#THIS POLL IS SO FUNNY IT'S SO SELF INDULGENT I HAVE TO TAKE OUT AT LEAST ONE TBOS SHIP

[necrotic-nephilim]

in lieu of having posted any writing/headcanons/asks in the past few days because i have been *so* busy and unable to do anything fandom-related which is terrible and evil, i have a poll out of morbid curiosity and self-indulgence. i've been meaning to ramble here about how i feel about DC's lack fo Deaf representation and which Batfam members i would personally make Deaf, but i am mildly curious about the larger opinion and now i will subject you all to the question, i would love to hear thoughts/opinions/headcanons on any specific choices. (would love d/Deaf/HoH opinions esp but i'm mostly expecting this to reach the hearing crowd, so opinions from hearing ppl are ones i'm very curious about. if you've never given it thought before you are going to now or else /lh)

[rotisseries]

inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth

[constellationguy]

Curl Care

Photo from Pinterest

I know this was second place in the poll but I’m feeling self indulgent. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Today was just like every other day in the salon. Clients were chatty, some border line bitchy but this is hell, so that’s a common trait.

Woman came and go, some getting their hair cut, others dyed, and some even permed. And just as the clock struck 3pm in pentagram city your last client of the day walked in.

“Good evening Miss Walker.” You said politely. Miss Walker was a not so nice woman that died in the 70’s and got her hair regularly permed.

“Come sit for a moment while I go get my supplies from the back room.” You told Miss Walker.

“Come back fast, you don’t get payed to lollygag,” she spat at you. Always the micromanager she is.

Going into the back room you took some deep breaths, the last few you could take before having to smell perm chemicals for the next 3 hours. Once you gathered yourself you put your smile back on your face and brought the rolling tray of foils, rods, and the perm solution.

“Alright Miss Walker, you just want your usual correct?” You asked.

“No, I want a Mohawk. Of course I want my usual! Stupid girl.” Always a charm she is.

“Well let’s get started,” you said with a sigh putting your gloves on.

As you started on Miss Walker’s hair the bell on the front door rang indicating a customer walked in. You tried to not pay much mind to it though, you just needed to get through this perm as fast as possible.

“Good afternoon sir, do you have an appointment with one of our stylists today?” your coworker Sarah asked.

“Oh no. I was hoping you could recive a walk in.” A familiar voice responded to your coworker.

“In that cause I can take you, if you could just follow me-”

“Well I was hoping to see Y/n, if she is working today that is.”

“Oh she’s currently busy with a client. I can do your hair sir.”

“Oh I insist. You said she was here yes? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind switching clients with her if you just ask.” The voice got louder as it presumably came closer to your styling room as well as the trailing sound of hurried heels of your coworker following close behind.

“Oh there you are,” the familiar voice spoke from behind you.

When you looked up into the mirror in front of you, you saw Alastor.

“Alastor! What brings you back around these parts?” You asked cheerfully, not stopping your task of doing Miss Walker’s hair.

“I was hoping you could accept me as a walk in, I have an important meeting tomorrow you see.” Alastor replied.

“Oh no you don’t! I had to wait a month for this appointment. You don’t just get to cut the line-” Miss Walker erupted, only stopping when she looked up from her phone to see the radio demon looking at her through the mirror.

“What was that? Care to say that to me again?” Alastor asked as his static popped extra loudly in the room.

“Okay! Yes I can take you Al. Let me just relocate Miss Walker to Sarah’s room down the hall.” You said trying it cut the tension.

Alastor snapped his fingers and Miss Walker as well as anything that would have signified she was here vanished. With a light hum Alastor whipped down the styling chair then sat down.

“It’s good to see you too Alastor.” You laughed lightly.

“Oh of course my dear.” He replied.

“Could you tell me what we are doing with your hair today?” You asked calmly while you started to inspect his hair.

“Well my dear, during my sabbatical I haven’t been taking good care of these retched locks I have but I must look presentable for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Oh don’t say that Al, you make me sad. I love your hair. I honestly think you wear your hair straight to upset me sometimes.” You huffed.

“Well isn’t that a funny thought,” Alastor laughed.

“Well if my hair being straight makes you so sad you can make it curly again, can’t you?” Alastor promoted.

“Of course I can,” you were smiling so wide and could have jumped out of your skin with joy. Alastor’s curls were the most beautiful things to you. His curls complimented his eye and face shape and his hair was slightly rough but still very soft, you lived for doing Alastor’s hair.

“I’m sure I have a suitable hair mask here somewhere… Remind me do you have a preference of ingredients?” You asked Alastor while rummaging through your product drawer.

“Whatever you think is most proper dear, just not to scented if you could.” Truthfully Alastor didn’t mind what you put in his hair, you’ve done his hair enough to trust you know what you’re doing.

“This one should do. Do you care to take a sniff or look at the ingredients?” You asked again.

“No dear, I trust you.” Alastor replied. You had a feeling he did but hearing him say that made your heart swell with pride.

Before putting on the hair mask you applied a bit of hair oil to Alastor’s scalp and rubbed in it. Taking a generous amount of the hair mask from the container, you warmed the product through your hands for a few seconds before applying it to Alastor’s hair. Alastor’s shoulders stiffened slightly but gradually relaxed as you massaged the product through his hair.

“And won’t you look at that! Your curls sure are resilient Al, look at them sprouting already.” You smiled gleefully.

“That’s quite the smile you have there chérie.” Alastor teased.

“Of course I’m smiling! How could I not when seeing your hair curly makes me so happy.”

“I’m glad I could be of service to you my dear,” Alastor replied to you with a dopey smile similar to yours.

“Your curls are just so unique to you and seeing you with curly hair like mine makes me prideful, not only in my styling abilities about also how my hair looks.” The room fell into a comfortable silence as you two admired each other’s smiles, what a perfect feeling this was.

“Look at that! All curly now!” You smiled brightly as you put your hands in Alastor’s hair and lightly shook his curls. Alastor laughed lightly at you.

“I think you’ve had enough fun dear,” Alastor teased.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go wash this out.” You said while you pat Alastor’s shoulder’s as he got up.

You took Alastor to the tallest sink, the one that had a step stood behind the basin for the stylists. Alastor always shortly laughed when he saw your step stool.

Washing Alastor’s hair was always a relaxing experience for the both of you. You enjoyed playing with his hair and he enjoyed the scalp massage, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

After you washed all the product out of Alastor’s hair you brought him back to your styling chair.

“So you want your curls to look the best for tomorrow yes?” You asked.

“Correct.” Alastor replied.

“You still have that bonnet I gave you yes?” You asked Alastor while you searched for the right curl cream.

“Of course I do, you would be rather cross with me if you had to get me another one,” Alastor rolled his eyes in fake annoyance.

“Perfect. You will sleep with it on tonight to preserve these curls okay?” You told Alastor.

“Oh course dear,” he jokingly scoffed at you.

After warming up the curl cream in your hands you evenly distributed it through his hair, taking out the strands that were naturally falling out as you lightly raked through his hair. After a little scrunching to Alastor’s face framing curls you started to diffuse his hair.

You could tell Alastor was a little wary about the diffuser because you haven’t used it on him before so you briefly explained what it did before you started.

“This handy dandy hair dryer will help your curls dry in place, are you willing to give it a shot or would you prefer to just let your hair air dry?” You asked thoughtfully.

It didn’t take too long to diffuse his hair but when you were done Alastor didn’t get out of the chair for some time.

“What do you think Al?” You asked gleefully.

“It looks perfect chérie, thank you for taking the time for me,” Alastor said.

“Of course I would, nothing makes me happier.” You smiled brightly.

Just as Alastor was going to leave after paying you had to tell him one last thing.

“Oh! And don’t forget you can drop by tomorrow before your meeting if you want me to fix your hair.”

Alastor stopped momentarily to face you and replied, “We’ll see what tomorrow brings chérie,” then left out the door, leaving the bell to ring behind him.

[could-they-win-jungle-run]

Welcome to Jungle Run!

This is an incredibly self-indulgent blog where I post polls of trios and you vote whether they would win the golden monkey or not. The golden monkey is the top prize, and your team must use your speed and wits to get to it in time.

Now, wtf is Jungle Run?

Jungle run is a game show that aired 1999-2006 where a group of kids do challenges and are rewarded with monkey statues. Each monkey statue gives them 10 seconds in the final temple where they have up to 3 minutes to complete 4 challenges. After completing each challenge they will get, in order: The Stone monkey, Bronze monkey, Silver monkey and the Golden monkey.

The goal is to get as many monkeys as you can, and bring them out with you before you run out of time and the door to the temple closes.

You can watch the first episode on youtube (and many more)!

The voting options

Yes, with the golden monkey They have enough time to complete all the challenges, take each monkey and get out before the door closes

No, they lose at the final riddle and get silver The final challenge in this season is to solve an easy question with a 5-letter answer, and each person has to stand on the right letter at the same time (on different platforms) to spell the answer.

No, they lose at the cog puzzle and get bronze A lot of kids have lost to the cog puzzle. You have to use your smarts to put a few cogs in the right place so you can spin them and make the door open.

No, they lose at the jigsaw puzzle and get stone A surprising amount of kids lose to the jigsaw puzzle. It's a large 6-piece puzzle. There are faint marks that show where each piece goes. You probably lose here if you're panicking, uncoordinated, or have never done a jigsaw puzzle in your life.

No, they lose at the ball maze and get nothing The "ball maze" means they have to tilt a platform with a maze and a ball in it until the ball goes into the hole, similar to the Myahm Agana Shrine in BOTW.

No, they run out of time and get locked in It doesn't matter how many monkeys they got, because they didn't make it out in time. Maybe they got too greedy or were too slow.

Submission rules

Of course you can submit your own trios to compete. Here are the rules:

Submit through my ask box! You can include a picture and/or propaganda if you want.

They should be a trio. I can make occasional exceptions if it's a 4 person group (because early jungle run had groups of 4!) and maybe if it's a funny "could they solo jungle run". But generally just 3 characters. Also, they don't have to be associated in canon, you can make up any team you like.

Any ages are ok, even though it's a game meant for kids.

Real people are allowed at my discretion.

dividers used are by plum98.

[thatgirlsza]

Mean Coworkers ♡

Suguru Getou x fem reader

Self indulgent, Fluff, comforting, angst I think

Geto was your partner for a number of years now. He knew when you where down, when you where excited but didn't want to show it and knew when you better than you even knew yourself. Which is why he knew that you were on edge the whole day. Since the beginning of yesterday,

You had become slightly closed off, opting to kiss his cheeks rather than his lips. Cuddling him half-heartedly like your mind was absent, Making small blunders when cleaning or cooking and forgetting the smallest things, like when you were carrying the piece of paper you so desperately looked for. You hardly slept that night, constantly looking down at your phone to check the time, and when you did eventually fall asleep, you were a light, restless sleeper waking up even when he was shifting softly in the sheets. Your little odd behaviors would have been cute, if not endearing, if they weren't taking a toll on you, and Geto had grown worried.

So as you lay on the sofa, flicking through the shows, trying to pick one, he came up and lay on top of you. His soft hair tickled as he began to nuzzle into you for attention, but all you did was place your hand on his head. He pouted before nipping at your skin, making you jump. "Geto, I'm not in the mood." You whined, pushing his head away, and he knew you weren't by his last name in use. Instead of moving away, he just nuzzled closer like a cat, and his obsidian eyes looked at you in gentle worry with adornment. "I know, darling. What's wrong? Don't worry, I won't laugh unless it's funny." He said it with a smile, which made your own lips curve up a bit.

You sighed heavily, as if you had held in a breath secretly, as you placed the remote down and began to wave his inky strands between your fingers. "I don't want to go to work tomorrow." He furrowed his brows in confusion. You loved your job, and your best friends worked with you too. He's never heard you outwardly express that you dislike it, so he wondered if it was a new development. "Why, what happened?"

Again, you sighed and began to explain. You told him how your coworkers had been engaging in high school-level gossip, which didn't bother you until they spoke about a rather sensitive topic. You explained that when you tried to bring the point of discomfort across, they basically ganged up on you and told you you were wrong for having an opinion. They then followed it up with ostracizing you to the point where even the people you called 'friends' joined in to not get the same treatment. It was like the popular group in high school had taken the situation and balanced it on your head. It was even worse, as in the HR department, there were a lot of people who were friends with your coworkers.

By the time you were done, Geto was wiping a stray tear off your soft cheeks. Trying to gently stroke your arms, shushing your soft cries. "Hey, don't cry over some idiots who think their opinions are the greatest thing since sliced bread. I know it's hard, baby, but you'll just need to ignore them. Who knows, you'll get to be transferred to a new department." Geto kept rambling until you softly giggled at his words, but inside he was hot with anger. How dare they make you so sad and leave you out when you didn't even want to see them? How dare they make work into a popularity poll for their twisted minds? Disgusting. He would make sure that they'd never utter your name in that type of context again.

But right now, his darling was curled up in his arms and needed him. Geto would curse those who wronged you to the depths of hell but would never pass the opportunity to kiss you better.

