#almost NO repeat lines for what had to have been a total of at least 2 hours total in line

[bumpscosity]

It’s okay star tours will have its moment after they add all the new destinations. We’ll see 60+ min waits soon enough

[yandere-wishes]

Spider Bite Love

Synopsis: Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too. 

Warnings: Choking, Biting, Reader is from Miles' universe, Miguel is kinda a perfectionist. Yandere themes.

Author's note: Forgive the Spanish it's mostly found on Google. I took like four months of Spanish back in 7th grade and have retained exactly 0.1% of that knowledge. 

💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙

The future is porcelain, all marble white and reflective crystal. Flying cars and a horizon that echoes soft tamed pastels. Nueva York can almost be described as beautiful. Almost.

If not for the technicalities and lies and the loss of total freedom. 

If not for a fate that's been prewritten. Repeated across centuries and dimensions. So uncontrollable that it practically cultivates inferiority within your heart. An age-old tradition found in every child's tale about dashing heroes and harrowing villains.

If not for the looming uncomfortable, presence known as Miguel O'Hara who refuses to leave you alone. 

Your lover.

Your hero.

Your Spider-man

Although he's not your Spider-Man. Not really. And you're not the love of his life. Not really. You're both just Look-alikes, cheap replicas from a corner dimension. 

It's difficult to comprehend, pondering it encompasses you with an unruly headache. Galling and overpowering, not unlike your so-called "Lover".

To put it simply or rather to oversimplify. You are not meant to be here.  You are from Earth-1610, at least you think you are. It's hard to tell since apparently from what you've gathered there was another (y/n). One who looked just like you, acted just like you, and was essentially you in every microscopic aspect. At least that's what Miguel says, and you've come to learn that he's not awfully good at telling the full truth. 

She died or was killed. As is customary with every hero's first crush.  Thus leaving Miguel without a lover or a prisoner. Depending on which iteration of the story you fancy. 

Then Miles came along disrupting the canon and causing a dimension's wide spider hunt, with Miguel leading the charge. Somewhere along the lines, between chasing down Miles and barking orders at the other Superheroes his secret society was made of. He passes by your window. Caught a rogue glimpse and froze. He'd found you again, after all these years of believing that you were dead. Technically you were dead, his (y/n) was dead. But there was one here, another one, just as radiant and beautiful as his original lover had been. Miguel knew he had to have you. To take you back to his dimension. To complete his Canon. 

Your dimension was doomed anyway. 

So he wasn't really doing any harm. 

You shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to readjust your position as to better gaze out the window at the porcelain city. 

It's almost homogeneous to Miguel himself. 

A perfect city with no room for cracks or mistakes.

A perfect hero who flawlessly preserves the multiverse.

They're both perfect you think as you steal your gaze from the skyline. Although sometimes perfect and pristine aren't always reflective of a person's inner workings. Miguel isn't exactly corrupted but he's far from innocent either. You - and the motley amount of fang marks spread across your body- are living proof of that.

His apartment is clean, spotless, all ceramic tiles and snowy furniture. 

No room for faults or fallacy. His whole life is meant to be errorless. Just like the delicate spider-verse, he's all so keen on protecting. 

The door chimes, a light buzz and a thud. It's hard to remember that this is technically the future. That trivial things such as keys and locks have long since been eradicated. 

Miguel steps in, a bouquet of red and yellow roses grasped within his hand. He walks in as the door buzzes closed behind him. There's a docile look in his eyes as he spots you sitting on the couch. A repeated memory you realize and you wonder if his (y/n) use to wait for him to get back from Spider HQ, all patient and passive like a pretty doll awaiting her master. 

"Para vos, mi querida" he mumbles, somehow apathetic and bashful all at the same time. 

You reach for the flowers a practiced smile bearly tugging at your lips, your fingers curling around the bouquet, then you freeze eyes going wide. 

There's blood on his claws again, pristine rudy red that drips to an invisible tempo. You wonder who he's killed this time. A canon divergent Spider-Man or Spider-Women. A villain running amuck across the city. 

Or some regular civilian he was supposed to protect. A regular civilian who had some interaction with you on one of the rare times Miguel actually agreed to take you out. You wonder but you don't date ask. 

His suit is unscratched -as it always is- His face is bruise-less, so it makes you think that your final hypothesis may just be the accurate one. Miguel's eyes narrow when notices your frozen hand. 

"What's wrong," he asks a gruff edge in his voice, a warning.

One your mind begs you to obey. 

"Who did you kill?" You ask eyes concentrated on the sharp blue razors that make him look more monster than superhero. Your fingers abandon the bouquet's base and return to your side. You try to force your eyes into a glare despite the unruly beating of your fearful heart. 

One look from Miguel snuffs all that resistance out. One dark glare from eyes that can't choose if they wish to be red or blue. Human or hero. Human or monster. And you're back to cowering into the couch cushions. 

"It doesn't matter" he all but barks, a supernatural chill encompasses the room. As he throws the bouquet down onto the ceramic floor. His lips pull back in a snarl, showcasing milky white fangs that gleam in the low lights. 

"It does matter Miguel!" Your voice is raising, itching to scream to yell. To make him understand a fraction of your hatred

"You're supposed to be a hero, a savior, but all you ever do is act like a villain. You stole me from my home, you killed my universe's Spider-man, you destroyed my dimension! You're nothing more than a villain wearing a hero's mask." 

There's a punchline to this, you're almost sure of it. Some storybook explanation as to why you decided to lash out at the most terrifying creature you've ever met. Maybe in the heat of the frigid moment, you forgot that he's no mere spider. He's a tarantula, bloodthirsty and savage, ready to attack when someone goes poking at him with a stick. 

Miguel's fingers tighten around your throat, sharp claws digging into soft skin and delicate muscles. Pushing you further into the couch. Miguel's ears ring with the symphony of your gagging as he tightens his grasp. He thinks you're choking, suffocating, asphyxiating. 

Good. With any luck, you'll be dead soon.

"Mocosa ingrata"

He's not sure if your death will be significant in any way. You're honestly too trivial to have any impact on things. If you hold a place in the canon of his timeline or yours, he's yet to find it. 

Miguel hates oddities, things that disrupt the canon, selfish missteps that destroy entire dimensions. You're not quite an oddity per se, although everything in your timeline is broken. Dangling from a loose threat at the edge of a cliff. All because Miles Morales decided to be selfish and greedy and "change" what's been canon for longer than any "Spider-man" has been alive. Miles is a mistake. that whole universe is a mistake. It's bound to collapse on itself at any moment. So for the life of him, Miguel can't understand why you're so ungrateful. So desperate to reprimand him and belittle him when all he's doing is trying to save everyone. 

He's failed once, 

He's failed twice,

He refuses to fail for a third time. 

It doesn't matter that you're some helpless civilian who was stuck in the wrong universe at the wrong time. All that matters is that you're (y/n), his (y/n). Every other Spiderman has their Gwen or their MJ. A dutiful lover, to return to when the night ends, when the fighting ends. When the ignorant sun finally decides to reawaken and cast the city in a temporary ray of peacefulness. Someone to love and cherish, to take their minds off of the dread and misery that runs amuck across their lives. 

Peter Parker has his Mary Jane.

Miles Morales had his Gwen Stacy.

So why can't Miguel O'Hara have his (Y/n) (L/n)?

When Miguel looks back down at you, he notices your dark eyes. How the life is slowly fading from your body. He relents, pulling you forward and slamming you into the couch one last time before retracting his hand. He sits down next to your coughing body. 

"I hate you" you manage to blurt out between desperate heaves. Trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible. You don't bother looking at him, you know he's mad. He's always mad when you refuse to act like his (y/n). When you poke holes at the perfect illusion he's created. 

There's a brief pause. A second of tranquility. Before Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you onto his lap. His mouth parts. Fangs releasing and hovering above your jugular. His fangs pierce your vain, releasing his poison into your bloodstream. It's not lethal, at least not yet. Miguel prefers to think of it as a sedative for when you start to act up. 

It soothes you, calms you into remembering your place. Your head lulls to the side, falling on his shoulder as your groggy eyes look up at him with a stare that he can almost trick himself into believing is loving, or some variant of the same emotion. 

You're his, he knows that. You have to be. It's all he can tell himself as to stay sane. You'll understand someday. Realize you love him too. 

After all every hero needs a lover. 

[aestherin]

seatmates | scaramouche x gn! reader

a random drabble i thought of at school bc of course my mind is floating :D

i was scrolling thru my drafts when i found this i totally did not forget about this i swear </3 also not proofread bc i don't have any braincells left :DD

wc: 589

You have always hated two-person desks.

Especially those that are too narrow you and your seatmate practically have to be squished against each other in order for both of you to fully utilize the desk.

"Fucking move," Scaramouche hissed.

"No, you," you pushed against his arm which had bumped into yours earlier.

He sent death glares your way, all of which you paid no attention to. After almost a year of sitting next to each other, it was second nature to build a system that's immune to the silent and furious side-eyes of an angry cat. How long has it been? Ah.

It all started when you made the grave mistake of being late for the first day of classes. No one else wanted to sit next to the menace that is currently sending daggers your way, and so you ended up sitting on the remaining available spot — the one beside Scaramouche.

The experience wasn't all that bad, though.

Sure, sitting beside him felt like being together with a grumpy old man, but even he had some soft moments. Like when he'd let you peek at his notes when you don't understand what the lecturer was babbling about (this comes with some mockery from him, but you shrug them all off).

Or like that one time you were shivering from the AC and he let you borrow his hoodie (this came with him uttering lighthearted remarks about how you should always be prepared because what if he wasn't there to lend his hoodie? Just what are you going to do without him?)

You returned it immediately after getting it washed but he told you to keep it. It's now your favorite hoodie.

Sitting next to Scaramouche was a give-and-take situation. He would begrudgingly lend you a hand, and you would do the same. He used to disturb you from whatever you were doing just to borrow your correction tape so many times that at one point, you just laid it out on your desk, free for him to use. Luckily, he got the message and just started using it whenever he needed to. Was it just your imagination or did he really start needing the correction tape less when you just laid the thing out on the desk?

