#also the hoagie was pretty good

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

Finally got a wawa hoagie. I think im wawapilled now actually.

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Will we ever find out what happened to penny’s parents? Also, will we find out why penny is seeming 10 years old forever?

These two are related, so I will answer them together and explain the WHOLE situation. Brace yourselves, it's gonna be a ride.

[TW: abuse, manipulation, violence]

This got LONG, oh boy... HUGE thanks to @deyasworld for the proofread, corrections and important addictions!!! This story wouldn't be even half this good if it wasn't for her!!! GIVE HER A HEART IF YOU CAN!!!

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[Now Loading...

K.N.D. Mission

Turning Elders New For Our Revolutionary Exciting Virtue of Eternal Rebellion]

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Penny was a normal girl, who could age normally like any other kid. Her parents disappeared when she was 8, and turned 10 while living with Nigel.

One fateful day in 2015, the city woke up to a pink sky. This alone was pretty unusual, but what made that day so strange from the rest was that everyone in the city had reverted back to being 10 years old!

Everyone except kids younger than 10, —who just remained the same age—, but everyone else: adults, elderly people and teens, were back to being 10 year-old kids! Running around unsupervised.

This strange event unleashed a LOT of confusion and panic. Even worse, people seemed to have completely forgotten about their families and jobs, and went straight to playing around instead of keeping their responsibilities.

Sector V responded immediately by establishing an Emergency Camp at the city’s stadium, where all the unattended children were gathered and taken care of until their parents got back to normal.

At this point of the story, Nigel is the only member of the old Sector V who still lives in the city, and technically also Kuki, —though she had been decommissioned a year prior, when her kid was born and when… Wally disappeared.

Nigel was asked to take over the operation and investigate, but he refused to take the lead. Instead, he chose to follow Penny, who was the standing chief of operations of the current Sector V, and believed she should be the leader of the mission.

Cinzia and Joey were left in charge of the Emergency Camp, helping to take care of the kids. Many kiddified adults managed to keep a cool head and volunteered to help around, which made things easier around the camp. Even though these adults were technically helping the Kids Next Door as kids, they were not made aware of the organization, and the ongoing operation remained a secret to them.

Robbie was left in charge of leading the search for the reckless parents who separated from their small kids, alongside a kiddified Lou, who was very PISSED about the whole situation.

Penny and Nigel kept things under control and maintained communication with the Moonbase, in case something more happened. They discovered a strange barrier surrounding the edges of the city, turning everyone in town into kids. Anyone who entered the city would be turned into a kid, but if a kiddified adult tried to leave the city…, nothing would happen. The KND surrounded the area and made sure no-one else would get in.

Abby and Hoagie lived in another city, where Abby was going to college. She was five months pregnant at the time, and was ABSOLUTELY NOT ALLOWED to enter the city.

After two days of effort, the power source of the barrier was found in Northern Greenland. Nigel and Penny were sent to investigate, while the rest of the crew stayed back to handle anything that could possibly happen.

The source tracked down to an abandoned facility in the middle of nowhere, covered in ice and snow. Once they managed to get in, they found a staircase leading deeper down the icy structure, and they quickly understood that the place was much larger than they initially thought.

Navigating the huge facility was tricky and full of rooms, so they made sure to mark the route they decided to follow.

After some exploration, they wound up in a bright open space. Lights reflected all around the ice, completely illuminating the whole place. It was very quiet, and it seemed to be the last room left to explore in the building.

In the middle of it, there were two kids.

Penny didn’t have a doubt as she ran towards them. Younger or older, she could recognize: Those were her parents.

The kids hugged and cried of joy at the reunion; Penny couldn’t hold back a single tear. After tiresome years of search, the reason she had joined the Kids Next Door had finally been fulfilled. The two kids pat Penny to calm her down and reassure her.

Nigel felt… uneasy. Something felt wrong. And it wasn’t the thought of Penny leaving him for them; it was something more, and it was coming from them.

Penny collected herself and called him over, but the two kids were quick to recognize him as, the legendary, Numbuh 1. The kids stated that they were big fans of his ideals! And cited him as their main inspiration to build the device that turned adults into kids.

So well… They were responsible for the whole mess, adding a reason for Nigel not to trust them, on top of the fact that they had abandoned Penny for all those years..

And from there it got worse. They elaborated their plans, explaining that they planned on turning the entire world into kids so that no-one would turn into a sad, boring, serious adult. “No kid should have to go through that ever again!”; everybody would be able to play and have fun forever! And that’s why they had decided to become kids again, and study how to make the world Adult Free!

This only made Nigel dislike them even more. He pointed out that, even if everyone was a kid, someone would have to take the jobs adults do. They’d still need doctors, and factory workers to produce foods, and even toys!

The kids argued that yes, that was true, but kids would make everything funnier!

Kids were perfectly capable of doing everything on their own, and the KND were the proof of that! Kids didn’t need adults or parents to guide them!

That’s when Penny asked if that was the reason they left her….

… And, in fact, it was. They waited for her to be old enough to “fend for herself” and went on with their research, because, to be honest, parenting wasn’t their thing. Caring for kids was too much work, too complicated, too stressful and depressing. But from now on, they could be like siblings! It would be so much better and way more fun!

Penny’s little heart sunk in pain, and she stepped away from them, crying.

“I don’t want siblings!” She cried, “I want a mom and dad!… I need parents that protect me, and help me when I need them!”

Nigel had had it. He grabbed Penny and pulled her behind him, shielding her, and started yelling at these monsters.

Kids DO need adults! They DO need parents to help them, educate them, take care of them, among many other things! Yes, adults ruled the world, but not ALL of them were bad. There were good adults who wanted to keep kids safe, that’s what the Adult Division is for! These two were just selfish assholes who abandoned their daughter, who are now trying to force their moronic views on the entire world.

The two looked at each other with boredom. “Never meet your heroes….”

Nigel held Penny’s hand and turned to walk away, when suddenly she was yanked from him, and before he could say or do anything, a sharp, burning pain pierced on his left shoulder.

Looking over, he sees the boy holding Penny, and the girl holding a laser gun that was still fuming.

He watched in horror as the two dragged Penny away screaming. He tried to catch up to them, realizing in that moment that he couldn’t use his powers at all, for some reason. The pain was too intense, and he collapsed on the ground.

The all-too familiar solitude of silence had surrounded him once more…, followed by its darkness…

-----

Nigel found himself lost in the void, floating in its pool of emptiness... All hope was lost for what felt like an eternity, until a warm, familiar voice echoed. It was calling for him, telling him to wake up or he’d be late, “Penny is waiting for you”.

“…. dad?…”

And then he woke up.

He found himself in a hospital bed. Robbie and Joey were standing on one side,… and Abby and Hoagie at the other.

The two explained that they had been informed of the situation, and they traveled along to where the signal came from, and that when they got there, they had found him faint and wounded.

They didn’t think twice about getting him to the city’s hospital, and accidentally got turned into kids. Nigel got startled the moment he noticed, and felt a despairing rage when he realized that, by doing so, Abby had apparently lost her baby…..

Hadn’t those two done enough??! THEY were the cause of all this! THEY chased a childish dream and cost the world Everything! And now they had Penny in their clutches.

Against the doctor’s orders to rest, Nigel got quickly on his feet and ordered a rescue mission for Penny. All KND operatives in the city were called in to join the mission.

The operatives raided the Greenland hideout and found the two mad scientists doing something to Penny, who was trapped in a strange machine.

The two explained that they had discovered how to freeze aging and stay Ten Forever! They revealed that they had gotten Father to give them his Delightfulization formula, and cracked a formula from it to get the results they wanted.

Penny was their first success.

There was a furious fight that got the lab destroyed in the process, but Penny had been rescued. By destroying the machine that powered the barrier, everyone affected went back to normal, and by miracle, Abby’s pregnancy was unharmed and back to normal.

Everyone was back to normal except for Penny’s parents. The process they had used on themselves was different. The KND scientists asked if they should revert them and bring them back to their actual ages, but Nigel refused.

“Let them grow again. I think that’s the worst punishment these two can face.”

Everything was back to normal, but indeed…. Ever since that day, Penny hasn't grown a day older.

Somehow she can’t realize she can’t grow. She has lucid moments where something feels off, and Nigel is always there to help her get through them.

Nigel and Penny’s relationship started as that of a brother and sister, but as time went on, Penny began to consider Nigel as more of a father, as he’d look older and older. In 2019, Nigel adopted Penny officially, and they became father and daughter, filling in for the paternal figure she much needed.

The KND decided to keep her because you don’t let go of a Forever Kid! She wouldn’t be able to become Soopreme Leader though, because it wouldn’t be fair for other kids, but she remains the Sector V leader until she wants out, be it out of the position or out of the organization, —which she wouldn’t even dream of!

KND scientists from all divisions are working non-stop to find a way to reverse the anti-aging process so she can grow normally, and so that she can move on.

[End of Transmission.]

[mxtantrights]

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK THREE - MR.LOVERMAN

The music video would be out in two weeks. And you’re at home twiddling your thumbs. You don’t know what to do with yourself. How do you just go on with normal life knowing that in fourteen days and a couple of hours everyone would know your face. 

Well you can’t just sit at home and wonder aimlessly. You needed to get lunch anyways. You spring into action then.

You pull on your jacket and a pair of shoes and head outside. You were’ too picky when you were hungry anyways. So you walk into the nearest sandwich shop and get in line. As you peruse the menu you can’t help but to think of him, Dick.

It’s not like you fell in love while on set. Technically you liked him before that. But that was different; that was when he didn’t know you and didn’t laugh at your jokes and know your name. 

Well, you think, the feeling isn’t mutual. He didn’t ask for any of your information. You were kind of hoping he would, seeing as you two were hitting it off pretty easily. But maybe that’s just his charm and this really was just a one and done job.

Your eyes settle on the number nine. The Vigilante hoagie. You’ll take that, it sounds good. Peppers and onions with some salami. And a secret sauce.

“Next in line!” 

The person in front of you walks up to the counter. You take another step forward. Just as you’re about to pull out your phone you look around the store once more. For no reason other than to be nosy and as luck would have it, you are so thankful for it.

At the end of the counter, presumably waiting for a sandwich, is Dick Grayson. His head is down and his eyes on his phone. He’s wearing running clothes and his hair is sticking to his forehead. Yeah he looked good.

What do you do? You can’t be weird about this. But wouldn’t it be weird to not go up to him? He is the one who’s paying your bills for the next three months. But would going up to him be like a breech in contract? Technically to the outside world you two don’t know each other.

Great. This is just great.

“Hi, can I take your order?” The employee says.

And then Dick’s eyes land on you. Somehow he had picked his head up while you were distracted. Even better, you think. You look away a stuck as you can and step to the counter. There you give your order pretty quickly and get ringed up. And then you take the slow and embarrassing walk to the pick up counter. 

Dick watches as you do, even tucks his phone into his pocket. You really wish he hadn’t. You wished that he would be one of those famous people that ignore and deflect. But he’s not.

“Hey there.” he says. 

You wave at him, “Hi.” 

“So you like sandwiches?” he asks.

You laugh, “I was just hungry for something.”

“Me too. I love number nine by the way.” He answers.

“Really? I just ordered that.” you say.

“Oh you’re gonna love it. It’s the best thing in this place.” 

A bell dings and an employee comes over to the pick up counter with a bags in their hands. They hold out the order.

“I’ve got a number eleven without pickles and extra banana peppers.” they say.

The man who was in front of you comes up to the counter and takes his order. It lasts maybe a moment or two but it’s enough for you to feel awkward about talking again.

“So, what have you been up to?” Dick asks.

“Not much, looking for other opportunities, and getting into a new hobby.” You answer.

“Oh that’s cool. You said you liked the filming on set right? Anything to do with that?” 

You nod your head. And you also can’t believe it. He was paying attention to you when you talked? Okay the bay may be low—but honestly he probably has so many things going on in his life. Why would he remember that about you?

“Yeah actually, I’m getting into photography a bit. Not sure how good I am though.” you say honestly. 

“I mean I’m no photo critic, but you could send me what you’ve got so far.” And then Dick Grayson, live and in the flesh, is taking out his phone and handing it over to you. You stand there for a second, then three. You can’t believe it. You really can’t believe it.

You reach for his phone and put in your information. When you hand back his phone he has this look on his face. 

“What?” you ask him.

“I was just gonna ask if I could take your contact picture. Not that there re so many people in my phone—well there are but I mean having your picture—“ he rambles on.

“Yeah.” you agree.

Dick looks shocked that you said yes. But it doesn’t last long. He’s holding up his phone and taking your picture. He even shows you the picture in good measure which you’re fine with.

And just like that Dick Grayson has your number and your picture. And all you came outside for was a sandwich. 

-

As soon as Dick got into his car he shut his eyes in embarrassment. Yes he got your number but not without making himself look like a total fool. 

“So you like sandwiches?” He repeats the question to himself. Why was talking to you throwing him off like this? Sure you’re amazing and your sweet and you don’t seem to be intimidated by his status of fame. But it was like it was more than that, you are so much more than that. 

