manage is a roll onto his stomach and some useless attempts to kick the damn chair off him.

He props himself up on his elbows, face scrunched in pain as he tries to sort of rotate himself into a position where he can actually try and get the ropes off...

Aha!

He sees the knife he dropped just a few feet away under the operating table.

Ignoring Gun's pointless platitudes, Lukey starts dragging himself towards the knife one painful inch at a time.

(He can practically hear Newt now: "Lucas! How was work today? ...What do you mean, you got kidnapped? You were blown up by a supervillain!? Oh, dear, we can't afford another relocation... you really need to be more careful!")

"Please!" Gun pleads. "Spare her! She's already-"

There!

Lukey reaches as far as he can and manages to grab the knife. He quickly pulls it towards himself and rolls back onto his side, pulling his feet towards his knees and the chair with them.

He's starting to saw at the first of his restraints as the supervillain (because, really, none of this exactly screams superhero) says their first words since their explosive entrance:

"Dude, shut up," they groan.

And then there's a single gunshot.

Lukey freezes mid-cut, eyes wide. He's never... not since the fire...

Gun's dead body falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Maybe it's a good thing that Lukey can't see them.

"Ugh, finally!" the villain groans. "I never thought they'd shut up."

The villain's voice is muffled- mask, probably, but there's a grainy quality to their words that just scream 'voice filter'.

Lukey's mind races as he gets back to trying to free himself: Maybe he hasn't been spotted yet. Who did Newt say he had to stay away from, again? Maybe they're waiting to kill him. Mr. X... the Red...

The box of Corruption is open.

Lukey is still tied to his chair.

He is in a room full of corpses.

And, still, he somehow manages to hold himself together as a heavy hand comes down onto his shoulder.

"Please," the villain says, causing Lukey to freeze, "allow me."

The knife is easily plucked from his hand.

Lukey can only watch as the villain kneels by his feet and pulls out a long serrated- holy shit, is that a machete?

The machete is, predictably, covered in blood; Lukey can only assume that it was what was used to cut Whip's arm off earlier.

The rest of the villain is just as messy as their boots made them out to be: long duster coat that was probably brown before today, dark hood pulled up over their head. A gas mask hiding their face with the lenses spattered with Gun's fresh blood.

Lukey has no idea who the hell this guy is, but he stays still as the villain cuts him free with a few easy movements.

He stays still even as the villain nods to themselves, stands, and tucks their machete away into a sheathe on their belt. They stand, crack their neck, and look down at Lukey the same way he used to look at Ego under his microscope.

"Well?" they ask. "You coming?"

They even extend a gloved hand down.

Lukey looks at it.

Lukey looks up at the villain's hidden face.

There's a fire in the restaurant. Lukey doesn't need to see it to know it's there, he knows fire.

He reaches his own hand up, and the villain takes it without a word.

-

Somehow, they end up on the roof of a bank four blocks away from the restaurant. The sun is starting to set, and the city below glows with the lights of rescue vehicles.

Lukey still has his work apron on. Criss-cross on the roof, he fiddles with his nametag.

'Hello!' it reads with a smiley face, 'My name is LUKEY!'

The villain is next to him typing away on what Newt had called a 'flip phone' in his lectures. The gas mask is still on, but the gloves have come off. Their hood has come down, too, revealing a head of slicked-back ginger hair.

They haven't really spoken since helping Lukey out of the restaurant. Just some quick orders- 'This alley' 'Watch out'- and questions- 'Do you ever stop talking?'

(So what if Lukey is a nervous talker? Sue him, he was blown up half an hour ago.)

"Thank you," Lukey says, not for the first time.

The villain hums in acknowledgement.

"I mean, really, I did not want to go through with that surgery," Lukey continues, this time for the first time. (Again, nervous talker.)

He's surprised into looking up from his nametag as the villain lets out a confused little sound.

"The surgery?" they ask. "What?"

Lukey nods and tries to look as confused as the villain probably feels.

"Mhmm. They wanted me to use some, uh, Corruption to bring their dead friend back to life." He shrugs. "No idea why. I'm just a guy."

The villain looks at him. Keeps looking at him.

Lukey clears his throat and decides to look back down at his nametag. "I'm a barista, yeah? I mean, technically, I am, but I'm still learning."

"They kidnapped a barista," the villain slowly says, "to do surgery."

"Uh, yeah! See? Crazy, isn't it?"

He laughs a little, scared and more than a little confused about how those guys had even known who he was. Newt had assured him that all his records were sealed years ago; the I.D. he'd used to get hired at the coffee shop was as fake as his own last name.

Silence falls again, and Lukey... doesn't know what to do, really. Is he? Allowed to leave?

But then, soon enough, the villain next to him perks up as a new villain literally rises from the air in front of the both of them. This one, however, Lukey recognizes from the news articles that Newt had showed him.

Mr. X is currently the city's most wanted villain. Known for the ability to create and control shadows, and infamous for his kind of insane death toll, a lot of people call him the Grim Reaper.

But tonight Mr. X shrugs off his little shadow jetpack and immediately kicks Lukey in the side.