[yukidragon]

The Groom of Gallagher Mansion - First Kiss

So, funny thing. I got inspired with a random plot bunny for The Groom of Gallagher Mansion involving Elias and my version of the MC, Coraline. It’s just a sweet and silly story of spoopy fluff that came to me without knowing much of anything about the canon plot of the game. I figured that since the alpha was released on the SnaccPop Patreon today (so you might want to consider signing up if you haven’t already), I would write it out and share my raw rough draft of shameless self-indulgence before playing and seeing what the game’s story is actually about.

No doubt playing the game is going to influence me in the development of Coraline and how her relationship with Elias goes, maybe even totally changing how I’ll go about having them meet and how eager Coraline is to marry a beheaded bloody ghost. It’ll probably inspire me to make another spicy 1st person story about Elias with his living betrothed as well. Still, I hope you enjoy my silly little plot bunny that’s just an excuse to make some sweet vanilla with a hint of creepy spooky fun to keep it spicy.

Speaking of spice, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about the winning fic about Jack from my poll. That’s another plot bunny that’s currently running away from me and growing into something a bit bigger than just the narrator having some spicy NSFW fun with their yandere boyfriend.

While this story isn’t going into smutty territory, I want to remind everyone that the Groom of Gallagher Mansion is an Adults Only series. Minors are not permitted in this fandom, or for any of the other SnaccPop Studios series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story about Elias and Coraline that takes place shortly after their first meeting mentioned in this previous post, but before they actually say their vows.

...

The wedding preparations were underway in the Gallagher mansion. Furniture floated into position across the room unassisted. Small wisps of otherworldly glowing blue light hung flowers and decorations while cleaning up decades of dust and cobwebs. At the center of it all was the master of the haunted manor, Elias Gallagher, directing everything to be perfect for him and his beloved bride-to-be.

“No, no, no,” Elias sighed as he shook his head, which floated off-center above his neck. “Don’t hang that painting up there.” He wagged a reproachful finger at one of the little balls of light that had been in the process of restoring the old family portrait… the one that included everyone except for him. “I don’t want to see those ghastly faces gawking at my beloved and I as we exchange our vows to be together for all eternity. In fact, I never want to see those faces again. Throw it out! Toss it in the trash, tear it up, or use it for kindling, but get it out of my sight!”

As Elias watched the wisp hastily scramble to remove the portrait and take it from the room, he sighed again as he reoriented his head back in its proper place. “So much to do, so little time… Oh if only the staff were still alive… or at least if only their ghosts decided to stay and haunt this place as well.” He paused for a moment as the years of loneliness crept up on him. “At least then I would’ve had some company all these long, lonely years…”

Something suddenly touched the small of his back and ran up his spine, causing Elias to shriek and jolt, sending his head toppling off his shoulders into his flailing hands.

A giggle rang out from behind him, and it was the loveliest sound. It chased away all of the fright and melancholy Elias felt, and he turned, smiling, to face his beloved bride. “Oh my dearest…”

Elias froze as he saw her, Coraline. He had sent her to get cleaned up after those brutes covered her in fake blood not too long ago. He thought her lovely when he first laid his eyes on her wearing a soft oversized sweater, but the outfit he wore now was stunning, a beautiful off-white gown with lace and long sleeves. It wasn’t quite a wedding dress - that would be for later - but the pale color against her equally pale skin gave her an ethereal look that made her seem as if she wasn’t anymore meant for the human world than he was. Her newly braided hair was still damp from the bath, turning it a darker shade of brown than usual except for where it had been kissed with streaks of white. She smiled at him, and her beautiful bright brown eyes glinted almost golden when the light hit them.

If his heart was still beating, Elias was sure it would have stopped at the sight of Coraline, his bride, his fated beloved.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you to death,” Coraline said, her smile growing crooked as her gaze turned apologetic.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, my darling Coraline!” Elias said quickly as he placed his head back above the stump of his neck where it belonged. “I assure you that it’s quite impossible to kill me a second time. In fact, I wasn’t scared at all. I merely didn’t expect you to be finished with your bath so soon.” He paused to clear his throat as his blue cheeks darkened with a blush. “I-I see that you found the clothes I left for you.” He had to take a moment to drink her in, his eyes sweeping from the top of her head to the soft slippers on her feet. “You… you look truly stunning, my love.”

Coraline had to look away as a blush appeared on her cheeks to match her fiancé's. “You really think so…?”

“Of course!” Elias said emphatically. He was by her side in an instant, taking his bride-to-be’s hands in his. “Oh, my beloved Coraline… Never has there ever been anyone alive or dead who could ever match your beauty in my eyes.”

When Elias reached out to stroke her cheek to punctuate his statement, a jolt of excitement shot through him as Coraline responded by nuzzling into his hand and gazing up at him through her eyelashes. Almost on reflex, words came tumbling out of his mouth, all half-formed attempts at praising her that could only form into nonsensical gibberish as his blush reached all the way to his ears and neck stump.

“Thank you, Elias,” Coraline said softly before she turned to kiss his wrist.

Elias squeaked at the action, and he jerked back reflexively out of embarrassment. He instantly regretted it and silently berated himself as he lamented the loss of her lovely warmth.

“Y-yes, well,” Elias said after a moment, fumbling to recover his wits. He cleared his throat behind the hand that still tingled faintly from her touch as he tried to calm down an imaginary racing pulse that he knew perfectly well had already long since stopped existing. “It-it’s nothing more than the truth. There’s none who could ever hope to compare to the beautiful soul who came to free me from an eternity of loneliness.”

Coraline smiled, pleased by both his praise and fluster. “You’re the most dazzling soul I’ve ever met too.” She paused for a moment and chuckled as her smile turned lopsided. “Literally. You’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

Elias smiled wryly back at her. “And you’re the first living mortal to see me and not run screaming for the hills.” A dreamy look came to his eyes as he remembered their first meeting. “I’ll never forget the way the stars shined in your eyes when you looked my way for the first time.” He sighed blissfully. “Oh, never has anyone ever looked at me with such joy and rapture, even while I was still alive.”

Coraline softened at those words, and she drew closer to Elias, reaching out to take his hand. Objectively, he was cold, as cold as death, yet there was a strange warmth to his touch as well that she could only attribute as supernatural. It was a strange, contrary feeling that only drew her to him even more. “Elias…”

Elias eagerly took her hands in both of his and bent down closer so that he could better look into the eyes of his future bride. “Oh, Coraline, my beloved, my dearest, my precious love… I thank Heaven for finally bringing you into my un-life, and I thank you most of all for accepting my proposal.” He blushed again as a note of awkwardness crept into his voice. “I-I know that it was all so sudden, but from the moment we met, I just knew that we were destined to be.”

“Like soulmates?” Coraline asked softly.

“Yes, exactly like soulmates,” Elias said as he pulled Coraline closer until he could embrace her fully. “You are none other than my soulmate, Coraline… and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you’ve agreed to be mine for all eternity. Oh… I love you so much. Words simply cannot hope to convey just how much I love you.”

Coraline nuzzled into his embrace. She was aware that what she was doing was objectively crazy. People normally didn’t marry ghosts, let alone right after meeting them, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse raced when she was with Elias, or the contentment she felt in his arms.

“I know what you mean,” Coraline said as she rested her cheek against his chest. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you…”

“Nor have I,” Elias said softly as his glowing blue eyes gazed lovingly down at his bride. “Oh, Coraline. I promise you, I’ll make sure that our wedding is nothing less than perfect.”

Coraline sighed before abruptly straightening up. “Oh yeah, that reminds me. I needed to talk to you about the ceremony.”

“Oh?” Elias asked, eyebrows raising. “What about it, my love?”

Coraline fidgeted with the ends of her lacy sleeves, her face heating up as she struggled to look at Elias. “Um… well… It was about… the kiss.”

Elias blushed deeply as his eyes dipped down to his bride’s pale lips. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked, or as warm as her cheeks. “O-oh really? Oh… oh my.” Suddenly he felt almost too warm. “Wh-what about it, dearest?”

Coraline brought her fingers over her lips, tracing the lower one nervously. “It’s just… it’d be our first kiss, and it’ll be in front of everybody who comes to the wedding, so…”

Elias couldn’t help but imagine Coraline dressed before him in her elegant white wedding gown, waiting for him to lean down and kiss her once he pulled back her veil, sealing them together as man - well, ghost - and wife for all eternity. Excitement coursed through him at the thought of it, and a trickle of blood leaked from his nose, bright and vibrant like the splatters around the stump of his neck. “Our first kiss…”

Elias caught himself after a moment, and quickly wiped away the blood, which disappeared without so much as a smear on his hand, unlike the blood around his neck. “Y-yes, well…” He cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself. “I hope you’re looking forward to it as much as I am, my love.”

Coraline glanced up at Elias before she had to look away. “I’m just a little… nervous.”

Elias blinked, surprised. “Nervous? Why, whatever for?” He gently cupped her chin, but Coraline struggled to look him in the eye. “Oh my beloved Coraline, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise you, I’m fully prepared to make that kiss, as well as the rest of our wedding, the most wonderful experience of your life, and my un-life.”

“It’s just that…” Coraline finally managed to look up at her blue beaux. “It’d be my first kiss… period. I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Her face burned harder at the admission and her eyes skirted away from him again.

Elias felt his face heat as well despite the lack of any real heat in his spectral body. “You haven’t… Oh… oh my.” He could feel his excitement start to build again, but he quickly forced himself to reign it in before it overflowed into another nosebleed. “W-well it…” He faked a cough in an attempt to stall for a moment more to gather his thoughts. “I-I know I must seem quite a bit more… experienced in these sorts of matters than you, dearest, but the truth of the matter is that I… ah… n-never had the chance to experience such things before my death… or even after.”

Coraline blinked, surprised as her eyes turned back to her groom. “You never kissed your ex-fiancée?”

The memory of his former ‘bride’ was a blade that dug into his heart as sharply as the axe that cleaved through his neck, and Elias couldn’t keep the pain from showing on his face. Centuries of loneliness, empty and without love, washed over him, heavy and suffocating. So many years he spent alone in this crumbling house, wasting away as much as his spirit did from the loneliness that carved a hole in his heart. It was just as suffocating as the years he spent when he was alive, when the mansion was filled with far more life than the withered body he used to possess.

Elias Gallagher, the sickly, overlooked and discarded Gallagher son, had been a disgrace to the family. He had no looks, no skills, no strength, and nothing but his inheritance to offer anyone. He still remembered all the days he struggled just to cross the hall in his wheelchair so that he could make his escape from his dreary reality inside one of the many books in the family library. There he could distract himself from the pain that plagued his twisted body with the fanciful stories of protagonists who found their happy endings, and dream that maybe he too would find his own happy ending one day.

“Never,” Elias said, his voice low and his gaze far away. He still remembered her, the poisonous rose that seemed so beautiful but hid such deadly thorns. She had been a brief but cruel presence in his life that filled his head with false hope before she severed it from his shoulders on their wedding day. “Not that I would want such a thing. Just the thought disgusts me like little else.” He let out a huff without air as revulsion curled his lip. “I suppose that is the only thing that woman did that I will ever be grateful for.”

A warm touch to his cheek drew Elias out of his lonely, bitter memories and back to Coraline, who looked up at him, her eyes soft with sympathy. He couldn’t help but lean just a little into her warm hand and smiled at her in gratitude.

“But let us not focus on tragedies of the past, darling,” Elias said softly before he took the hand that held him so that he could kiss the back of it. “Instead, I wish to focus on how truly grateful I am to have found you after all this time, my love, my sweet Coraline. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here, my darling… and that you’ve agreed to be mine forever.”

Coraline blushed at the kiss, which made her skin tingle pleasantly. It was hard to say if the touch of his lips affected more than his sweet words, which never failed to fill her chest with butterflies. “I’m glad…” She adjusted his hold he had on her so that they could lace their fingers together. “It means we’ll be each other’s firsts.”

If Elias’s heart was still working, it would’ve started beating out of control at that knowledge. He couldn’t help but smile widely, though it took on a slightly goofy tinge as he felt positively giddy. “I suppose it does. Oh goodness, Coraline… I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I love you so much, truly, deeply, and forever, I do.”

Coraline felt her heart racing hard and fast as she looked up into the soft, loving eyes of her soon-to-be groom. He was so precious; she couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite how strange the situation was.

Despite what ‘common sense’ might say, being with Elias just felt right to Coraline. It felt more right than anything she had ever known. It reminded her of something her mother told her that she always took to heart.

Love makes people crazy. If it didn’t, then it wouldn’t be love.

“I love you too,” Coraline said softly, her voice just above a whisper.

Elias gasped, his eyes flying open wide. For a moment he could only stare at his bride, just as stunned as he had been when she accepted his proposal. “You… oh… oh my goodness. Coraline, my darling, my love, my dearest!”

Unable to contain his joy, Elias scooped Coraline up into his arms and held her tight. “Oh my beloved, my sweetest, my dear heart, my light, no one has ever said those words to me before! You can’t know how happy that makes me feel.”

Giddy, Elias floated upwards with his bride, his heart feeling lighter than air. He lifted Coraline up just as easily and spun around with her crushed gently to his chest. She couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm and held onto him just as tight, imagining this must have been what being on a rollercoaster felt like.