He’s losing it he thinks. So he puts his sandwich in the passenger seat and even puts a seat belt on it. Then he’s driving off to the only place he knows he can get some answers. The highway isn’t as packed as he thought it would be. And it makes the trip that much shorter.

When he pulls up to the gated community he gives his ID and shows his visitors pass. The security guard lets him through and Dick practically plows his way to the house.

He unbuckles himself, then his sandwich and is headed to the door in quick step. He knocks on the stained glass red frame and waits. It takes five seconds before he sees her blurred figure on the other side. “Boy wonder?” she asks.

Then she’s opening the door. Dick grimaces.

“I know I should have called first but I needed to talk to someone.” he says.

Donna lets him inside quickly. He hands her the sandwich because honestly he can’t even think clearly enough to eat right now. Donna takes the sandwich willingly and walks them over to the couch.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m just probably falling in love for fourth time in my life. No sweat.” Dick says and plops himself onto the couch with a sigh.

Donna laughs, “Grayson, falling in love isn’t a bad thing.”

“It is when everyone thinks you’re a heartbreaker!” 

“No, the tabloids think you’re a heartbreaker. And some willfully ignorant people believe that. Not everyone.” 

He turns to her now, his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“This feels different. It is different. I know it.” he says.

Donna nods her head and gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Okay then, tell me all about it.” 

[kndrules]

Similar to that previous ask you answered... What are some more of your headcanons for Hoagie? Yours are very unique and I'm very invested in them

OKAY LET'S SEE.... Yes and also all of my Headcanons are also @sector-v / @eltube 's Headcanons. We share a brain. We mind-meld.

I'm gonna start with their family stuff since that's what I did for Abby!

The most important thing is that hoagie is Jewish, on their mom's side. I have this headcanon that Lydia is a Holocaust survivor but as time passes I wonder if it makes more sense for it to be Lydia's parents who were survivors. Either way, there's a direct line there. hoagie is German on both sides of the family.

That being said, hoagie isn't very devout. They go through the motions of attending services, participating in high holidays (but don't ask if they've ever successfully fasted for Yom Kippur), and they had their Bar Mitzvah- but I don't think they care that much about it really. It's just habit.

The big question we all love to talk about is whether their dad died or their parents are just divorced. My answer is both. Their parents divorced because Betty is a lesbian, but she's still pretty much in the closet even now. Their dad died a few years after that. Both parents are from the Midwest, hence the accents.

On their mom's side, the only family they have is their immediate family. Meanwhile, their dad had a very large family, but there's a lot of tension between hoagies immediately family and the dad's family, cuz they don't like Betty very much. They're very judgemental and the cousins bully hoagie so hoagie resents them a lot.

My idea is that every other Christmas they go and spend it with the dad's family. Hoagie hates this. Ive had a comic idea for YEARS about it, but I've never gotten around to making it

Otherwise... Lemme think

Hoagie is a classic nerd while in middle school, but starts to realize she doesn't actually like those kids very much. She ends up spending more time with other trans women nerds, like Angeline, who plays videogames with hoagie once a week.

No surprise to anyone, she gets into a really good university right out of high school and studies aerospace engineering and applied physics. They ultimately get a PhD in physics. While they love aerospace engineering, pretty much any career path involving it is tied into the arms industry one way or another, so they don't pursue it in any official capacity. I mostly picture them becoming a University professor who also does laboratory research.

I alluded to this when I talked about Abby, but Hoagie and Abby grow very close during grad school, which is when they start dating. They get married and have two kids. Their daughter Naomi takes after Hoagie a lot and has a knack for engineering

Hoagie always remains very close to her mom and brother

Okay this feels like enough for now. I'm still very willing to answer more specific questions too

[bluepastels29]

Had this sitting around unfinished for a while, so I decided to finally get it done. I've been craving to do future Skyleeverse stuff lately and wanted to draw Skye and Hoagie's family first 💙🩷

Meet the Gilligans!

You pretty much know about Hank, so I'll skip him for now and move to his sisters 😂

Lani Gilligan is Skye and Hoagie's second oldest kid. She is known as the gremlin out of the Gilligan sibs, managing to take after Skye's chaotic nature back when she was a kid and becoming quite the handful. While also being born with the gift of tinkering, Lani has a love for tinkering and usually messes with the wiring in the house to come up with new security systems and traps (which she gets in trouble for). She's a huge daddy's girl. She is a 2x4 tech officer and explosives specialist for the KND, going by Numbuh 7.2. She is 10 years old.

Sora Gilligan is the youngest of the Gilligan kids, being 1 year old. Nothing much is known about her yet except her being the baby of the family and being the calmest out of her sibs. She is a very quiet baby, which isn't really good for her parents since she is known to wander off without anyone noticing and get into some trouble.

Skye Gilligan works as a stunt pilot and sometimes teaches classes to those who are interested in becoming a stunt pilot themselves. Is usually laid back and fun-loving, but knows when to be strict and lay down some rules if she has to. Loves her kids and husband dearly, sometimes being a bit of a mother hen and being overprotective. Is 38 years old.

Hoagie Pennywhistle Gilligan Jr. works as a pilot at the airport, having flexible hours so he wouldn't be away from his family for too much. Is a loving and joyful dad and loves spending time with his kids and wife, wanting nothing more than his family to be happy. He still has a love for jokes and puns, now often telling dad jokes any chance he gets (he almost got banned from family reunions because of him telling dad jokes nonstop 😂) Is 39 years old

[monkeytrick]

This is my weekend as a 28-year-old living in Chicago. Started my day off with a Guru and making my bed. It was mental health awareness day at my company, so I got brunch with my friend Lizzy and had a few drinks. Then I met up with Evelyn and we kayaked to the Chicago river. It was actually pretty dope. Priscilla had never been to the field museum, so we had to check it out. Then we headed to El Paraiso for some drinks and vibes. The tacos were scrumptious. We also got a margarita tower? So… yeah. After that I had to take my forerunner to the shop to get a new transmission, then I then I came home and just chilled a little, before going to see Bill Maher at the Chicago Theatre. He absolutely crushed it. After the show, I met up with Lindsey Jacobellis and her sister, Malmo, for tequila shots, and yet another marg tower. It was so much fun. Then we went to Rind for their stuffed pineapple which was absolutely to die for. And their snow crab is pretty good too. Here’s a brow brow in Tomlin Square, with Jake, Ben, and Jordan - my friends are the craziest. More drinks, then we went to Rose Mary for small bites, and somehow we ended up going to Medieval Times. I don’t know, the rest of the night was kind of a blur. Woke up Saturday and took Lunch for a waltz, we found a cicada skin and I tried to get him to eat it, but he didn’t. Another Guru, then a much needed pork chop from the Golden Nugget. Rosie invited me to The Museum of Ice Cream, which was actually pretty dope. She’s so precious. Then we got hungry, so I made pesto aioli to put on some Italian hoagies. After a couple rounds of Zathuro, we went to the world’s largest Starbucks, then met up with McKenzie and Marvin at The Museum of Ice Cream, which was actually pretty dope. Got a marg tower, then I had a dessert date with Kara at The Museum of Ice Cream, and then we got hungry so we grabbed a bite at Wendell’s. Me and Gira had reservations at HideSeek for their alpana, and then got lomo at Tanta, which I highly recommend. I was pretty wiped, so then I just chilled for a few. Met up with my girlfriend Darla at Legoland, then caught a rooftop movie with our friend, K.P., and stopped at Target on the way to Bobobo for drinks, then stopped at Target before going to Cafe Menu at the east loop for Georgina’s 45th. I got the #6, which includes pizza, salad, stir fry, and pasta. Which I highly recommend. Tyler had an acoustic set at the plunge hole, so I stopped by that, and then went to Ben’s performance at a docuragan restaurant. Then it was time for dinner at D’Angelo’s, where you have to get the cheeseburger egg rolls tacos and tacos. I got a spare of marg towers, then I totaled one in linkin park and had a beautiful drive home. I spent the night teaching guitar online and watched Trumblo for like the billionth time. Woke up on Sunday and hit T.J.’s in Phillis with Alice and Peckler, my wife and husband thought it would be a good day for a hike, so we… did that. After that, I ranked every girl I know on a scale of 1-10, then wrote apology letters to the sub-4s. Yet another marg tower. Went on a hike with Erin, then Friendsgiving at Lina’s condo. And we played some VR and made hot dogs and saw a comedy show and saw a comedy show and made some aioli. So I guess that was my weekend

[cdyssey]

One Bed

Summary: When Barbara and Melissa get to their conference hotel room, they're unduly shocked that there is only one bed. [Post-2.16]

CW: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Emotional Infidelity/Infidelity, Sexual Innuendo/References

AO3

—

It’s a mistake, of course.

A clerical error most likely.

Perfectly reasonable given all the administrative duress that the hotel must be under since it’s hosting PECSA.

When Barbara and Melissa get to their shared room, huffing and puffing and ready to park their tired asses down—having lugged their suitcases all the way down a long hallway that looks like it could have come straight from The Shining—they quickly realize that instead of two queens, there’s only one king-sized bed that’s clearly made for two. 

Barbara reacts as she’s supposed to, as is to be expected of her, a zealous woman of God—scandalized and righteously bewildered, stopping dead in the middle of the doorway, clenching the handle of her makeup bag far too tightly…

(… battling unsolicited images of Melissa’s beautiful hair splayed across a white pillow.)

(And she isn’t wearing a shirt in this vision for some inexplicable reason either, the contours of a black lace bra doing absolutely nothing to contain those creamy, voluptuous—)

“Oh, almighty God in Heaven,” she exhales with shuttered breath, blinking rapidly. Melissa nearly runs into her, the tip of her shoe clipping her heel as she also tries to teeter to an abrupt standstill with all her luggage.

It’s almost funny.

The way that Barbara barely feels the ensuing sting.

“What?” The younger woman grunts as she peers over her shoulder. “Is the room not clean yet or somethin’ because I swear to God, I ain’t carrying all this crap down aga—“

But she stops short, clearly sees the dilemma.

That one bed.

“Ah,” she only says, temporarily rendered speechless, which is a damn near feat for Melissa Schemmenti, who has strong opinions on pretty much everything, from the starting lineup of the Flyers to which Wawa hoagie is the best.

(The Gobbler obviously.)

“We should call downstairs,” Barbara suggests weakly, her throat strangely dry. Maybe it’s just the Allentown weather, and her sinuses are acting up, as they’re wont to do in strange environments.

Because surely, it’s not the prospect of sharing the same bed with her dearest friend in the entire world.

That would be ludicrous to be bothered about. 

Absurd even.

It’s merely a bed, and she’s a grown-ass woman who is perfectly capable of cohabiting a bed with another grown-ass woman.

If it has to come to that.

(She doesn’t think it would be a particularly good idea for it to come to that.)

“See if we can get it changed,” she continues, attempting a smile that stretches across her lips like rusted wire.

“What?” Melissa teases, having regained her composure far more quickly than Barbara. Her chin is nearly touching her shoulder, and that makes the kindergarten teacher feel some kind of way too, as though there’s a tightness coiled just behind her navel. She also blames this on her incredibly sensitive allergies, inwardly lamenting that she forgot to pack her Sudafed. 

“You scared to sleep in the same bed with me? ‘Fraid I have cooties?”

She receives an accompanying smirk and an elbow nudge at this, pinned down by twinkling eyes that remind her of both hearth and home, and Barbara can’t help it; she laughs in spite of herself. 

Because it never really matters in the end. 

Not with Melissa Schemmenti.

Whether she’s irritated about paperwork, stressed after a long few weeks of fearing that her husband has prostate cancer, or experiencing inconvenient sinus symptoms, the younger woman always knows how to tease a smile out of her. She’s a menace and one hell of a saint; she absolutely delights in doing so. 

Barbara used to hate that when she was a younger woman, loathed that there was apparently one person who could sneak past her well-constructed defenses and disarm them all with a sly wink and a shit-eating grin. She used to nag at Melissa all the time for being facetious.

It was utterly inappropriate.

All the jokes and games and innuendos that would make a preacher blush.

They were supposed to be adults. 

But now, nearly three decades down the line, she’s forever grateful to Melissa for continually reminding her of how to play.

“No, of course not,” she insists vigorously. “I just know that you and I would both be more comfortable if we had our own beds. Our backs are more twisted than those kids who won at the end of Footloose.”

“Pssh, that’s the moral you took at the end of Footloose, Barb?” Melissa snorts incredulously, shaking her fiery head. 

“Yes!”

No, it absolutely was not, but she isn’t going to admit to spending an inordinate amount of time admiring Lori Singer’s toned arms. 

As inspiration for her own exercise regiment, naturally. 

“God bless ya,” her friend chortles fondly, “but hell yeah, sure. We can grab our swag bags from the ballroom and swing by the front desk afterwards. And then it’s—“

“—pool time, baby,” Barbara finishes with delicious zeal, unable to contain herself, affecting a theatrical, little shoulder shimmy. 

