#and rock from other countries is normal in those countries

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I’ll listen to music that’s new to me but in genres I like and I’m like “this is so normal though” when talking about it but then I hear common pop like Taylor swift or something and I’m like “oh. This is definitely a different genre actually”

[wonderjanga]

Marvel in Unmarvel-like Outfits

I think every now and then Billy would change up whatever he wears as Marvel, and I personally think this would shock the JL the because they didn’t even know the suit could be taken off. Like one day, I can see Billy decked out in full Hawaiian drip:

Flash: “Hey, Cap- woah.”

Billy: *turns around for the first time rocking a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals also Hawaiian printed* “Hey, Flash. Something wrong?

Flash: “Dude, you’re wearing normal clothes.”

Billy: “Yeah…? I am.”

Flash: “But you’ve never worn normal clothes until now! I thought you said the suit didn’t come off.”

Billy: *Remembers he uses that as an excuse to not to go to bars with the others.* “Oh uh… I’m… not… Powered up?”

Flash: “Wait, you can power up? Also wait, this is you powered down??” *gestures to Billy wildly*

Billy: “Yes…?”

Flash: “So you’re telling me, none of that was padding? It was 100 percent muscle?” *Gestures to one of Marvel’s arms*

Billy: “Uh… yeah? Look uh- I gotta go! Bye!” *Speed walks away*

or

Billy went a country fair and was still riding the high of cowboy-ness. So now, he’s wearing cowboy clothes complete with fringe, golden spurs on his boots, and even a bandana. He even went the extra mile and used a lightning lasso. Until he got tired of it and just went back to punching.

He was having his fun but of course someone has to ruin it:

Black Adam: *Flies in from somewhere* “Champion! Show yourself!”

Billy: “Adam.” *Flies up to Teth’s level and tips his cowboy hat to the other man*

Black Adam: *About to monologue about how this is going to be the time he finally beats Billy but then he sees the champion’s clothes* “You imbecile, what are you wearing?”

Billy: “I’m not an imbecile, I’m a cowboy!”

Black Adam: *does the sassiest eye roll* “Sure… Let’s just fight, wretch.”

(People ate this up too. There were like a thousand edits of him with the ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ and the ‘hey sexy lady’ and the ‘shake it for me girl’ songs, much to Billy’s horrification)

or

Billy one day magics up a toga, one of those gold leaf crown things, and he even wears sandals. He even decides to speak exclusively Ancient Greek and it makes the Justice League worry little. They send Diana in since she’s the only one who can understand him:

*Billy’s in the kitchen making himself food.*

(Ancient Greek will be in italics)

WW: *knocks on door frame* “Marvel?”

Marvel: “Yeah, Wondy?”

WW: *leans against doorway* “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but the others are worried about you.”

Marvel: *pauses cooking* “Why?”

WW: “Well…” *looks Marvel up and down* “You’re dressed differently, and you’re speaking Greek.”

Marvel: *stares in confusion before he smiles* “Oh, Wondy, don’t worry! This is just a bit. I’ll be done by tomorrow. Promise!” *offers pinky swear*

WW: *sighs* “If you say so.”*does pinky swear with him*

[rebelliousstories]

Their S/O Giving Them Small Yet Thoughtful Gifts…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 1,150

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Consider Donating to the Page: Here

Logan Howlett/The Wolverine

* Logan’s love language is acts of service. He doesn’t like to do big and extravagant anything. Of course there are some exceptions, but for the most part he likes keeping things solely for the two of you.

* So you giving him small things is perfect for him. I see him as someone who enjoys wood working in all capacities, especially figurines. He keeps them in the bedroom away from anyone who might see them, but you both know they’re there. Logan’s got a wolverine figurine on his nightstand which I could see as you get it for him, and he shoots you a deadpan look at first, but he treasures it with everything in him.

* I could also see him receiving new flannels, or clothing. Something practical. New colors and patterns would be something that he wouldn’t think of getting normally, but if you see them in town, get them. He’s wearing those specific articles of clothing till they’re thread bare. Let’s be completely honest though, if you bring that man anything, he’s cherishing it. It could be a carefully thought out present, or a rock you found on the way home that reminded you of him.