He also once left his earphones at home and kept bugging you to let him listen to whatever was playing through yours because he swears even your trashy music taste is much more bearable than listening to whatever your classmates were chattering about.

That's what he said but he now listens religiously to the playlist you've been playing on repeat.

As an attempt to get back at you for what you did earlier, he bumped his arm against yours — which was writing notes, at the moment.

Across the organized scribbling of letters and words on a page of your notebook was now a long, thick line of black ballpoint pen ink. You gasped, mouth ajar at the painful sight of a mess.

"Dude! What the fuck?" You sharply turned your head towards him, only to find that he'd already looked away from you.

"Scara, you bit—"

He only sighed.

Your attention was swayed by him slowly and gently intertwining both of your hands above the desk.

"Don't worry about it. I'll rewrite your notes for you later."

He finally gazed back at you. Blood rushed up your face as he used his hand to guide yours to his lips, pressing a light kiss.

"At least after we eat out for dinner."

[sc0tters]

His Girl | Nico Hischier

summary: it’s your one year anniversary when you and Nico are all nervous but for totally different reasons.

song: Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: allusions to drinking.

word count: 1.64k

authors note: fluff is officially not my strong suit but I’ve really enjoyed writing these marriage repeated pieces for the celly! This literally aged like wine as I wrote it, started off shit but by the end we got somewhere good.

It was the only time you were grateful to be dragged to a club.

It was a warm summer night in London as your friends had gone for a girls trip. So of course they were all making the most of it.

Somehow on the fourth night your friends hadn’t gotten tired of the partying that they endured every evening as they went out clubbing. You seemed to miss that memo so you were brought along despite the complaints that left your lips. Those all quickly went silent when you locked eyes with him.

Nico much like yourself had been brought along and was now sat at the table as he nursed his drink.

That might neither one of you seemed to leave the others side. You didn’t know who he was until you went to the bar and overheard some fellow American tourists that the Swiss man you had grown so comfortable talking to wasn’t just Nico, he was Nico Hischier of the New Jersey Devils. Now you weren’t a hockey fan despite being from New York, but with your knowledge of both baseball and football you could only assume that it was a hockey team because New Jersey simply didn’t sound like a state that was going to produce a basketball team.

Nico had given you his number before your friends were ready to finally head back to your hotel. That night you turned google into your best friend in an attempt to learn more about the man who was clearly the man of your dreams.

Yes it sounded over reactive but it was the truth. Nico was someone who you truly just gelled with, the conversation rolled on for hours but it only seemed like it was minutes.

Throughout all of your life, you had never met someone who made you smile so much that your cheeks hurt, laughed so much that you didn’t think you could breathe anymore.

Arriving back in New York the pull the hockey player had in your mind hadn’t let up, whilst there were the worries that the number Nico had given you was fake your friends had quickly cleared your mind because “he looked at you like you were the only girl in that bar.”

Nico had gone back to Switzerland as he still had another month before he needed to be in New Jersey. The time difference was what he blamed your lack of communication on, you were going home two days after the night in that bar.

Although he knew it was stupid that didn’t stop him from checking his phone every time he heard a notification come in. That was why when your message finally came in the Devils captain almost fell over his own two feet.

you: hey stranger! next time you’re in New York let me know and I’ll give you the local tour 😉

And that was happened, Nico flew into JFK and found himself stood at your door with a smile on his face and your favourite flowers in hand.

Three months later when he was back but this time for hockey. Or at least that’s what he told himself because when you showed up at the Islanders game in his Jersey.

You pulled Nico into your arms as you congratulated him “you see that goal I scored for you?” He asked as he sent you a grin.

It was a clear shot done in a power play and all Nico could do was skate to the board where you were as he pointed at you.

Twitter was having a field day trying to figure out who you were and what you were to Nico “of course baby,” you nodded as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

You continued to toe the line or flirtation because no matter how much you wanted him, the fear of rejection was like a mental block that you couldn’t get past.

But when Nico hooked his fingers under your chin it caused your knees to almost give out “let me come back to yours?” That phrase had your mind combusting as you felt like you had just exploded into sparkles and confetti.

That night he asked you out.

The first year of your relationship was just as good as you had predicted. You had been given the name of team mom as the younger boys of the team would call Nico late at night just to ask you questions. They ranged with everything from girl advice to how you iron a shirt.

You ironed Jacks shirt for him and that also added to your title, you also had to take him dress shoe shopping but that was something you had been sworn to secrecy about.

It made Nico laugh how most times after games you seemed more proud of the other boys just playing because “their milestones mattered too.”

When the team made the playoffs for a second year in a row was when Nico told you he loved you. It was at the celebratory party when you walked outside for air “schatzi you okay?” Nico called out as he quickly found you where you were.

A smile formed on your lips “I’m perfect,” you spoke softly as your drunk boyfriend placed his hand on your waist.

His dopey grin made you laugh “I love you,” he confessed as he let your body rest against the wall behind you.

You let your fingers massage the nape of his neck “tell me that in the morning,” you reminded him as the liquor in his system was clear “no, no I love you baby.” The hockey player repeated his confession in his efforts to show that he was serious “I love you too,” a giggle left your lips as you kissed him.

A couple of months later and your one year anniversary had finally come around and you were stressed out.

Jack had been enlisted to keep you away from the apartment as Nico had a surprise that he was working.

It made you breathe out a sigh of relief though as you truly had no clue what to get Nico, even on the day of your anniversary you still didn’t know.

If Nico were to go into your closet and look behind your coats he’d find the six gifts you got, not because you wanted to go over board but because you really didn’t have a clue what you get the man who is literally the captain of a hockey team for their anniversary?

Sure Nico was romantic, bring home flowers when you had bad days at work, leaving sticky notes of little messages whenever he went on road trips longer than a week.

There would have been some comfort to you if Jack actually let you know how Nico felt as he ran around New Jersey.

In the last minute he decided that his design of your apartment wasn’t up to a standard that you’d enjoy and that’s what brought him to IKEA as he went to find fairy lights.

When Jack got the green light to bring you back you almost jumped out of the car when it was still moving “don’t me an uncle just yet!” Jack called out as he winded down the passenger window.

You turned around as grinned “no promises!” You shot back as you sent him a salute before you practically ran into the apartment building.

If you weren’t on the penthouse level you would have ran up the stairs, but instead you waited for the elevator.

The walk that was more like a speed walk to your apartment had your palms growing sweaty. You let the door open and your jaw practically dropped as you saw the way the dim fairy lights and candles that lit up your apartment “schatzi in the living room!” Nico called out as he took a last deep breath before he made sure he still had the box.

Tears welled in your eyes as you saw him down on one knee “when I first saw you in that pub I knew you were the woman of my dreams.” The guys that Nico went to England with didn’t let him live it down that his mind had been trapped in the view of you. Every time he zoned out they all knew what or who he was thinking about.

Nico’s speech continued even causing you to laugh at one point “I’ve even grown to not hate your hair in the shower drain.” You let out a snort as you sniffled “you know you miss it when you’re gone.” You shot back as he smiled letting you see a little nod.

The boy pecked your lips as he wiped your cheek stopping the tear from running down any further “you’re my person, my world, my everything.” He announced causing you to let out a little gasp as you placed your hand on your chest “so it only made sense to me that I asked you to marry me.”

You watched as he opened the ring box “I didn’t know what ring to get you,” he explained as he showed you the ring that had a diamond on it “if you don’t like it the jeweller said you could change-”

“Neeks,��

Nico felt like an idiot as his eyes went wide “oh my god you hate it don’t you?” He was quick to shut the box “let me get my keys-”

“Nico,”

The boy didn’t listen though “I’ll take you there and we can get you a new-”

“Nico!”

Your louder voice seemed to work on him “yes?” He cocked his head as he watched you cup his face with your hand.

A smile formed on your lips “could have proposed to me with a ring pop and I would have said yes,” you confessed as you let your thumb rub his face softly as it soothed him.

Nico nodded “so is that a yes?”

“The biggest one you’ll ever hear me say.”

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

chapter 13.

it was another night in the cafe, the same routine seemed to be never ending. as i scrubbed the counter down after spilling my own drink, i thought about Johnnie. i didn't want to have my hopes up that he'd continue to come and see me every night, so i had myself convinced i'd only see him a couple times this week, if even at all. i scrubbed the counter until it sparkled, wanting to keep myself busy with anything i could. if Johnnie was up, he would've texted me. and if he is up and didn't, then that's fine. i kept telling myself the same thing to try and quiet my mind, but i gave in and just put in one of my headphones.

it was around 11 pm when a trio of girls stumbled into the cafe. 2 of them were very obviously under the influence while the other must've been the designated driver because she had a miserable look on her face. the sober girl shooed them off, telling them to go sit somewhere. she walked up to me with an exasperated smile. "you seem like you're having a great night." i say sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood.

she sighed, "yeah. so sorry if they cause any trouble." she says shyly.

"all good, what can i get for you?" the bell on the door rings as someone else walks in. i didn't glance over while i was listening to her order. whenever she was finished ordering snacks for her friends, she thanked me and went to sit with them.

johnnie walked up after her with a tired smile. "hey."

i tilted my head and smiled softly. "why don't you take melatonin or something? your sleep schedule must be shit if you come and see me every night." i tease

"i mean, it's worth it. in the day you're usually asleep." i looked at him, confused, "so i can't see you." he explained further, lightly laughing.

"well, i'm so glad you come see me so often," i smile, but my mood immediately flipped as someone else walked in. a sweet looking old lady stood behind johnnie in the line. "you ordering anything?"

"probably not tonight. i just planned on seeing if i could talk to you for a bit." he moved out of the way and went to sit at his usual table. after i served this customer, i planned on going to sit with him.