Finally, Elias stopped spinning, though he held Coraline with him high in the air, the both of them floating as light as a feather due to his otherworldly powers. “Oh my darling Coraline, won’t you please say it again? I’ve longed to hear those words for so long… and hearing them from you has brought me joy like nothing else I’ve known before.”

Coraline giggled again and returned his beaming smile. Seeing his utter delight and the rush she felt as he shared it with her only made her feel more certain in her feelings and her decision to marry him. “I love you, Elias.”

Hearing those words a second time did nothing to diminish their power over Elias. Tears welled in his eyes, and he pulled Coraline close to him again. He babbled out a constant stream of praise and gratitude in her ear, his sweet words washing over her like a waterfall as his joy refused to be contained.

Coraline shivered at the way his voice caressed her ear, his praise making her feel molten inside even as he surrounded her in that supernatural contradicting combination of cold and warmth. It made her crave more, more of Elias and the endless love he gave to her without reservation.

“Elias,” she said, her breathy voice interrupting his flow of praise. “Can I kiss you?”

Elias jerked upright, his face darkening with a blush that spread so far that it reached past the divide in his neck. “K-kiss? You want to… b-before our wedding? O-oh my, I… oh Coraline.”

His fluster made Coraline feel a little shy as well. “Is that a no?”

“No!” Elias blurted out before shaking his head emphatically. “I mean yes! It’s a yes! Yes, I wish to kiss you, my beloved Coraline! A thousand times yes!”

Coraline giggled at such an enthusiastic response and reached up to gently cup his cheeks. Elias jolted at the touch, but recovered quickly, his grip tightening on her just a little bit more. He let her draw him in to her and closed his eyes just as their lips made contact.

It was a clumsy kiss, his lips a bit tight from nervousness and hers fumbling a bit with uncertainty, but it did nothing to diminish its power. The feeling that sparked between them was electric, coursing through their souls in a way that left them both dazed when the kiss finally ended.

“I… my word,” Elias muttered, feeling dazed as he slowly drifted them both back down to the floor. “That was… that… I…”

“Wow,” Coraline said breathlessly.

Elias nodded as his gaze focused on his blushing bride. “Yes, that was certainly… wow.”

A delighted giggle escaped Coraline. She felt bubbly, lighter than air even when her feet finally touched the ground again. She couldn’t stop smiling up at her fiancé as she stroked his flushed cheeks. “Can we do it again?” She pushed herself up on her toes to inch in a little closer to him. “Maybe practice for the wedding?”

“Y-yes of course,” Elias said a little too eagerly. “It’s ah… ahem, I think practicing for our wedding would be a wonderful idea, my dear.”

Another giggle escaped Coraline that soon melted into a sigh as their lips met again. Their second kiss was a little softer than the first, a little more sure, but it was no less blissful for them both.

It wouldn’t be long before their wedding was underway. Even though everything was rushing so fast and common sense would tell Coraline that marrying Elias was a foolish decision, when they kissed, all doubts disappeared. Nothing else in the world ever felt more right to her than accepting the proposal of the lonely ghost groom of the Gallagher mansion.

[redahlia-writes]

for the write poll tag game, won by the roy kent wip (dear god what have i done)

this fic was born out of me knowing jack shit about football, so watching ted lasso was an experience. but also roy kent <33 and i thought of playing a little bit on that (transl. i was being self-indulgent)

i've never written for him before so the characterization feels a bit off, and it is a wip in its very early stages, coming directly from my notes app so be kind please. also i'm not 100% sure i counted the votes right (i failed maths three times let me be)

“no! i mean—i didn't mean you, i'm sorry,” she said, alarmed, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “i wasn't calling you an asshole. i was calling him an asshole—sorry.” “you said that already,” he mused, and watched her press her lips together in a harsh line, as if keeping the next 'sorry' trapped between her teeth.

“that was a first date? jesus.” “charming, right?”

“ah, shit. love's gonna kill me.” “what?” “uh, nothing. well—my friend lent me this dress,” he looked at her, still puzzled. “her name's love. she actually set this up, thought it'd be funny if i could say 'love brought us together'.”

“good. well, it was nice meeting you, but i'm exhausted—i'll see you tomorrow,” she pointed in roy’s direction, a mock warning tone. “sure,” he sighed. “bye, keely.” as she walked away, roy saw her turn around and, from behind the woman's shoulder, give him two thumbs up and a wide grin. he scoffed.

“so, where are you from?” “well, huh, not here.” “are you fucking with me?” “sorry,” she laughed this time, leaning a little bit closer with the ripple of it. “it's just—i don't know- it's stupid. i'm always extra cautious during first dates with what i say about me,” her eyes widened then, quickly glancing at him. “not that—i mean this isn't—fucking hell.” “it could be,” he shrugged.

“well, i better get—” “can i get your number?” roy asked, hands stuffed in his pockets. she was already turning away from him with a smile, and stopped mid-step. “i thought i'd ask.”

“roy kent? like the footballer?” she asked, looking at her phone screen. “i—sure. that.” he chuckled, and a pout took over her lips. “why are you laughing? is that not his name?” “no, no, you're right. just—didn't realize how much you're not from here.”

good, he typed. and then: do you want to go on an actual date? - depends. know any decent place with actually very good food? that is very specific. - i don't like fancy places, but i do enjoy a good meal alright then. i can cook for you. - oh, so you're a serial killer and i'm your next victim you asked for a good meal. - you own a restaurant? no, but i own a house. - see? serial killer. inviting me to your place on the first date. technically second. he hurried to add the next text. would you prefer yours? - god no, this place won't fit both of us, let alone the good meal you're promising roy let his fingers hover over the screen as the three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared. - alright then. but i will send love your address in case she doesn't hear from me after a couple of days now i know my time limit to make your body disappear. - dang it. a pause. oh, well. i'll take that risk.

“i don’t know the first thing about football, never learned.” “but you know roy kent?” “are you kidding me? you can’t take a walk without hearing that chant—real catchy, actually.”

“you enjoyed me making a complete ass of myself, didn't you?” “no, actually. it was nice to be just roy.”

“i never know when women are attracted to me because of me or because i'm me.” “who said anything about attraction?” she scoffed in mock offence, turning her head towards the other side. roy shifted closer, his chin pressing onto her shoulder. “your clothes are scattered around my living room,” he murmured, and saw at the corner of his eye her mouth split in a bashful grin. “i’m willing to bet you don't find me utterly repulsing.”

[kemetstuck]

(There are a number of ways of reading this spread, so I’m just doing the version I learned. This differs from the “pull order” of the poll, but that’s a bit over-structured anyway, so this adds a bit of randomness)

Querent: the Hermit. Perhaps the best of the Major Arcana to describe Tumblr, especially positioned amongst the current social media crises of commercialization and otherwise being destroyed by capitalist whims. We are over here doing our own thing and refusing to participate.

Issue: Five of Cups. The loss of potential here can refer to our general pessimism and cynical view toward the rest of the internet economy, or, for a more internalized view, our tendency to hyperfocus on negatives and the ever-present issue of Conservative Puritanical Culture In A Gay Hat and how it ignores any positive or reasonable takes in favor of the most negative and divisive.

Recent Past: Ten of Pentacles. We’ve seen a recent boom of growth and prosperity; the folks behind Wordpress purchased Tumblr after it changed corporate hands multiple times, and they actually seem to get us. Normal ads are sufficiently shitposty, and users are able to blaze their own posts for relatively cheap, as well as additional self-indulgent things we love around here, like inflicting crabs, and having a million checkmarks. We’ve also seen a very recent influx in members migrating en masse from Twitter.

Near Future: the Tower. Not great! Is this about Tumblr? Or social media in general? Could this refer to the Gonzalez v Google Supreme Court case that could alter the face of the internet forever? We already saw how drastically changed our environment was after SESTA/FOSTA and Apple’s draconian content guidelines. If platforms are suddenly liable for any and all content posted on them… well. This is the Fringe Weirdo Fandom website. Whatever it is, it’s going to shake us up to near destruction and we’ll have to rebuild. We’ve done it once; one can reasonably hope we can do it again.

Subconscious and unknown influence: Knight of Swords. We are quick to judge, and quick to act.Taking a stance loudly and immediately isn’t necessarily a flaw, but we do have a tendency of fear-mongering without enough information, based around rumors and assumptions.

Conscious and known influence: Eight of Wands. We have an energy that propels us forward with confidence, because our goals are very attainable: just existing and sharing our weird little ideas and weird little worlds with each other. We know we are generally unaffected by the whims of the rest of the internet, and consider it one of our strengths.

Attitude and self-perception: Queen of Cups. We are SO openminded and compassionate, you guys. Or so we think. People here have a strong sense of personal intuitiveness and emotional wisdom that is sometimes misplaced.

Environment, additional key players, or perception by outsiders: Queen of Wands. Other social media denizens see us as confident, creative, funny, and independent. We march by the beat of our own kazoo. In the coming uncertainty, we may be looked toward as a model of how to handle abrupt and drastic change, which we should not take lightly.

Advice, or Fears and Hopes: Ten of Swords. There’s genuine fear around the end of the internet as we know it. We feel powerless to stop something that feels inevitable. We’re burnt out from years of political outrage. But as much as we can’t control what will happen, we can control our responses to it, and we’ve proven in the past that we can pivot and find community connection through adversity.

Result: Four of Pentacles. Control will be exerted, one way or another. This card tends toward conservatism, and speaks toward fear of losing the scant fortune you have left. We may end up self-policing in new ways to try to avoid outside actors from taking control, but this isn’t necessarily the best for our community, as an obsession with rule adherence is antithetical to creativity and thriving artistically.

Tl;dr:

Been trying to work out how to do this right for a while now. It still doesn't really work, but read fully before voting.

Choose an option at random. The current percentage of each option decides which card you get. If you're lucky, once enough people have voted, you should get 10 cards (2 of each suit, 2 of the Major Arcana)

Major Arcana: 0% = The Fool, 1% = The Magician, 2% = The High Priestess 3% = The Empress, 4% = The Emperor, 5% = The Hierophant 6% = The Lovers, 7% = The Chariot, 8% = Strength, 9% = The Hermit, 10% = Wheel of Fortune, 11% = Justice, 12% = The Hanged, 13% = Death, 14% = Temperance, 15% = The Devil, 16% = The Tower, 17% = The Star, 18% = The Moon, 19%= The Sun, 20% = Judgement, 21% = The World, 22% = Fool (If it's over 22%, minus 22 from the number until it's under)

Minor Arcana (Cups, Wands, Swords, Pentacles): 1% = Ace, 11% = Page, 12% = Knight, 13% = Queen, 14% = King 0% = no card. (If it's over 14%, minus 14 until it's under) So, if the results look like this:

Your spread would be: Judgement, Knight of Cups, 7 of Wands, - , 2 of Pentacles, High Priestess, 4 of Cups, 4 of Wands, 2 of Swords, Page of Pentacles,

[luveline]

baby blurb for rockstar!remus :3

maybe a rainy day stuck in the hotel in bed.

its raining where i live right now so this is kinda self indulgent. hope ur day/night is going well jade <3

this one didn't win the poll i just wanted to do it rly bad ty for ur request ilysm. tw really weak dirty joke ♡ gn!reader

You're staying in a hotel in the middle of the city, and Remus can't really leave without getting mobbed by fans these days anyways, so the rain isn't a bad thing after all. You crack the window enough to hear the sound, and Remus turns the thermostat up really, really high to fight the chill.

"C'mere, loverboy," you demand, hands reaching down the length of the bed for him.

He rolls his eyes at your position, your socked feet held up by the headboard and your head in the middle of the sheets, and flops down next to you. The two of you look like interlocked commas, heads bent together.

"Remus," you say softly, because demanding isn't working. "Lay down with me."

"I am."

You implore him to do as you do with a very gentle gaze. Eventually, reluctantly, he does what you're hedging for and puts his feet up on the headboard beside yours. When he lays back, his hair spreads out over the sheets in a small, silky wave.

"Happy?" he asks.

You grab one of his hands and bring it to your mouth, kissing his callused fingers one at a time rather than answer. You lay like that for a while, longer than you should, murmuring to each other until Remus makes a dirty innuendo and his lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. You laugh, sudden and hard, chest aching as you drop your feet from the headboard and curl toward him.

He pulls you into his chest, breath warm in your hair and on your skin as he asks, "What's so funny?"

"Don't play dumb," you protest, shaking with laughter still on top of him.

He rubs your hairline with his pinky finger distractedly. "Don't see what's so humorous about my big affliction-"

"Huge," you interject.

"Charmer."

You turn into his hold and needle your arms behind his back, hugging him so tight that the sound of his heart rivals the pittering rain. "You mean your heart."

"Obviously. What else do I have that's big, warm and throbbing?"

You gasp, scandalised and offended. "That's awful!" You giggle like a hiccup, the facade slipping very quickly. "Throbbing. Ew. Nobody would ever believe that you just said that to me, you know?"

"I know."

You like the insinuation, that you're the only person in the world who knows Remus like this, and who gets to hear his stupid, gross jokes. He must be thinking the same thing. His fingertips slip down your spine until you shudder, and then he takes a big handful of your waist and squeezes.