"I'm glad to see you're okay!" he cheerfully says, ignoring the way Lukey is kind of sort of now horizontal on the rooftop groaning in pain.

"Hello?" Lukey wheezes.

Mr. X waves. "Hi!"

"Mr. X!" the other villain cheers, hopping to their feet. "Finally!"

"Pangolin!" Mr. X sounds just as happy as the other villain- Pangolin?- does as he wraps them up in a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

"Eh, it's no problem. Just a couple of weirdos, ammiright?"

They look down at Lukey for confirmation; Lukey manages a sort-of half-nod, and Pangolin gives him a thumbs-up in response as if comforting him.

"Hello?" Lukey repeats, slowly pushing himself back upright. "Am I being kidnapped again?"

He sure hopes not. Newt would be inconsolable if he had to go on another rescue mission.

Mr. X, with his entire body hidden behind one big person-shaped shadow, almost looks amused at the question.

"What?" he asks. "Of course not! Your boss noticed you were gone, and he called me for help."

He breaks the hug; Pangolin, strangely enough, almost seems to deflate at the sudden distance.

Pangolin clears their throat and looks determinedly right into Lukey's eyes. "And he called me."

Lukey frowns. "Well, thank you, but aren't you both..."

"Villains?" Mr. X supplies. "Well, some people say that. Can't imagine why."

He sighs.

Lukey remembers the way Whip looked in Gun's arms without their arm, the way Gun's body was positioned over Whip's as if trying to protect them as Pangolin led him out of the burning restaurant, the burning restaurant.

"Me neither," he ends up saying. Because, well. They did rescue him, after all, and just because Bad had asked. (But, really, that just begs the question of how the hell Bad was able to contact Mr. X in the first place.)

Pangolin gasps and gestures towards Lukey appreciatively. "Thank you! Finally, someone else gets it!"

"Haha, yeah," Lukey awkwardly says, "I know a bit about being judged based of appearances."

(Newt dresses in all black and has an entire room in his apartment filled with various forms of weaponry; he also knits and cries when watching romcoms.)

(Butterfly Knight is supposed to be the city's most treasured hero. She also pointed her Spear of Justice at Lukey's chest and told him to start talking or he would end up wishing he was back at Null Tower.)

Mr. X hums consideringly. He looks down at Lukey with a shadowy finger on his shadowy chin, foot tapping against the rooftop.

Pangolin looks at him, head tilted. "What's wrong?"

Mr. X shakes his head. "No, nothing. I'm just... Lukey, do you work afternoon shifts often?"

Lukey is slightly taken aback at the sudden topic change, but he rolls with it. "Uhh, I don't know? I come in when Bad needs me to. I haven't been working for him long enough to have a set schedule, I think."

"That's true," Mr. X says, for some reason. "Well, tell him you're working mornings from now on, because you're going to be working nights for me."

Pangolin's shock can be heard even through their mask and voice filter. "Excuse me?"

Lukey feels like he's just gotten another concussion. "Yeah, what?"

Mr. X, though, looks proud of himself as he claps his hands together and rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It's a great idea! What do you think, Lukey? You help us to not get caught, and we'll make sure nobody kidnaps you again. It's a win-win!"

Lukey and Pangolin look right at each other.

They look back at Mr. X, who seems to be absolutely clueless to the sudden uncomfortable atmosphere.

"And," he adds, "if you don't say yes, I'll have to kill you for hearing about our connections with your boss. Sorry, them's the rules!"

Ah, there's a third concussion. Or maybe it's just fear. Bafflement. Terror. Confusion.

"So, Lukey," Mr. X says, "what'll it be?"

-

By the time Lukey makes it through the front door, night has already fallen, and there's a Newt pacing in the entryway nervously.

He perks up when he sees Lukey, though his expression falls as soon as he actually sees Lukey.

"Lucas!" he gasps, rushing forward and pulling him the rest of the way inside. "What happened?"

Just as he's always done, he goes for a hug before he actually checks for damage.

Lukey immediately hugs him back, burying his face in Newt's shoulder.

"I got stuck in the freezer at work," he lies. "And then I almost got my head stuck in the oven."

Newt sighs, and Lukey is glad that he can't see his face because he's always been so good at telling when Lukey is lying. (It's almost like they've known each other their whole lives.)

Lukey doesn't protest as Newt drags him to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and he doesn't argue as he's sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and he doesn't even roll his eyes as Newt gets the first aid kit out from the cupboard and gets to work with his antiseptic wipes and bandages.

Tonight is Lukey's last night off before he starts his new job, after all. He doesn't want to spend it in an argument.

____

AN: Thank you for reading!!! Leave a comment or a reblog or an ask telling me what you thought! I love to hear from you! And PLEASE let me know if you want more!!