"hello, ma'am. what can i get for you?" i repeated the words i had at least a hundred times in the past month. as she went through her order, i took a couple glances around the cafe. johnnie sat on his phone, leaving back in the chair lazily. meanwhile, one of the intoxicated girls was really eyeing him. it looked as if she was undressing him with her eyes, and i hated it. i watched as she turned to her friend and whispered before smiling and blushing and looking back at him. i think i visibly rolled my eyes.

"that'll be all!" her bottom lip slightly quivered as she smiled.

"i'll have that right out for you." i walked over to our case of pastries, occasionally taking glances back at the girl. she seemed to be scheming something. i collected her two cheese danishes before going off to make her vanilla latte. i set her things on the counter in front of where she was standing before telling her the total. she paid and went on her merry way.

i exited from behind the counter and sat across from johnnie. whenever he realized i was done, he shut off his and fixed his posture to face me correctly. "seems like a busy ass night."

"yeah, i mean, luckily i get off at, like, 3." which was about 3 hours before the day shift started. johnnie nodded. i watched as the same girl walked up behind johnnie. she had long, red, pin straight hair and the cutest freckles i had ever seen, which almost made me mad. she was beautiful, and if she was about to hit on johnnie, i didn't stand a chance compared.

she tapped on his shoulder while staring me dead in the eyes. " hi, i'm amelia." she smiled sweetly, sticking out her hand to johnnie.

"hi," johnnie replied, sounding confused but not taking her hand. him not taking her hand made me want to smile, but it was such a small gesture, i convinced myself it was nothing.

she cleared her throat as she put her hand down. "well, i think you're really cute," she blushed, "can i get your number?" her hand grazed his shoulder.

he slightly furrowed his eyebrows, glancing towards me before turning back to her. "i'm not looking for a relationship right now, no thanks." he said nonchalantly before turning back to me. she opened her mouth to say something but ultimately walked back to her seat without saying a word. "did i ever get your tiktok? i wanna send you shit." he immediately changed the subject.

"no, one sec." i pulled up tiktok and showed him my username. as he was looking me up, o began to spam text jake.

me: jake

me: jakeee

me: jake!!!

and so on for at least 30 seconds before he texted me back.

jake: whaaat why can't i sleep D:

me: because this girl was tryna get his number but he said he's not looking for a relationship is that true???

jake: i can't say much but that is not the case for that inbred

me: well damn good but what 😭

jake: is that it

jake: can i sleep now 🙃

me: yes get your beauty sleep cause you need it lol

jake: girl have you seen me?? gn

me: lol night

i turned off my phone and looked at johnnie, feeling much better. "you find it?"

"damn, sorry, i'm slow." he smiled awkwardly, a blush growing on his face. i smiled back.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Andrew Joseph Pegoda, Ph.D.

Unlike its SARS-CoV-1 predecessor a decade prior, SARS-CoV-2—frequently called COVID-19 to lessen alarm—has been an on-going, global crisis starting soon after its emergence in December 2019. The tenth wave of this Level 3 biohazard is starting and the injustices continue.

Official global deaths reported by governments total 7 million. Data scientists, demographers, and economists closely eyeing excess deaths have staggering estimates of actual COVID-19 loses: 20 million by the end of 2021, 30 million by the end of 2023, and currently almost 40 million.

Deaths from this novel, highly contagious virus are sometimes unavoidable. Yet, the vast majority of these seldom-acknowledged deaths are stupid deaths, stupid deaths because they were preventable deaths.

Death tolls from COVID-19 in the United States specifically would be lower had the CDC not given into pressure from Delta Air Lines in 2021 to decrease isolation periods. Death tolls would be lower if states en masse had not rushed to abandon mask requirements in 2021 and 2022. Death tolls would be lower if Hollywood’s stories meaningfully acknowledged COVID-19. Death tolls would be lower if the public narrative had been other than “vax and relax.” Death tolls would be lower if schools and businesses devoted meaningful efforts to improving and monitoring air filtration, especially in elevators. And the recent “back to the office” push will only increase deaths.

Beyond death tolls, I am concerned about what I am naming “stupid (re)infections.”

The typical person in the United States is being reinfected yearly, and the average person has now been infected with COVID-19 more than 3.5 times. And between 20% and 50% of infections are asymptomatic (during the acute phase!).

Repeated infections are unnecessary and avoidable, if mandatory masking in public places had remained and been completely normalized (of course, with appropriate exceptions for those with disabilities that prevent wearing a mask). Hospitals should have never dropped masking requirements, certainly not cancer centers. KN95 and N95 masks are highly effective and easy to wear—a practice that could only increase utility with the corresponding decreased sickness and death. People learned to wash their hands with soap; they can learn to wear a mask.

And this leads me to what I am naming “stupid suffering.”

COVID-19 is not the flu or a cold. Every infection substantially affects the body—including possible cognitive decline and impacts on the heart, T cells, the intestines, and the overall immune system—prompting a growing number of researchers to assert that COVID-19 triggers a new illness that parallels AIDS. Impacts further down the road remain unknown. Still, many people antidotally report having at least some lingering symptoms after their initial symptomatic infection. Specifically, Long COVID, which can be debilitating, impacts tens of millions in the United States, including 6 million children, and currently has no cure. Every infection substantially increases the risk of developing Long COVID. And this stupid suffering disproportionally impacts and further weathering minoritized individuals.

Stupid (re)infections. Stupid suffering. Stupid deaths. We must do better and not allow brute luck to dominate while awaiting treatments and better vaccines.

If missions to save lives and protect best interests are sincere, bioethicists have a profound opportunity, even a categorical imperative, to help lead the way toward a COVID-19 safer future and opportunities for reenvisioned justice, for Aristotle’s the good life.

COVID-19 uniquely shows the heteronomous nature of twenty-first-century life and what little weight negative rights hold as people—especially those already disabled like me—are forced into spaces that ignore the threats.

Andrew Joseph Pegoda, Ph.D., M.A., M.A. (@ajp_PhD), is a Lecturer of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies at the University of Houston and a Bioethics and Health Policy graduate student at Loyola University Chicago.

[canarias-stuff]

Caramel Frappe For Okarun - Chapter 2

Pairing: Ayase Momo X Takakura "Okarun" Ken

Chapter Summary:

“It’s on the house, Frappe guy!” She repeated, blushing.

“Frappe guy?!” He sounded shocked.

“That’s what I will call you for now!”

“But, my name…”

“Nope! Your name is off-limits!”

Author's notes:

Hello!

And now, I'm back with another chapter!

It's silly, but I hope you like it!^^

Chapter 2: On the House, Frappe Guy

"That was soooo nerve-wracking…" Momo groaned, face buried in the cushions of the sofa in her living room.

Across from her, Vamola was laughing on the opposite sofa as Momo recounted her day, while Aira sat on the floor, focused on painting her nails.

"At least you got off with just a warning." Vamola pointed out, trying to look on the bright side. "Could’ve been worse."

Momo sighed. How could someone be so relentlessly positive?

"Yeah, you could’ve been fired." Aira added with a smirk, examining her freshly painted pink nails. "And I’d have laughed my ass off."

"Ugh, screw you, skank!" Momo yelled, sitting up to hurl a pillow at her pink-haired friend.

“What the hell, Momo! I am painting my nails here!” Aira snapped back, careful not to mess up her polish, which kept her from throwing anything back.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“You b–”

“Okayyy, let’s not fight!” Vamola finally stepped in. “We really don’t need another warning for the syndic about being too noisy, right?”

Instantly, both of them stopped the colorful exchange of words.

“But anyway Momo, this Takakura Ken guy–” Vamola began, ignoring the ‘Nooooo! Don’t say his name!’ that came from the brunette’s lips. “–sounds like a really good guy!”

And for some reason, Momo didn’t like the tone of voice that the blonde girl used. It sounded like…

“And his name is Takakura Ken! You should have asked for his number!” Vamola added with a grin.

Momo gawked at her as Aira burst out laughing as if she just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Momo asking for his number after the scene that she caused?!” Aira doubled over. “The poor guy!”

“No. Way!” The barista cried, face flushed red, ready to throw a pillow at the blonde girl. “As if I would ask for his number just because he is a little bit nice and is named T-Takakura Ken! And he's definitely not my type!”

“That’s rich coming from someone who dated a trash guy just because he looked a little bit like Takakura Ken.” Aira rebutted sarcastically.

That one stung. Momo felt–almost–ashamed for her obsession over the actor for a moment.

“Oh, shut up! I was too naive!”

“That was last year and we told you that the guy was scum.”

“Come on! Give me a break! He was my first boyfriend!”

“So what does he look like?” Vamola interjected again, but genuinely curious. “Is he cute?”

Is he cute? Momo considered, gladly accepting the change of subject and trying to remember the frappe guy's features.

He was just slightly taller than Momo herself, and skinny, but still looked like he was hitting the gym, unruly black hair, brown eyes hidden behind round-framed glasses…

“I guess…” She muttered with a thoughtful expression. “...that he was kinda cute, but he looked like a nerd.”

“Woah! So you are aiming for Otaku Ken instead of Takakura Ken?” Aira teased, stifling a laugh.

“Can’t you just shut your trap?!” Momo yelled, ready to throw another pillow at Aira. “And what if he was a little bit cute?! It’s not like he is ever coming back to the shop after today!”

Vamola and Aira exchanged a knowing look before turning back to Momo.

“You realize you just jinxed it, right?” They said simultaneously.

“I didn’t!”

…

She totally jinxed it, didn’t she?

The 'frappe guy’—as Momo had decided to call him, because no way was she saying his actual name—was back at the coffee shop, fiddling with a cellphone while waiting patiently for his turn in line to the cashier where Miko was taking the orders.

Why? Why was he back? Shouldn't he be so weirded out by yesterday's fiasco that he’d never want to set foot in the shop again?

She tossed the ingredients for the drink into the blender and switched it on, trying to focus. Kei, who was making the hot drinks, and Miko weren’t even trying to hide their amusement, grinning openly at her flustered state. Momo gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to strangle someone. But after yesterday’s mess, and with Manager Sanjome watching her like a hawk, she couldn’t afford another slip-up.

She glanced sideways, catching Kei and Miko exchanging a look and suppressing their laughter, and muttered under her breath.