* Two ways he’ll accept a present that you give him: if you’re around others, he’ll grunt out a thank you, and press a quick kiss to your head before pocketing or stowing it away so no one else can see what a sucker he is for you. Or, his preferred way of receiving gifts, is in the comfort of your bedroom when it’s just the two of you. There, he’ll wrap you in a big hug, and stay there. He’s a man of few words. But in the privacy of your room, he can pepper you with kisses and affection as much as he wants without anyone else judging him for it. Logan still needs to protect his persona after all.

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* I can completely see Wade as someone who does the absolute most for his S/O. He’s someone who will throw you a party just because. So dealing with someone who doesn’t do the big parties and gifts like him is a bit of a learning curve. But once he gets the hang of it, Wade is treasuring all you give him.

* Anything Hello Kitty specifically, or Sanrio in general, is a-okay n his books. Once he moves out of the one bedroom apartment with Al, he’s setting up a shelf that has all of his collectibles and trinkets that have the characters on them. He goes feral over some blind boxes too. Give him a few, and he’ll tear through them cause that ADHD must be satisfied.

* Wade also really likes gifts you would get from an arcade or skate rink. Like the ones you have to collect tickets to get. He likes nostalgia, alright? Just give him things that remind him of a simpler time, and he is absolute putty. Could totally see him still wanting, receiving, and playing CDs and VHS tapes.

* When you do give him his gift, no matter if you’re in front of people or alone, he’s landing the wettest smack of a kiss on your cheek, following quickly by one on your lips. Just be mindful to hold his hands because they will start to wander to inappropriate places if you let him.

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Now, for my little Cajun. He is so appreciative of just the fact that you’re dating him, he doesn’t need gifts. That said, he will love anything you give him. Remy loves collecting things from different countries and states. So if you travel, bring him something small back. He arranges everything in order on a specific set of shelves that he got just to display all the little items.

* This may be stereotypical for him, but the Gambit LOVES fancy card decks. The ones he uses in battle are always ones that are not fancy, but just some sturdy standard cards. But you give this man a fancy deck of cards that have intricate designs and patterns? Ooo Lordy he’s a sucker for that. He gets some little stands for the decks so he can display them proudly next to his travel gifts.

* Unless his friends are prepared for it, no one asks him about the ever growing shelves of trinkets. Most of the time because he will find a way to bring up the newest one anyways regardless of the conversation. It’s not that they don’t like hearing about the new items, it’s just that Remy takes that as an excuse to talk far too long about them and you. Sometimes, if a new person comes over and makes the mistake of asking about the shelves, his friends will all groan, and begin grabbing another drink or food so they aren’t subject to his speech again.

* Remy will always show his appreciation for when you bring home a gift for him. If you’re coming back from your travels and have a gift for him, he’s extra appreciative. He hadn’t seen you in too long, which means he needs to spoil you more. Hugging you close, kissing everywhere he can, general tangled limbs. If you come home with a fancy deck of cards though? Y’all ain’t leaving the bedroom till the next day.

Poly! Logan & Wade

* Oh my goodness… double trouble on opposite ends of the spectrum. Logan doesn’t mind PDA, and for Wade that’s a must. So naturally their reactions are going to be different when they receive their gifts. No matter what, they agree to cherish it as much as they can.

* Giving them gifts together prompts some grumbling on behalf of Logan, and playful competition from Wade. Wade doesn’t mean to belittle whatever you got for Logan but the other man can’t help but get defensive over you and your presents when he does this. It honestly is the one thing that puts him in a foul mood fast.

* If you give them gifts separately, which would probably be the best, they each give their own thanks for their gifts. Even if the gifts go together, it’s just easier to give them separate because of how differently they show appreciation.

* Logan would not be overtly jealous if you give Wade something shinier, newer, or more expensive, but he would deal with it quietly. He would never bring it up to you, but you could see the glances and looks he would throw towards Wade when he got his gifts. Give this man a new piece of jewelry. I see him as a watch man, so giving him a brand new one would definitely keep his own self doubt from creeping up as often. Just be warned, if Wade sees this, he’s going to want a new present. So just give him a Hello Kitty figurine and he’ll be fine.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Simon Riley hates going to the clinic. Especially when you're the nurse.