"Love you," he says quietly.

"Love you. And your huge, warm-"

He kisses you before you can say it.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 1,839

Warnings: None

Summary: You and Rose apply makeup before The Doctors self proclaimed “theatre event” that he’s taking you to. When the Doctor comes in to complain about the amount of time you’ve taken, you and Rose pull a small prank on him. That’s it, that’s the plot.

A/N: This was completely self indulgent, I've wanted to be Rose’s best friend since I was 9, so that’s basically all this is.

You hummed along to the music playing softly in the background. It had been a fair while since you had listened to early 2000’s music; travelling on the TARDIS didn’t leave much time for nostalgia, what with the different planets, the aliens, and completely different time periods from when your existence wasn’t even a sparing thought.

Still though, it was nice to take a break every now and again.

“It’s not really nostalgia though, is it,” Rose said from beside you after you brought it up. “I mean, this song’s only a year or so old. We used to play it in the shop.”

“Before it blew up.”

“Ha yeah,” Rose grinned. “Before it blew up.”

“Although,” you raised an eyebrow at her and reiterated the year you were from. “It’s definitely nostalgia.”

Rose rolled her eyes good naturedly, then pointed to the vanity next to you. “Can you pass the eyeliner over?”

You hummed and reached over to the one she was pointing at; it was an eyeliner pencil, a black one with a little sharpener on the lid.

It sat on a vanity made of warm mahogany wood, among a myriad of makeup from foundations, eye shadow palettes, lipsticks, and rouge.

Beside it and in front of you and Rose was a large mirror that ran from the floor to the ceiling, on the only solid wall in the TARDIS’ wardrobe. You and Rose liked to think The TARDIS had made the area specially for you both, so you could do your makeup together.

You plopped back down onto the floor and passed the eyeliner to Rose, who was sitting cross legged and doing the finishing touched to her foundation.

You were poised to go to a theatre event - what it was exactly, the Doctor wouldn’t tell you. It didn’t matter if you often wore makeup often or not, right now, you were feeling it, and you figured a theatre event was a nice opportunity to change things up a bit.

You frowned at the eye shadow palette in front of you, trying to work out which colours would blend the best and how you could actually use it.

You jumped as one of your favourite songs from the early 2000’s began playing, turning to Rose with a grin. She was looking at you with an equally bright smile, her right eye only half painted with the eyeliner pencil left dangling in her hand. Almost instinctually you both broke out into song, singing along terribly.

Your voice cracked at one of the high notes, and Rose laughed, shaking you lightly as she continued. The make-up was forgotten as the pair of you danced, moving in a way that was particularly reminiscent of some sort of Tik Tok routine.

Not that you would tell Rose that particular tidbit, it was a bit early to explain Tik Tok to her.

At the end of the chorus Rose stumbled with her words over the lyrics. It was so surprising that it shocked you out of your exuberance, and the pair of you were left giggling on the floor. The song played in the background, a harmony to your laughter.

The Doctor cleared his throat, and you reached over in between your laughter to turn the music down. From this angle you could see him clearly, he was leaning against a poll behind you, sans coat, with only two of the buttons on his pinstripe suit done up.

You gazed at Rose, who raised her eyebrow at you and smirked playfully. “Did’ja need us Doctor?” She turned back to the mirror, applying her eyeliner and trying to stifle her laughter.

“Dunno,” he said. You looked up at his reflection in the mirror in front of you, locking eyes with you, and he winked, before heaving himself off the poll. “You two’ve been taking an awful long time.”

“What,” you said, and passed Rose her mascara wand, placing the eye shadow back onto the shelf. You’d keep things more natural and match Rose. “You’ve been bored?”

“What – me? Nah, I’m never bored.”

You let out a brief laugh. “Ah yep, that’s completely accurate.”

“Well, again,” The Doctor said. “You both have been gone for a while.”

Rose snorted and picked up your phone, glancing at the display. “We’ve only been about 20 minutes. You’re getting more impatient by the day.”

“Impatient, oh now that’s nonsense,” he drawled and crouched down behind you both. “Now, what are we doing here?”

You waved your eyeliner pen in front of him, and then began drawing on a wing. “You said theatre event so here we are,” you gestured at you and Rose with your free hand. “Getting ready for a theatre event.”

Rose said her thanks for the mascara and began applying her first coat, chewing on her lip as she did so.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye then back at your reflection as you filled your eyeliner in, before starting on your other eye. “How many coats of that do you do anyway?”

Rose hummed. “Dunno, however many I need until I think it looks good.”

You chuckled. It was just so early 2000’s of her. Sometimes, your eyelids looked heavy just looking at her eyelashes.  

Rose looked at you aghast. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you poked your tongue to your teeth as you smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “I was just thinking of makeup trends, how things change.”

“Y’know sometimes, you can be as cryptic as him,” she gestured to The Doctor with her head for good measure, and set out a couple different shades of rouge as the next coat of mascara dried.

The Doctor gawped. “When am I ever cryptic?”

Both you and Rose paused what you were doing so you could stare down his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright fine,” he relented. “I guess sometimes I change the topic of a conversation.” The Doctor cocked his head to the side, watching you both thoughtfully as the pair of you continued on with your makeup. “Why do you both always need to do this, anyway?"

Rose was applying another coat of mascara when she replied. "Come off, you're not having a go at us for wearing makeup now, are you?"

"No, no, not at all, just curious really. I should start factoring this extra time in when I take you two places, because blimey you take a while.” He looked towards the vanity. "And that's a fair amount of it all too, do you really use all of that?"

You stuck your eyeliner pen out as if it were a rod. “Says the man with a collection of hair gel for his gravity defying hair – oh, and could you pass me those eyelashes over there?"

You gestured to the vanity and The Doctor’s gaze followed.

“Eyelashes,” he drawled, standing up and meandering over. You watched his reflection as his hands danced over the various products, until he landed on the pair of false lashes you’d been hoping to apply. He lifted it up, meeting your gaze through the mirror. “These ones?”

You hummed and made a grabbing motion with your hands. “Yeah, thanks.”

The Doctor resumed his crouched position behind you and Rose, and passed you the small box. Your fingers brushed over his lightly as you grabbed the small parcel. You felt a jolt run up through your fingers and up your arm and heard his breath hitch slightly. You took the box out of his grasp and swallowed, ignoring whatever that was.

“False eyelashes,” The doctor grinned, and ran his fingers over his cheek. You tried not think about why he was doing that, it was awfully distracting. “You humans I swear sometimes you do the strangest things. It’s bloody brilliant.”

Rose grinned, and locked eyes with you, holding up the her blush compact and a brush. She nodded her head to the Doctor and you returned her grin, giving her subtle thumbs up.

“It’s not that strange,” you said, distracting the Doctor so he wasn’t watching what Rose was doing. “It’s basically just experimentation, or just making yourself feel prettier.”

Rose swooped in, poking some of her chosen blush onto The Doctors nose.  “You could probably do with some pretty-ing up every now and again yourself.”

He scrunched his face up in protest.

You snorted, laughing at The Doctors reaction, and letting the magnetic eyelashes clip onto your eyes. You blinked a couple of times, letting your eyes adjust to the added weight.

Rose looked to you with a frown. “Wait, don’t you need glue with that?”

You winked at her. “They’re magnetic.”

“Could say the same about you,” The Doctor grinned that ever so charming smile at you, the one that would make you all flustered if you didn’t know any better.

You let a solitary bark of laughter. “That was a terrible pun. It’s a wonder anyone ever takes you seriously,” you grinned to match him. “You look sunburnt, by the way.”

Rose laughed and The Doctor’s hand flew to cover his nose. “Oi, that wasn’t necessary!”

He rubbed at his nose furiously and Rose fell into a pit of laughter. “I ‘spose I could have chosen a different colour.”

“Well Rose,” you eyed the palette, then turned back to her. “It looks great on you.”

The Doctor hummed, pulling his hand away. The rouge was gone. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ like the pair of you.”

“Oh,” you drawled. “So we’re meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ then? Is that it?”

The Doctor spluttered, his eyes growing like saucers. “What? No, that’s – that’s not what I meant at all, you’ve always been pretty, still are of course, with or without the,” he gestured at your face. “Well, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Doctor?”

Rose met your eyes and smirked playfully. “Looks like someone is a little bit flustered.”

The Doctor jumped up, suddenly, as if eager to get a move on. “Well come on you two, this is a time machine, we haven’t got all day!”

You frowned for a moment. “I think that’s the exact opposite of what the phrase ‘time machine’ suggests.”

Rose laughed, sticking out her hand for you to take. “Let’s humour him, shall we.”

“Oh I’m standing right here,” The Doctor said and turned around to take off. He spun back round just as fast, and met your gaze. “And flustered – me? Never,” he tapped against his temple. “I’ve always got a plan up in here.”

He gave you both a cheeky wave and shot off again, giving you no time at all to process what the hell he just said.

You clutched against Rose with one hand, fumbling as you placed the false lashes box back on the vanity. “What do you mean you’ve got a plan?” You called after him. “A plan for what?”

Rose just laughed beside you, and tugged you along. “Well come on, let’s find out then!”

A/N: This isn’t really what I wanted to post this week, but I haven’t had time to write anything new so here’s something from the drafts. I hope you enjoyed it!

[bubblegum-switch]

Good Morning

Word count: 2k

Rating: G (it’s actually completely SFW – you could read it to a child as a bedtime story like there’s nothing even remotely nsfw even the language)

Time: is irrelevant. It’s sometime in the future.

Characters: Keith, Lance

Pairing: Klance

Genre: so fluffy it gave me cavities

Themes: Ticklish!Lance, Ticklish!Keith, who doesn’t love fluffy morning tickle fights?, I’m eternally glad these two tied holy shit, I went for something less cheesy and less urgent than a crying baby btw, this is so Soft I love it, this isn’t as long as I would’ve like but whatever it’s still cute as friCK, also this is domestic as fuck it’s so pure, this is written in memoriam to my cat and also is so self-indulgent you have no idea, this is so #goals it’s not even funny, you can’t convince me Lance wouldn’t sleep shirtless or that he wouldn’t love sleeping with the windows open in summer fiGHT ME, there’s literally 0 angst in this I swear it’s too cute, this feels unfinished but I couldn’t think of any way to extend it, also i’m shit at titles thx

A/N: Remember that contest/poll thing I ran to see who you all thought would hate mornings more? Well, this is what I was planning. Whomever lost would’ve been the ‘lee in this situation, but since they tied… also I meant to have this done for 100 followers but that snuck up really fast, so y’all are getting it now.

A/N 2: ok I actually threw a request in here b/c I could and I really want to clean my prompts out T-T I’m so bad at keeping on track but hey I got one done: Anonymous asked: Ahhh I don't know if your still doing request, but could you do Keith giving The Claw™ To Lance? I feel like that would be super cute ☺️

The sun streamed in through the bedroom windows as the two young men opened their eyes. The cream walls were glowing gold with the ribbons leaking in through the gaps in the blinds, painting pictures that fluctuated as the morning breeze drifted in through the opened windows. Lance always liked them open in summer, and Keith found he liked them too. It was nice waking up to fresh air.

Lance rolled over and met Keith’s strange and lovely purple-ish eyes with his own indigo ones. He smiled at the way Keith’s dark hair fell over his face, and how his lips were slightly parted, and how there was a crease on his face from the wrinkled pillowcase…

Keith chuckled. “Enjoying the view?”

Lance blushed just slightly at having been caught. He smiled sheepishly and looked away for a moment, before snuggling closer. “Like always,” he said, muffled into the red boy’s chest.

Their breaths were evening back out, deepening as their eyelids became heavier once again. In the soft light of the room they were drifting back off—

*Crash*

Their eyes cracked open again as they realized why they had woken up simultaneously the first time.

Keith groaned. “Your turn,” a slight smile was playing on his lips.

Lance turned onto his stomach and hugged his pillow. “No… lemme sleep,” he croaked out in his morning voice. “Besides, before 9am she’s your cat.”

Keith moved closer to Lance and wrapped himself around him, nestling into his side and burying his face into the soft shirt that was used as a pajama top. “It’s 10:13 Lance…”

“…It’s earlier somewhere.”

They heard Violet sprint the length of the house, small paws thundering impossibly loudly for her size. There was another crash. Both groaned, pulling the blanket up further.

“L a n c e …”

“K e i t h …”

“Lance the sooner you take care of her the sooner we can go back to sleep.”

“Ugh, but if I do that I’ll be too awake to go back to sleep. You do it.”

The bedroom door rattled as they saw the perpetrator’s fluffy black paws appear underneath it and begin shaking it.

“K e i t h… the baby’s hungry…” Lance turned over and tried to ignore Keith, hoping to get the last word.

Violet essentially yelled from the other side at them.

“Lance, it’s your turn,” the red paladin buried his face in his pillow as the door continued shaking.

“No…” Lance shot out a hand behind him, aiming for really anywhere on Keith. He heard a yelp as he squeezed his target’s side. “Keith go help the baby,” he smirked as the paws retreated and the little cat left to tear through the house again.