[chicago-geniza]

Weather gave me a migraine that is so far resisting sumatriptan, naproxen, paracetamol, zofran, CBD edibles, heating pad on my neck, Biofreeze on my temples, blackout eye mask, and No Light, so have resorted to my crackpot college-era cure, i.e., ordering a pizza and a two-liter bottle of Coke. Salt sugar caffeine please fix me I'm Dying

[daichislover]

same time next week? (Law college au)

summary: feeling more anxious than ever, you find yourself seeking help from Luffy’s med student friend, someone you've never had the chance to meet before

warnings: fluff, swear words, slight mention of prescriptions, mentions of smoking weed/vaping/CBD, slight mention of drinking (be responsible y’all!), law keeps his place TIDYYY you can’t tell me otherwise, implied plug!law lol

word count: 1337

MDNI

You don’t want to do this.

You stand at this random person’s door, double-checking your phone to ensure you’re at the right apartment number that Luffy gave you. Nervousness tightens your chest. What's the worst that could happen? A simple 'no'? But then again, you've never met this man; anything could happen. Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to knock but are interrupted by a text.

From: Luffy 

“He’s not that bad, I swear! You’ll get along just fine.”

Easy for him to say, you think, shutting off your phone with a sigh. He could befriend a wall if he tried. After shutting off your phone, you turn to the door. As you finally go to knock, the door swings open abruptly, revealing a man in a penguin hat holding a trash bag. 

Not noticing your presence, the strange man collides into you. You stumble back as he falls, the bag ripping open, trash spilling all over. Groaning, he sits up, then realizes what - or who - he just ran into. “Oh shit… ARE YOU OKAY?” he exclaims, scrambling to his feet.

Stepping back from the spilled trash, you reply, “I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t move out of your way.” You then offered to help clean up, but he shakes his head at you and waves off your apology. “Why were you standing outside our door anyways? You lost or somethin’?”

Before you could respond, another figure steps out from the apartment - a tall, tattooed man in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Your eyes widen at the sight of him. This man is very, very attractive and catches you off-guard, fueling your anxiety. You start to blush.

He sighs at the scene before him. “You had one job,” he mutters to the first man, who can only laugh. After bickering back and forth about the mess in the hallway, the trash-covered man turns to you with a smile.

“Whatcha need, sweetheart? My name's Penguin” With a shaky smile, you introduce yourself and add, “I’m looking for a Trafalgar Law? My friend Luffy mentioned-" 

“That’s me. Call me Law.” The gorgeous man interrupts. His smirk doesn’t help your pounding heart as he invites you inside, telling his roommate to clean up the mess.

Walking into the apartment was like walking into a magazine. The place is unexpectedly pristine, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. “Woah…” You say to yourself while looking around. The living room is spacious, featuring a sleek black leather couch and a TV mounted above a fireplace. How can a couple of college kids afford this place?

Another guy emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “I know right? Law’s basically an interior designer. If becoming a doctor doesn’t work out, you’ll definitely see him on HGTV or whatever that home design channel is.” You laugh, feeling your nerves slightly disappear. Law dismisses the comment with a glare and leads you to his room. "Don't mind Shachi, he loves to be an ass."

You follow him down a hallway, and he opens a door on the left, ushering you inside his room. You murmur a soft "thank you" as you step inside, taking in the neatly arranged space. Aside from a desk cluttered with medical books and papers, everything is meticulously tidy. You slowly scan the room, absorbing the details, while he settles into a chair at his desk. As you admire a collection on his shelf, you notice something familiar.

“Is that the ‘Sora, Warrior of the Sea’ collection?” You look closer to double check, and smile when you realize that you’re right. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then clears his throat. “Yeah, been collecting them for a while. You read?” You mention how you and your brother, Sanji, grew up reading them together. He nods, not saying anything further.

After a few beats of silence, you realize that you forgot why you were there in the first place. Panicking, you start to stutter. “I- uh. Um..” He cocks his head at you, waiting to hear what you were trying to say. You feel yourself getting flustered again and widen your eyes. “Uh-”

“Luffy mentioned something about you needing my help? What can I do for you?” His expression was unreadable, yet he seemed to be listening intently.

You inhale deeply, gathering your thoughts before you start speaking. "Since starting college, my anxiety has worsened, and it’s hard to afford prescribed medication with my tight budget," you explain. "I mentioned exploring alternatives like weed to Luffy, and he suggested that I talk to you. Is there any way you can help me?" You stand there, gripping at your purse. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea; your nerves kick in again and you feel like running away from embarrassment.

Law nods and turns to his desk, pulling open a drawer to retrieve a vape pen, which he extends towards you. You take it, examining the unfamiliar device with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Seeing your puzzled expression, Law asks, "Have you ever smoked or vaped before?" You shake your head. "No, I only drink when I go out."

He hums thoughtfully and gestures for you to hand it back. "Let me show you how it works, then." He carefully demonstrates how to use the vape pen, explaining each step as he goes, before handing it back to you. "Ready to give it a try?" Despite your hesitation, you nod. Law's demeanor instills a sense of trust, but the nerves are still there—after all, this is your first time smoking.

“You’ll probably cough quite a bit on your first try, but don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I’ve got some water ready if you need it,” he reassures you. You nod, feeling your palms begin to sweat.