I swear, one more grin, and I'm gonna mur-…No.

Momo took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Just like her roommates, her co-workers were only teasing, getting a kick out of her embarrassing moment and poking fun at her crush on Takakura Ken— the actor , of course. They didn’t mean any harm, they just wanted to get a rise from her because she had a really peculiar taste.

"Get it together, Momo." The brunette mumbled to herself and cast another glance at the line. Frappe guy was the next. “Just don’t be weird about the same thing.”

And maybe he would order something warm instead of something cold, right? Kei would be the one making his drink this time, RIGHT?

.

.

.

Wrong.

Miko just grinned, clearly savoring every bit of Momo’s frustration. With an exaggerated wink, she patted Momo’s shoulder while handing her a cup.

“He even asked if it would be possible to ask you to make it.”

Her face was heating up. Momo glared down at the cup with strict instructions about a caramel frappe with extra caramel…again. And the big, obnoxious heart around that name was an eyesore. She knew she had no choice but to make the drink and, worse yet, call his name with a straight face.

This sucks!

“I hate you.” Momo said between gritted teeth.

“And we love you.” Kei said from over Momo’ shoulder. Even without looking at the blonde girl’s face, Momo knew that she was grinning from one ear to the other.

This fucking sucks!

…

The drink was ready, the lid was on. The last step was to call for the drink owner's name.

Shit.

The more her brown eyes stared at the name written inside the heart, the less courage she had to say it, but her co-workers were little shits, so no matter how much she begged and tried to bribe them, they wouldn’t call for him.

Maybe if she waved at the frappe guy, he’d notice his drink was ready. But one glance at his table, and Momo gave up—he was totally absorbed in some book or magazine.

There was another option, though.

With just one person waiting in line, Momo realized this was her chance.

If I can’t call him over, and he’s not coming up here, then the only choice left is to bring it to him. No need to say his name!

There wasn’t exactly a rule against employees delivering drinks directly to tables, but something about it felt awkward…it felt wrong to just go there with the drink and drop it. Frappe guy was really nice during the whole mess that she caused yesterday…and as much as Momo could be foul-mouthed, her grandma (as foul-mouthed as her) had taught her better manners than that.

She sighed, and a small smile appeared on her lips.

Okay. Here I go.

“What are you doing?” Miko asked, intrigued, as she saw Momo reaching into the dessert showcase.

“Put this on my tab, ‘kay?” Momo replied, grabbing a tray and heading toward the black-haired boy’s table.

“Oooh, now this is getting interesting!” Kei said, leaning over to the cashier, who stifled a laugh.

…

As soon as she placed the drink on the table, his gaze shifted up to her.

“Oh, sorry about that…I didn’t hear you calling me.”

“Because I didn’t.” Momo replied, only to see the same puzzled look that he had on his face the day before.

“Uh…and I didn’t order this…” Ken said, eyeing the strawberry tart she’d just set beside his drink.

“Yeah, I know.”

They stared at each other for a moment, each sizing up the situation.

“The dessert’s on me today.” Momo finally sighed, averting her eyes as she felt her cheeks warming a little.

“W-w-what?! Why?!” Frappe guy stammered, and if the word ‘cute’ crossed Momo’s mind, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you properly for yesterday. If you hadn’t spoken up, I probably wouldn’t be working here anymore.” She confessed. It was embarrassing, but she wanted to show him that she was truly sincere about this. “So, thank you. Really.”

This time, it was the boy’s turn to blush. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, his brown eyes darting between the dessert and the barista.

“I-it was nothing, after all, I guess that it was a misunderstanding.”

Momo grunted, feeling kind of guilty.

“Are you alright, Ayase-san?” He asked, watching her expression.

“Hum? How do you know my name?” The girl asked, visibly surprised. Now that she thought about it, he had said her name yesterday too.

“Your manager…he mentioned it yesterday…”

Oh, that’s right. Manager Sanjome did say my full name.

“Ugh…that’s right.” She muttered. “That was embarrassing.”

“Well, not as embarrassing as telling the cashier that I wanted my drink made by the same person as yesterday.”  Frappe guy laughed, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

“What?” Momo stared at him in surprise, trying to process his words. She thought that Miko was just pulling her leg there! So, Frappe guy really asked her to make his drink?!

“Uh…well…” His cheeks reddened as he continued, “The drink was really good yesterday. And, you know…sometimes, even with the same recipe, drinks can taste a bit different depending on who makes them. So I figured I’d ask if…you could make it again…”

The following silence was awkward, they were both blushing, and Momo could feel curious eyes on her (most likely Kei and Miko, the little shits!). Clearly, Frappe Guy had pieced together that she was the one behind his drinks—she’d been the one to call his name yesterday, after all, and here she was again, delivering his order personally.

“A-anyway!” Momo finally found her voice, though she stammered. “I just wanted to thank you for yesterday! I have to go back to work!”

“W-wait! Ayase-san, about the tart–”

Ugh! He really needed to stop calling her name! It was bad for her heart!

“It’s on the house, Frappe guy!” She repeated, blushing.

“Frappe guy?!” He sounded shocked.

“That’s what I will call you for now!”

“But, my name…”

“Nope! Your name is off-limits!”

“But!” 

“If you want me to keep doing your drinks, we're gonna have to set some rules here!” The barista crossed her arms. “Your name is forbidden. I will call you Frappe guy until we find something better to stick to.”

“Okay…” He sighed, but in Momo’s eyes, he didn’t really seem upset. “I got it, Ayase-san.”

“I have to go back now, see you around, Frappe guy!”

“Yeah, thanks for the tart.” He grinned, his brown eyes warm.

With a grin of her own, Momo spun on her heel and headed back behind the counter, her cheeks still flushed as she felt his gaze lingering a moment longer.

Link Ao3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

[starsomens]

Can I request a jealous and possessive Noah one? With some smut?

WARNINGS : NSFW! Unprotected sex (SAFETY FIRST!), strong language, dirty talk, possessiveness, slightly rough sex MDI!! 18+! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

“Should we make some pasta for tonight?” You asked grabbing a box of noodles and shaking it at your boyfriend

“Whatever’s more fun for us to make sweet” he smirks at you. At least once a week you like staying in and cooking together. Like self care for couples. Some good food, maybe some games or a movie and your night is set. And who could say no to pasta?

“If I knew you’d make pasta at home, I would have asked you out sooner” a voice came from behind you and you turn around to see the source. It was an old college friend who you had a past crush on, but quickly left behind.

“Oh, Jason, it’s you. It’s been a couple of years huh?” You comment seeing him

“Yeah! Like around 5 maybe even, come here!” He comes up and hugs you, but you didn’t exactly hug back

“Well, Jason, hope you’re doing good. This is my boyfriend Noah” you said taking a step back, coming closer to your boyfriend.

“Oh so this is the lucky guy huh? I asked your friend about you and she said you were with some guy from a band. Honestly I was shocked! But hey real happy for ya!” He chuckled with some sarcasm in there

“Well it is getting late and we gotta get going” Noah narrowed his eyes and pull you closer to him.

“Yeah, we’ve got some things to do. At home. Together” you add, trying to make a point

“Oh yeah totally, it was great seeing you again-“ he said trying to come in for another thug but was stopped when Noah moved you to the other side of him without a word. Creating a visible and metaphorical boundary between you and your ex crush. Jason pressed his lips into a line and awkwardly put his arms back down. He put his hand into his pocket, turned away and walk down the aisle.

“ well, that was something wasn’t it?” You ask trying to make a joke that. But Noah seemed a bit off about it.

“ yeah… funny”

The rest of your shopping trip was a bit tense in at some point a little bit awkward. He started eyeing almost every guy that passed by or even looked at you. Even when you were at the cashier, and she was paying, she had you between his arms in between the counter, basically trapping you , so you wouldn’t go anywhere. In other words, so no one can check you out while he was checking out.

The ride home was a bit quiet aside from his short answers to your comments. Once the groceries are put away, and the pasta was put to boil, you finally brought it up.

“ Noah, what is going on with you? You’ve been acting weird since we went shopping”

“ It’s nothing okay? “ he answers in a tone that completely says it wasn’t OK. And then it hit you.

“ wait…. Did you get jealous with Jason” you asked coming closer “know what you should know nothing happened between us. On top of that you know I don’t have any interest in anyone but you”

“Look I know. I just hate when others think they can just take you from me like that” he said coming closer to you so that he tall frame towered over yours “…your my girl” he semi whispered

“I’m your girl?” You repeat as your hands slide up his chest and around his neck and link your fingers together

He lowers his head and kisses your lips “you’re..my…girl” he says between each one. Punctuating the statement with a deeper longer kiss. The one kiss soon became many, desperate, passionate and searing.

“Upstairs” he said as you feel his hand grip your waist tighter. You take a hold of his hand and climb the stairs up to your shared bedroom. This isn’t the first time Noah had resorted to sex when he was feeling very possessive and jealous over you. In his way this was how he got the pent-up emotions out and how he felt like you were still only his.

you both stumble in the room, lips still dancing together as your hands fumbled to get each other’s clothes off as soon as possible. Once you were both down to only your underwear it was only a matter of who would take control first. Now normally Noah would be the more dominant one but sometimes you need to switch shit up on him.

So instead of him getting you onto the bed, you turn around and push him towards the bed until he was propped up on his elbows.

“ oh, so someone wants to be in charge tonight, huh” he smirked

“ oh, hush, Mr. jealous” you answer back. You keep eye contact with him as you seductively and slowly unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor. 

“Fuck babe…” he said as the tent in his underwear only groom. To say that he loves your breasts was an understatement. “Get your ass over here already”

You take a step closer and run your hands from his knees, up to his hips, and ounces chest as a straddle him.  This was one thing he loved for you to do. So just slightly tease them and work your way up to the exciting part. 

You sit down and feel his hard dick on your ass. Deep grown comes from his throat as you begin to grind back-and-forth on him. His large hands finding your waist guiding you in the same motion.