She’s been looking forward to PECSA for at least a month now, anticipating all the best parts in advance: the long car ride with Melissa and the inevitable hours in the pool with her too, luxuriating in the sauna with Melissa, boozing it up with Melissa, staggering back to the room gloriously drunk at 2AM with Melissa, (wondering why life isn’t always as lovely as this in a tequila-soaked daze).

Waking up to Melissa as the first sight she sees in the morning.

Nursing a nasty hangover.

Thinking it’s an appropriate and welcome punishment for ever daring to be so perfectly happy.

(With Melissa.)

These are the traditions that they’ve threaded for themselves in all these years upon years—their rituals of unbecoming, of leaving school and family chaos and the consummate professionals that they always have to be behind. And, of course, what happens at the conference stays at the conference. That’s their maxim anyway—maybe even their chosen excuse—for the ways they tend to act when they’re alone.

“Well, I was gonna say booze time,” the younger woman grins, “but I guess the two aren’t mutually exclusive the way we do it.”

“No,” Barbara easily returns the smile, affectionately knocking her hip against Melissa’s own. “Not at all.”

—

An hour later, they’re stretched out side-by-side on lounge chairs by the pool—pre-gaming for PECSA-geddon with piña coladas—when Melissa gets a call from the concierge; they’d stopped by the lobby before heading upstairs to change into their swimsuits and made the manager aware of the error, leaving with a promise that he’d look for another room and get back to them as soon as check-in rush was over.

But to no avail.

There are no doubles left in the inn.

“He said they’ll send us a complimentary bottle of champagne for the trouble, though,” the second-grade teacher shrugs as she tosses her phone into her beach bag again. “So that’s a plus. I’mma need copious amounts of alcohol to cope with seein’ my sister’s ugly mug.”

Barbara, who had been stuck on the fact that she is in fact going to have to share a bed with Melissa tonight—(again, not that it discomfits her at all! she’s a grown-ass woman!)—is a little late registering what she just said, but when it hits her, when she remembers that they’d run into Kristin Marie before leaving the vendor ballroom, she sharply recalls the way the two sisters had so viscerally sparred.

As they always do when they encounter each other in the wild—claws out, hackles raised, their words like sharp teeth at the edge of the other’s exposed throat.

Barbara frankly thinks that their estrangement has gone on for too damn long. She’s seen enough of their fights to know that beneath all the name calling and cooking-based insults, they clearly love and miss each other, even if they’re both too stubborn to ever admit it. But all the same, she hadn’t appreciated Kristin Marie’s remarkably low blow about Joseph.

Hell, she may have even said something herself had Melissa not gotten there first.

“About that…” She begins, biting her plump lower lip. It tastes like pineapple. She briefly prays—perhaps inappropriately—that the rum will give her liquid courage. 

Barbara is well-aware that they have an implicit but long-established rule not to bring their personal lives with them to conferences. Last year, for instance, they did an exceptionally fine job of not talking about the fact that the Howards had been in unhappy straits, their marriage strained by Gerald’s recent promotion. His long hours exacted a toll from them; his frequent out-of-town trips caused an abyss that neither of them knew how to functionally bridge.

They didn’t argue necessarily—they just constantly disagreed with each other in their normal tones of voice—but that was somehow the exact same thing and possibly even worse.

(Maybe they were too apathetic to even muster themselves to fight.)

They persevered and made it through that dark time, though.

(Mostly.)

They tentatively reconciled.

(They never directly spoke about the thousands of tensions between them, steamrolling over and through them instead, affecting a normality that neither of them looked like they could wholly feel.)

Of course they did. There was no other option. Divorce was synonymous with quitting, and quitting was in neither of their vocabularies. 

But things had been complicated there for a while.

Life had been.

And this time last year, Melissa didn’t have to ask if something was wrong. Attentive to every microgesture, she just capably knew and didn’t press Barbara about any of it. 

Just kept plying drinks into her open hand.

And Barbara Howard had loved her for that—for her discretion, for her clear sensitivity to the delicate situation, for all her innumerable and wordless acts of care—the drinks, her purposefully inane chatter, the way she would sometimes rub circles into the side of the kindergarten teacher’s wrist when they sat at the bar, and every tall man with a sad smile unfailingly reminded her of Gerald.

She’s too something or another—(Involved? Hypocritical? Christian?)—to ever extend her the same courtesy.

“Don’t,” Melissa warns, sucking on the straw of her drink rather petulantly. “I don’t wanna hear it. I ain’t makin’ up with her.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” she replies patiently. (Well, she is. Eventually. If the two of them keep it up this weekend. Both for Melissa’s sake and her own. She’s not willing to play referee to the Schemmenti sisters’ knock-down-drag-out fights again. She’s been there, done that, and every attempt has unfailingly ended with her needing to imbibe copious amounts of wine for doing so.) “I was just going to ensure that you’re okay—see if you wanted to talk about it.”

It isn’t entirely lost on her that Melissa had said the exact same thing to her just two weeks ago when she’d nearly set the school on fire, distracted and undone by the stress of Gerald’s health scare. It isn’t beyond her grasp of irony that they’d concluded that same conversation on a laughing agreement that neither of them believe in the necessity of advertising their stressors.

But still.

It’s them, and they talk through these things when they’re ready or just on the verge of being so. It’s them, and they both implicitly know when the other needs a little push off the terrifying ledge. In fact, it probably wouldn’t be them if they didn’t—push each other and need to occasionally be pushed, that is—always challenging each other in their relationship in some way or another, more than willing to be what the other lacks. 

Melissa immediately averts her eyes, staring at the water mere feet away from them, how it rhythmically laps against the side of the pool, and Barbara stares at her, intransigent and yet so gentle, knowing it is a form of love to not let the moment go.

“What’s there to talk about?” She eventually shrugs. Her green cover-up slips at the gesture and the magenta strap of her swimsuit briefly becomes visible, her slightly freckled shoulder exposed.

Barbara blinks rapidly, forcing herself to concentrate, briefly unspooled by a sudden desire to kiss the creamy skin there, to sample the anatomy of her all the way down…

She coughs into her free hand, briefly choked.

Damn sinuses.

“Kristin Marie’s a little shit,” Melissa goes on, oblivious, still looking away, now idly swirling the colorful umbrella in her cocktail glass. “End of the story. Same old, same old.”

“A little shit who is also your sister,” Barbara parries back with a knowing smile as her friend just as deliberately scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Which is what makes it so complicated, sweetheart—the people we love know how to wound us far more effectively than any knife.”

“Did ya get that off a Snapple lid, Barb?” Melissa retorts. Melissa jokes. Melissa capably deflects. Always, always, always. It’s one of her less aggressive defenses against unwanted vulnerability, the one she tends to wield most in conversations with Barbara. 

(With other people—outsiders—she’d just bark and perhaps even bite.)

But Barbara solemnly shakes her head, unwilling to let her get away with it, thinking of her best friend’s kindness in these last few weeks—how, ever since the fire, not a day has gone by that she hasn’t made sure that she’s okay. Gerald even told her the other night—as they laid in their sheets after yet another round of celebratory relief sex—that he was glad that she’d finally told Mel. 

Mel.

He called her that because he loves her too.

Not in the same way Barbara does, of course…

… whatever way that happens to be.

That’s too complicated for her to ever fully—or at least, audibly—define.

Messy even.

And she despises mess, especially within the immaculate temple of herself; she scrubs it clean at the altar every Sunday, asking God’s forgiveness for a sin that she can’t even name.

She thrilled at her husband bringing Melissa’s pervasive specter into their shared bed, relieved that she didn’t have to be the one to do so; and yet, her hand splayed against his bare chest, she could not bring herself to interrogate the root cause of her own pleasure.

“I was worried about you,” he went on gently, his warm knuckles skimming her forearm as he held her in the dark, “keeping it all on the inside.”

“It was the only thing I could do,” Barbara returned, perhaps a little too quickly, echoing the same sentiment that she had said to Melissa. She could only pray and not talk about it; she had desperately wanted to talk about it, had almost dared to—several times, in fact—as she and Melissa sat at the same table that she’d later burned, as was their habit, as was their decades long norm. But the words remained lacquered on her tongue; the weight of them rendered her incapable of speech; she was convinced that speaking her fears to Melissa would make them all real.

I’m afraid my husband is sick, she could not bring herself to say.

And if he is—if this is our lived reality—then I am devastated, Melissa.

I am so, so guilty.

Our marriage is not what it once was.

She loves Gerald Howard; she always will—he has been her best friend for thirty-seven beautiful years—but she secretly wonders if their renewed closeness in these last few weeks is just mutual and desperate apology, a last-ditch attempt to mend what has certainly been disrupted between them.

They’ve been distant from each other for a long time now.

And it hasn’t been anyone’s fault, really.

All their polite disagreements aside, Barbara is more than aware that Gerald’s promotion was not the fundamental breaking point in their marriage; it was just the easiest grievance to turn into an excuse, the tangible obstacle that they could both offload their hundreds of insecurities into without delving further into any single one of them. They could blame the promotion because it was there. It kept them from having to confront each other, which was far more complicated than having an impartial something to unite against. This lack of introspection allowed their middling reconciliation to be easier to swallow than it probably should have been, and yet, conversely, it made Gerald’s irregular prostate exam results all that much harder to bear three weeks ago. After the fact, they both became alive to the reality that their marriage has long been broken, and they’ve done everything since then to try and bandage the festering wounds.

The sex has been passionate.

Has been sensational even—(they’re both overachievers)—and yet, strangely controlled, as though both of them are seeking atonement from the other’s satisfaction. Barbara appreciates the intimacy; she deeply fears that it is compensating for something that they can never, ever get back. 

“You’re happier now that you’ve told her, though,” Gerald continued, and his voice was so kind as it wound its way down to her in the quietness of their room, and yet, she could distinguish that his eyes were shrewd… and perhaps even a little sad.

That had scared her a little.

And maybe a whole lot.

What was there to be shrewd (and perhaps a little sad) about when it came to her relationship with Melissa?

What did he know?

Was it something that she didn’t? Was it the unspoken thing that she could not force herself to articulate—the twinges in her gut that she sometimes experienced when she looked at Melissa, the recurring visions of the woman in her underwear, the thrill that she just experienced when he had only said her name? Was Melissa the unnamable sin that she kept committing—over and over again—without ever fully acknowledging that she was doing so?

“Gerald—” She started, the slightest plea in her voice. She curled her manicured fingers into the dividing line of his sternum and wished that he had said something that she could truthfully deny.

But he cut across her; he enveloped her hand with his own and lightly squeezed.

“—I like it when you’re happy, Barb.”

And somehow, in their nearly four decades long marriage, that was the cruelest thing he had ever said to her because of what it indirectly and yet so clearly implied.

She was not happy with him.

She found, even in the rawness and the immediacy of that moment, that she could not wipe her hands free of blood and cleanly refute this assertion either, and so, only one ruinous fact remained.

She and Gerald love each other deeply and so much.

They’re hurting each other all the same.

“Be serious, girlfriend,” she tells Melissa, frowning firmly, her mind full of her husband, her chest aching because of her best friend. “I’m not talking about Snapple lids and you know it. I’m talking about lived experience.”

I’m talking about your sister.

I’m talking about Gerald Howard.

I’m talking about us.

(She always is in some way or another.)

We both know what it’s like to be hurt by loved ones.

And equally, what it means to hurt them back.

Maybe she and Melissa—without ever really realizing it—hurt each other every blessed day, just by inhabiting the same spaces and fooling themselves into believing that they are careful about never crossing any of its dutifully articulated lines.

“And I don’t wanna be serious, Barb,” Melissa huffs, the playful smile slipping sideways from her mouth. “I want to drink my piña colada and inhale so much chlorinated water that I accidentally get high. Is that so much to ask for PECSA weekend?”

The answer, of course, is no—it’s not a demanding request at all, and if Barbara is any sort of friend, she’d drop the conversation right here and right now, and allow them to return to their various attempts at self-medication… but she can't entirely help herself, a little reckless under the influence, freer here in Allentown from the facade which circumscribes her in every other given context.

PECSA Barbara has a lot in common with Sea Barbara.

They’re both almost truthful.

“Perhaps not,” she admits grudgingly, watching as Melissa places her drink down on the table between them and starts to take her cover-up off, clearly about to make a run from her feelings by diving into the pool. This is yet another one of her friend’s go-to diversionary tactics, the one she commonly resorts to when joking about her pain doesn’t work.

(It never really works on Barbara.)

“But you miss her, Melissa, and she’s here,” she continues, now dry-mouthed and overwhelmed at the sight of the younger woman in just her bathing suit: the ample exposure of her cleavage, the powerful silhouette of her thighs, the thin pink fabric that stretches tightly over her belly. “Perhaps God is trying to tell you something.”

Her chest bruises even as she utters the words.

She probably shouldn’t be invoking God when she can’t keep her eyes off of Melissa Schemmenti’s ass.