You bring the pen up to your mouth, and inhale. The feeling was weird and very foreign, but not so bad. Immediately after, you feel a horrible burning sensation in your lungs and throat and start coughing. 

God, how embarrassing. Law quickly grabs his glass of water and hands it to you and you drink it immediately, thankful for his preparedness. After a couple of minutes, and a refill of water later, you finally start to calm down. You look over at Law and see him smirking. “So, how was your first hit?” he asks.

“What do you think?” you retort, half-embarrassed, half-amused. He smiles, turning back to his desk. “See how the pen works for you from now on, then we can discuss other options. That’s yours to keep, no charge. Consider it a first-timer’s discount.” Smiling, you whisper a quick “thank you” and take another hit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few hours filled with small talk, you find yourself surprisingly at ease with Law. As the evening unfolds, you not only learn more about him but also share aspects of yourself that you usually keep reserved during a first meeting. His company is surprisingly delightful, and you make a mental note to thank Luffy later.

Stretching your arms, you suddenly realize how late it has become. "Oh my god, I didn't realize the time—I have a paper due tomorrow!" you exclaim, hastily grabbing your purse as Law rises and stretches alongside you. Catching a glimpse of his tattooed abdomen, you feel a flush of warmth. Can he get any hotter? You quickly avert your gaze before he notices you staring.

He leads you to the door, passing his roommates who are deeply engrossed in a video game, oblivious to your departure. At the front door, you pause and turn to face him. Law doesn’t seem like the type of person who gives goodbye hugs, which is really more like your style, so you simply smile at him instead.

"Thanks again for everything," you say, gratitude coloring your voice. "When should I come back?" He returns your smile, his eyes slightly lighting up. "Same time next week?"

Your cheeks warm at his smile, and you find yourself nodding eagerly. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

a/n: idk why, but college law just seems like the type of guy to be a plug LOL hope y'all enjoy

'til next time!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i asked my friend to stop talking about cigarettes and nicotine related things with me? (cw for lots of talk ab smoking and cancer)

i (18ftm) have a friend in my psychology class (18f) who smokes cigarettes frequently and has been talking about considering switching to vapes.

for some backstory, my father passed away around two years ago now from lung cancer and complications, brought on by smoking cigarettes. he was undergoing chemo and radiotherapy, also self-medicating with CBD tablets to help with the pain.

i’m only just registering this part of my life now and have not really gone to therapists or councillors as i didn’t need it until now, but i recently got an appointment for this along with a referral for potential OCD and health anxiety that may or may not have been caused because of my dad’s smoking and illness.

i go to a uk college in the countryside so there are naturally a lot of kids who smoke both weed and nicotine, and a lot who vape.the issue here is that ive found the smell of cigarettes sends me into an anxious state and makes me feel sick/nauseous. the smell of weed is fine usually for me.

i hate to say it but i do not like smokers. if you’ve been doing it for a while, there’s no point in asking ‘does it smell like i’ve gone for a smoke?’ the answer is always yes, it sticks even through deodorant and perfume and stains your teeth and nails, it smells to the people around you and don’t even get me started on second hand smoking.

the friend i’m talking about is in my psych class and smokes very frequently to the point i can smell it on her whenever we meet up. this wouldn’t be an issue in itself as i am trying my best to ignore it and learn to deal with the anxious shakes i get around her, but the issue is that she constantly brings cigarettes and smoking up.

i’ve asked her not to smoke around me if possible and if she needs one i will gladly leave or wait for her in another spot . however when she doesn’t have a smoke or can’t have one for whatever reason she’ll still talk about how she gets cigarettes, how her mum feels about them, how her brother smokes, how she wants one really bad. she’s now switched to talking about how she wants to switch to vapes, which again i still don’t appreciate because it’s still talking about nic to me.

she’s ignored this multiple times despite knowing about my father’s issues. or she’ll talk about it for a long time then go ‘oh sorry, about your dad, i should stop talking about this’. it’s not a big big thing as we only hang out from time to time (mostly on a walk to the bus stop every monday afternoon).

i feel like i’d then be being a dick for saying that i’d appreciate her stopping talking about it while i’ve already asked her to not smoke around me. wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[eretzyisrael]

by Jaryn Crouson

Several anti-Israel groups are planning to interrupt holiday travel and Black Friday shopping in a series of protests aimed towards “global escalation.”

A coalition of groups has planned over 50 events taking place from Nov. 27-29 in major cities across the U.S., Europe and Australia with the intention of disrupting “business as usual,” according to the coalition’s website titled “global escalation.” The action list includes coordinated strikes, protests and boycotts.

“From Wednesday 27th to Friday 29th November, the Global Escalation will bring together people and movements around the world to step up the collective resistance by going on strike, refusing to shop and by taking direct action,” the website’s “call to action” reads. “It will be the first of a series of blows that will force change.”

Protesters march through the CBD on October 06, 2024 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Roni Bintang/Getty Images)

Some events intend to prevent shoppers from purchasing from vendors the group declares are “complicit in genocide” in hopes of  “depressing the economy during the whole holiday season,” the website states. Other events call for workers and students to stage walkouts and strike “in solidarity with Palestinians” and protest of “Israeli weapons’ industries.”