PAIRING: Nurse¡Reader x Simon Riley.

WORD COUNT: 995.

WARNINGS: (not proofread!)

NOTES: I just wanted to write for Simon SO BAD. I can bring more of these two, if you guys like it, of course🫶🏻

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley isn't a big fan of going to the doctor. Not even the pharmacy. Especially the pharmacy. Because he knows he will find someone even more annoying there. The newbie nurse was a rock in his shoes from the beginning.

As for you, the recent BOLC (Officer Basic Leadership Course) formed as a nurse, you were thrilled. After weeks of training hard to be a military nurse, you're finally where you wished to be. As you got approved for working into the Meadowview Medical Clinic, you were quickly brought to a meeting, clarifying that not every soldier is as the others. This one, a lieutenant to be more clear. You were marveling about it. A lieutenant that never shows his face, asks for privacy at the top of all.

—”He asks for no photos of his face, not many people in the room as he's in. And, oh, of course. The lieutenant requires a private room for attendance.” — Your boss was explaining anything as some interrogation kept running through your mind. You couldn't understand properly. But you agreed with anything, you even had to sign a privacy contract, seems like he takes it very seriously.

It took weeks for you to see him actually. Your boss told you the lieutenant didn't like coming into the hospital. You thought the man could have some trauma. Or, to make him a bit less scary, you thought he was only scared of needles, since that's totally normal amongst adults. But it was funny imagining a buff soldier scared of it. And you knew he was buff. You were looking at his military personnel file, he seemed to have quite the experience in the position, by the long time he's serving the country. It said on the paper, that he was 1.93 meters, he was actually more tall than what you thought. There were some notes especially for those in pharmacy counseling reference, which includes you.

“Enjoys tattoo art + animals.”

You were clicking your tongue on the top of your mouth. That was unexpected. So, he might have these both things.

“Drink of choice —› Earl Grey.”

As you know, it was a british tea with black tea on the base and some bergamot orange oil. A weird choice of drink, but maybe he had a motive behind it.

“Assess for animal support program.”

You tilted your head to the side. Seems like your deduction was correct. You started to wonder what kind of animal one lieutenant would have. Maybe a scary animal like a snake? Or a defenseless fat cat? That would be funny.

In seconds, you were on your desk, flipping the papers of his file, the delicacy in your touch not so needed, but was there. In seconds after, a knock took your concentration. You immediately dropped everything and got up, clearing your throat and adjusting your stance as you opened the door. There was a man. Or, THE man, his size taking almost all the door frame. The man in front of you was enormous, you weren't small yourself, you were quite taller too, but you had no chance against him. He was staring at you. Hiis almost black, almond eyes, painted in face paint, were full of some weird emotion. That got your stomach wobbly, you didn't know what to expect of him. Your boss was right beside him, smiling at you in a very unnatural way.

—”This is the lieutenant. He seems to be having a fracture on the nose. Could you please take the general infos for me before he goes to my room? I'm a bit busy.” — You nodded almost immediately, giving space for the big one to go inside. That was weird, your boss were so busy and yet, took time to brought him to your room?

He walks in, without a single word. He sat on the litter, his hands resting in the middle of his legs as he pressed his foot to the floor. You waited as your boss turned his back at you two, and closed the door, clearing your throat once again before coming closer to the lieutenant. From your coat, you took your tongue depressor.

—”Can you…take off your mask? I need to see it for the procedure.”

And he just shook his head, telling you he won't do it with his expression. His mask would only allow you to see his eyes.

—”Wait a minute, sir. You possibly broke your nose. If you can't take out your mask, I can't assess your situation.” — Your lips glued together, showing how that situation was nothing more than awkward. You couldn't understand a soldier that didn't take off his mask.

—”No way.”

The man had a strong British accent, you didn't heard him talking until now. But it was clear even with only two words.

—”Sir, please. I need you to cooperate. After all, why don't you take it off? Scared you're ugly?”

The words rolled off your tongue, your free hand coming to your mouth to try and take it back. Simon took a second. A few seconds. Gulped down some emotion you couldn't decipher and blinked at you. You were used to making jokes with the other patients. But they were a different case. They were not lieutenant Simon Riley.