“And maybe it’s just a coincidence,” her friend says bluntly, suddenly standing up and kicking her sandals off. One nearly flies into the water.

Barbara winces at the tone, knows that she provoked it and hates that she did—(why can’t she ever leave well enough alone?)—which Melissa immediately catches, her green eyes softening, her entire expression, a conciliatory smile rising to her lips. It’s as crooked as the necklace of saints nigh perpetually strung around her neck.

“But, uh, enough chit-chat,” she says, jerking her head towards the pool, her messy ponytail violently swinging from side-to-side. “You comin’, hon?”

Barbara quickly decides that she’s pushed her luck far enough in this conversation and nods emphatically, slowly tugging her own cover up above her head, revealing her sky blue bathing suit underneath. It doesn’t escape her notice that Melissa’s cheeks have slightly reddened at the sight, that her pupils have dilated, that she’s rubbing at the hollow of her throat with three fingers. Indeed, thoroughly aware of all these reactions, she swallows thickly, suddenly self-conscious. She makes a meal out of neatly folding the garment and placing it in her bag, giving both of them time to recompose themselves.

“After you,” she eventually says in a voice that’s not her own.

And so, when Melissa wades into the water, Barbara dutifully follows, drawn siren-like by the fiery undulations of the other’s hair. 

—

Barbara showers first, and Melissa follows. 

Afterwards, of course.

Separately.

That’s probably the one thing that they’ve never shared—well, besides a bed, but even that’s about to change in the course of a few hours.

The entire time that she’s getting dressed, blow-drying her hair, smartening up in a green dress and turquoise blazer, meticulously applying her mascara, she’s thinking about that damn bed. She can’t escape it no matter where she moves in the room. It’s too big. It invades the entire space and all her rational senses. Even as she was showering, rinsing off the sharp stench of the pool, she could not escape the inexorable pull it had on her, the sensual thoughts that it engendered…

Red hair on a pillow.

Lace bras that don’t do their one and only job.

Hands touching hands.

Verdant eyes peering out of the darkness, pulling her inwards into the jungle of the night, a beautiful kaleidoscope of revolving bodies… scarlet curls, plum-colored lips, thighs like creamy taffy, skin like smoky quartz.

She can’t remotely blame any of this on her sinuses, so she rationally concludes that she should stop drinking for the evening—

—a resolution she almost immediately gives up on when a bellhop knocks on the door and delivers the hotel’s apology champagne. 

She pours herself a glass in one of the red solo cups she and Melissa had brought with them for the trip and unslowly drinks it, sitting on the edge of the bed that she and Melissa will eventually share. Some paint-by-the-numbers procedural show is playing on the television. She stares at it without really comprehending it and idly wonders if Melissa is the big spoon or the little spoon.

But then that particular line of thought makes her remember that her best friend has a boyfriend, and her stomach unpleasantly lurches at the thought of Gary the Vending Machine putting his hairy arms around her waist, pulling her in to his chest, working his undeserving fingers beneath the elastic band of her undergarments…

She’s never entirely liked the man.

(Yes, she absolutely pushed Melissa to date him in the first place.)

He’s good, he’s fine, he’s perfectly okay—but those are the same sorts of adjectives that one might apply to a functional kitchen appliance, not a romantic partner. 

She takes another distracted swill of her drink and doesn’t clock the precise moment when Melissa apparently steps out of the en-suite bathroom in a white robe, her vivid hair wrapped in a towel. But when she looks over and apprehends this dizzying sight, Barbara can only stare.

“Forgot my bra in here,” she chuckles, which is precisely the worst thing she can possibly say because Barbara’s eyes immediately roam upwards to the v-shaped divot of the robe, where little is visible except for curving shadows, the tantalizing suggestion of something more. “Kinda need that.”

“Yes,” she hears herself agree in a pathetically small voice, squeezing her plastic cup as Melissa saunters past to her suitcase, which is resting on top of the armchair in the corner of the room. It’s all very hypnotic, the pendulum-like swing of her hips, the graceful coordination of all her white-clothed limbs.

Barbara wonders if this effect is intentional, if Melissa knows exactly what she’s doing to her.

But she doesn’t give the thought too much air lest she accidentally name the animal of an emotion prowling around her gut for what she thinks it might be.

(It’s certainly nothing her fellow brothers and sisters in Christ would sanction, that’s for sure.)

(Happiness, her own husband might call it in the dead of night, in the sanctum of their shared bed.)

Melissa bends down to rummage through her suitcase, which doesn’t help matters much either, and Barbara tugs at her layered necklace, thinks she may have clasped it on a little too tightly.

“Listen, Barb, I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said earlier,”' Melissa starts falteringly, clear reluctance in her low voice. “About Kristin Marie. Y’know, at the pool.”

After Melissa had so firmly put a stop to that conversation, Barbara hadn’t brought it up again, and within minutes, they had returned to their jovial selves again—or, perhaps more specifically, the selves who they were at PECSA—hedonists, only thinking about the next physical pleasure. They laughed. They played. They were both experts at compartmentalizing, well-versed in the art of drowning out the noise with a facsimile of a smile. They dried off, finished their piña coladas, and enthused about the party tonight like it was the only pressing matter in their two-person world.

“Oh, do allow me to apologize for that, Melissa,” she frowns deeply as the other teacher finally straightens up with something in her hands. “I know your sister is a sensitive subject for you, and I… I shouldn’t have brought her up… we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But Melissa vehemently shakes her head, a few damp curls falling from her towel, and finally turns to face Barbara again, a sad smile crooked at the corner of her mouth, a silky black bra dangling from her fingertips.

One hand still gripping her solo cup, Barbara buries the fingers of the other into her right thigh.

“Good, yeah,” her friend laughs, though the gesture doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, rolling her weight from foot to foot. “That works for me… but, uh, I also just wanted to say thanks, Barb.”

Barbara can’t pry her gaze away from that damn brassiere; Melissa’s own is darting anywhere but her: the ceiling, the carpeted floor, the empty space just over her shoulder. What a pair the two of them make.

“For what?” She asks in a constricted voice, and the oddness of it must draw the other’s attention because suddenly, they're finally looking at each other in the face again. They’re staring, mutually constituting each other in the wordless interaction.

Seeing and being seen.

It is all that they have ever done.

It is all that they seem to want to do.

“For bein’ there for me,” comes an equally charged reply, freighted by that which neither of them can openly name. “I know you were just trying to help out, and I appreciate that.”

“Always,” Barbara breathes immediately, so glad that there is space between them—some six feet and something even more intangible than that. The elaborate ring on her fourth finger digs into her thigh too. “You’d do the same for me.”

A slight beat; she smiles so widely that it almost hurts.

“You have done the same for me,” she adds passionately. “I don’t know who or where or what I’d ever be without you, Melissa Schemmenti.”

But she does in fact know—maybe they both do. Maybe even her sweet husband does too. Maybe it's the most horribly kept secret in the whole wide world.

“God, you’re such a sap,” Melissa laughs because it's easier than actually engaging, and Barbara allows her the indiscretion this time, even joining along.

“Girl, you’re one to talk!”

“Hey!”

She is more than dimly aware that it’s probably better for them both if they continue to treat their relationship like it’s some huge joke.

Because isn't it, though?

They love each other, and they can never actually say it aloud.

Isn’t that the funniest punchline in God’s almighty world?

They love each other, and they can never act upon this reality in any meaningful way.

They live with this crucial fact every single day and spend so many of their waking hours dangerously straddling the borders that they've so carefully articulated to keep themselves apart.

But, of course, that's only when they're sober.

—

With each math-a-rita that they guzzle at PECSA-geddon, the more liberal with their affection that they get, all of their studious inhibitions subsumed beneath the ministrations of tequila. 

One drink in, they start with little gestures.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Innocuous even.

Forgivable.

Barbara places a guiding hand on the small of Melissa’s back as they weave their way through the throng of nicely dressed people, looking for a table with room enough for two. The younger woman is wearing a leopard-print dress.

And she never wears a dress.

And she thinks about this, much longer and more sinfully than she probably should.

Melissa curls her fingers into Barbara’s wrist when they realize that they’re sitting with the Dawn Nichols, whose school supplies are legendary amongst educators. The second grade teacher gives her a knowing look, the kind that clearly says, Holy shit, there’s an opportunity here. 

We can make something happen.

And Barbara shivers with quiet delight as their ankles accidentally glance beneath the table, as the expression in those green eyes does something to her, unloosing her at her tightly knotted core.

Two drinks into the night, they’ve run into Kristin Marie by this point, and Melissa’s entire body is wound so tightly that Barbara thinks that to touch her is to break her.

But she does it anyway—touches her, that is—a little reckless with her head buzzing so pleasantly, the sermonizing voice who often tells her no locked outside her personal church for the night. She interlinks their arms together as they revolve around the ballroom, and Melissa vents about her younger sister being a total puttana—whatever that means—and a shithead—which is perfectly comprehensible.

She gets a little tired of this after a couple of revelations, though, her feet aching in her heels, and she doubles back on her initial resolve to not interfere with the Schemmenti sisters, suggesting the impossible in the same breath—that they try to make up with each other. 

And she touches Melissa’s arm when she says as much.

She presses her thumb into the crook of her soft elbow.

And when they look at each other—really look at each other—less than two feet between them, an island unto themselves in the middle of this crowded room, Barbara somehow knows that they’re both thinking about their conversation in the hotel room earlier—about the fact that they’re always there for each other, and it's not just a trite thing that either of them have unthinkingly said.

It's the truth.

Trust me, Barbara tries to say with just her eyes. I’m here for you.

If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.

Fuck you, Melissa all but communicates with her own, though with the deep sigh that comes shortly afterward, she just as immediately intimates, Okay.

Yeah.

Sure.

I believe you.

Trust has been hard won between them in over twenty years of companionship.

(It is a part of the love that they can never fully say.)

Two plus one math-a-ritas in, they’re back at the round table with Dawn Nichols and Kristin Marie—the Schemmenti sisters have finally made up!—and they’re all tipsily laughing about a story that Melissa is telling. Something inappropriate, of course. Something crass. Something about a wild escapade that she’d had when she went to France with a few of her friends for her college graduation trip, where she somehow became very close friends with a young Parisian couple she met at a bar.

“So we go back to their place and I’m thinkin’ that we’re just gonna throw back some shitty European wine,” Melissa carries on, simply exuberant, her cheeks suffused with a rosy glow, “and the guy, God bless him, he was flippin’ hot, but he didn’t have a thought in his head.” 

“Just your type,” Kristin Marie snorts, but the quip doesn’t have any real bite to it anymore. She grins at her older sister lopsidedly, with a reluctant tenderness that makes the striking resemblance between them all the more apparent.

“Yeah,” Melissa acknowledges cheerfully, nodding once, and Barbara is just happy to see her friend so happy, even though she’s not exactly sure where this adventurous story is going. “So his girlfriend’s in the bathroom, and he starts jabberin’ away at me, askin’ if I wanted to take my jacket off." Her eyes twinkling with mischief, she affects a spectacularly bad French accent. “Do you need to use ze restroom? Would you like some… lotion, mon chéri?”

She switches back to her normal voice, snickering at herself.

“Only he didn’t say lotion, y'know."

Dawn Nichols and Kristin Marie must arrive at similar conclusions at the exact same time because the former claps an amused hand over her mouth, while the younger Schemmenti sibling goes, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

“What?” Barbara purses her lips, pouting a little, feeling left out, as she stares between the three women. She’d gotten sidetracked by the leg brushed up against hers beneath the table and perhaps lost the nuance in the conversation as her companions laugh raucously. “What am I missing?”

“It was lube,” Melissa proffers without the slightest modicum of reserve, shrugging her nearest shoulder. “They wanted to fuck me, Barb.”

Barbara can't recover her face fast enough; her mouth falls open where she sits, and she can only blush and suddenly be assaulted with a thousand new images pirouetting through her head—all of which have to do with Melissa and none of which are remotely acceptable to God.

“And did they?” Dawn asks in a hushed voice, her own features delicately feathered with pink, as she leans forward in anticipation of an answer.

“Oh, hell yeah,” her best friend smirks as Kristin Marie guffaws at Barbara, who is now currently choking on air.

Melissa, unshaken and unfazed, takes it in stride, though, rhythmically patting her on the back.

“Oh, shit, ya’ve broken a woman of God,” Kristin Marie snorts, wiping at her eyes.

“Nothing new,” Melissa says charmingly and she leans over to press a kiss against Barbara’s cheek as though to prove a point. 

Barbara cradles her burning face in her hands.

“Lord,” she exhales into her palms, fully incapable of looking at the woman next to her, “I don’t know why I’m even still friends with you.”

Melissa just laughs and laughs, and she continues to massage the spot between her shoulder blades, and she laughs.

Four drinks in, and they’re having a math-a-rita drinking contest with Derek, a bellhop whom they’ve become friendly with over the years. 

Well, Melissa has a drinking contest with him, while Barbara uses the barest sliver of common sense and sobriety that she has left to cajole Dawn Nichols into working with Abbott for at least a year.