“So, it’s gonna be like that huh?” Keith smiled into the plushness under his face. “It’s your turn, Lance.”

Keith turned his face to see Lance’s back facing him. Lance had gone to sleep without a shirt again, as he so often did on hot humid nights that turned into these soft sunny mornings. He gently traced a finger up and down Lance’s spine as he watched him shudder and saw goosebumps arise on his skin.

Lance squeezed his side again and Keith had to resist the urge to curl up. He bit his lip instead and moved his finger a little faster along his spine. He felt Lance’s breathing become more irregular as he was trying to stifle little breathy giggles threatening to pour out.

“Ihihit’s your tuhuhurn Lahance,” Keith managed to get out. “Cohohome ohohon…”

Lance began feebly drumming his fingers against Keith’s stomach. The angle he was at – arm twisted behind him and acting blindly – made it somewhat difficult. The fumbling led to Keith being able to dust his hand over Lance’s shoulderblades and just at the edge of his armpits, which made him seize up and start giggling uncontrollably as Lance withdrew his hand.

“Keihihith nohohoho…”

“Go take care of Violet and I’ll stop. Then we can both go back to sleep,” he hummed contentedly. He reached the base of Lance’s neck and the blue paladin’s laughs increased in pitch.

Lance turned over and managed to pull himself against Keith. “Just lemme sleeeep…” he slurred, muffled, into Keith’s chest. Keith was also shirtless, since it was just too warm to sleep with a shirt, but also because he really liked that increased contact with Lance.

Now? It might not have been the best idea, he thought as Lance nuzzled into his chest. His hair… it was brushing his skin just enough to make his breath hitch in his throat. Keith brought his hands to Lance’s sides and held him close, in part just to, well, hold him close and enjoy it. It was also a good pinning technique when both parties were still half-asleep.

However, it quickly backfired when he felt fingers drumming at his hips. He retaliated by brushing behind Lance’s ears, causing the blue paladin to huff little breaths into his chest. The fingers never stopped, though.

Lance pressed in a little more. “Just go take care of her Keith…” He smiled against his skin that was still warm from sleep. He started wandering his hands up Keith’s ribs.

“Nohoho Lahahahance—” he tried to swat the wandering hands away, but Lance persisted. He figured he’d take it up a notch, and rolled them over so he was on top of Lance.

The blue paladin looked up at him, smiling lazily. Both were still too asleep to really defend themselves against anything, so Lance just went with it.

Keith spidered his fingers around Lance’s stomach. Lance began laughing more heartily now, but as he had more experience in this kind of thing from his large family, he was able to fight back. He directed his hands up to Keith’s exposed upper ribs where they met his sides. Keith broke out into a stream of giggles and tried to protect himself, rolling back onto the bed with Lance on top now. Lance smiled down at the man he loved more than anything, the sun once again falling across his bright eyes. He leaned down and kissed Keith softly, and instantly felt him return it. Lance cupped his head from behind with a free hand and felt Keith smile into the kiss as he hummed softly.

Then he felt Keith reach up and scratch at his stomach again. Lance instantly broke the kiss with laughter, and Keith laughed in return.

“Oh, that’s rude babe, I can’t even have a kiss?” Lance fake-pouted after composing himself.

The door shook on its hinges again. “It’s your turn, so no, you can’t,” Keith smirked.

“Well I want to stay in bed, so you do it,” he rebutted, turning around and reaching for Keith��s knees. His movements were still groggy, which made it easy to follow him. Keith saw how Lance’s feet were near his arms now, and just as Lance was about to attack his knees Keith struck his soles with light but steady touches.

Lance practically fell over forward, giggling like a maniac now as Keith continued to tickle his scrunched-up soles.

“Come on, the sooner you attend to the baby the sooner you can come back to bed…” Keith said over the effervescent laughter coming from the blue paladin’s mouth.

“Nohohoho Keihihith…”

The cat yelled again from the door.

“Kehihith shehehehe wahahants yohohohou…”

Keith smirked. “No, I think she wants you… come on I want to go back to sleep too.”

The red paladin had to pause for a moment to yawn. Lance used the opportunity as an opportunity to strike back. He twisted around and managed to pin Keith’s arms down at his own sides with his knees. Keith instantly started blushing, body too heavy to move out from under the other paladin.

“Come on babe, ‘the sooner you attend to the baby the sooner you can come back to bed…’” Lance mocked playfully. “Look, I wanna go back to sleep, you wanna go back to sleep, just go feed her and we can come back and snuggle all day.” He smiled down at the one trapped beneath him.

Keith rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. “It’s your turn.”

Lance grinned widely. “Alright, but you could’ve avoided this,” he teased as he used both hands to spider all over Keith’s stomach, ribs, chest and sides. The red paladin turned beet red and laughed heartily, trying his best to escape. He was trapped, but his mind was clearing up as time went on from the adrenaline.

“Lahahance nohohoho ihihihit’s yohohor tuhuhuhurn!”

“You’re putting up quite a fight to avoid feeding a cat, it’s a simple task really,” Lance smirked down at him, now playing his ribs like a piano.

“IhIhIhIhI cohould sahahahay the sahahame thihihing tohohoho you!”

“True, but right now I have the higher ground and I don’t think you’re in any position to be arguing,” he pointed back. He paused to yawn, having needed to since Keith had, and Keith rolled Lance off of him and below him again.

“What was that?” He grinned down at the blue paladin. “Looks like you’re in for it now.” Keith pinned Lance’s arms beneath him, mirroring the reversed position from moments before.

The red paladin grinned as he got an idea. “Lance, it’s your turn to feed her. Will you do it?”

Lance looked confused. “I feel like you’re backtracking here a little, buddy. We’ve already established—oh no.”

Keith chuckled as Lance caught sight of his hand shaping into a claw above them. He started squirming and laughing nervously, and a blush started to spread across his face.

“K-Keith cahan we tahalk about thihis…” he giggled nervously from anticipation.

“Oh, we’re done talking,” Keith practically growled.

Lance’s face turned red at that, and he watched Keith’s hand grow closer and closer to his bare stomach. He couldn’t escape, and he knew what was coming. Not the claw not the claw not the claw not the claw not the claw not th

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt five fingertips make contact with his skin and vibrate madly. He began cackling as Keith smiled over him. Keith knew he couldn’t keep up this forever since this was his worst spot and Lance did need to breathe… but for now he could go for a while.

Lance felt each digit of Keith’s hand vibrate on its own and his laughter nearly went silent. Keith laughed at the squeaks that interspersed themselves among the gasping breaths. Whether Lance’s face being as red as it was amongst wrenched-shut eyes was from the lack of oxygen or simply from being impossibly flustered was unknown, though Keith expected the latter.

Keith did let up soon though, and Lance took in massive breaths of air.

“You… are… gonna kill me… with that someday…”

Keith combed through Lance’s hair with his fingers. “We both know you love it, don’t be such a drama queen,” he said, ending with a kiss to his nose.

Keith rolled off of him and laid beside him as Violet returned to shake the door again.

“You know Keith, I’ve come to a terrifying realization,” Lance said groaning.

“What is it?”

Lance looked dead at him. “We’re both too awake to go back to sleep now, thanks to you.”

The red paladin laughed heartily at him pouting. “Hey you could’ve avoided it if you just did what you were supposed to!”

“You know I never go down without a fight,” he rebutted pointedly.

Keith chuckled at his antics. “You just wanted me to tickle you, huh?”

Lance’s mouth snapped closed and his face grew red.

“Even now you think it’s a surprise that I know,” the red paladin smiled fondly.

“Sh-shut up man,” Lance playfully shoved him, but he came back with a poke to Lance’s side causing the blue paladin to squeak again.

The little cat yelled from outside the door again.

“Ugh… Alright, alright I’m coming,” Lance conceded. “But—”

“But?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“But… only if you help me make breakfast,” he grinned.

“You think I wouldn’t?” He smiled, then winced as the blinds shifted and a sunbeam fell into his eye.

Lance laughed. “Come on babe, let’s get up.”

[jokerepair74-blog]

2:00PM Water Cooler 10/2/2018

By Lambert Strether of Corrente.

Readers, here is a shorter Water Cooler to get you going; I’ll add more when I finish posting on teeth. –lambert UPDATE All done.

Trade

“New Nafta Has American Corn Farmers Breathing Easier” [Bloomberg]. “The U.S.-Mexico-Canada Agreement secured Sunday is expected to allow leaders from the three countries to sign an accord by late November. The accord alleviates the risk that Mexico, the biggest importer of U.S. corn, will turn to competing exporters such as Argentina.” • And just in time for the mid-terms!

“What if Trump’s confrontational trade stance actually works?” [CNN]. “The NAFTA 2.0 agreement, or USMCA as Donald Trump wants to call it — and he would appear to have won the right to call it anything he wants — ought to be sending chills up the spines of diplomats and trade negotiators around the world. Trump largely got his way. And now, no one can tell him his bull-in-a China-shop way won’t work.”

‘Will USMCA affect Canada’s drug prices? Depends on what happens next, experts say” [CBC]. “The United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA) will extend the minimum “data protection” period for an expensive class of drugs known as biologics to 10 years, up from eight. Biologics — some of the most costly drugs on the market — are used to treat a large range of diseases, including many cancers, arthritis and multiple sclerosis. The change could cost Canadian taxpayers tens of millions of dollars annually, according to one estimate.”

UPDATE “Auto makers would gain new certainty on factory investments and other manufacturers would avoid feared disruptions under the new North American trade accord” [Wall Street Journal]. “[The deal] sets the stage for major relief for an auto industry that feared costly new tariffs could unravel two decades of investments under the North American Free Trade Agreement. The new deal is a big win for Detroit’s Big Three auto makers, which rely heavily on factories in Canada and Mexico to build cars and trucks for the U.S. market. But the new rules could also force car companies and their parts makers to alter supply chains to meet tougher new rules on regional content of cars. That’s likely to have more impact on foreign auto makers that source parts abroad.”

UPDATE “Timeline: How a new North American trade deal happened” [Supply Chain Dive]. “Relive the drama of the talks to renegotiate the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) with the timeline below.” • No.

Politics

2020

Concrete material benefits:

I want to congratulate Jeff Bezos for doing exactly the right thing by raising the minimum wage at Amazon and Whole Foods to $15 an hour.

Let me thank the hundreds of Amazon workers who contacted my office and the Fight for $15 movement, which has been leading this effort.

— Bernie Sanders (@SenSanders) October 2, 2018

Sanders gracefully gives credit to the real drivers, too. That said, this could be a smart move by Amazon, which needs warehouse workers in a tight labor market. And Amazon is still a predatory monopoly that should be broken up. And why not $20? Nevertheless, take the win!

“Hillary Clinton’s Favorable Rating Still Low” [Gallup]. Well, the voters are wrong. Again.

“Biden Is Preparing for 2020. Can He Overcome the Hill-Thomas Hearings?” [New York Times]. “[Joe Biden’s] name has been invoked frequently in recent days, mainly by Republicans, for leading the 1991 hearings when an all-male, all-white Judiciary Committee aggressively questioned Anita Hill about claims that Judge Thomas had sexually harassed her. The hearings have long been a source of discomfort with Mr. Biden among Democrats who remember the process.” • Er, can Biden overcome condemning a generation of students to debt slavery?

2018

34 days until Election Day. 34 days is a long time in politics (as we are seeing right now with Kavanaugh. And what about Rosenstein?).

“GOP Cuts Into Democratic Lead for Congress” [Political Wire]. “A new Quinnipiac poll finds Democrats leading Republicans in the generic congressional ballot by seven points, 49% to 42% — a drop from the 12 point lead they had last month.” • One poll….

“Polling in Real Time: The 2018 Midterm Elections” [New York Times]. • This is a neat project. OTOH, in the back of my mind, a small voice is telling me “I hope the voters are gaming the Times….”

“Politics and the New Machine” [Jill Lepore, The New Yorker]. From 2015, still germane: “Pollsters rose to prominence by claiming that measuring public opinion is good for democracy. But what if it’s bad?”

NJ Senate: “New Jersey Senate Poll: Menendez, Hugin in Dead Heat” [Bloomberg]. • Too funny. The Senate hangs in the balance, so the Democrat strategy is to force a corrupt hack like Menendez onto the ballot. Go Blue!

NY-12: “Obama announces endorsement for Ocasio-Cortez” [The Hill]. “Obama is supporting a total of 260 Democratic candidates in his second list for U.S. Senate and U.S. House, governor and state legislature.” • Well, I wish he hadn’t.