—”Ya know, yer’ not the first one to tell me that. Try being more original next time.”

You didn't know what he meant with that. If he was trying to be sarcastic, he didn't show. His face sat still like a rock, that was to the bare minimum…weird. Maybe he wasn't good with emotions. Or he was just mad at you. Either way, the man in front of you took off his mask, holding it on his side very close. He was not what you expected. His face was not ugly at all. And seeing your face surprised, he gave you a smug smile. Seems like the lieutenant enjoys surprising people.

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Lizards

Benny x Lu full blurb

Without thinking, because she is twenty four now and has been to the beach and has swam with friends and has lived a life, Lu shucks her dress, her shoes, her slip and dives into the lake, nylon undergarments ruined and only just sufficient to be considered a covering. It’s fine, it’s normal, she comes up to the surface and she knows, somewhere far back in her mind she knows, her chest and its scar is visible but it doesn’t matter. The sun is bright, the water is reflecting so strongly she has to squint and through it all Benny is tossing his hair out of his eyes and laughing between puffs of exertion at treading water. He is laughing at having jumped in, at the fact she went for it, too. It doesn’t matter that her body is on display, as a gruesome curiosity or an incitement to desire.

She is swimming with Benny and it’s all just fine.

It makes the moment so utterly enjoyable Lu feels like all her longing to be out here, to be surrounded by this big vast world— it’s been close to right, very near what she’s needed, it’s just made a little better with him and that’s unfortunate as he lives in Chicago. Benny shouldn’t be in the city, he should be in a sparkling lake with minnows assaulting his feet and diamonds of water caught in his lashes.

They’re laughing at each other, so much so they’re close to drowning, and they don’t have to say why. It’s perfect.

She could count each of his lashes as she swims around him, so close and so circular she’s half minnow herself, Benny’s eyes don’t leave her face and he’s stopped laughing enough to look mildly wary at her antics. She’d like to count his lashes, she realizes, she never really thought of how many there were, distracted perhaps, by his beard at other times.

Back when he had a beard: she knew that about him. Back when she stuffed cardboard into her brassieres: he knew that about her.

She keeps circling him and can’t make any progress on counting his lashes because he begins to laugh again, but it’s short and aggravated and she waits for him to explain it, she knows he will.

“What’re you, half mermaid?” there’s quashed competition in his voice, he’s betrayed at her leaving off their giggle fit to actually swim.

“You sure aren’t.” she laughs back, his neck is almost fully in the water, “Those big strong shoulders can’t hold you up? Am I going to have to tow you to the rock?”

Benny takes the teasing well, his face clears if anything, quick to laugh at himself. “You’ve got an advantage, you come here a lot. I’ve been rottin’ in the city.”

Lu gives an approving nod at his conclusion, it aligns with her own. “Yes, so you’ve gotta fix that. You should come out here more often.”

He doesn’t need to come here. Here with her.

There’s all manner of woods and water and nature just outside his stupid city but that’s not an option somehow, not with the way he’s here with her when he could be in the woods with Jack or out on a boat with Maureen. He chose here, instead.

“Yeah, I should.” Benny just agrees because they don’t have to say all that, say that it feels right and different. It just is for now and they can let it be.

She watches him lay back in the water, floating along with the gentle ripple and his ears are below the water and his eyes are on the big blue sky above them and Lu thinks that’s a perfect idea so she floats back too, staring at the sky they once knew so well, wondering if he misses it like she does- in a way that’s half agony of separation and absolute terror of ever being made to reunite with it.

Bucky doesn’t get that; he’s still flying.

Ida and Gale would still be if their governments weren’t so shit to them.

Jack never wanted to but he’d done it for the country, for his people, because it was right. From how often Benny and Jack see each other, like they’re dosing each other up by sheer proximity, Lu guesses they shared that singular motivation.

She turns her head, one ear clogged and filled with water, her other cheek so far into the lake it’s almost lapping up her one nostril; but she can see Benny floating near her, he has his eyes closed.

He gets it, she thinks, heart so full she could cry from happiness for once.