“Fucck, how do you feel this good without me being inside yet?” he ask

“ maybe it’s because I’m all yours. And no one else gets to feel this.” 

“ you’re right. Now take these off.” he said, pulling on the band of your underwear, letting it snapped back in place.

You with yourself off of him only to get your underwear off or he does the same.  in one movie motion sit down on him and take a second to adjust to him. The fullness made your head fall back in pleasure. And the tightness around his dick made him a groan.

“God, you feel so good. Please princess move” he pants, wanting to amplify the pleasure he felt. One thing about him was that he was shy, and everyone knew that. But behind closed doors he was very much a talker, especially during sex.

“Mmm Noah, you feel so good” you moan. His large tattooed hands come up and massage your breasts

“Yea baby just like that, ride that dick baby, fuck!” He moans as he raise your hips up, almost bringing him all the way out and sit back down again.

In one quick motion, he flips you onto your bag so that he was not on top. He then resumes with deep, long strokes. His mouth finding your shoulders and neck. Leaving hickeys in bite marks behind. He was going to make sure the next time you went out everyone knew you belong to him.

“Does it feel good baby?” He asks “tell me who’s making you feel good” he growls in your ear wanting to hear it come from you

“Y-you Noah” you moan as your nails rake down his back. Your own back arching off of the bed as he brushes against that one spot that makes you see stars.

“Louder baby,” he came off of you and held your hips and pounded into your harder. Chasing both of your highs

“Noah! You! Only you! Fuck, please!” You cry out and practically beg him. He continued to hit your sweet spot and you felt yourself coming, Oh so close. The knot in your stomach was tightening your toes curling. You were pretty sure you were very close to drawing blood from his forearms.

“ that’s a baby come for me, cum over this dick” he encouraged you as he watched himself come in and out of you “and let me…let me cum in that pussy. Make it mine” he growls as he snaps his hips harder and harder. Finally, you get your release and clamp down around him. And in a few more times he feels you so deliciously.

He groans in ecstasy “oh fuck….fuck that was amazing” he pants as he leans down and kisses your cheek leading to your lips “I love you babes” he whispers

“I love you too” you answer back “but please know I’m only yours” you smile at him

“Hey no harm in some jealousy, besides you always enjoy the outcome” he chuckles helping you up and get comfortable.

Later that night you had asked for a glass of water. And of course, being a boyfriend he is he goes to get you a nice glass of water before you were to go off to bed. As he was walking into the kitchen, he saw Jolly sitting on the couch.

“Hey how’s it going?” he asks casually as he’s pouring a glass of water.

“ nothing much just waiting for you to be done so I can go to bed” he said, with a straight face, and all that could be heard. Was the water being poured into the glass

“…..” o-o (Noah)

“….” -_- (jolly)

“…. Oh, we are done now.” he says and walks back to the stairs to bring you your water

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @beaniebabylover

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Song Rankings (+ commentary nobody asked for): "BTR"

I was bored. Decided to go through their albums and put them into a list from favorite to least favorite.

"Worldwide": Is it possible this song is overrated and hyped too much? No. This song was on heavy rotation for me from the moment I heard it. Wonderful song, 10/10. Full of love and yearning. Their all white outfits in the music video? Iconic. My mom's friend's daughter went to one of their shows and was picked as the Worldwide Girl, and young me didn't handle that well (I wasn't even AT the concert, so not like I had a chance, but still). I'm almost over it.

"Til I Forget About You": When they would show the music video for this during commercial breaks on Nick, I would leap from the couch and do the dance along with them. There used to be a good analysis post breaking down each of the boys' sections in the song and how it correlates with their personalities in the show and how they deal with heartbreak (there's also one for "Famous" that does the same).

"Big Time Rush": I used to sit on the school bus and stare blankly out the window listening to this one on repeat at like 7:45 in the morning. Just...not even awake yet but psyching myself up to live it big time.

"Famous": This one is pretty much tied with "Big Time Rush" in my head, and I'm tempted to bump it to 3, but the song's theme ultimately wins out. Love this song. Can't help but see it in a weirdly haunting light due to the above mentioned "Famous Analysis" post that I read over and over when I was younger and changed the way I saw the song from that point on. Thank you to Swedish girl-group Play for giving us this song. (I assume most people in the fandom have seen or heard the Play version already but if not, check it out)

"Halfway There": Ok, so. I love this song, but EVERY TIME I listen to it, I'm filled with slight annoyance over the fact that it's the "different" version than was originally released. When this single was released, it was KENDALL who sang the opening lines ("When the chips are down, back against the wall" etc) and then James who did his part later. That's the version I listened to for months before they got rid of it and replaced it with the version that appeared on their album. It was a jarring experience for me, and I've never quite fully recovered. The song will forever sound slightly wrong to me because of it.

"Stuck": Prior to starting this blog and doing the rewatch, I hadn't heard a lot of their songs for years, and I had completely forgotten this one existed. Like, it had been wiped from my brain. Rediscovering it was fun.

"City is Ours": Fun fact-my sister is scarred for life from this song and can no longer listen to it because when she was younger, she used it as her alarm tone to get up for school. It's forever associated with waking up in a panic early in the morning and has been ruined for her since the show's original run.

"This is Our Someday": I feel like this song is one of those forgotten ones. I don't remember it being big either in the show or outside of it back in the day (and it has the second lowest listens on Spotify). I do like it, though. Such a hopeful tune, and the line, "One is good, but four is better?" That's a good one. So true, guys.

"Count on You": This is a sweet one. I LOVE the music video for it in the Jordin Sparks episode. It's just. It's smooth. It feels like silk in my brain, though it's not one of my faves. I especially like how Logan's part, "What would I wanna do that for?" comes right at the "four" mark in their counting. Very nice.

"Big Night": Was never really a fan of this one because something about the way the music is structured bothers me but it's super sing-able, so it gets some props for that.

"I Know You Know": This one was going to be number 12, but it gets a bump up due to the acoustic version from '22 giving me slightly more appreciation for it. My original list didn't even include this song because I totally forgot about it until just now when I was going through the album.

"Oh Yeah": Not much to say about this one. I didn't really listen to it when I was younger because it was a "James song" and he was my least favorite of the guys singing-wise. (I am SORRY James stans) Love the spinning Logan head in the music video, though. I remember the fandom really enjoying that part.

"Nothing Even Matters": I simply don't have feelings about this song one way or another. It's just there.

"Any Kind of Guy": I have bizarre issues with this song. Gives me sensations of unpleasant colors and patterns. Zig-zaggy and burnt orange and brown. Bleh. Last place for "Any Kind of Guy." I think the silly music video with all the costumes didn't help.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #12

Candy Crush 🍬 / Eldritch Nightmares 👁️

It was Patrick’s idea to put a candy bowl out at the front of the store, years ago when they’d first opened, to make it seem friendlier to families with children and people who might feel intimidated by the phrases body milk or facial polish. 

“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this,” David had hedged, wringing his hands together, “but my vision for the store is actually not that family-friendly.”

Patrick had laughed. “Oh, I know,” he’d said. “But that’s not good business for a community like this one, so we’ve gotta sand down your edges juuuuust a little.”

David had complained then, but it’s been a long time since then, and he and Patrick have come a long way, if the rings on their fingers are anything to go by, and Patrick has also been pretty judicious about sanding down his own edges, so David feels like maybe the scales are even now. Well — the metaphorical scales between them, at least. Patrick is certainly tipping actual, literal scales. And soon, David’s going to sweet-talk him into getting onto the old-fashioned balance scale he found on Etsy for entirely too much money and keeps in the storeroom for um, reasons, the main one being that Patrick says it’s way too unsubtle to keep in the house. Which isn’t totally unmerited, because the one time Alexis had slipped into the storeroom looking for the wine stock, she’d seen it in the corner and had made fun of David over text about it all day, and the last thing he needs is a repeat performance every time he hosts a holiday or has her over for brunch. 

Anyway. The scale stays. It has its uses. 

And, David is finding, so does the candy bowl.

“You know, this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested it,” Patrick remarks as David does a lap around the store, straightening display items and making lines of product uniform, and casually grabs a fistful of candy on his way back around to the register. “I know you’re morally opposed to children in the store, but commandeering the candy isn’t going to prevent their presence.”

David unwraps a mini Snickers bar. “It’s not for me,” he persuades, brushing it against Patrick’s lips. “How far did you say you were from your goal weight?”

A pink tinge heats in Patrick’s round cheeks. “Not fair, David. Engaging in kink at work is not in our business contract.”

“Our marriage contract, on the other hand …” David wheedles, walking his fingers up Patrick’s big belly. “I just think that since we’re paying for the candy, we should get to enjoy some of it, too.”

Patrick’s lips are curling up at the corners, which means David’s almost got him convinced. “We could enjoy it at home.”

“Okay,” says David, “it’s not like I haven’t also proved that I am very willing to provide you with candy at home, too.”

“Provide,” echoes Patrick. “I think ‘shower’ would be the more accurate term.”

David drops his hand to grab at the doughy rolls that spill over Patrick’s belt. “I just think that you’re passing up a very attractive offer. Especially if it stays this quiet. You need something to focus on if the weather keeps everyone out.”

As if on cue, the rain outside gets louder and heavier. Patrick casts a sideways look at David. “Why do I feel like you choreographed that?”

“Um,” says David, trying and failing to look innocent. “Because I have a gifted sense of dramatic timing?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” says Patrick, and he finally takes the candy from David’s hand. “Okay. You get to do this today, but we shut it down if someone comes in.”

“Very fair,” allows David, already on his way back to the candy bowl.

—

It rains all week, and if Patrick weren’t the one in charge of handling their finances and making everything balance out at the end of each month, David would be worried. As it is, he’s already making mental lists of Costco goods they have on hand if the store goes under. And sort of regretting all the Sarah McLachlan he put on the store playlist.

“Hey,” says Patrick, nudging him with his shoulder where he’s standing by the register, nose only inches away from the rain-streaked window. “What’s the face for?”

David furrows his brows. “Am I making a face?”