“The forces of global capital and institutions of western power have thrown their entire weight in the service of the Israeli war machine, getting away with levels of brutality that none of us have witnessed before,” Global Escalation’s website states. “New precedents of colonial violence are being established, along with new ways of retaliating against anyone fighting the injustices that plague our world.”

A car caravan in South Carolina on Nov. 29 plans to interrupt traffic and clog “the central arteries of Charleston,” the event description says. (RELATED: Chuck Schumer Just Sparked A Massive Free Speech Debate After Sliding Antisemitism Act Into Defense Bill)

New York City, Boise, Idaho, Denver, Colorado, Omaha, Nebraska and several cities across California are some of the areas expected to be hit by protests, according to the website. There are also events planned in the United Kingdom, Belgium, Spain, Japan, Canada and Italy, among others.

Anti-Israel protesters have led a multitude of disruptions since Hamas’ deadly Oct. 7 2023 attack on Israel, blocking traffic on more than one occasion in San Francisco and Los Angeles, California. Demonstrations on college campuses across the country have ended in hundreds of arrests after countless violent and destructive scenes unfolded.

[edai-crplpnk]

Some Team 8 + Sand Sibs chara sheets

I procrastinated writing yesterday by doing little chara sheets for my polycule AU.

Kiba and Shino have been dating since they were teens. Shino and Hinata have been dating since college. Kankurou and Kiba start dating at 22/25 (I am writing this fic). Hinata and Kankurou may or may not have some queerplatonic relationship going on eventually.

I used this picrew for the sheets!

Additional facts!

Kiba:

Inuzuka Kiba isn't his legal name, he is still officially registered under his deadname and his father's family name. He might change it once his father's dead, probably not before that since he doesn't want him to know about it. The rest of the polycule handle most of his mail so he doesn't have to deal with it unless necessary.

He is Japanese through his father and Filipino through Tsume.

Hana is his half-sister (different father).

He transitioned in his late teens and has been on T + post-top surgery for some years now.

He got a hysterectomy for endometriosis.

He doesn't smoke much anymore, mostly vapes, which allows him to control CBD/THC levels and ratio better.

Kankurou:

He doesn't identify as trans, but might identify as non-binary somewhere along the way. He's fine with being seen as a man and conveniently goes by he/him, but is honestly a bit too psychotic and dissociated to really have an opinion about his gender and gendered body.

He is Jewish through his mother, but was raised by Baki (here, Rasa's half-brother) so most of his relationship with Judaism and Jewishness is self-taught reconnection.

He had only one brief relationship before Kiba and had sort of settled for the idea of not trying to look for partners (both romantically and sexually) because it was a lot of work and socialisation and it didn't feel all that too important for him, but hey, shit happens. (Kiba happens, and it's good shit.)

He gets a colectomy and stoma bag for his ulcerative colitis around 25 (again, the KankuKiba fic is about that). He probably won't try to get a reversal surgery in the future because he hates surgeries and hospitals.

Shino:

He mostly uses Makaton and text-to-speech as AAC. The former is easier for short indications and requests in daily life, and the latter for more complex conversations.

He gets on opioid replacement therapy sometime during his teens, although still injects occasionally as an adult.

He was initially assigned male at birth, and then reassigned female during his childhood, which he (very understandably) did not live well. Shibi defended his right to choose his gender presentation and refuse further intersex surgeries after that, and he's been mostly living as a boy/man since then. He half identifies as a cis man, half not because dissociation and plurality and trauma make gender complicated but he's sort of working through it. He'd still consider his relationship with Hinata straight, and his relationship with Kiba gay.

His parents broke up when he was a kid (in part over the decisions made about him) and Shibi raised him for the most part. He sometimes sees his mother as an adult, but they're relationship is not very good.

Hinata:

It's been a bit of a struggle to slowly acclimate Hiashi to her being part of a polyamorous relationship, but he does like Shino a lot, so that helped. (He doesn't have an excellent opinion of Kiba but they also mostly never see each other and they're happy with that.)

She has a fairly ok relationship with her family now, but being able to move out and live in group with way less hierarchy and a whole lot more community support has been very healing and helping with having more resources to maintain her relationship with her family too.

Kankurou does all her phone calls (as that of about everyone in the polycule, to be honest).

And the sibs!

Gaara:

He's had a lot of autism-related struggles as a child/teen, but functions much better as an adult now that he understands his needs better and has accommodated his daily life to them. He works as a landscaper but has a lot of at-home work hours.

Lee is his first relationship (I also have a fic about that) and he does think he's gay? But also never has thought about neither his orientation nor the idea of dating and who he would want to date much before that, so he's not sure. He's going with that for now.

He waxes his eyebrows because he compulsively plucks them otherwise. Dying his hair also helps with trying not to pluck them.

He was mostly raised by Yashamaru, who is Jewish and raised him Jewish, but has a bit of a complicated relationship with that because there was a lot of projection on Yashamaru's end, and difficulty to see him as his own person and not just his late sister's baby. He's not religious although he sort of still observant out of habit. (Ex: he doesn't necessarily care about eating kosher, but it's also the food he's used to make and eat, so he will still go for that most of the time.)