* * *

UPDATE “Renovation Records Undercut Ford’s Exit-Door Account” [RealClearInvestigations]. “Ford testified last week that she had never revealed the details of the alleged attack until 2012, when she was in couples therapy with her husband. She said the memories percolated up as they revisited a disagreement they’d had over her insistence on installing a ‘second front door’ when they had remodeled their Palo Alto, Calif., home…. The need to explain a decision her husband ‘didn’t understand,’ Ford testified, pushed her to say she wanted the door to alleviate symptoms of ‘claustrophobia’ and ‘panic attacks’ she still suffered from an attempted rape allegedly perpetrated by Kavanaugh in high school during the early 1980s….. Ford never specified when the renovation took place, leaving a possible impression that it and the therapy session happened around the same time. But documents reveal the door was installed years before as part of an addition, and has been used by renters and even a marriage counseling business. ‘The door was not an escape route but an entrance route,’ said an attorney familiar with the ongoing congressional investigation. ‘It appears the real plan for the second front door was to rent out a separate room.’… Palo Alto city records show that a building permit for an additional room and exterior door was issued to Ford and her husband on Feb. 4, 2008 — more than four years before the May 2012 therapy session where, she says, she first identified Kavanaugh as her attacker.” • This reads to me like the reporter hasn’t actually seen the documents; otherwise, they would be embedded in the post. So presumably we’re relying on the anonymous lawyer for their interpretation. Big if true, though.

Realignment and Legitimacy

UPDATE “No Law Without Politics (No Politics Without Law)” [Jedidiah Purdy, Law and Political Economy]. “[I]t has been an article of faith–or at least a relentless rhetorical trope–on both sides of the [Kavanaugh] fight that ‘politicization’ of the judiciary is a kind of corruption and crisis…. I think we have to look into the abyss and admit the possibility that politics really does come first, that the question is not for or against politicization, but what kind of politicization.” And: “It is a tragedy of American left-liberalism that this idea has less traction than it should as a progressive ideal precisely because there is so much arbitrary exercise of legal power, and so unevenly distributed, that it is easy and understandable to think of rule of law as an elite conceit.” • This deserves careful study, and more attention than I can give it now.

Um:

Twitter has suspended, and perhaps permanently banned, the account of Georgetown Professor C. Christine Fair, apparently due to this tweet: pic.twitter.com/wN2OvrgRcA

— Glenn Greenwald (@ggreenwald) October 2, 2018

To the quesion of fact: Fair can call Kavanaugh a serial rapist if she wants, but that doesn’t make him one. Fair also devalues a serious charge, in the same way that liberal Democrats reflexively emitting “Racist!” devalues that serious charge.

UPDATE “data demystified #4: How liberals and conservatives talk about progressive issues” [Data for Progess]. On college debt: “The clearest disconnect is that language that discusses debt or loans is employed differently by liberals and conservatives. Conservative use this language to talk about their own experiences and how they achieved even with loans. Take this example from someone who identifies as very conservative and opposes free college tuition: ‘I came from a poor economic background, and I have student loan debt. It [was a] choice to enroll in college. It is the student’s responsibility to pay, not taxpayers.’* In contrast, when liberals talk about loans in the context of tuition it is still about their own experiences, but they see it as not wanting others to face the same burden.” NOTE * Which, of course, they do not do.

“Why e-voting is a bad idea for Australia (and maybe the world)” [Asian Correspondent]. • A useful review of how Australia does paper ballots. Ends with a mention of blockchain, though. Get away! Get away!

Stats Watch

No official statistics of note today.

UPDATE Retail: “Study: More People Will Eat Bugs if They’re Up-Marketed as Luxury Item” [Courthouse News]. “According to a study published Tuesday in Frontiers of Nutrition, if marketing can appeal to a person’s self-indulgent tastes they might look past the bug on their plate…. Researchers behind the recent insect study say labels like “eco-friendly” or “fair trade” lose out to advertisements that play up pleasurable aspects, like taste. Insects have not scuttled into the mainstream, but researchers said it’s all about presentation. The study authors note lobster, the marine crustacean with bug-like qualities, is synonymous with fine dining but that wasn’t always the case.” • Fair enough!

Manufacturing: “Primera Air to File for Bankruptcy Citing Airbus Delivery Delays” [Bloomberg]. “[Primera Air], which along with Norwegian Air Shuttle has attempted to upend the existing trans-Atlantic thoroughfare with low-cost, long-haul flights, was forced to pay excessive costs leasing in planes to cover for the ‘severe’ delay in deliveries of the state-of-the-art A321neos. Primera had orders due to be powered by CFM International’s Leap engine…. Airbus’s A320neo family has suffered major delays due to production and design issues with the Leap as well as Pratt & Whitney’s geared turbofan, the competing turbine option on the aircraft.” • Hmm. Both engines?!

The Bezzle: “Unraveling a Tesla Mystery: Lots (and Lots) of Parked Cars” [New York Times]. “In some cases, cars have been marked — with a bar-coded sticker or with grease pencil on the windshield — to indicate that they are inventory vehicles, meaning they have no customers awaiting them. Some markings indicate repairs required before the cars can be sold, like scratches, dents or components that don’t work.”

Tech: “America’s first ‘sex robot brothel’ in Houston faces resistance” [South China Morning Post]. “Kinky S Dolls, a firm that bills itself as the first ‘adult love dolls rent-before-you-buy service in North America’, sells realistic-looking life-size dolls with basic artificial intelligence functions – and also offers them for use by the half-hour or hour at a warehouse in Toronto. Now the firm is targeting Houston as the first market in a planned US expansion, but is meeting resistance from a Christian anti-sex trafficking and anti-pornography group and the city’s mayor.” • Sommi-451, Cloud Atlas: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”

Tech: “Amazon’s Alexa knows what you forgot and can guess what you’re thinking” [Guardian]. “At an event in Seattle on Thursday, the technology company unveiled a new feature called Alexa Hunches that aims to replicate human curiosity and insight using artificial intelligence. ‘We’ve reached a point with deep neural networks and machine learning that we can actually program intuition,’ said Daniel Rausch, the vice-president in charge of Alexa’s smart home features. Once it is activated later this year, Alexa Hunches will observe its owners’ interactions with connected smart home devices like locks, lights and electricity outlets. When Alexa believes it has detected a regular pattern, such as turning off a television set before bed, the voice assistant will remind owners if they forget to do it, and offer to fix the problem.” • If your intuition doesn’t tell you having a device that records your every move and sends it to a corporate server is a bad idea, how good is your intuition?

UPDATE “Fed’s Powell Backs Ongoing Gradual Hikes for ‘Extraordinary’ Economy” (transcript) [Street Insider]. Powell: “The unemployment rate stands at 3.9 percent, near a 20-year low. Inflation is currently running near the Federal Open Market Committee’s (FOMC) objective of 2 percent…. From the standpoint of our dual mandate, this is a remarkably positive outlook. Indeed, I was asked at last week’s press conference whether these forecasts are too good to be true–a reasonable question!”

Honey for the Bears: “75% of the ultra-rich forecast a US recession in the next two years, survey finds” [CNBC]. “The U.S. economy is firing on all cylinders, yet 75 percent of ultra-high net worth investors predict it will hit recession by 2020, a J.P. Morgan survey found. Of those expecting an economic downturn in the U.S., a fifth of respondents — 21 percent — believe it will begin in 2019 and 50 percent expect the next recession to start in 2020.” • It’s like they’re talking themselves into it.

Health Care

“The Real Lesson from the Downfall of Theranos: We Need to Nationalize the Healthcare System” [In These Times]. “[F]or all its insight into the ‘fake it ’til you make it’ culture of Big Tech’s gold rush, Bad Blood [the business history of Theranos] leaves out the same critical point that’s missed in most mainstream media discourse about Silicon Valley’s race to ‘disrupt’ the healthcare sector: It will never, ever happen, and human history offers us no reason to believe that it will. These companies’ business models monetize the failures of our system, and therefore have a vested interest in fortifying the structural barriers to the universal and equitable distribution of care….. Insurers are explicitly incentivized to avoid paying for policyholders’ care, which is why they hire so many administrators to pore over claims in search of technicalities on which to deny them. That’s an inherent tension no app can fix.”

“Taken For A Ride: M.D. Injured In ATV Crash Gets $56,603 Bill For Air Ambulance Trip” [NPR]. “Groggy from painkillers, [Dr. Naveed Khan, a 35-year-old radiologist] managed to ask the doctors how much the flight would cost and whether it would be covered by his insurer. ‘I think they told my friend, ‘He needs to stop asking questions. He needs to get on that helicopter. He doesn’t realize how serious this injury is,’ Khan recalled.” • Impressive. Even “groggy with painkillers,” Khan tries to be a “smart shopper”!

Another world is possible:

Today I had to go to the hospital in Taiwan bc I ruined my knee. The receptionist was hesitant to accept me / I had to sign a waiver saying I wouldn’t sue the hospital for how expensive treatment is for foreigners.

For X-rays, briefly talking to a dr & meds, it was $100 USD.

— Emily Cardinali 柯依薇 (@emilycardinali) September 19, 2018

Police State Watch

“Chile: 20 secret police jailed for Pinochet-era crimes” [Deutsche Welle]. • Finally. I hope the same thing happens to Gina Haspel, one day.

Class Warfare

“Rent control foes hire California NAACP leader after her group opposes initiative” [San Francisco Chronicle].

“The case for paying every American a dividend on the nation’s wealth” [MarketWatch]. “Early in 2019, 100 randomly selected lower-income residents of Stockton, Calif., will start to receive $500 a month. In exchange, they’ll need to do, well, absolutely nothing, and can spend the money on absolutely anything… In many ways Stockton, whose pilot program runs 18 months, is a perfect petri dish in which to rethink and innovate on the centuries-old dilemma of how to give more money to those who need it most. This racially diverse city of about 315,000, 80 miles from far wealthier Silicon Valley and San Francisco, was walloped in the 2008 financial crisis — the median home price plunged almost 70% — and declared bankruptcy in 2012. Though it emerged from that bankruptcy in 2015, Stockton is a stark example of how uneven the U.S. economy’s decade-long recovery has been. The city’s median household income is about $46,000, almost 25% below the national average.” • The headline is deceptive; Stockton’ s residents aren’t getting a “divident” on “the nation’s” [sic] “wealth” because they have no ownership rights. All they are getting is bread (and, presumably, circuses, which Silicon Valley is all too happy to sell them).

News of the Wired

Welcome to the third world:

American tech adoption has flatlinedhttps://t.co/iJgwtZ81kV pic.twitter.com/TVp27emkyt

— son of an asylum seeker, father of an immigrant (@doctorow) October 2, 2018

Poor broadband, lower adoption by elders (no doubt due to the horrible UI/UX of so much software).

* * *

Readers, feel free to contact me at lambert [UNDERSCORE] strether [DOT] corrente [AT] yahoo [DOT] com, with (a) links, and even better (b) sources I should curate regularly, (c) how to send me a check if you are allergic to PayPal, and (d) to find out how to send me images of plants. Vegetables are fine! Fungi are deemed to be honorary plants! If you want your handle to appear as a credit, please place it at the start of your mail in parentheses: (thus). Otherwise, I will anonymize by using your initials. See the previous Water Cooler (with plant) here. Today’s plant (JG):

JG writes: “We are vacationing in Chile and the vegetation is marvelous. Geraniums are as big as hedges. Roses are in bloom. I have no idea what this plant is but I like the art.”

* * *

Thank you!

Readers: Water Cooler is a standalone entity not covered by the annual NC fundraiser. So do feel free to make a contribution today or any day. Here is why: Regular positive feedback both makes me feel good and lets me know I’m on the right track with coverage. When I get no donations for five or ten days I get worried. More tangibly, a constant trickle of small donations helps me with expenses, and I factor that trickle in when setting fundraising goals. So if you see something you especially appreciate, do feel free to click the hat!

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This entry was posted in Guest Post, Water Cooler on October 2, 2018 by Lambert Strether.

About Lambert Strether

Readers, I have had a correspondent characterize my views as realistic cynical. Let me briefly explain them. I believe in universal programs that provide concrete material benefits, especially to the working class. Medicare for All is the prime example, but tuition-free college and a Post Office Bank also fall under this heading. So do a Jobs Guarantee and a Debt Jubilee. Clearly, neither liberal Democrats nor conservative Republicans can deliver on such programs, because the two are different flavors of neoliberalism (“Because markets”). I don’t much care about the “ism” that delivers the benefits, although whichever one does have to put common humanity first, as opposed to markets. Could be a second FDR saving capitalism, democratic socialism leashing and collaring it, or communism razing it. I don’t much care, as long as the benefits are delivered. To me, the key issue — and this is why Medicare for All is always first with me — is the tens of thousands of excess “deaths from despair,” as described by the Case-Deaton study, and other recent studies. That enormous body count makes Medicare for All, at the very least, a moral and strategic imperative. And that level of suffering and organic damage makes the concerns of identity politics — even the worthy fight to help the refugees Bush, Obama, and Clinton’s wars created — bright shiny objects by comparison. Hence my frustration with the news flow — currently in my view the swirling intersection of two, separate Shock Doctrine campaigns, one by the Administration, and the other by out-of-power liberals and their allies in the State and in the press — a news flow that constantly forces me to focus on matters that I regard as of secondary importance to the excess deaths. What kind of political economy is it that halts or even reverses the increases in life expectancy that civilized societies have achieved? I am also very hopeful that the continuing destruction of both party establishments will open the space for voices supporting programs similar to those I have listed; let’s call such voices “the left.” Volatility creates opportunity, especially if the Democrat establishment, which puts markets first and opposes all such programs, isn’t allowed to get back into the saddle. Eyes on the prize! I love the tactical level, and secretly love even the horse race, since I’ve been blogging about it daily for fourteen years, but everything I write has this perspective at the back of it.