“Yeah. A glum plum kind of face. I can see it in your reflection.” There’s the creak that David has come to recognize as Patrick settling his considerable weight onto the metal stool they keep behind the counter, mostly because David is too old to be standing all day but refuses to choose footwear with arch support. Patrick, for all of his impressive size, has pretty good endurance, probably because he still hikes every other weekend and religiously puts those gross little orthotic inserts in his Dockers.

“Okay,” says David, “it’s not that I’m, like, glum, per se, and I know that, like, this store is not exactly the staple establishment that the general store was, but it’s been, like, several days since we’ve had more than one person in here, and it’s getting, like, a tad  worrying.”

“David,” says Patrick, in that soft, smooth, reassuring way he has. “The store will be fine. We will be fine. The fact that we don’t have to pay rent on this space puts us a lot closer to breaking even than we would be if we were in that strip mall in Elm Glen.”

“Excuse you, I would never have rented space in a strip mall. Let alone one that still has a Radio Shack.”

“It’s just an example,” says Patrick, except now it sounds like his mouth is full. David pulls his gaze away from the rain-soaked square and the music video in his head. 

Patrick’s got a pile of fun-size candy bars piled on the counter next to him, and he’s unwrapping another as he chews.

“Oh, now you’re on board,” says David, crossing his arms. “A final plea for my goodwill as our business goes under, I see.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “The business is not going under, David. I won’t let it. I know you need to be kept in luxury skincare and cashmere.”

“My skin is very delicate.”

“I know,” says Patrick, leaning forward to pat his cheek. His belly cants forward in his lap, sagging forward to dip farther between his thighs. And his thighs, god — his thighs, pushed even wider from the way he’s sitting on the stool, are heavy with cellulite that, in the right lighting, David can even see through his khakis sometimes. “Trust me on this one, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

David plucks a candy bar from the pile. “I’m choosing to interpret this as your way of saying that my taking care of you at work is now on the table.”

Patrick lets him pop the candy bar into his mouth. “I’ll let you have that,” he says finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“At the end of the month, you put me on that very expensive Etsy scale.”

“Yes,” David says breathlessly. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Also, I’m changing the playlist. The energy in here is grim.”

—

Patrick groans and lifts his belly so that it sits in a wobbly mound on the counter. David’s head snaps up instantly from fussing with the layout of the towels.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hurrying over, and Patrick nods, massaging his underbelly.

“I think I need to let my belt out another notch.”

“Oh,” breathes David, and Patrick grins. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”

“No one’s coming in,” says David, grabbing the box cutter from under the till. “We could go do it in the back. Or I can watch the register while you do it.”

“It doesn’t have to be right now,” says Patrick with a little smile. “I’ll live until we get home.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be uncomfortable,” David tuts. “When was the last time you had to loosen it?”

Patrick rubs at his soft chin where it doubles. “Man, a while ago. Around three-eighty, maybe? I’m on the last hole of this one, so buckle up.”

Not even the pun can stop David from whining and instinctively grabbing a mini Twix from the stash he’s begun to keep at the counter to shove in Patrick’s mouth. “How much do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, twenty pounds or so? Twenty-five? We could probably figure out how many pounds per hole if we wanted to. Could be some fun math.”

“Okay,” says David, pointing the Twix at him, “I love you so much and I desperately want you to outgrow all of your belts, but I must blacklist the phrase ‘fun math’ from our relationship.”

“Oh, I’ll do the math,” says Patrick, accepting the Twix bar. “You can just enjoy my findings.”

For that, he gets another Twix before he’s even done with the first. 

— 

The rain continues. The candy bowl ebbs lower every day, despite how often David refills it. By the week before Halloween, Patrick can’t do up even his largest belt, and his button-downs are starting to strain against the heavy sag of his belly. 

“I know it’s not the end of the month yet,” says David, somewhere between hesitant and hopeful, “but outgrowing your belts seems like a pretty sizable milestone, so I was thinking that maybe … we could …”

Patrick shoots him a knowing glance. “You just want to put me on the scale.”

“I mean, yes,” says David. “But it’s not like that will change, so we could always, you know, do it today and then again at the end of the month. It could be more incentive to, um, work towards your goals.”

There’s a long, agonizing pause as Patrick unwraps a Reese’s and pops it in his mouth. He makes David wait as he chews, and then he palms his belly and sets it jiggling as he swallows. 

“Mmmm,” he says, stretching his chubby arms over his head and letting not just his button-down, but his undershirt come untucked. His stomach tumbles out, pale and dimpled and perfect, and David experiences a rare moment of total speechlessness. 

“Oh my god,” he manages finally. “This is obviously a yes, right?”

“Yes, David,” says Patrick, squeezing his shoulder. “That’s a yes.”

He practically yanks Patrick into the back room and steers him toward the scale in the corner. Patrick steps on agreeably, then looks at David, who’s been too overcome by the idea of the scale to get weighed down by the particulars.

“Soooo,” he says, drawing the word out as he inspects the sliders and metal brackets and such. “I don’t … actually know … how to use this.”

“Oh, really?” says Patrick politely, and he somehow makes it sound like I know, David.

“I guess I can wait until we get home,” David sighs. “Excruciating as it may be.”

“Well, I have something I think might cheer you up,” says Patrick, stepping off the scale and hugging him from behind. The huge, plush weight of him suffuses David, and he feels the tension melt from his body as he sinks back into him. “I stood on the scale at home this morning, and we couldn’t read it even if we tried, because it zeroed out.”

David springs out of Patrick’s arms. “Oh my god, excuse me? And you were just going to keep this from me?”

Patrick’s struggling not to grin. “Let’s say I was just waiting to deploy that information at a specific time.”

“So we’ll have to replace that,” says David, not a question so much as a plan he’s making in permanent ink. “With a very high maximum. And I’m going to feed you as much of that candy bowl as I can before we close today. If you want that.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Patrick, folding David back into his arms. David nestles his head on Patrick’s shoulder and inhales, exhales his soft fresh air scent. “I want that.”

In the next room, the bell over the door goes off as someone enters the store. Patrick’s eyes go wide, and he hurriedly, lumpily tucks his shirt back in and makes for the counter. But even still, he turns around before he gets to the doorway and grins at David.

“See?” he says, nodding at the scale. “We’ll even be able to afford a nice one.”

[kisekii]

Chapter 1-Eleni

You don’t listen to rock.

Sounds from my youth sputter out Let’s dance to the dried-up melody I don’t think you listen to rock But I’d really love it if you got a lil’ closer to me -aimyon

//

“Do you listen to rock?” a voice like honey, sweet but also a little raspy. A smell of lemon, sour. Not so sour.

I opened my eyes and raised my head, I guess I looked shocked. The train of my thoughts came to a stop just as I got caught in two sharp dark eyes that looked back at me almost amazed, curious and there was something else... something I couldn’t yet name.

“Do you listen to rock?” He repeated, this time with even more sweetness in his voice. I felt lost, something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Why would a stranger knowledge me? Had I been transferred to a parallel world?

But I could still feel the wetness that the tears had left on my cheeks, the tiredness on my eyes and the redness of my face.

I sighed. I hated sweets.

“If your job is to promote rock bands, do not waste your time here.” I answered as I got up and stretched my arms. How long had I been sitting there? My body was so stiff, I was afraid it would crack if I moved.

“You didn’t answer my question.” he adverted his eyes, there was a half moon smile without happiness in his face. Was he disappointed? He seemed disappointed.

I hated disappointing others.

“No, I don’t.” I answered with a small voice.

“Ah I knew it.” His smile grew bigger, showing excitement. That bright smile must have been his strongest point.

“Here. Let’s listen to rock.” He offered me one of his airpods and I just stood there, confused about everything, his actions to begin with*. I was a stranger to him, he was a stranger to me*, so why?

Why did I accept it?

There was a little distance between us but none of the passers seemed to notice our existence outside that old convenience store whose owner always nagged about how I spend so little and cry so much. It seemed like we were parted from everyone, just me, the boy and the music flowing from his phone.

It was a Japanese song, that I could tell. From a band i guess, because there were at least two vocalists and I doubted the instrumental part was also done by them. “Sorrows” and “lonely” were the only words I could recognize. The song started really...enthusiastically. It made you want to dance but contradictory to that, you could tell the song held a sad message and then the guitar break... It was screaming in sorrow. My heart started racing faster, there was something in their voices too, they blended so well.

And then it ended, in the same way that it started. It seemed as if they were able to express a part of their pain in the most melodic way and then go back to having a silent burdened heart.

It was a good song. A really good one.

“So?” he said and then I realized that I had totally forgotten about him and his weird way of recommending songs.

“Good” was all I could say as I started feeling conscious about this absurd situation. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. You seemed like you needed a distraction.” that smile again, warmer this time. I wasn’t expecting that, not these words, nor that smile.

“Ah, right! Charity work to sad lonely girls.” i whispered and removed the airpod, frowning. Was he trying to take advantage of me?

“My name is Wonwoo. Everyone calls me Wonu.”

“And?”

“And let’s be friends.” What a weirdo. I thought, but still nodded at him and by the end of that day I had made my first friend, ever. And everything that happened afterwards, happened because of him.

////

What if my life was a book?

Who am I lying to, a life this uneventful is not even worth living let alone writing (and publishing). But still, let’s assume that I am not April and that my life is not a straight line.

Actually this brings back some memories. There was this girl in my class during elementary school, called “Eleni”. Everyone used to ask her whether the name started with a “h” or not, like “Helen”, totally igoring the “i” in the end. But Eleni would always answer with a grace rare for a child, saying “No, just Eleni. E-L-E-N-I. I am half greek and Eleni means sunshine.” And then put on her perfect innocent smile, living up to her name. Kids used to love Eleni and she was the center of everyone’s attention. Girls wanted to be best friends with her and boys used to say some lame jokes just to get her attention and I would always watch them from afar and wonder; Why wasn’t I full of life and beautiful like the month i was born in and even named after, like April is supposed to be?

I just wasn’t born to be the main character. Even my life seemed to treat me like a side one.