Temari (in pyjamas mode in this picture because I didn't have something less casual that fitted her style in the picrew):

She works as a diplomat and is very much a workaholic. The trauma is strong but the grind is stronger.

Just like Kankurou, she was raised by Baki and her connection to Jewishness and Judaism are mostly self-taught. She is a bit less observant than Kankurou.

She has chronic pain that she probably ignores a bit too much, but who can really stop her. (Kankurou should try and probably does.) Compression stockings enthusiast.

She has a motorcycle that Kankurou is very afraid to ride. (Gaara is okay.)

I'll probably do more in this AU later!

[billdenbrough]

u titling this “andreil cat divorce rom-com college au” is killing me 😭 context plsss

AHA ok so the original context is this:

but the fic is like . ok it's what the title says on the tin, once you have the context of this text as the starting point LOL

the basic vibe is that andrew and neil went on a date once, which actually went Very Well, but andrew said they can't see each other again because his cat thinks neil is weird. so now they text instead. kevin hates it. like. just date.

neil: weren't you listening? his cat thinks i'm weird kevin: i actually hate you

matt, kevin, allison and neil are all roommates. allison and matt walk in on kevin lecturing neil a lot. allison records it sometimes. neil at one point sees andrew talking to jean and is weird about it (jury's out on which one he's intervening about) and is like, "you got the cat in the divorce" to which andrew goes ? "she's literally my cat. also, she instigated the 'divorce'," and neil's like, "exactly! you already cater to one fussy entity. you can't handle jean too" (jean, discovering this later, is very judgemental of neil aligning his existence with that of the divorce-cat).

kevin is also developing an unfortunate (in neil’s eyes) (allison thinks it’s delightful, meaning hilarious for her) crush on andrew’s identical twin, which mostly goes like (vibes-wise, none of this is real dialogue):

Neil: Stop. You’re not allowed

Kevin: ????? this isn’t up to you

Neil: Allison, tell him he has terrible taste

Allison: while this is true (kevin squawks), this does seem to be a pot-kettle situation

Neil: huh??

Allison: they’re identical twins, Neil

Neil: Aaron’s LOOKS aren’t the problem

Kevin: you’re not allowed to develop a crush on him

Neil: do you actually fucking hear yourself

hopefully that provided some context even if it possibly did not clarify all that much HAHA. i remember when this one came into being too (i was walking through the cbd trying to avoid being hit by a bus at the depot), if the vaguely hectic surroundings help explain the [gestures vaguely] vibes on display here. it has a pinboard too actually if u wanna see the vibes but again i am unsure if they are helpful

wip game

[sitsonatable]

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ PINNED !!

hi ! im ninh, im a digital artist and infrequent streamer

he/they + ne/it |⋆| 18 |⋆| viet-american

i mainly reblog on here but i also frequently blog about doing school work! its like a motivation/accountability thing :3

EDIT: out of school rn so not really study blogging a lot anymore but ill be starting college in the summer so it shall resume then :DD

𖦹˚⋆ TAGS:

#ninhblogging - original text posts (not school related)

#ninh(re)blogging - reblogs

#ninh study time - tag for studyblogging

#ninh study time prep - same as above but not really main stuff

#finished study threads - full threads without all the little updates bc i like looking through them :D

⋆.˚𖦹⋆. MORE ABT ME!! + BYF / DNI ↓↓↓

𖦹˚⋆ before you follow!

i block freely and like to curate my space on the hellsite :3

i don't tag bugs, weed/alcohol mentions, or blood, i will if needed!

i often need (and use) tone tags

i sometimes post abt recreational thc/cbd usage

(pearl voice) IM MARRIED‼️‼️‼️😡😡 (i am very happily taken)

i liveblog a lot while doing school work

i sometimes overshare abt my life (esp while liveblogging)

i like a few complex or problematic (like toxic stuff, not illegal stuff) ships but they do not dictate my morals (i just find them fascinating) (i am putting them in a terrarium and studying them). i dont like to associate with the pr0sh1p or c0msh1p community bc obvious reasons

𖦹˚⋆ interests (bold r things im very ill abt /pos):

my boyfriend

baldur's gate 3

d&d

arcane

interview with the vampire (2022)

the magnus archives

malevolent (podcast)

my chemical romance

minecraft

fall out boy

dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeons

alien stage

chappell roan

vocaloid

hozier

my own ocs

my friend's ocs

just role with it: riptide & wonderlust

ranboo, slimecicle, and jerma

𖦹˚⋆ DNI

basic dni (racists, homo/transphobes, sexists, ableist, etc etc)

support/neutral abt incest, pedophilia, zoophilia, and similar/adjacent stuff

ED/SH blr

i dont mind if you're a ns fw acc, just dont follow please :3

radqueers/tranx/transid supporters/neutral

anti-mogai/xeno/neopronouns

dteam/wilbur soot supporters/neutral

𖦹˚⋆ EXTRA BLINKIES!!!!!!!:

[cherry-pop-elf]

Life update! I’m Back Everyone!