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Source: https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2018/10/200pm-water-cooler-10-2-2018.html

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #170

BTVS 6X17 NORMAL AGAIN

DON’T FORGET TO VOTE ON THE SEASON 6 POLLS!

Stray thoughts

1) I usually enjoy alternate universe episodes, and this is no exception. Shit got serious super quickly…

2)   But then the demon is gone and Buffy is just passed out against the car?

So if the Trio wanted to kill her, wasn’t this the perfect opportunity? Or if they knew how to summon this demon so that she would think she was crazy, why didn’t they do it earlier? I mean, on the one hand, it makes for a great episode, but on the other hand, it kind of doesn’t make sense.

3) Sweet Willow!

WILLOW: Hi, Tara, how are you? Well, I was wondering, maybe, you would wanna go out sometime? For coffee... food... kisses and gay love?

4) I love the fact that we got this little glimpse into Tara’s life outside the Scoobies, even if it’s only meant to make Willow jealous.

She has friends, okay? Other friends! She’s not just Willow’s girlfriend, even if that’s most of we got to see. And she’s still taking her classes. And she really seems to have become more confident and self-assured.

5) This is BFFing done right…

BUFFY: How come you're all, home, hearth, and DSL anyway? I thought you were gonna go see Tara. WILLOW: Saw her. Saw her completely. BUFFY: Ouch. Just got a scratch from all that brittle. WILLOW: It's... when I was seeing her, she was seeing someone else. A girl. BUFFY: You mean- WILLOW: I mean... not "seeing" seeing. Well, maybe. I don't know, it was inconclusive, and I didn't stick around to find out. Might have magicked my fist through a wall or something, BUFFY: Will, I'm sorry. WILLOW: I mean, they're probably just friends. I press my lips against my friends’ all the time. BUFFY: I'm sure they're just friends. Once you fall for Willow, you stay fallen.

6)   Xander really doesn’t know what he wants, though… which is precisely the reason he shouldn’t be looking for Anya and start “dating” her again...

XANDER: I don't know how stuff got so mixed up! I blew it. BUFFY: No. Wel ... maybe it wasn't the best time to break up with her, but... XANDER: No. It wasn't about breaking up. I love her, and god, I miss her so much. WILLOW: So, you left her at the altar, but you still wanna- BUFFY: You still wanna date? XANDER: I guess. I know that I'm a better person with her in my life. But things got so complicated with the wedding, and with my family, and with her... demons, and... what if it all goes to hell, and forever? But then I left... and ever since... I've had this painful hole inside. And I'm the idiot that dug it out. I screwed up real bad.

7)   This is a very underrated Spuffy moment, I think…

Even if she admits she’s not there looking for him, she does stop and sit down to talk to him. It definitely looks like she misses him, probably not in the “I can’t live without you I love you so much” kind of way but in the “you’re someone who sort of understands me and whom I occasionally enjoy talking to.” And she opens up and tells him all the Scoobies going-ons. I don’t know, I think it’s all kind of sweet.

8) Now this was a plot twist (and I don’t think it was a coincidence that she blacked out when her friends started fighting…)

Because, you see, she escapes from the harsh reality in which her friends are fighting and she’s been secretly sleeping with someone who she’s supposed to hate (and whom most of her friends certainly hate...) to a fantasy world in which the person she finds the most comfort in is still alive and there to help her.

9) I really love this AU, guys. I mean, I don’t love the fact that Buffy’s crazy in it, and that’s she’s not really Buffy... but I think it’s cool how it could actually be true, you know?

BUFFY: What is this? DOCTOR: Do you know where you are, Buffy? BUFFY: Sunnydale. DOCTOR: No, none of that's real, none of it. You're in a mental institution. You've been with us now for six years. Do you remember?

10) I really think this is all very well written. It all just makes sense, you know? (which is exactly the reason Buffy will start to call her own reality in question...)

DOCTOR: For the last six years, she's been in an undifferentiated type of schizophrenia. (...) Buffy's delusions are multi-layered. She believes she's some type of hero. (...) The Slayer, right, but that's only one level. She's also created an intricate latticework to support her primary delusion. In her mind, she's the central figure in a fantastic world beyond imagination. (...) She's surrounded herself with friends, most with their own superpowers... who are as real to her as you or me. More so, unfortunately. Together they face... grand overblown conflicts against an assortment of monsters both imaginary and rooted in actual myth. Every time we think we're getting through to her, more fanciful enemies magically appear- (...)  A magical key. Buffy inserted Dawn into her delusion, actually rewriting the entire history of it to accommodate a need for a familial bond.  Buffy, but that created inconsistencies, didn't it? Your sister, your friends, all of those people you created in Sunnydale, they aren't as comforting as they once were. Are they? They're coming apart. (...) Buffy, you used to create these grand villains to battle against, and now what is it? Just ordinary students you went to high school with. No gods or monsters... just three pathetic little men... who like playing with toys.

I especially love the meta-commentary on Dawn’s appearance and her impact on the show’s mythology, and the one on The Trio and how un-big-bad they are.

11) And then the retcon...

WILLOW: You are not in an institution. You have never been in an institution. BUFFY: Yes, I have. WILLOW: What? BUFFY: Back when I saw my first vampires... I got so scared. I told my parents... and they completely freaked out. They thought there was something seriously wrong with me. So they sent me to a clinic. WILLOW: You never said anything. BUFFY: I was only there a couple of weeks. I stopped talking about it, and they let me go. Eventually... my parents just... forgot. WILLOW: God. That's horrible. BUFFY: What if I'm still there? What if I never left that clinic?

And while it may give another layer to why Buffy always tried so hard to hide her identity from her mother (I still think the only reason she didn’t say anything was to protect Joyce, but I’ll concede this might be another reason…), there are a lot of lines and moments between Buffy and Joyce in previous seasons that really don’t make sense in light of this new information. Like, why would Buffy joke about vampires in front of her mom knowing that the last time she claimed they were real she ended up in a mental institution? Or how come when Buffy “came out” in Becoming Joyce looked as if this was the first time she’d heard any of this (which it was! hence her reaction)? I get the writers try to explain away the lack of reference in previous seasons to Buffy’s stay in a mental institution by claiming that their parents eventually forgot and that she never brought it up because she was only there a couple of weeks. But I still feel like this would have come up at some point or another, and it certainly makes moments like this...

...odd to say the least.

12) I hate Spike for making this about him. He honestly believes the only reason Buffy is indulging in the mental institution fantasy is so that she can pretend she has never slept with him. He knows, probably better than anyone else, the kind of issues she’s been dealing with since she was brought back. You might be good in the sack, Spike, but there is a myriad other reasons Buffy’s trying to delude herself. Get a grip.

SPIKE: So, she's having the wiggins, is she? Thinks none of us are real. Bloody self-centered, if you ask me. XANDER: Spike, we need muscle, not color commentary. SPIKE: On the other hand, it might explain some things... this all being in that twisted brain of hers. Yeah. Thinks up some chip in my head. Make me soft, fall in love with her, then turn me into her soddin' sex slave- XANDER: What?! SPIKE: Nothing. Alternative realities. Where we're all little figments of Buffy's funny-farm delusion.

A) Bloody self-centered? Pot, meet kettle. B) If anyone shouldn’t have been surprised to find out Buffy had been sleeping with Spike, it should’ve been Xander. Evidence: 1. the touchy situation he ran into at Buffy’s kitchen in Gone. 2. the ghost “exercise” in the same episode. 3. THIS. Spike basically admitted to it!

13) I think this is an underrated funny moment if you ask me.

SPIKE: Oh, balls. You didn't say he was a Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik. XANDER: 'Cause I can't say glar...

14)   And why wouldn’t Buffy give into this reality?

JOYCE VOICEOVER: You don't have a sister, Buffy.

BUFFY:  Dawn? JOYCE: No, honey. Say it. It'll help you believe it.

BUFFY: I ... don't ... have a sister. I know I, I didn't grow up with her. These monks, they-they made her.

HANK: It's your mind, just playing tricks on you.

JOYCE: You're our little girl, Buffy. Our one and only. We've missed you so much. Mom and Dad just want to take you home and take care of you.

15) Ay ay ay Dawn, I get you, I really really do, but this is so not the time…

DAWN: I'm not even there, am I? BUFFY: What? DAWN: You said it a second ago. You don't have a sister. It's your ideal reality, and I'm not even a part of it.

A) Why would Buffy’s ideal reality be being a patient in a mental asylum? B) Buffy is clearly struggling to juggle the two realities and to try and discern what is real and what is not, so maybe cut her a break if her mind is playing tricks on her?

16) You’re a pig, Spike. (Also, I can’t help but notice the parallels between this scene and the one with Buffy and Angel in earshot. I don’t know if the writers intended for this scene to parallel that one, but it’s made abundantly clear why soulless Spike is not right or good for Buffy. While Angel took care of Buffy and put her needs first, Spike takes the opportunity to make it all about him and to hurt her and threaten her.)

SPIKE: I hope you don't think this antidote's gonna rid you of that nasty martyrdom.  See, I figured it out, luv. You can't help yourself. You're not drawn to the dark like I thought. You're addicted to the misery. It's why you won't tell your pals about us. Might actually have to be happy if you did. They'd either understand and help you, god forbid... or drive you out... where you can finally be at peace, in the dark. With me. Either way, you'd be better off for it, but you're too twisted for that. Let yourself live, already. And stop with the bloody hero trip for a sec. We'd all be the better for it. You either tell your friends about us ... or I will.

He’s trying to dress his intentions of trying to force her to come clean to her friends as selfless (you’d be better off for it) but in reality, he’s desperate because he’d expected Buffy to come back running into his arms by now, and she hadn’t. So this is his last ditch effort to manipulate her.  

17) And then...

Bravo, Spike.

But see... this is the reason she made this call:

BUFFY: I wanna be healthy again. What do I have to do?

“I wanna be healthy again.” It all boils down to that. This is how she feels in both realities. She wants to be healthy, she wants to feel normal, she wants to be herself again. The difference lies in the question: “What do I have to do?” In the real world, Buffy is clueless and more importantly, she doesn’t have anyone to rely on and guide her. In the other reality, not only does she have her parents, but she also has a doctor who is willing to give her a practical answer to that question. She won’t have to figure it out all on her own. She’ll be told what to do, how to fix everything, how to make herself feel better. And then she’ll do it, and it’ll be over.

18) I love how her death is explained…

DOCTOR: You have to start ridding your mind of those things that support your hallucinations. You understand? There are things in that world that you cling to. For your delusion, they're safe-holds, but for your mind they're traps. We have to break those down. BUFFY: Slaying? DOCTOR: Yes... but I'm talking about those things you want there. What keeps you going back. BUFFY: My friends. DOCTOR: That's right. Last summer, when you had a momentary awakening, it was them that pulled you back in.

I mean, that was quite literally what happened...

19) Now, this was a long time coming…

Sorry, Xander stans, I had to. He didn’t deserve it in this episode, though, but I just couldn’t help myself. 

20) The real plot twist is the fact Buffy hadn’t questioned her own sanity before this episode…

BUFFY:  'Cause what's more real? A sick girl in an institution... or some kind of supergirl... chosen to... fight demons and... save the world. That's ridiculous.

21) Buffy basically gave away her affair with Spike here, didn’t she?

BUFFY: A girl who sleeps with the vampire she hates?! Yeah, that makes sense.

How did Dawn forget about this? Also, I know the focus of this episode is Buffy, and I know before I said Dawn’s complaints were ill-timed. But I can’t imagine what it must’ve been for Dawn – who had doubted her own realness multiple times because of her origins – to know the person she loves the most in the whole world believes she’s just a figment of her imagination.

22) Bless Tara for her good-timing and magic powers!

And poor Tara!

23)

JOYCE: Buffy? Buffy! Buffy, fight it. You're too good to give in, you can beat this thing. Be strong, baby, ok? I know you're afraid. I know the world feels like a hard place sometimes, but you've got people who love you. Your dad and I, we have all the faith in the world in you. We'll always be with you. You've got... a world of strength in your heart. I know you do. You just have to find it again. Believe in yourself.

I think it’s rather fitting that Buffy find the strength to try and fight her depression by talking to her mom, even if it only was a hallucination. Buffy was feeling lost and defeated and helpless and like she couldn’t cope with… life. She was desperately looking for adult support because she didn’t feel like an adult herself, and she didn’t know what to do, how to fix things. The one parental figure who was still alive had skedaddled when she needed him the most. So, of course, she looked for comfort in her mom in any way she could. And I love the fact that we are lead to believe Joyce’s speech is about convincing Buffy to give into the mental institution reality while in fact, it’s the other way around. Buffy wants to feel like herself again, she wants to be healthy and normal – but her own definition of normal, not the one from hallucination land. And Joyce gave her the strength she needed to face her depression and try and overcome it. This was indeed a turning point for Buffy in this season. I think from now on, she will actively try to get better, and we’ll see her struggling her way to “normal.” I mean, even after what happens in Seeing Red, she still wants to live. And I love how Joyce’s words of encouragement are very similar to Buffy’s own “the hardest thing in this world is to live int it” speech.