I told this to Wonwoo but he gave me one of these here-you-go again looks and continued to fix the books based on their heights.

After that weird interaction outside the grocery store, we exchanged our phone numbers and started texting each other song suggestions, which was something unusual but at the same time, entertaining. It was fun talking to him and easy, it still is.

That’s basically how I ended up here, giving him company while he does his job as a part time employee at the only library in our town. We know a little about each other but I guess that’s the best part of it. I am scared of words, they tend to lay me down and I have never been a fan of big knowledge so this: him, me and the quietness of the library is enough.

Or so I thought.

"Is she still like that though? He broke the silence between us but my mind had already drifted away.

"Who?" I asked.

Wonwoo fixed the book he was holding and smiled at me, more like a smirk because I could tell that he was hiding something.

He did not go to get another book.

"Eleni."

"Oh, her." I thought we were already over that topic."I don't know. I haven't seen her since then."

"Uhmm.” He was watching me thoughtfully through the little free spaces left on the bookshelf and I was sure that his brain was processing something that I most probably would not like.

"Cmon, tell me." I insisted and sat up from the old vintage chair I had been resting on. The library wasn’t that big but not that small either. It contained large and tall book shelves that took most of the space, some rounded tables and overused chairs. It was simple, the smell of old books was everywhere.

"Nevermind."

"Wonwoo, tell me." we were standing in front of each other now, our backs touching the wooden furnitures behind. I was trying to look serious and threatening but my expression was failing me.

"I think April fits you perfectly."

next: chapter 2

[goose-duck]

Mandela Catalogue Texting 👁️

~~~~~~

✨Jonah and Adam✨

~~~~~~

🌙Adam: we have no power

☀️ Jonah: why

☀️Jonah: what

🌙 Adam: the power is out

☀️ Jonah: ehy

☀️ Jonah: why

🌙Adam: they are working on the lines

☀️Jonah: why

🌙Adam: I don't know

~~~~~~

☀️ Jonah: is it day 7?

☀️ Jonah: or day 3

☀️ Jonah: it's the same day

☀️ Jonah: it's one of them

🌙 Adam: 7

☀️ Jonah: thank you

🌙 Adam: I only count the first 4 days

☀️ Jonah: I had to think harder abt that than I would have liked

🌙 Adam: haha

☀️ Jonah: Well, that makes sense, it just repeats

☀️ Jonah: I don't know why they even give us 8 days

🌙 Adam: yeah

🌙 Adam: knowing the days repeat it's weird

☀️ Jonah: maybe it's for fun

☀️ Jonah: maybe 8 is someone's lucky number

🌙 Adam: maybe

☀️ Jonah: I just tripped up the stairs, I'm so proud of myself

🌙 Adam: ahaha

☀️ Jonah: I feel like my shoes are loud

☀️ Jonah: it's very quiet

☀️ Jonah: it's weird when the school is quiet

~~~~~~

✨Evelin and Sarah✨

~~~~~~

💕 Evelin: Sorry I haven't answered ur messages today, I've been in Halifax

💕 Evelin: I'm very happy for you though <33

💕 Evelin: tell me abt ur boyfriend :D

🍓 Sarah: :33

🍓 Sarah: his name's Crow

🍓 Sarah: he's like a year younger than me

🍓 Sarah: but he's super sweet

🍓 Sarah: and like gives off soft boyfriend enrergy

💕 Evelin: Yayayayayay

💕 Evelin: I'm happy ur happy :D

💕 Evelin: y'all know eachother in person?

💕 Evelin: Crow is such a cool name

💕 Evelin: it's a name one could eat

💕 Evelin: soft bit energy is such a vibe

🍓 Sarah: he's from Canada

🍓 Sarah: VERYONENI LOVE IS FROM CANADASA

🍓 Sarah: GOD SAVE THE QUEEREN

💕 Evelin: SARAHHHH

💕 Evelin: UR CURSED

💕 Evelin: AT LEAST YOU KNOW CAMADIANS ARE LOVEABLE

💕 Evelin: I'm happy you have Crow but it's very funny that he's Canadian

💕 Evelin: what part of Canada?

🍓 Sarah: I think New Brunswick

💕 Evelin: :0

💕 Evelin: that's really close to NS

💕 Evelin: the school I wanna go to is in NB

💕 Evelin: u rlly like ppl from the south shore lol

💕 Evelin: must be the accent

🍓 Sarah: I think it is

🍓 Sarah: I heard his accent and I just knew

🍓 Sarah: but idk if it's Canadian

💕 Evelin: Sorry to just complain randomly, but I've been in this vehicle for an hour and I need to tell someone abt this lady's terrible driving

💕 Evelin: She keeps almost driving off the road 😭

💕 Evelin: She's barely making the turns

💕 Evelin: I'm just scared

💕 Evelin: Anyway, I'm very happy that u and Crow are together :D I hope y'all are very happy for a very long time, maybe even forever >:D

🍓 Sarah: that's scary

🍓 Sarah: and yes

🍓 Sarah: hes a total husbando

💕 Evelin: OMG THIS LADY JUST HIT A TRAFFIC COND

💕 Evelin: cone

💕 Evelin: FUCKKKK

💕 Evelin: SHE CANT DRIVE

🍓 Sarah: bruh

💕 Evelin: SAVE ME

🍓 Sarah: YOU DRIVE

💕 Evelin: I MIGHT

🍓 Sarah: get her her driving glasses

💕 Evelin: She slowed down, we're doing the speed limit now

💕 Evelin: SHE WAS 50 OVER THE SPEED LIMIT AND JUST NOW REALIZED

💕 Evelin: OLD LADY IS XRAZY

💕 Evelin: MAYBE SHE DOES NEED GLASSES

🍓 Sarah: what's that in miles

💕 Evelin: OR TO BE PUT IN AN OLD PPL HOME

💕 Evelin: 150 m/hr

💕 Evelin: I think

💕 Evelin: I don't have internet, so I'm doing my best

💕 Evelin: She's supposed to be dropping this old lady off somewhere b4 me bc it's on the way to Milton and she passed it 😭

💕 Evelin: "oh, there's Dansville" *keeps driving* "oh, right, we needed to go there" *does a fucking U-turn on the highway*

🍓 Sarah: oh my

💕 Evelin: I hope she actually makes it to Milton

💕 Evelin: Never trust a Canadian mf with a French accent istg

💕 Evelin: French Canadians are insane, I swear

💕 Evelin: Our asses are not making it to Milton

🍓 Sarah: lol

🍓 Sarah: be safe pls

💕 Evelin: I'll message u when I get home so u know I'm not dead lol

💕 Evelin: I'm gonna try to have a nap

🍓 Sarah: ok good

🍓 Sarah: Au revoir

~~~~~~

💕 Evelin: I'm home :D

🍓 Sarah: ok good

💕 Evelin: I'm gonna have a bath and try to relax

💕 Evelin: Should I have a bubble bath or a normal bath?

🍓 Sarah: Mmmmbubbles

💕: it's gonna be the best bubble bath ever

🍓 Sarah: u enjoy it

💕 Evelin: Merci très cher

🍓 Sarah: ?

💕 Evelin: Je t'aime, Salutttt <33

🍓 Sarah: <3

~~~~~~

✨Jonah and Adam✨

~~~~~~

☀️ Jonah: I can't fucking see

☀️ Jonah: fucking

☀️ Jonah: Aahdbsks

☀️ Jonah: Sorry I was not happy eafukng

☀️ Jonah: Earkk

☀️ Jonah: worss

☀️ Jonah: help

🌙 Adam: huh

☀️ Jonah: I'm fucked

☀️ Jonah: fucking

☀️ Jonah: can't see

🌙 Adam: wdym

☀️ Jonah: can't look at shit

🌙 Adam: why

☀️ Jonah: fucking

🌙 Adam: are u ok?