“Thank you,” she enthuses, briefly squeezing the other woman’s arm where it rests on the table. “You don’t know how much this will mean for our students.”

“Of course,” Dawn says, warmly observing the drinking game happening a few feet away. Melissa has nearly polished off another glass to Derek’s growing chagrin and Kristin Marie’s violently loud delight. “It’s clear to me that you and your partner are excellent educators; I know you’ll put the resources to good use…”

In her unadulterated surprise at the word used to describe hers and Melissa’s relationship, she nearly forgets to be gracious.  

“Oh, we aren’t—“ She suddenly starts and then stops herself, reevaluating mid-sentence. 

Partner isn’t necessarily a romantic term. Partner simply implies companionship and association with another, inseparability and togetherness. And they have absolutely been those things.

Inseparable.

Together.

A united front.

Partners.

Yes, of course they are and have always been.

“I mean, thank you,” she amends herself politely. “Melissa is truly one of a kind.”

The second grade teacher’s ears must be burning because she apparently hears this and turns back to face them with a radiant smile on her lips, as red as the blush that enlivens her soft cheeks.

“Damn straight I am,” she jests, comfortably resting her chin on Barbara’s shoulder. “What are we talkin’ about again?”

Barbara naturally leans into the touch as Dawn briefly turns away, now engaged by Kristin Marie asking a question about supply packages.

“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” she muses in a low voice, suddenly feeling herself pulled into the other’s mischief, even wanting to play along; she's simultaneously breathless, intoxicated, by her intimate proximity and the scent of her orange blossom perfume. “Just about how you and I are partners. It’s a rather lofty descriptor for the shenanigans we get up to, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it’d be far easier to just say gay.”

“Melissa Schemmenti!” She nearly chokes. 

Again.

“I kid, I kid! Jesus, Barb! Get a sip of water!”

But there’s not one ounce of water to be found on their table, and so Barbara has to compromise with another hearty swill of margarita.

Tragic.

But she'll cope.

An ungodly amount of alcohol later—(Barbara has lost track of how much either of them have consumed)—they finally stumble into their room around 2AM, supporting one another as best as they can with their altered equilibriums, giggly and utterly euphoric, triumphant in their respective conquests. 

Melissa has outdrunk Derek for the fifth year in a row, and Barbara has secured a contract with Dawn Nichols.

And they are both so drunk and so exhilarated and so unbelievably alive in the moment, that they don’t entirely know how to extricate themselves from each other in the come down from such an exquisite high; they fall into bed—that one, singular bed—in a tangle of loving limbs, still in their dresses, only just capable of kicking their shoes off into the semi-darkness of the room. They didn’t close the curtains all the way before they left for PECSA-geddon, so moonlight intrudes upon the moment, silver and stunningly bright, catching both of them in the simple act of being happy.

Frankly, though, at this current junction of time, as compromised as they are, it’s beyond either of them to fully care. 

“Shit, fuck,” Melissa laughs so hard that she shakes the mattress beneath them. “Your ring’s caught in my hair, Barb.”

“Oh, sorry, girlfriend,” Barbara apologizes and attempts to unravel her fingers from that mass of scarlet waves, but her ring is caught in the wilderness of it, snarled and apprehended. Somehow, in the incredible dysfunction of her mind, she thinks that raising herself above Melissa as she lies vulnerable on the mattress is the best way to set herself free, but all this does is give her a proper aerial view of her prone best friend.

All this does is nearly place her on top of her, their heaving chests inches apart, threatening to collide every so often by the force and desperation of their breathing. Barbara’s slender hands are splayed on either side of Melissa’s head. 

Her face.

She can see every pronounced lineament in the younger woman’s face. Its dramatic height and angular proportions. The complicated expression in her eyes: the profound tenderness of them and something else too. Hunger. Reverence. Melancholy. She can trace the crow’s feet that gather beneath them and at the very edges of them. The redness of her slightly parted lips and the parentheses which enclose them. The slope and the playful upturn of her sharp nose. 

She is beautiful, so unspeakably gorgeous.

Melissa Schemmenti.

Her very best friend.

Her partner.

Maybe even the love of her life, the opportunity who has always eluded her, the what if? just beyond her reach. But, at long last, there is no barrier between them, no insurmountable wall. There is only them and their bodies and the chemistry that electrifies them both whenever they so much as look each other. There is this feeling in her stomach that has been building all day, a tension that she cannot swallow, a queerness that she cannot properly digest. It erects itself in her like a monument, scaffolding its way up the column of her spine.

It will reach her tongue finally.

Those three glorious words.

Fuck me, Melissa. 

(Because I love you is something she still won't be able to say.)

(I love you would make all of this so very real.)

(And precisely none of it can be real; these are the fantasies; these are the fairy tales.)

(The delusions.)

“Ouch,” Melissa murmurs as her hair is pulled. 

By Barbara Howard’s diamond encrusted wedding ring.

It shines in the irradiated light of the moon, glinting harshly, in clear and damning reprimand, and Barbara flinches viscerally, as though stricken. The ring becomes a token again, symbolizing something else besides its own beauty.

Gerald is a good man.

She loves him so much.

She isn’t in love with him, though.

But even still, what gives her the right to ever hurt him?

She straightens up into the air so fast that her head spins, that her stomach lurches, that all the booze she has consumed in the past few hours nearly crests within her and outside of her. She frees her hand; she undoubtedly tugs some more of Melissa's hair. She almost reels backwards into the TV, unable to recapture her balance. She covers her mouth with the hand that always reminds her that she is a married woman, a taken one; the silver band firmly scolds her lips.

“Shit, Barb,” Melissa breathes, abruptly sitting up in the bed, concern in her eyes, such tender and evocative care. “You okay?”

She nods mutely, incapable of trusting herself to speak without expelling all of the accumulated pollution inside of her. Tears form in her eyes and leak over her lower lashes anyway. 

“No, you’re flippin’ not,” her friend readily supplies, standing up herself on rather wobbly feet, but she takes a step towards Barbara anyway, as though to bridge the gap between them, the untenable, omnipresent distance.

And Barbara equally takes a step back, her lower hip hitting the wardrobe that the TV sits upon. 

“Don’t,” she hisses painfully, finally uncovering her mouth.

“Why not?” Melissa challenges, at once defiant and wounded, her brow furrowed over her eyes. The recognition of this makes the kindergarten teacher want to scream. In not hurting Gerald, she’s surely plunging a knife into Melissa. She’s proving her own point from earlier.

Love is a weapon.

It maims and occasionally destroys.

“Because I would kiss you,” she admits, and it feels good to finally say it aloud, to give shape and dimension to these feelings that have seethed inside of her for so long, for so many of the years upon aching years that they've taught at Abbott Elementary side-by-side.

“… and that would make a monster out of me,” she quickly adds because this is also true, and it needs to be said aloud.  

It needs to injure, push away, and deter; she doesn't want to do it; necessity drives her on.

“Oh, yeah?” Comes a reply gentler than it has any right to be. Kind. It Is far less than what she deserves. “And what would that make me then, huh?”

One too.

Complicit. 

Just like me. 

She could say any of these three things but doesn’t; it was clearly a rhetorical question; she can see in Melissa’s darkly lashed eyes that she is willing to accept every wayward epithet if this is the price, if this is the blood sacrifice of their communion.

They can be monsters with each other; they can be so totally in love.

Barbara swallows; thoroughly inebriated though she is, she is not insensible to the magnitude of this offer, the knowledge that all she has to do is say the word and down they’ll descend into hell, hand in monstrous hand.

Alone.

Together.

“I can’t,” she rasps anyway. She swipes angrily at the tears still slipping down her face. She sniffs noisily and loathes herself for it.

“I know,” Melissa returns, her own eyes suddenly overbright. 

But then Barbara Howard leans down and almost does it anyway, gathering the silky hair at the back of Melissa’s neck in her fist, her knuckles softly scraping the skin there. And their noses brush. Their boozy breaths gather in hot pockets in the barest space between them. 

Their lips never touch, though.

Sacrilege remains uncommitted.

“You can’t,” Melissa echoes as a singular tear spirals from the corner of her eye and down the tall plane of her cheek. It collects calmly on the vertex of her chin and remains there.

Barbara brushes it away with her thumb before completely letting go.

“No,” she agrees hoarsely, stepping back for good, and there is a finality to the act that saves and devastates them both.

—

They take turns showering, rinsing the night off them, the copious amounts of booze. Melissa goes first this time, and Barbara follows. 

Afterwards, of course.

Separately.

And when Barbara eventually stumbles back into the bedroom, wearing pajamas that she’s pretty sure are inside out, she sees that Melissa is already in bed, covers pulled up to her face, clearly asleep, lightly snoring.

She’s erected a pillow wall between the two halves of the one bed. 

It’s a smart move.

And an incredibly isolating one.

But smart moves usually are.

Barbara accepts this for what it is and staggers to her side, slipping beneath the sheets as quietly as she can, briefly tossing and turning to get comfortable, which eventually means facing the two feet tall chastity belt, staring at it as her eyelids begin to droop.

Loving it.

Hating it.

Eternally grateful to it.

Disappointed at its necessity, disappointed with herself.

She is so weak in a thousand myriad ways; maybe that, too, is love…

… she doesn’t exactly know what compels her to in the end—(weakness, loneliness, monstrosity, love)—but before she entirely drifts away, she reaches underneath the pillows and is relieved to find a hand waiting for her there.

A concession.

A forgivable compromise.

And so, Barbara allows herself this one pittance too. She intertwines their fingers beneath this latest boundary that divides them, understanding that this—yes, this—is the sole degree of happiness that she can afford without too high of a moral cost.

She falls asleep haunted by the way that the striations of their fingers so perfectly align.

[hyperfixingfr]

big fan of your peacock design for Hoagie because idk maybe I’m reading too into it but the show making him a walrus (I think?? Been a while since I’ve seen the episode) just felt like a cheap and lazy “haha fat character” joke

It was actually worse than a walrus, it was a hippo! And yes, you're right. That was exactly the point of him being made a hippo. Big, fat, and hungry.

CW// a bit of some serious criticism of KNDs writing.

Hoagie was a comedic relief character who was supposed to be viewed as mock worthy material, no matter how much it extended to real life bigotry. One of the biggest flaws of the show is the mediocre at best writing. It had good jokes, but that all goes to shit the minute they use other people's harmless traits as a gag. Plus, they were horribly inconsistent. The treatment of Hoagie was horrible and I don't mean that in a, "ohhh no my favorite character is being bullied!" kind of way. That's not how you pick on a character unless you're also intending to give the character severe mental issues and self image problems, which never happened in canon beyond slight hints that he was merely anxious. Hoagie was always portrayed to be this completely oblivious and lacking of response character who you could freely pick on because he never felt bad about the way he was talked about. Not only is that completely unrealistic and taking away his character, but it's also implying that you can just... Say those things to people. And they won't feel a thing.

If Hoagie being mocked in those ways happened to be some sort of emotional arc, I would understand that. But the problem is that, it wasn't. Hardly anything came of it. He didn't even seem to flinch despite him being young and susceptible to a more difficult time handling emotions. A kid his age would be ruined with that kind of treatment. People who were treated like him at his age end up in places I shouldn't even mention right now. And they show clear signs of it. I know they do, because I was one of those kids. Yet, Hoagie really never budged beyond maybe a frown in the aftermath he'll hold for like... 5 seconds. Max. Suddenly, he's over it. Like he's a mature adult capable of handling feelings and understanding that they're wrong and why they're wrong. I wouldn't expect them to go ham on anything, but shit. At least a more accurate response, like keeping his head down and holding a frown the rest of the episode. No kid would hear the kind of bullshit he hears and experiences and does nothing. Children would cry, become sad, get angry. And he's not one to get angry, so it's kind of obvious what he'd do otherwise. Probably more likely to sit in silence than cry, but my point stands.

Absolutely horrible to have done what they did with their writing. Not only did they feed the flirty Asian girl stereotype and the chill motherly black girl stereotype, but they also enforced the idea that healthy but fat people are flawed for their completely normal body. The fat jokes weren't even funny. They could've made fat jokes without bringing down fat people.

And I don't even wanna hear the whole "but it was made in the 2000s" bullshit because I can name five shows that aired before KND with fat main characters that never, EVER made a harmful fat joke. There's a reason why Ed, Edd n Eddy was considered peak comedy and KND wasn't. Because Ed, Edd n Eddy never made derogatory and degrading jokes about completely harmless things like a person's body. And that's with Ed and Eddy being fat! It's pretty simple - the show just... Wasn't well written. The time period has little excuse considering how easily other shows had been funny without their weird mockery. And I'm telling you right now, KND definitely had at least a minor impact on how children viewed fat people. If they didn't provoke the thought in the children who watched, they enforced it with their jokes. Not exactly a great thing to have done.