It’s finally summer for me! Let’s go! Finished my second year of college. I’m surviving! My Pysch Undergrad is alive and thriving!

I’m also properly medicated for my ADHD and have tried out CBD for my chronic pain. So far CBD vapes have genuinely helped. It’s nice to have more control over my health, and not be popping pills like candy.

This summer will be a productive summer. I just know it. So hopefully I’ll finally get back to my x reader content again. Clean out my drafts. So on and so forth. Write stories I enjoy, give my friends more fanfic gifts, and be just happy!

(Friendly reminder I do fanfic trades. Meaning you can draw me art and I’ll write you a fic. Just saying~)

Maybe it’ll be the year I’ll finally get more commission work done! I’ve only had one over the course of two years. Bleh. My writing AND art coms are open man.

Time to relax and enjoy life!

FYI for my followers, If you ever need more writing content from me I have a AO3 under the same name. Cherry_Pop_Elf. That was where I’ve been when it came to writing. X reader content can become rather repetitive. So if you need more stuff written by me give that a hit up!

Crossing fingers for this summer. The summer of productivity! To get more writing done, draw more, enjoy life! So sorry for being so absent. But I’m back now! College is college and my health is doing anything but be ya know. Healthy!

That’s my small life update! Hopefully I can get my drafts cleaned up, fufill promises, and have a productive summer. Wish me luck!

[skopostheorie]

I can't remember if I asked this already (if so I missed your reply, feel free to just link it if you gave one) but can you tell me more about the Melbourne tunnels? I've found it difficult to find good sources of info that don't make my head hurt and I know you're a Melbourne local with autism

I'm so sorry !! I saw your ask the first time and was like Yup I'll answer that and then forgot. In my DEFENSE I HAVE LIKE 1,100 ASKS RN. Please forgive me. I love you.

OKAY. MUNNEL(s).

The Munnel is a joke term among Melburnian gunzels (=railfans) for the Metro Tunnel, which is a construction project for a new tunnel under the CBD. You can even buy an unofficial mug (official logo for comparison under the mug pic).

You may have seen the map, it looks like this!

Town Hall and State Library station function similarly to, for example, Paris' Gare Montparnasse & Montparnasse Bienvenüe, or London's Victoria station (how you have to walk a little while WITHIN the station to change from the Underground to regional lines etc), or Tokyo's 日比谷Hibiya to 有楽町 Yuurakuchou. That is, they're effectively the same station as Flinders and MelbCent, you just gotta take a five minute walk.

The idea is, as often with these things, to ease pressure. You may know that the Swanston St corridor is the busiest tram corridor in the world (as per usual, the best source on this stuff is Taitset), and it's sometimes quite unpleasant; this is not for lack of service. Trams arrive every half a minute or so. It's just packed, because of students. Melbourne is a University city (college city?), and everyone wants to get to UniMelb (maybe RMIT but I think most RMIT students just train to MelbCent).

And it's even worse on the route 19, because:

The yellow highlight is around about where UniMelb is. If you take the Swanston st corridor trams, you can get on literally any out of 1, 3, 5, 6, 16, 64, 67 and 72, but if your class is on the other side of the uni, it will take you about 10 minutes to get there by foot after that, whereas if you take the 19 (to the left of the yellow highlight) it will take you far less time.

However, because there're eight services on the Swanston St side, compared to only one Route 19, you will be shocked to hear it is not a very pleasant journey if you take the 19. It's always chockers, and the 19 only recently started using E class trams as opposed to only B2s, so it used to be even worse (and not wheelchair accessible until it was fixed). I have, twice, experienced the tram being so full that it literally powered down.

Students on the 19 also have to compete with people going to the hospital or Queen Vic market (Queen Vic marketgoers can take the 57 or 59, and hospitalgoers can take the 59 or even the 58, but most don't realise this and simply hop on the first one that appears on Elizabeth St, which is sometimes the Route 19). Everybody on the Swanston St corridor has to compete with the students.

The only way to fix this is to get rid of the students. Hence, the Munnel!

The Munnel's parkville station is basically just "UniMelb Station". It has faced criticism for being a tunnel just for the students, but that's actually the point; pressure eases so significantly if students are gone that the trams actually become bareable again.

What's also special is that the new route connects to the Sunbury Line (left) and then the E Pakenham/Cranbourne (right). This is the second time a line has been changed to terminate elsewhere other than Flinders St (the other one being Frankston-Werribee), but it will be the first time in Melbournian history that a line will cease to go via Flinders St at all! It's a little bittersweet, actually. Flinders is basically the only iconic thing about Melbourne; if you google Melbourne it's pretty much always what pops up (this is what I gt when I googled with a VPN basing me in Seattle).

Because every single suburban train will go via Flinders on the way there and back, and/or terminate there, it's the busiest suburban railway station in the Southern Hemisphere. I don't know if that's going to change when the Munnel's done, but you can imagine it's confused a few Melburnians for whom the idea of a train not stopping at Flinders is literally incomprehensible.