24) And then she’s back… and this whole scene reminds a lot of her fight against Adam in Primeval… like, it’s almost a play-by-play of it...

And then the sun shines behind her…

25)  And of course, the open end…

which, in my opinion, only means Buffy’s still under the effects of the demon’s drug or whatever (which she is, she hasn’t taken the antidote yet.)

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

A decade of dicks: How NSFW internet pics changed the world for the worse

Has Jeff Bezos' impressive exposure of Pecker finally broken the curse of Weiner? 

Oh yes, we all laugh at the double entendres in the news that the Amazon founder has accused the National Enquirer's owner of blackmailing him over compromising selfies. But it's a grim gallows chuckle, because we live in the decade of the dick pic — an age where one man's inability to keep it in his pants, and the technology that enabled him, literally changed the course of history by helping elevate Donald Trump to the White House.

That man's name, of course, was Anthony Weiner. The disgraced former congressman was not the first man to ever text a picture of his penis; we don't know who that was, but it probably happened about five seconds after the first camera-enabled cellphone went on sale in Japan in 2000. 

SEE ALSO: A survival guide to dick pics (both solicited and unsolicited)

Rather, Weiner was the first politician ever to accidentally tweet a picture of his package, way back in 2011. The junk-filled photo was supposed to be a Twitter direct message to a student in Seattle he was corresponding with, unbeknownst to his wife, top Hillary Clinton aide Huma Abedin. 

This DM fail heard 'round the world was the first in the three-act story of Weiner's downfall, and it was clearly a comedy — with Weiner's old buddy, Jon Stewart, leading the charge on The Daily Show. How innocent the jokes seem now; how little clue we had of what was to come. 

Then came the second act, when Weiner ran for mayor of New York, and another couple of Weiner's correspondents decided to reveal their own dick pics from the congressman. 

Everything about this scandal was captured by a film crew with full access, and you can see the result in the documentary Weiner, now streaming on Hulu. It's funny, but only in the sense of the most cringeworthy Office-style embarrassment comedy. Weiner emerges as a passionate politician paralyzed by his own self-destructive behavior. We watch his marriage to Abedin begin to disintegrate in a series of tense conversations and withering looks.

One of the most telling parts of the Weiner story was that he never met his correspondents. Usually they would reach out via Twitter or Facebook, Weiner would take things to DM or Messenger, and everything unfolded consensually — and digitally — from there. On election night, he literally runs away to avoid meeting one of his correspondents, 23-year-old Sydney Leathers, who had been egged on to confront Weiner by Howard Stern. 

Here was the worst of our social media age in a nutshell: the sad sexting with anyone who would indulge him; the tragic, grainy pictures shared in chat windows by an older man who should have known better; a viral media frenzy sparked again and again by sheer titillation, exposing our baser instincts. 

And then came the third act, where no one was laughing anymore. Weiner was caught in the summer of 2016 sexting with a 15-year-old, an act for which he was later jailed. Because he had sent some messages on a laptop he'd shared with Abedin, the FBI decided it couldn't ignore Abedin's emails on the same device. That led to the infamous Comey letters, re-opening and re-closing the Clinton email investigation a week before the 2016 presidential election.

Since the margin of Trump's electoral college victory was so slim — roughly 77,000 votes total in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania — we've been having heated arguments ever since about why it happened. Russian propaganda on Facebook was a factor. So was Clinton's lack of campaigning in Wisconsin. So was GOP voter suppression. 

But the reopening of the email investigation is the only event where we see a clear drop for Clinton in the polls. In a post-election study, FiveThirtyEight found the net effect was a four-point swing to Trump — enough to put those three key states in the GOP column by less than a point. (The polls were, in fact, more accurate than we remember.)

There are so many if onlys here. If only we'd known what Cambridge Analytica and Wikileaks were really doing behind the scenes. If only Comey had told us that Trump's campaign was also under FBI investigation. If only Abedin had dumped Weiner after the first scandal broke. However, the ultimate "if only" is tied to Weiner himself: If only he hadn't been so tragically compelled to send dick pics, and/or been more open with his wife, the world would be a very different place.

It's a compulsion that, we now know, the world's richest man shares. But Bezos, thus far, seems smarter than Weiner. He didn't deny the story; in fact, he got so far ahead of it that his Medium post may well be taught in PR classes someday. He stood up to a bully with humor, grace, and full disclosure. All of which generated what seems otherwise impossible in 2019: sympathy for a billionaire.

And while Weiner's weiner brought us Trump, Pecker's pecker-related threats may help to bury him. We know that the National Enquirer was Trump's enabler in helping him to bury the threat of adult-film star Stormy Daniels' story of their affair before the election; we know that Pecker and Trump have both been unusually tight with the Saudi regime. 

Bezos claims Pecker was trying to get him to disavow any connection along those lines. Bezos' security expert Gavin de Becker reportedly believes that Bezos' texts were intercepted via a government agency, but he hasn't said which one. He could mean the Saudis, the Russians, one of Trump's own agencies, or something else entirely. 

It's early days yet, but we may be looking at the first ever geopolitical weaponization of a sext. 

If the battle of Bezos’ pants turns out to be the Watergate of the 2010s, I’m officially quitting news https://t.co/vetUlqO1NN

— Chris Taylor (@FutureBoy) February 8, 2019

And there may be worse to come before the decade is out. According to the ongoing lawsuit filed to extricate her from a nondisclosure agreement with Trump, Stormy Daniels has "certain still images and/or text messages" sent by Trump. If she were to be released from the NDA, she could in theory release them to the highest bidder.

We don't know what that means exactly, but speculation has centered on the most horrific option: that Daniels has Trump's dick pics. Which would certainly explain why he was so keen to keep her quiet. As the sex writer Dan Savage noted with horror last year, Trump could break yet another norm by effectively providing the first presidential dick pic. 

Of course, if that were to be released, it would be without the man's consent. Which would at least be a neat reversal of the usual patriarchal power play that unsolicited dick pics represent. But it would also mark a new low in public discourse — one that made the Black Mirror episode "The National Anthem" look like a cheery story about farm animals. One from which the intersection of technology and politics may never recover. 

One thing's for sure — we're a world away from what the makers of those early camera phones would have ever expected. If they had, perhaps they would have paraphrased what Robert Oppenheimer said when he first saw his atom bomb in action: Now I am become dick pic, destroyer of worlds. 

WATCH: Facebook leaks private photos of nearly 7 million accounts

[stephaniearogers]

Snow More Parties in LA: On Mental Health, Snow Days, and Learning to Deal With My Own Insanely High Expectations for Everything

This is a photo of me pretending to have fun on a snow day. It’s a total lie. I hate snow. I used to think I wanted to move to New York until I realized it’s a terrible idea to move somewhere where you hate the weather over 50% of the time. I just don’t have a good track record with snow, and it’s been like this since college. When we had the first snow of freshman year, the entire dorm was freaking out and dancing in the courtyard, and I remember just being kind of........ annoyed. So I went back to sleep. Later in the afternoon, I sat by my window and watched sledders crash joyously into each other, feeling sad and empty because all my friends were hanging out without me.

“I bet they don’t even notice that I’m not there,” I thought moodily, staring out the window. Later, my newsfeed was flooded with cute photos of everyone, and I felt even sadder.

At the time, I thought I hated snow days because there’s so much pressure to be a jolly elf in the snow globe of the world. When I see snow, I expect to go sledding, make snow angels, participate in lighthearted snowball fights, build igloos, and just generally enjoy myself. And then usually, I end up sitting in front of my space heater with bruised knees and a runny nose, examining my body for signs of frostbite.

Honestly, I hate any holiday that comes with the pressure to have a good time, because it invariably falls short of my expectations. Take New Year’s Eve, for instance. Has anyone in the history of ever had a truly great New Year’s Eve? A casual poll of friends and coworkers suggests that no, it’s always weird. (If you have had a fun NYE, PLEASE email me so I can live vicariously.)

Here’s the expectation: me, in a sequined dress, sipping champagne on a balcony. I’m with a beautiful, dark-haired man who kisses me romantically as fireworks explode over the harbor. What harbor? I don’t know. Literally any body of water works for this fantasy. The next morning, there is sex, coffee, and breakfast in roughly that order, no hangover, and a ton of cool Polaroid pictures I can Instagram later to make everyone jealous. So that’s the expectation. 

The reality? Watching the ball drop with my parents in my pajamas. No sequins. No lover. Also no champagne, because my parents are evangelical conservatives who don’t keep alcohol in the house. Nothing says Happy New Year like being completely sober and kissing your cat at midnight.

The best New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had mostly revolved around me getting laid after a five-month dry spell, which I’m not going to bother describing in detail because I’m pretty sure no one wants to hear about my sex life. It was weird. It was cool for a minute, and then it was weird. (Never sleep with someone because you like their silk bathrobe. You think getting laid is worth it...... but it’s NOT. It’s NEVER WORTH IT.)

The second best New Year’s Eve I had was at a Great Gatsby party at an all-inclusive resort in Cancun, Mexico with a boyfriend two weeks after I had cheated on him. His parents paid for the resort. I felt bad. Not bad enough to call off the trip. But it definitely put a damper on things. We pretended to be hopeful about “turning a new leaf” when the fireworks went off, but it didn’t really work because I drank too much and got stuck in a thought loop about how deeply weird Gatsby-themed parties are in light of the fact that Gatsby got none of the things he wanted and is literally dead in a swimming pool of his own blood at the end of the novel, and somehow people are still like, “Great party idea! Should we have jello shots?”

RIP, green light over the dock. RIP, my own high expectations, drowning slowly in the swimming pool of life. Wasn’t it the Buddha that once said that desire is the root of all suffering? I’m so not zen, but maybe he was on to something. Maybe if I stopped wanting a bedazzled, champagne-soaked New Year’s Eve with the man of my dreams, then I would actually be satisfied for a change. Maybe it’s a personal problem.

I was thinking about all this the other day when I saw the forecast for snow. And then I realized that the ACTUAL reason that I hate snow days is because I have depression. Depression that kicks into particularly high gear when it’s snowing. Why? I couldn’t say. But I finally put the pieces together -  this has been an unyielding pattern since that day in the dorms. When the temperature takes dramatic plunges, so does my mental health.

Sometimes it’s worse than others. A couple years ago when I lived in Montford, it was relatively under control. I was a little sad, but I assumed it was because I watched Lost in Translation while I drank a bottle of wine. Now I wonder if the bottle of wine and sad movie was a coping mechanism for something more serious.

Because sometimes, it is serious. This particular snow day, I couldn’t get out of bed. I spent over eight hours in the fetal position, watching the light and shadows shift across my wall and crying without really knowing why. I felt like I was watching life from behind the window. I felt nothing. And that scares me.

I don’t know how to talk about depression to the people in my life. I feel like I cannot wholly claim it because it’s so intermittent; most of the time, I’m fine. And then other times, I wake up with this tremendous weight on my chest, pressing me down into my mattress. Sometimes my whole existence feels like a burden I never asked to bear. And self-isolation imposes itself in extreme: I thought about calling my boyfriend to talk, but to say what, exactly? “I feel empty, and I don’t know why?” It feels indulgent, or selfish. No one wants to hear about how sad I am.

I’ve written a number of pieces about my personal life that were published in a relatively public manner, but this is the first time that I’ve ever written about depression. And it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to write. Which surprises me. How can I write something that casually references cheating on someone I used to love (which was a genuinely awful thing to grapple with at the time) and feel okay with that level of sharing, but then struggle to write 300 honest words about my feelings?

Part of it is because of how much I use humor to mask the intensity of my feelings. The “look at how dumb I used to be, haha!” essays are my favorite because they possess inherent narrative distance, implying that while I was ONCE stupid, I’m not ANYMORE. So I can comfortably discuss subjects like cheating or how I used to snort melatonin to go to sleep at night because if anyone judges me, they’re judging a past version of me.

But to write about depression is to write from the perpetual center of an experience. It’s to write from a place of having no answers at all. What do you write about a dark place when you’re still in it? I can’t pretend that it’s something I’ve moved on from, because I haven’t, and I can’t mask it in humor, because it’s just…I don’t know, not that funny? In the end, it’s easier to just never address it and pretend it’s not a problem.

But that doesn’t do anyone any favors. I’m no jolly elf, and I’m no philosophy guru either, but I feel like the whole point of being alive is to connect over our experiences, both good and bad, and that’s impossible if all we ever talk about is the good things.

A couple weeks ago, a girl I only vaguely know posted a picture of her tattoo on Instagram. It wasn’t a great photo, but the caption was amazing. It was a short paragraph detailing her experience with medication and what it’s like to find your way back to joy after depression. It was so honest, and a great comfort to read. And for that, I am grateful. Because no matter how many times my therapist tells me I need to “accept my vulnerabilities” or whatever, it’s still fucking hard to look someone you love in the eye and say,  “I’ve been really depressed,” or “I couldn’t get out of bed today,” or even just, “I need you with me right now.”

I think we need all the uncomfortable, yet comforting honesty we can get in this world. Sometimes, when it comes to being alive, that’s all we can really expect. Well, that and maybe a little champagne.