If you need to put someone down to be funny, you aren't funny. Simple as that. Hoagie could have gotten so much more development if they were being more realistic. This is Sci-Fi, of course he'd still be a human with human reactions. And they could have done so much with it, too. It would have been nice for there to have been a plot relating to his struggle with bullying. I would've loved to see him develop his character... Hoagie and Kuki hardly developed like the others. And I'm reaching to say Abby did because it's far less than the other two.

And really, it sucks. I love seeing fandom interpretations of him because they try to take into account his true character. He's a sweet, nerdy boy who loves to use comedy to cheer himself and others up. He's the pinnacle of empathy development in children (excluding the, uh... Weird misogynistic stuff...). He's such a loveable character but the show really did their best to try and ruin him and his reputation.

Sorry for the long rant but it gave me an excuse to dish out this information. I don't think everyone realizes just how intentional the mockery of Hoagie was.

[eltube]

mini essay…thoughts about the curse in op CARAMEL

ok buckle up i wrote this at 3 am and after quarantining it for a while I am hitting Post

so…I think about the “de-caramelized” versions of Sector V often, and I think even more often about Henrietta’s appearance before and after the curse and what this says about her and the curse itself. I wanna write a little bit about how I interpret the caramel magic

Obviously, I hate a lot of the implications made in op CARAMEL—I hate that we’re expected to view Henrietta’s previous fat body as the “ugly” “boy” version of her, I hate the writers going out of their way to be transmisogynistic, and I hate the overall message that pre-curse Henrietta or any other character has some kind of “innate” positive quality that they can gain or lose.

To be honest I reject a lot of the canon points of this episode for these reasons (and when Abby misgenders Henrietta in every previous episode I’m like She Would Not Fucking Do That). But I do like the idea of the curse and I think that, although Henrietta explains it as “taking what a person values most” in canon, there’s a little bit more nuance to it that Henrietta just didn’t know!

Basically, I don’t think the caramels actually take away any essential “quality” a person has—rather, I think it has more to do with someone’s self-perception. This isn’t to say that the qualities in the caramels don’t really exist, but I want to emphasize an understanding of character/personality traits as something a person develops, instead of something a person just “has.” Basically, I think what the caramel curse actually does is reveal a person’s insecurities by distilling and removing the qualities they’ve developed to conceal them.

Like, let’s look at the de-caramalized versions of sector V. Do we really think Hoagie would look Like That if the only thing the curse did was remove their intelligence? With Nigel, is there some kind of correlation between tooth size and leadership ability? No, sector V hasn’t just lost one quality here—they’ve been entirely warped into caricatures, specifically caricatures that correspond with traits they would find shameful in themselves.

Hoagie doesn’t just look “unintelligent” here—they look like a Neanderthal. There’s an implication of being not just unintelligent but also unsophisticated, old-fashioned, simple, obsolete—all things that Hoagie works to avoid as a scientist, an inventor, someone who wants to be seen as forward-thinking. We know, from operation AMISH for example, that Hoagie is self-conscious about this. They don’t want people to think they’re behind, they want their ideas to be respected. And as a result, they constantly use their intelligence to avoid getting that reputation. The curse has essentially removed the mechanism Hoagie uses to conceal what they’re insecure about, and that’s what it does to everyone.

Likewise, Nigel doesn’t just look like less of a leader, he also looks excessively nervous, he looks dorky, and he’s wearing a school uniform that’s pretty eerily similar to the delightful childrens’!! The fact that Nigel’s caramel is his “leadership skills,” explicitly a skill and not a personality trait, speaks to the way his position as Sector V’s leader is in many ways a compensation strategy. By becoming a leader that everyone relies on, Nigel hides his anxiety and his deep fear of losing his sense of self. He is a good leader because he does not want to look like this version of himself. These are all, in themselves, really great character studies of Sector V—it shows us what they’re sensitive about! What they want to hide! (I could write a much longer post about how this applies to Abby and everyone in sector V in detail and maybe I will be not right now)

So what does this say about Henrietta and her relationship with the curse? First, Henrietta is especially vulnerable to this curse because she is especially insecure. While everyone has parts of themselves they find shameful, we see with Henrietta that her shame distorts the person she is completely—there are almost no similarities between the pre- and post- curse versions of her, apart from them having the same accent. Additionally, the curse requires that a person share their caramels to break it—in other words, it requires that the cursed person be vulnerable enough to share their insecurities. It isn’t just that Henrietta struggles to share any candy, but also that sharing her caramel with Abby is symbolic of admitting to Abby that she is ashamed. Abby knows that Henrietta is in fact willing to suffer from the curse forever if it means she doesn’t have to be honest with herself.

Second, I think that both the way Henrietta looks during and after the curse is distorted by her self-image. It isn’t necessarily that the way Heinrich looks is unattractive, but that Henrietta does not want to look like that—mostly, because I think Henrietta is trans, it’s just that she does not want to be seen as a boy. I also think that the way Henrietta looks at the end of CARAMEL isn’t how she looked before the curse…mostly because I hate the design lol but ALSO because I think that unlike Sector V, Henrietta was cursed for so long that she lost a healthy sense of herself. So her end-of-CARAMEL appearance is actually closer to how she ideally wants to look. I think that if she continued to develop a healthier self-image, this would wear off with time. And lastly, I think the fact that Henrietta’s curse changes revolve around appearance is in itself a huge statement about her as a character—she does not feel any particular shame or insecurity about her personal qualities, which….as we know are not all super admirable. (I know it’s implied that she Magically Stops Being Evil at the end of CARAMEL but I also reject this because I think it’s boring LOL)

TL;DR caramel curse does not really Take anything from you, it just removes your ability to hide what you’re Sensitive about. And also Im insane

[digo3d]

Ahem yes I’d like to hear you talk at me more about your writing journey and your characterization of the boys - and feel free to ask me anythin I’m free for a couple hours tonight 💃🏻🤝

*rubs hands together like an evil little fly' mmmmyes and you shall hear me

So currently I've got the general plot points/general idea of the chapters of Orange Kitten (The Brain Fic™) done and I've just gotta fill in the events WITHIN each chapter for that one, and for Stressors it's the reverse, I've got the events done for the first few chapters, I just gotta figure out how the rest of the chapters will play out

When it comes to characterization I always try to keep in mind to not let the Hoagy's Alley fellas bleed into my interpretation of the 60's fellas; they're pretty similar but they've got some key differences that I always try and watch out for.

Also writing a timepiece is so fucking hard like 'wait when does this take place at this ti- OH YEAH WORLD WAR 2' which especially stressful since one of the characters in the second to last chapter of Orange Kitten is FROM GERMANY, but I managed to luck out with his age and when he left Germany which was a good amount of time before WW2 started. Also for Stressors I've been learning a lot about medicine in the 60's but then I'm like 'hmm yeah so he'll need this treatment oh wait NEVERMIND IT WASN'T INVENTED YET' 😭 so at this point I've started making shit up because frankly it doesn't impact the story at all and I only miss dates by like a few years, I excuse myself by being like 'hey so yeah this isn't OUR universe different things can happen'

Anyways back to characterization, between Show Fellas and My 60's Fellas there's still not any significant changes, just perhaps slight exaggerations of certain traits, like I'm pretty sure I tend to make T.C. more snarky and sarcastic and I think I make Chooch a little more nervous. Spook is more of a tough guy than in the show and Fancy is less of a womanizer (because frankly I don't know how to write that). I think Benny and Brain are largely the same though. I think.

Also expect me soon I was gone cos I was painting but I am rapidly approaching you

[macgyvermedical]

Abduction + Memory + Time + Fireworks + Dispersal thank goodness they didn't do seven seasons of this naming convention...

Okay folks, even though this aired quite a while ago I just now watched it, so I'm just now writing about it.

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border - Mason + Cable + Choices - Bitter Harvest - Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck - Tesla + Bell + Edison + Mac - Golden Lancehead + Venom + Pole Vault + Blood + Baggage

In conclusion to the nanotracker story arc, Mac and Riley go missing for over 24 hours. When they reappear, not only have they no memory of the previous day, but video footage shows them obeying dozens of commands, including one to fight each other and one to fire a weapon at a mannequin (though based on a line Mac says later, this horrifyingly might not have been the original version of this scene).

Vowing not to allow their bodies to be used against their will again, Mac and Riley decide to undergo a potentially dangerous treatment- exposing the nanites to high concentrations of oxygen in a hyperbaric chamber.

Just because mind control nanites are still pretty science fiction, this post will mostly be about hyperbaric medicine.

Hyperbaric Chambers:

Hyperbaric oxygen treatment is a type of treatment that uses high pressure and high oxygen concentrations to treat a variety of illnesses and injuries. These include things like non-healing wounds, crush injuries, carbon monoxide poisoning, cyanide poisoning, severe infections, and delayed radiation injuries.

A patient is placed into a chamber like the one above (though there are also larger chambers that can accommodate multiple people). Oxygen or medical air is then forced into the chamber, increasing the pressure to the prescribed depth. Depths vary depending on patient needs and the capabilities of the chamber, but can be anywhere from 1.4 atmospheres to over 6 atmospheres.

The high pressure and high oxygen concentration in the hyperbaric chamber allows oxygen to dissolve directly into the blood plasma. This helps higher concentrations of oxygen get to parts of the body that may not have the best circulation (non-healing wounds, crush injuries), give a boost of oxygen to parts of the body that need it (severe infections, delayed radiation injuries), or provide oxygen when the hemoglobin can't carry it (carbon monoxide poisoning, cyanide poisoning). The high pressure helps reduce the size of errant bubbles in the blood stream as well, which can treat the symptoms of air embolism and decompression sickness. The pressure is then gradually reduced to allow the bubbles to dissolve without severe pain.

Oxygen Toxicity:

In the episode, Mac and Riley require very high concentrations of oxygen in their blood in order to poison the nanites. Like any medical treatment, there are risks to hyperbaric oxygen therapy. Most of them have to do with air pockets in the body. These include barotrauma cause by bubbles under tooth fillings, in the sinus cavities, and the air in the inner ear which can expand and contract, causing pain. They can also include oxygen toxicity, which can be lung-related (burning pain, cough, difficulty breathing), or nervous system related (seizures).

In the episode, Mac suffers the latter type of complication when he has a seizure at 3.5 atmospheres. Seizures are a very rare complication (about 0.7 out of 10,000 treatments will result in a seizure), but oxygen toxicity does lower the seizure threshold. This means that for someone with a pre-existing seizure disorder or another reason they might have a seizure (low blood sugar, certain drugs, fever in children, etc...) they are more likely to have a seizure during a treatment.

Mac also was more likely to have oxygen toxicity than the typical person undergoing hyperbaric oxygen therapy. See, when a person is "at depth" in a chamber, they have a mask they can wear to give them room air (about 21% oxygen) at periodic intervals in order to prevent oxygen toxicity. Since the goal was to give Mac oxygen toxicity to kill the nanites, they likely forewent this precaution, which might have made it a lot more likely he would have had pulmonary complications or seizures.

The Bends:

Because he was in the chamber when he had the seizure, they decompress him and get him out of the chamber. It seems to take only seconds, even though they do hang a lantern on it by saying something to the effect of "we can't decompress him too quickly or he'll get the bends and then we'll never get him back!" (I'd quote it exactly but they took the episode off of Paramount+).

In reality, it would have taken at least an hour to adequately decompress him. If they needed to get him out as fast as they did, they'd need to re-compress him or he really would get the bends (though the bends is usually delayed by 15 minutes to 12 hours, so they'd have some time to get him back to depth). Here is a recommended re-compression table (18 MSW is the same as 1.8 atmospheres):

Has someone written that fic? Cause I need the fic where they have to break it to Mac that he has to go back into the chamber.

Anyway, this was a short one, but I hope you all learned something!

[theelispace]

The 12 Worst Things of New Jersey (The State I live in)

1. Would it kill you to say "please"?

Chivalry and etiquette are foreign concepts to many New Jerseyans. And it’s fair to assume that on any given day, you’ll encounter an impatient, impolite, disrespectful or downright nasty human-being who shares your lovely Garden State. Not every resident is a hollering, boorish brute, but take a roadtrip to the American south and you’ll realize that the stereotypes about northeasterners being rude are pretty much true.

2. Our traffic mimics "Mad Max"

Infuriating traffic makes sense for our most-densely-populated state. But does everyone have to be such an impatient, over-aggressive maniac? And don’t even start with the maddening array of jughandles and traffic circles.

3. NJ Transit's cruel tricks

To plan your day with the notion that NJ Transit's train or bus will arrive on schedule is to also account for bouts of rage as your pickup becomes delayed — and then canceled altogether. How could it get worse? Oh yeah, how about a crumbling infrastructure?

4. Our eternal civil war

Want to start a meaningless argument at your next dinner party? Ask the table “Where’s the line between North and South Jersey?” and then sit back as everyone spouts a meaningless opinion. Here’s the thing: There are no definitive, state-slicing barriers now, and there never will be. Let it go. (Plus, if we don’t unite, how will we ever conquer Delaware?)