[blackbloodteeth]

After their partnership starts to deepen into something more, Soul only fears his curse spreading to Maka and decides to cut himself off, never to be seen again.

But when they happen to meet years later by pure chance – because the world always has other plans – will he allow himself to selfishly reconnect, or will he let the one thing he's loved most slip through his fingers for good?

Post-canon-centric AU. Medusa may have failed to resurrect Asura, and Soul was never "cured" of his Black Blood. Therefore he never grew past his core insecurities as time passed, and eventually he drops out of DWMA and returns home (may be 18 by this point).

The first year was the worst. The second year he became numb, and by the third year he openly received help and decided to actually take care of himself. May not have gone to therapy as he is reluctant to actually talk about the Black Blood to anyone, but he goes to some form of counselling, and gets into yoga and meditation. In the earlier years of his time home he suffered from nightmares the most, and took THC/CBD to help with his insomnia. Little Oni would often talk to him when he was alone, as deep down Soul craved the same level of socialization he had back in Nevada even if he wanted to shut Oni out, but after a while the Black Room door stayed mostly closed as Soul never budged on not being persuaded to make any deals.

Soul couldn't get back into playing piano due to the stress of still being haunted by his curse. Since his parents wanted him to go to college, he still ends up majoring for something music adjacent (like being a sound engineer, which was largely his brother's idea), and after enough time he forms casual friendships with other classmates, just being Soul Evans again.

The story itself starts a little bit before Maka shows up. This gives some time to show his everyday routine and how he believes he's over it now, up until he happens to meet her again when she is for some reason in town (could be for something as simple as a rescheduled flight that leaves her stranded for a couple days). Even just seeing her he realizes that he is in fact not over it, and it's described as feeling like someone "personally started to rip the stitches across his chest wide open" and that his heart "is like a broken record, skipping repeatedly and unable to break away from the needle."

Her catching up with him is unavoidable, and the two spend time dancing around each other as Soul struggles internally with wanting to reconnect with her, as the premise states. This eventually leads to a climatic scene where Maka assumes he really does want nothing to do with her anymore, and when it's time for her to leave she tells him goodbye while in an elevator. Soul initially turns to leave but after it all hits him at once that he doesn't want things to end this way, he tries to tell her this as the elevator door closes, bringing him to run through the stairs to catch up to her and spill out an apology for his mistakes, and how much he's actually missed her. She barrels in to hug him because she hasn't ever really recovered from it either, and the two decide to spend some more time to actually get to know each other again. During this end part of the scene, the two start to feel each other's soul wavelengths again.

At this point the hurt is raw and fresh all over again, and Maka telling him how she's been without him is like having salt rubbed in the wound, however now it can be allowed to heal. This is when they're at their most tender and exposed, and it's not quite starting from scratch, but letting things grow again even if not exactly the same as before.

Soul actually lets her wield him again. It's not quite the same connection they had before and he has a little more weight to his scythe form, but he's surprised that in the same vein turning into a scythe doesn't feel that different even though he hasn't done it in years. Their wavelengths still aren't fully connecting as Soul is still reliving his fears relating to his curse, however he starts to want to not be so afraid of himself anymore. This is where he regains his trust in both himself, and her, and that the Black Blood doesn't have as much control over him as it had once convinced him. Maka can finally start to forgive herself for the blame she put on herself for him leaving, and work past everything she's buried too.

Ending might be a little more open-ended on whether he decides to pursue finishing becoming a death scythe, however there's a sense of hope as the two have gotten back together again, and their feelings for each other are finally regrowing from the ashes. Maybe they do a smooch, I dunno.

Story POV is mainly Soul's, as he can't truly know what Maka is thinking (especially about him), leaning into his uncertainty and self-projection that he assumes she will never forgive him. Maka's POV is added after they hug it out, filling in the gaps of how she actually has been feeling over the past couple days and showing that they are reconnecting. Soul's nightmares are a reoccurrence throughout the story, which shifts to his rekindled fears of losing Maka as she re-enters his life. By the end, while he isn't fully cured of Black Blood and his nightmares, they're not as bad as they were previously.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for doing drugs at home?

I (24nb) live at home with my mom (57f) and my stepdad (60m). I’m lucky enough to live here rent-free while I save up to go back to school. I have several part-time jobs while I work on college apps and more job apps. This is all very stressful for me, so every once in a while, I take edibles. It helps with my chronic pain and insomnia issues as well. They aren’t strong at all, I literally can’t get high off of them, but my mom told me she’s uncomfortable with me taking them. I tried explaining to her that they were safe, legal, and for a medical reason, but she wouldn’t listen to me. All she said was, “I’m just not comfortable with it,” over and over. So I told her, “I won’t talk about it in front of you,” and she got upset. I get where she’s coming from, her ex-husband was an addict, but it’s not like I’m shooting up heroin or out getting STIs. I know there isn’t anything wrong with me choosing CBD for stress and pain over any other medication, but I feel like an asshole for not respecting my mom’s wishes because she lets me live with her for free.

What are these acronyms?