☀️ Jonah: When the pictures send you'll see

🌙 Adam: why

🌙 Adam: are you high

☀️ Jonah: I can't see

☀️ Jonah: This ddudkc

☀️ Jonah: Sycj

☀️ Jonah: fuck

☀️ Jonah: Why CBA I wrote that but nkw workx

☀️ Jonah: Fuck j

☀️ Jonah: When will this he'll end

🌙 Adam: I dont understand bud

☀️ Jonah: I don't understand either

☀️ Jonah: I can't read

🌙 Adam: get better

☀️ Jonah: Instahrm

~~~~~~

[basedkikuenjoyer]

A Marvelously Wonderful Life

1102 was a very tough chapter to write about. I usually have a draft ready from the Raws, but here there were a few angles I had to look at it from. So y'all are getting a Christmas bonus. On the surface this is just a cool, cool chapter. We split between Kuma and Bonney's stories, showing the former's side of known events. It's so moving in it's own right, do remember part of why I choose to focus on the meta narrative aspects is because it's hitting very close to home. And y'all this one's a doozy. Bookends. So this flashback begins with Ginny saving the day at God Valley the way she did and now ends with Kuma setting a precedent for the exact narrative trope we're looking for? Showing hidden sides of known events.

That's it, that's like...the entire foundational building block of all this weird shit I've said. Kiku was perfectly set up to do this with all of Wano, but it'd really start looking like a new recruit narrative fast. It's not just saying that the same way anyone could do that, we've pointed out several specific places where you could guess something happened based on context clues. Miss Unassuming is kinda the #1 archetype to pair with a twist told that way. In essence, this flashback starts and ends by setting a precedent. That's one way you could look at it, given I can tie both to Victoria Cindry is blowing my mind.

You cheeky lil shit. Don't worry, I'm not getting ahead of myself. This could just be a last note of the flashback and next chapter we're back to fighting Saturn. Kuma pops in to save the day with a last ounce of humanity, the miracle we didn't see with Cindry. Tomorrow we'll talk big picture, why I still wonder if this is a red herring walking the same line as Yamato. But first we have to ask the basic question, where does 1103 go from here? Because it can do that...but did we see it? A repeat of how we came back from the big cutaway. When we skipped the night in the lab. Is this the start of us coming back to that? Don't forget that was a double-bluff too.

That is an intriguing possibility. Always cool when you see the concept you expected but in a different way that's instantly so much better. Yeah, that is the way to play with the flow of this narrative. Skip the night, get to the high drama, fill in the night, finish the fight. To me, if that's what we're doing then this is almost assuredly heading towards the "Double Rashomon" idea. There'll be one more segment away. Maybe it's the alternate take on Wano. Maybe that's through Sword and Drake's report. Maybe it's the two Stussys as a pretext to let Marco do it. Maybe it's something completely different with or without alt-Wano as the fourth, real one. Neat right?

Crackle. Oh man, story's picking up another frequency again. There's something I'm left with here. Kuma's a total patron saint of teddy bears and genuinely good dudes everywhere. He's so cuddly and sweet and I know some of y'all are gonna hate me for this but he's also kind of a trusting idiot. So it's interesting you have that "Bakura" split personality element seep in.

We've broached this subject before, it's where Okiku was an evolution of Himura Kenshin. Which is really just the difference between a man making big, grandiose axioms about nonviolence vs. a sensible, pragmatic woman who will bear the burden of doing what's necessary as a last resort. Remember how much Kuma's sacrifices troubled Ginny. A little more grit and realism from the very spiritual Kuma probably would have been better for everyone involved, but at least people end up remembering you as a figure like Oden.

Makes this little crackle very interesting. It theoretically works as a Chekov's Gun; a way for Kuma to have a happy ending if Vegapunk snuck it in anyways. Or it works as a roadmap for where Kuma, saintly as he may be, fell short and is part of something bigger. Recall, we do make a point of showing something similar out of Vivi losing her cool in a tense conversation with Cipher Pol. (Psst, and Stussy setting up still struggling with personal identity issues that are silly to worry too much about.)

[occasionaloverboy]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @sparklyslug 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

4

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

222,566 (lol at that fic to word count ratio)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Almost entirely Stranger Things, though I have worked on some OFMD and Shadow and Bone (tv) stuff that never saw the light of day.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I only have the 4 but by order of kudos most to least : we know where we're going any other way cabin fever swing for the fences

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! It sometimes takes me a little while, but I love comments so so much - they mean a whole lot and always completely make my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of mine have angsty endings, but I guess it would have to be we know where we're going based purely on the drama contained in the last chapter

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely any other way, but swing for the fences will be up there too when it's finished

8. Do you get hate on fics?

It's never happened! Srsly thank fuck too cause I'd cry lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

You bet - it doesn't really fall into a specific type I guess, probably tends towards the romantic and soft? I try to make it realistic, with little things going wrong and laughter etc.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written a crossover but I wouldn't be opposed - I think they're neat

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but one of my best friends is my editor and she helps me so much with these fics it is insane, I seriously don't think any of them would have ever been fully finished much less posted if not for her

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I mean it's probably gotta be Steddie based purely on my own ridiculous behaviour about them. They're just so fun to shake around. But I've also always really loved Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in all their lovely forms (except for that one time 😒 but we won't talk about that)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Izzy/OC I started ages ago - rip

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel pretty comfortable with dialogue and describing physicality in general - love zooming in on little moments and making them a big deal for no reason

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am bad at big picture stuff; whether that be sticking to a planned length or just not adding a ton of extra little scenes that pop into my head as I'm writing. I think I have a tendency to muddy up my plot lines.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Gonna just repeat what @sparklyslug said here: I have no thoughts in particular. If it works in the fic and you've made sure your translation is right if you're not fluent in that language, hell yeah.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock Holmes (arthur conan doyle version babyyyy)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh man I really don't know, I love them all in different ways! Probably just cause they're the most recent I'll say that I'm really happy with how cabin fever turned out but I think my fav might be swing for the fences cause it is just so so fun to write.

No-pressure tags: @teddywesworl @postmodernau @dreamwatch @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e @carbonbased000 @geddyqueer

[freedomfireflies]

this is about to be really long, just a warning—

update on the film i’m making with my friend (if that’s ringing a bell, i can’t remember how much i’ve mentioned this to you): we finished our july shoots yesterday and wrapped for a couple of our actors and it’s been amazing in the sense that the performances are great and the shots are looking awesome. however, our assistant director has apparently taken a liking to me, and while he’s very professional about his position and clearly knows what he’s doing which i greatly admire, i’m very much not interested. the first day the flirting wasn’t too egregious and i was able to laugh it off, but yesterday was almost unbearable for me. he would follow me on my heels everywhere i would go, come up behind me during takes and just breathe down my neck, and always move to sit next to me. i started testing it by moving around the room between takes to see if he would randomly follow—he always would. as the scripty for the film, it’s my job to be taking notes on pretty much everything happening during takes (timestamps, lenses, camera angles, line deviations, performance notes, shot types, etc.) by the time we were breaking for lunch, my hands were shaking so badly i couldn’t type. i felt like i was gonna suffocate. why do men do this again and again and again? completely tarnish valuable experiences for women because they think they’re entitled to their personal space? he wouldn’t stop talking at me, repeating back what i would say as if he’d just had the idea himself and was gracious enough to explain it to me. he would stare at me across the room, always. glance down at my chest every single time we would talk. our final shoots are in august and i’m not sure what to do. this is my film, a project i adore, and i refuse to let him take it away from me. but i just don’t know if i can stomach him again. i already feel like such an imposter on set—must i also feel like a piece of meat? i guess so.

i’m sorry for the totally downer message, and i certainly don’t expect you to come up with any solutions here, haha. i just wanted to share this. i feel pretty alone with this these days. thank you for reading if you do <3

My love ♥️

First of all, I'm so insanely sorry you're having to go through this, especially in a place that's supposed to be a safe environment for you and everyone else!

Is there any way you can either have him fired/removed from set/made to stay away from you (like opposite end of the property) OR is there anyone else you can talk to about this so they can make sure he doesn't get close?

You should never be made to feel like an object EVER. End of. And to disrespect you so publicly (and at all) is so far over the line, you can't even see the line anymore. If anything, it's inappropriate workplace behavior, and can be dealt with as such!

I know he might be in an important position for the film, but truly, it shouldn't matter. Assistant director or not, he's making somebody on set feel uncomfortable and deserves to be dealt with and punished. I know it's not an easy conversation to have, but please let me know if you have anybody to talk to about this so at least somebody else can be there with you so you aren't alone with him.

I'm so proud of you all for finishing and I'm so excited to hear about how it all goes! This is amazing work and I'm truly so impressed and inspired by you! And I hope this man doesn't get even a second of your joy and pride in your amazing work! And again, I'm so sorry this is something you're having to deal with. I know apologies don't help, but it makes me so upset to hear, and I'm sending you the biggest hug in the world ♥️

Please know you can message me any time (about this or anything!) and I will absolutely be here to talk or help you feel a little less alone! Especially if you end up seeing him again and want an escape!

I hope you're all right and taking care of yourself! You deserve to feel safe and respected everywhere and I hope you feel that way again so soon!

[chuckpetrizzi]

To say that life transitions are difficult is a massive understatement, and the last two and a half years since coming out are no exception.

Two and a half years.

Saying that now feels incredibly ridiculous. Because it can’t’ve only been two and a half years when it feels like at least a decade. The amount of growth, change, development that has happened in such a short amount of time is mind-boggling. Second puberty (we’ve had one, yes), two neurodivergent diagnoses, a myriad of relationships gained and lost (while only a handful remain the through lines), the ongoing struggle with mental health, and so much more all crammed together in a tiny package like an eclectic group of sardines.

There are times I’ve had the words to say to perfectly explain it all. And times when I’ve gone completely quiet. Little bursts of creative expression and long drawn out (no pun intended) periods of existential silence.

There’s been joy and there’s been pain.

Understanding and confusion.

Moments I’m certain I finally have it all figured out, and I’ve fallen into a rhythm like a well-piled machine. Followed, almost immediately, by the most soul-crushing burnout I have ever felt. Left a shambling husk, devoid of all motivation.

Rinse and repeat.

A new day.

A ceaseless night.

A new day.

Many a time I feel as though I know who I am. But just as many leave me feeling disconnected with the me I thought I knew.

I’ve changed so much, yet not at all.

I’m a totally different person and yet I’m exactly the same.

One question persists, growing ever louder as the days pass: Who do I want to be?

On one side, there’s Anna. Her life so recent yet so incredibly distant. She urges me not to forgot her and the things she believed in. But she doesn’t yet know how much of it is a lie. Not all of it. But…enough to break her down.

Then there’s the kid. The me before Anna. The one who told all his baby sitters to call him Jimmy because he was a boy. Though, I haven’t been that kid in over 20 years, in many ways, I feel closer to him than I feel to her. Yet he is a kid. And I cannot be what I no longer am.

They’re pulling me.

Dragging me.

Tearing me.

“Come this way” they say. “This is who you are.”

I cannot forget them, yet I cannot fully embrace them. Not at the same time. And trying to do so is breaking me.

So then what do I do? I stand in the middle. Overwhelmed. Unsure. Sometimes I feel as though I’m standing still and yet I am being ripped in either direction. “Torn in Place.”

It is dark all around me. The well-meaning voices of my past lives turn to wailing and gnashing of teeth as the pendulum of time swings on. Each day as long as a life age of the earth.

Though I cannot see it clearly, sometimes I catch a glimpse of another way. For there is light and high beauty up there that no shadow can touch. Somewhere in the middle. Somewhere beyond my past where I have yet to go, intermingled with both parts of who I once was. The person I want to become. But I cannot yet fully see it in my own reflection, and, sometimes, when the darkness is particularly strong, I feel as if I never will.

But still I hope

Even when I don’t.

I don’t normally share what little art I make here. But this one I had to, because it is a picture of me. A self portrait showcasing my past, my present, and, hopefully, my future. Becoming me has been a long and difficult journey, an arduous transition. Yet, when I take a step back and behold that journey for all it is, I am met with the sight of something complex.

Something joyful.

Something broken.

But ultimately, Something Beautiful.