5. And another thing ... our food battles

The pork roll vs. taylor ham discussion is worthy of its own slaughter. The stupid box says Taylor pork roll, people! Both sides are correct. Just let us enjoy our nitrate-soaked meat circles in peace. The same goes for subs/hoagies, Italian ice/water ice and sprinkles/jimmies. A state divided by its snacks is a state on the brink of collapse.

6. The soul-crushing property taxes

This gripe is based purely on fact: New Jersey boasts the highest property taxes in America, by far. The in-state average is now above $8,000 per household. Alabama, and its median property tax rate of $398, sounds awesome right about now.

7. The Pulaski Skyway

Between the merciless potholes, narrow lanes and hairpin exits, the dreary Pulaski feels more like the key in a Batman villain’s plot for Gotham-wide destruction that a structure that still exists in the 21st Century.

8. That wretched Turnpike smell

Anyone who regularly passes by Exit 13 on the Turnpike, and the nearby Linden Cogeneration Plant, already shares this grievance. The intense sulfur stench is especially putrid in warmer weather — coming soon! Though New Jersey is often unfairly mocked for its smells, it’s hard to defend this one.

9. Jersey Shore headaches

A day trip to our beloved surf and sand should surely be a serene occasion. But between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the traffic bottlenecking into the area is inescapable. To park, one must choose to shell out for an overpriced lot, or circle endlessly. Once on the beach, you endure every other frustrated family in its loudest, most obnoxious state. There’s just too many of us — we should try an odd-even system, ala the ‘73 oil crisis.

10. The Jersey meatheads

Are New Jersey’s drink-slugging, muscular buffoons different from the rest of the world’s? Yes. It goes back to the rudeness aspect — much of our population already has the tendency to morph into an inconsiderate jerk at any moment. Add in the misguided sense of entitlement that comes with not being able to touch your own shoulders, and you have the bombastic Jersey meathead, whose sole purpose is to ruin your night at the bar, club, or concert.

11. Our lousy customer service

Why are New Jersey’s service and retail employees all stationed behind a wall of indifference. In supermarkets and convenience stores — anywhere where you encounter a cashier — there’s a good chance you’ll be told to have a nice day, though it’s blatantly obvious they couldn’t care less. And why do New Jersey restaurants get so bent out of shape about separate checks? It almost always leads to a better overall tip!

12. It's us against the world

What other state’s residents need to constantly protect themselves from punchlines and mockery as soon as the cross into foreign lands? If you’re in California and you say “I’m from New Jersey,” don’t you immediately feel like as though a cloud of judgement has rolled in? Sure, we defend our spot and debunk the stereotypes, but a lifetime on watch becomes exhausting.

13. Why do we stay?

Well, have you tried the pizza here? But seriously, beneath all this quibbling, New Jersey is a special place, where many folks are willing to live. Our traffic and crowds are proof of that. And despite its flaws, we love this crazy land.

Oh, and did I mention the pizza?

Okay which is worse

New Jersey or Florida?

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

How are the gang’s relationship with their parents(and extended family)

OH BOI this took a lot especially because I had to think and RETHINK relationships and stuff, but here we go!

Abby's Family

Abby lives with her parents since she's still studying (and a minor too). They're still in a good relationship, as close as ever, and with new people around the house! Her older brother Jacob and his son Simon are living at her home since Jacob got a new job at Mr. Boss' company (his other kid and wife are living at their house in the next city, but they see each other in the weekends and often visit them at Abby's home!). Only problem is with Cree: since she got married in secret, she's seen less and less at the house, also because she moved with her new husband. Her and Abby don't talk anymore after a huge fight they had some years before. Jacob too doesn't talk to her too much, for some reason.

Also, they all love Hoagie, he's always welcome in the house! Sometimes they force Abby to invite him over...

-

Wally's Family

Wally too still lived with his parents and Joy at their house, but things are not too good. Wally doesn't have a good relationship with his mother anymore, they mostly scream at each other and argue a lot. His father keeps out of their arguments, doesn't even try to mitigate them anymore at this point; if they start, he just takes Joey to the living room to watch TV or something. Sydney has a better relationship with him, even if Wally never wants to talk about his problems with him. Teenagers...

At least things calm down when Kuki's over; they all love the girl!

He's incredibly close to Joey. The two spend a lot of time together, Wally allows him in his room whenever he wants, plays with him sometimes and also lets him sleep in his bed!

Also, since Lou and Syd reconnected, sometimes he hangs around the house too, if they need a babysitter for Joey. Wally... tolerates him. He's good at videogames, at least.

-

Kuki's Family

Kuki too lives with his family: her parents and Mushi. Her parents are still strict and serious, maybe a bit demanding now that she's in high school, but she handles it pretty good most of the times. But things are not good. Her parents barely talk to each other without arguing, and it is starting to take a tool on her. Also, they don't like Wally at all, considering him a "no good imbecile punk".

She isn't allowed to have him at home, Kani also doesn't want him to get NEAR the house, so sometimes Kuki has to get out without them knowing. But they ALWAYS get to know what she does, and it's because Mushi always tells on her.

The little girl somehow managed to get out of her lifelong grounding, and is now her dad's favorite girl. She's like one of those Delightfuls: a spoiled educated kid who always does what adults say.

-

Hoagie's Family

Hoagie still lives with his mom, his grandmother (when she wants to hang around) and his brother Tommy. Everything's fine on this side, luckly! His mom still works at Mr. Boss' company, but managed to become Head of Marketing, so she has a lot to do and not too much time to spend home. Hoagie makes sure everything is always ready and clean, cooks for everyone (and he's even GOOD at it!), takes care of laundry and makes sure Tommy showers AT LEAST once at week. He's the man of the house! Especially since no one knows or cares where his father is, at this point.

Abby's always welcome to their house, but Betty always asks to invite her when she's home too, so they can talk! She loves the girl!

His grandma usually hisses at her. Tommy too.

AND FINALLY I CAN ADD Nigel's Family

After getting his house back when he turned 18, Nigel lived alone in a house that slowly started looking like a messy prison: dirty dishes, clothes everywhere, dust and cracks. The only rooms that were intact were his parent's bedroom (which he started to sleep in) and his old bedroom, that he never entered since he went back. Penny arrived at the right time, as he needed something to get himself together and remember why he was still there and fighting in the TND: for the sake of kids all around the world. The same kids his parents protected as long as they could. Penny claimed the bedroom and is thinking of adding mermaid touches EVERYWHERE. The house still needs cleaning tho.

[pbandjesse]

Today was a very very sleepy day. We did go out. And I did do some work. But it was mostly a sleepy, rainy day.

I was feeling unsettled last night. And honestly I still feel a bit unsettled. But sleep was pretty good.

I work up at 730 originally to ask James of the car was parked in the right spot for street cleaning. And of course it wasnt so James went out to move it and then came back to bed with me. We slept until 10. Just mostly just dozed but I was fully asleep and getting up was really hard.

I would shake off the sleepies though. Got up and got washed and dressed. My hair dried a little funny but that's alright. James would make the bed and headed downstairs to make me a grilled peanut butter and Jesse and made cornbread. Excellent.

I would do a little cleaning of my frog tank. Had to take the bucket outside and had to be in the rain for a minute. The temperature outside was cool but honestly was nice. But we could not have the door or windows open. Because the train just kept coming inside. We had a bedroom window open all night and woke up with a wet windowsill.

Breakfast was nice. I was tired. We would just hang out for a little. But I would jump into sewing. And would get all the not fully fabrics done. I just didn't have it in me to deal with the fluffy ones.

After I finished sewing I would start adding faces. And James would join me to help stuff then after they got their face installed. We had a good little system going. And once I was done faces, James would continue the stuffing while I worked on sorting my boxes of eyes and noses. It's very organized now and I'm very pleased.

Once I was done that I went to lay on the couch for a bit. Eventually James would join me. And after laying together for a bit we decided to go get hoagies and walk around target.

This was very fun. We got into crazy laughing fits and we were just being super silly. I liked my sandwich but they only put mayo in the middle and I was trying to explain to James that I often war food chasing textures. Like this sandwich was mainly for the texture of mayo and bread so if there is no mayo it is disappointing. And James thought this was so silly and we were laughing and being ridiculous. I literally had tears rolling down my face. Ja.sa was like. Are you going to be okay at target??? And I was like. I do not know but let's try.

It was nice walking around target but I was also feeling a little dizzy and tired. But I was still having a good time. Got a few things we needed. A few we didnt. I ran to the bathroom while James was paying. And I met them to carry our stuff to the car. We forgot to put bags in the car again. Silly.

We would go home and I was really tired. James would put things away and then joined me. They played video games and I fell asleep.

I don't actually know how long I was asleep but it was a deep sleep. I was a little loopy.

James was cooking and would make dinner. A little to close to our late lunch. So I just felt crazy fully. My stomach still kind of hurts now. Dinner was smashed potatoes and broccoli and it was good so I didn't want to not eat it but I was hurting a little.

James asked if I would watch Dune with them. Of course my love. I don't really like watching movies but I've been enjoying it. I specially liked watching dune with James because I could ask questions since they know it so well.

And I did really enjoy it. We took a half hour or so break. I got in a weird headspace and we talked through it and it helped a little bit I was kind of upset about nothing. I don't know why. But I would be alright. And we were able to finish the movie.

And now it is late. And I am really tired. This was a lazy, rainy day, and I feel good.

Tomorrow I go back to work. And hopefully get more lesson stuff completed. And that whatever crazy storm is coming through doesn't effect my drive.

Goodnight everyone. Sleep good!

[imrowanartist]

TRTC Master Overview

The Road to Concordia is an alternate universe shared by myself, @anstarwar, @itsstrangelypermanent and @r2wedoomed, that roughly follows canon with the exception that a lot of characters who die, actually survive (because they deserved better, damn it). After Order 66 is where we diverge a bit more from canon, by having a lot of the freed clones settle on Concordia. For a rundown of events, we have made a timeline, which you can check out here!

Below is a cheat sheet for the most prominent of our OCs, with links to the ones who already have a character sheet.

Imrowanartist’s OCs:

Nova - CT-5928

Bio: Captain of Halo Company, CT bumped up to officer, part of the first ‘mutie’ batch. Batchmates with Purrgil. 

Personality: Friendly, open, but can be strict when necessary. Double dose of Dad Gene.

Partner: None. Identifies as Aroace

Kids: Tani Gilamar II, a little Pantoran girl he adopted at 1yr old. Kio, Halo’s padawan, is a pseudo son.

Keerahn ‘Kio’ Januro (Togruta)

Bio: Halo’s padawan Commander. Became a padawan two years before the war, but has a flaky master. He has a twin sister.

Personality: Needs time to warm up to people. Both overconfident and insecure. Likes pranks.

Partner: None

Kids: None

Purrgil - CT-5929

Bio: CMO of Halo Company, spent some time training under Mij Gilamar. Has formed a Medic-Trooper pair with Yara.

Personality: Grumpy, kind of a jerk really, though cares deeply. Terrible bedside manner. Gets jealous easily, often out of protectiveness. 

Partner: Nash

Kids: Jillian Gilamar Teren, his biological daughter from a fling during the war.

Yara - CT-8997

Bio: Hacked his own files so he could be assigned to Halo when he was 8yrs old. Loses his hearing at the end of the war. Medic-Trooper pair with Purrgil.

Personality: Shy at first, and quiet, but actually has a pretty sharp sense of humor. Too smart for his own good. Very geeky.

Partner: Cal Kestis

Kids: none

Omen - CT-4726 (all pronouns)

Bio: A Coruscant Guard Medic. No one really knows how he managed to pass his training and get off Kamino…

Personality: Cheerful, and just plain weird. Doesn’t know he’s Force sensitive and gets impressions of the future sometimes. Medic-Trooper pair with Moxie.

Partner: None. Identifies as Aromantic

Kids: Frog, the Tooka

Silence - (A)RC-7737

Bio: Originally trained as a commando, later re-trained as an ARC Trooper. Part of Halo Company. He is Force Sensitive but keeps that quiet.

Personality: Soft spoken, quiet, pretty serious. He often exudes a calm presence.

Partner: Hoagie

Kids: Kai, a Force sensitive twi’lek orphan they adopt at 4yrs old. Senna, a ‘failed’ Boba prototype who was kept in cryo. He is 2yrs old when they rescue him.

Karsha Januro (Togruta)

Bio: Jedi Padawan who trained as a Healer under Vokara Che. Sometimes accompanies younglings to Ilum. Twin sister of Kio.

Personality: Gentle, though strong-willed. Classy, likes things to be done well.

Partner: Fritz

Kids: Izka ‘Izzy’ Januro

Fixit - ARC-1257

Bio: Originally an ARC for Halo Company, but got transferred to the Coruscant Guard. Works mostly spec ops under Thire.

Personality: Kind, funny and a bit nerdy. Can have razor focus on a task, but also likes to joke around and flirt with people.

Partner: Renay Eli

Kids: Saradii Eli, his daughter with Renay

Other OCs:

Jinn, a Halo Lieutenant

Storm, a Halo lieutenant

Gunner, a Halo lieutenant

Ryo, a 212th medic

Renay Eli, a human woman from Coruscant

Tordann Woves, Nova’s climbing buddy

Jill Gilamar, Purrgil’s daughter

Tani Gilamar, Nova’s daughter

Kai Vennex (shared with Anstarwar), Hoagie and Si’s child (nonbinary)

Senna Vennex (Shared with Anstarwar) Hoagie and Si’s son.

Saradii Eli, Fixit and Renay’s daughter

Grisly, Yara’s batchmate

Anstarwar’s OCs:

Poke - CT-8585 (they/them)

Bio: A Coruscant Guard Medic and Geonosis veteran, who often travels along with Thorn on diplomatic missions. 

Personality: Friendly, outgoing and a bleeding heart. Bit of a ho after they first arrive at the CG. Medic-Trooper pair with Arrow.

Partner: Carrion

Kids: Twins Leo and Stone (jr.), adopted around 10 BBY

Hoagie - CT-2455

Bio: 501st Medic, part of Griffin squad and best friend of Twitch. 

Personality: Grumpy, doesn’t get along well with most. He cares deeply for his patients and close friends however. Medic-Trooper pair with Twitch

Partner: Silence

Kids: Kai, a Force sensitive twi’lek orphan they adopt at 4yrs old. Senna, a ‘failed’ Boba prototype who was kept in cryo.

Twitch - CT-5445

Bio: 501st trooper part of Griffin squad who later becomes an ARC. Best friends with Shay and Hoagie. Medic-Trooper pair with Hoagie.

Personality: Exuberant, generally happy and positive. Definitely has ADHD.

Partner: Shay Vennex

Kids: Quills Vennex, their adopted human/Mikkian daughter

Shay Vennex (Zabrak)

Bio: Born a nightsister, but sold to a pirate clan at a young age. Becomes a bounty hunter after her escape. Force sensitive.

Personality: Kind, suffers no fools. Wary of unknown people, but friendly and outgoing with those she does know.

Partner: Twitch

Kids: Quills Vennex, their adopted human/Mikkian daughter

Moxie - CT-5678

Bio: A Coruscant Guard ARF trooper, who is part of Hound’s squad. Medic-Trooper pair with Omen. 

Personality: Cheery to a fault, very laidback and friendly.

Partner: Scorch

Kids: Waffles the Massiff

Reaper - (CT-22-666)

Bio: Part of the 41st Elite battalion and Bantha squad. Prefers to use a vibro-pickaxe and has the nickname ‘Reaper the Lunatic’

Personality: Acts first, thinks later, though he has a squishy heart

Partner: Gears

Kids: Axe Woves is their semi adopted son, shared with Del and Bitsy

Gears - RC-2025, demoted to CT-2025

Bio: A deck tech mechanic for the 41st elite. Was supposed to be a Commando, but got demoted to CT because he was too soft. Force Sensitive.

Personality: Quiet and observant, sensitive to sound. Initially has severe self esteem issues.

Partner: Reaper

Kids: Axe Woves is their semi adopted son, shared with Del and Bitsy

Other OCs:

Nyx, part of Howzer’s battalion

Sergeant Fallon, Griffin Squad’s Sergeant 

Rev, Griffin Squad’s sniper

Arrow, Coruscant Guard Shock Trooper, promoted to 41st Elite’s ARC

Chell, nickname ‘Doc,’ a Miralian Jedi Padawan

Chi Tanne, a togruta Jedi

Kai Vennex (shared with Imrowanartist), Hoagie and Si’s child

Senna Vennex (Shared with Imrowanartist) Hoagie and Si’s son.

Leo Jr. and Stone (shared with Itsstrangelypermanent), Poke and Car’s adopted twins 

Waffles the Massiff

Quills Vennex, adopted daughter of Twitch and Shay

Ari and Ori, twins part of Bantha squad

Jynx, part of Bantha Squad

Master Rin, Cathar Jedi Master, padawans include Chi Tanne and later Chell

Hobbs, Weequay bounty hunter, mentor to Shay

Itsstrangelypermanent’s OCs:

Nuts - CT-42-3942

Bio: A medic pulled from Kamino too early due to a shortage. Bounced around several battalions until ending up with the 104th. Medic-Trooper pair with Keeli

Personality: Initially quiet and withdrawn due to trauma, he’s actually a pretty excitable and happy person. 

Partner: Keeli

Kids: Pseudo adopts Wedge Antilles after the war

Carrion - CC-1397

Bio: CMO of the Coruscant Guard.. Geonosis veteran, who badly injured his knee which never healed right. Trained under Mij Gilamar. Medic-Trooper pair with Stone

Personality: Gruff and no-nonsense, though he has a soft spot for his junior medics. Terrible at self-care.

Partner: Poke

Kids:Twins Leo and Stone (jr.), adopted around 10 BBY

Nash - Alpha-23

Bio: Originally deployed with the 649th which was destroyed. Sent back to Kamino afterward, to help train new troops.

Personality: Infinite patience and is immune to bullshit. Sharp sense of humor, often in a gruff way.

Partner: Purrgil

Kids: Has adopted Jill as his own daughter

Fritz - CT-4641

Bio: A young trooper, deployed with the 212th only towards the end of the war. He accompanies Karsha on a mission to Ilum when O66 hits. Goes blind later on.

Personality: Calm, collected. Sometimes comes across as shy. 

Partner: Karsha Januro

Kids: Izka ‘Izzy’ Januro

Del - CT-0213

Bio: 41st battalion medic and Geonosis veteran. Reconditioned multiple times because he was too soft. Medic-Trooper pair with Bitsy

Personality: Quiet, shy and generally a bit nervous. Has severe anxiety due to his reconditionings

Partner: Bitsy

Kids: Axe Woves is their semi adopted son, shared with Gears and Reaper

Bitsy - CT-8293

Bio: Geonosis veteran and part of the 41st and Bantha squad. Big guy.

Personality: Straight forward and no-nonsense. Has an innate sense to protect.

Partner: Del

Kids: Axe Woves is their semi adopted son, shared with Gears and Reaper

Other OCs:

Grim, CMO of the 104th

Happ, 501st, medic-trooper pair with Coric

Pait, Coruscant Guard Medic

Inky, Coruscant Guard trooper

Sticks, Coruscant Guard Medic

Ludo, Coruscant Guard medic

Leo Jr. and Stone (shared with Anstarwar), Poke and Car’s adopted twins

r2wedoomed’s OCs:

Sill - CT-9878

Bio: Captain in the 188th battalion of Kit Fisto, promoted by Monnk in the beginning of the war, Quip is his batchmate.

Personality: Determined to do what is best for his men, protective but capable of letting go if needed. Can 100% solve a strategic problem, but will also hit himself in the face while opening a jar

Partner: Aurey

Kids: Mouse, semi adopted during the war, officially adopter after

Aurey - CT-8489

Bio: ARC trooper in the 188th, had one disastrous mission where he lost his ARC partner Ghost. After that he got paired with Vaughn and was assigned to Sill’s company.

Personality: generous and practical, laughs easily, thinks before acting and is not prone to anger except in the mornings.

Partner: Sill

Kids: Mouse, semi adopted during the war, officially adopter after

Quip - CT-9880

Bio: CMO of the 188th, followed the medic track on Kamino together with Lilo, but did everything in his power to get assigned to Sill’s battalion. Medic-Trooper pair with Paulie.

Personality: methodical; shows his affection by taking care of you (aggressively), he loves fiercely, but struggles to tell people so.

Partner: Marku Matrhy

Kids: None

Ty - CT-0990

Bio: Lieutenant in the Coruscant Guard. Often works with Fixit. Bounced around a lot of battalions but lost all his friends and close brothers on Geonosis

Personality: a kind soul, but subconsciously reluctant to make deep connections with people as he fears to lose them; great actor, loves to tell stories, great with kids, loathes silence, listens to funky music

Partner: Lilo

Kids: None

Lilo - CT-2345 (they/them)

Bio: Coruscant Guard Medic, assigned to CG immediately after Geonosis, lost their batchmate Leaf on Geonosis and therefore has a leaf tattooed on their cheek.

Personality: down to earth, emotionally stable, loves their job, level-headed; not an unreasonable medic, willing to engage in a discussion, but will need a convincing reason to change their mind about letting you leave the medbay or not

Partner: Ty

Kids: None

Marku Matrhy (Pantoran)

Bio: Used to be a history teacher on a Pantoran colony until the Empire decided that his teachings were too critical. He fled before they could arrest him, forcing him to leave his ancestral home behind. He drifted around the galaxy for a bit until he met Quip four years after O66.

Personality: incredibly warm person, very patient, great storyteller; will absolutely call you out on your bullshit. Loves baking, long walks in the snow and those kind of old history books that make you afraid you break the page when you turn it.

Partner: Quip

Kids: None

Other OCs:

Mouse, Sill and Aurey’s foundling

Gus, 188th Lieutenant

Pepper, 188th sergeant

Day, 188th Captain

Pip, 188th trooper

Gwyn, 188th trooper

Paulie, 188th sergeant

Spectre, ARC trooper in 188th

[sendpseuds]

The people must know: What are your favorite sandwiches???

Ah, sandwiches. What a magical food.

Since you graced us all with a whole dissertation I feel like I owe you the same level of detail, let’s see what we can do here.

While I am not actually vegetarian, I LOVE a veggie sandwich. One of my all time favorites to make at home is seeded rye with hummus on one side and homemade herby cream cheese on the other [usually parsley, green onion, mint, dill, and fresh garlic. Also sometimes this is chèvre instead of cream cheese]. Between the bread we have sliced cucumbers [seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon juice], big slices of tomato, and arugula [sprouts if I can get my hands on them]. This whole ordeal is fabulous with turkey or bacon if you want more protein, I’ve also done smashed chickpeas in place of the hummus for a heartier option.

Another veggie sandwich I love is from a local bakery and if I knew exactly how they made it I would tell you, but it’s fresh crusty sourdough liberally coated in amazing olive oil, with this incredible carrot purée, thinly sliced fennel, Calabrian chilis, and arugula. So fucking good.

Okay, let’s talk about something less “healthy”

If you’ve ever been to Buffalo, New York [Go Bills] there are TWO sandwiches that I think about all the time.

The first is pretty ubiquitous through western New York: Beef on Weck. This is roast beef, dipped in hot jus, and piled on a kimmelweck roll [basically a Kaiser roll with crunchy sea salt and caraway seeds]. That’s it. Personally, I like to add an almost unadvisable amount of horseradish, but that’s it. It’s perfect.

The second is a true drunken indulgence. The Stinger Hoagie from Jim’s Steakout. If you are unfamiliar with Jim’s, most locations are open until 5am [bars in Buffalo close at 4am. A real drinking town] and the employees can often be seen wearing shirts that say “I see drunk people.” The Stinger Hoagie is their beautiful monster. Cheesesteak meets chicken finger sub. Shaved steak, chicken fingers, fried onions, melted American cheese, lettuce, tomato, Frank’s Red Hot, and Jim’s special sauce. [I am fucking drooling right now, I haven’t had one of these since I was in my twenties.]

When it comes to deli meat, I tend to lean toward turkey, but I want some really soft seeded multigrain bread with crispy Romain and good tomatoes. Thick slices of sharp sharp cheddar, mayonnaise, and Nance’s Sharp and Creamy mustard. I might toss in some cucumber or parsley, maybe apples and bacon if I’m feeling extra, but the specific mustard is very important.

[this isn’t really a sandwich but I’ll often take a big rib of Romaine lettuce and make a little deli boat with turkey, cheese, and Mayo. I’m sure I can blame that on high school, my mother, and all the lovely disordered eating habits I developed as a teen]

Grilled cheese… I’m sort of all over the place with grilled cheese, always experimenting, but for me, the most important thing is using GRATED CHEESE [and to be clear, I mean block cheese that you grate at home, not the pre-grated stuff in the bag, please, this is important, that shit doesn’t melt right] I want the cheese pouring over the sides of the bread, hitting the pan, oozing and bubbling until it’s gold and crispy and perfect.

I’ll give you one fancy grilled cheese: deviled egg grilled cheese. Two hard boiled eggs, whites sliced thin, yolks mixed with mayo, mustard, pepper, paprika, dill. Into the pan goes bread, cheese mixture [gruyere and cheddar, shredded and mixed with a little Mayo and mustard], yolk mixture, sliced whites, more cheese mixture, bread. Done.

This is getting out of control and I haven’t talked about chopped italian sandwiches, or banh mi, or my mom’s famous roast beef and mock Boursin sandwiches, or my obsession with Calabrian chilis [oh! Add those to the mayo on a turkey sandwich], or the time I put an entire meatloaf on an entire loaf of bread and called it a sandwich.

I haven’t even TOUCHED on breakfast sandwiches but if I get into that we’ll be here forever.

So, for now, I’ll cap it there, but there’s plenty of room for a sequel.

Hope that answers your question!