“-don’t you want to fall asleep like this?” she wants to ask him, says it aloud only because she knows his ears are under the water, his face doesn’t even twitch, his eyelids are smooth without a crease of a squint or a frown around them, his nose is ever so gently upturned and Lu wants to place her hand under his head, keep him like this forever, let him enjoy it like she does, “You could, I’d keep you up, make sure you don’t drown.”

When Benny turns his face to her she blushes hot even in the freshwater lake, he looks like he’s caught her at something she shouldn’t be doing, a chiding look of kindness but it reminds her she shouldn’t be treading water and staring at his face like she loves him. If only he could see himself. He’d understand it then. Anyone would.

It’s Benny. And it’s perfect and before he pulls his head up fully he lets himself sink a little and does a slow lazy flip in the water and she feels him tickle her foot on the way back up.

It’s much the same laying on the toasty flat limestone rocks on the lakeshore. Benny and her, burning their backs on the rock, tender bellies getting scorched by late afternoon sun, underwear drying out as crispy as the grass. He’s got his eyes closed again, lashes fanned out on freckling cheeks. And Lu is watching him once more and thinking how much she’d like to be a couple of lazy lizards with Benny.

She snickers at the thought.

“What’s that?” he hums.

Lu shakes her head, disbelieving that she’s about to embarrass herself like this but at least he still has his eyes closed, “I was thinking that we’re a pair of lizards.” And that she’d like to keep being a lizard with him and have a lizard family.

Benny doesn’t laugh at her, his nose crinkles in a mildly disgusted way but he looks like he’s gotta agree despite it all, she feels so fuzzy by that. “I think my back is gonna stay on the rock when I sit up.”

The clasps of her bra are digging into her spine but, otherwise it’s burning and fabulous and she wants to stay forever. The look on his face, lazily tilted towards hers on the rock with his eyes half masted and open, agrees so eloquently Lu wants to— she doesn’t know. So she settles with reaching out and resting her hand on the browned meat of his pretty shoulder. Benny’s eyes droop further and they chide her ever so gently for the fire it ignites in them both all at once, and Lu would love to be two lizards and stay here forever.

[bisexual-biohazard5]

Percy Weasley HC: Music

When I see headcannons about Percy Weasley, some of them are about his music taste which normally head cannoned as jazz or classical music which I understand because it fits his vibe. But I love the idea of a smart, nerdy looking perfect prefect Percy listening to Riot Grrl. (For those who don't know, riot grrl is like femal metal that talks about sexism, misogny and is about feminism. It also occurs during 1970s to 1990s so it makes sense historically as well.)

Percy is an intelligent person so he should be able to see that sexism and misogny is wrong and that the sterotypes about genders are incorrect. (Feminist Percy Weasley is my life.)

So one day he listening to the radio at the burrow which no one else is really paying attention to and hears it for the first time and instantly gets obsessed. He wants to help the women and is inspired by the music which could tie into his obsession with the ministry because he wants to fix the corruption and sexism in the country. It's one of the reasons he wanted to be Minister of Magic so he could try and help end sexism and gender sterotypes.

Also he 100% had a Walkman cassette tape. It was made in 1979 and was actually really popular. Riot Grrl surfaced in 1970s to 1990s so it just makes sense to me that Percy would have a walkman and listen to female rock. Oh and his favouite bands are The Slits and Bikini Kill. His favourite songs are 'New Radio' and 'Rebel Girl'.

(And imaging sweet prefect perfect Percy Weasley who no one has ever seen do a wrong thing, listening to Riot Grrl and singing along to the lyrics, yes, even the swears, is funny to me and I hold this hc close to my heart. And did I spend 30 minutes researching so it all makes sense with the production of the Walkman and when the bands were formed? Yes. Yes I did. Do I regret it? absolutely not.)

(Oh and Oliver 100% found him singing vulgar lyrics and fell for him even more. Also Oliver would be opposite and listen to Jazz and classical because I love couples that have interests that are like the complete opposite to what their vibe is or what other people think and it's unpredictable and no one would believe it until they saw it themselves. While Percy has a walkman, Oliver would have collections of vinyls just like in Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. Whenever the gryffindors in the common room hear just heavy metal from their dorm, they assume it's Oliver when it's actually Percy.)

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Here is my conclusion Clears throat

#Percy Weasley Defense squad #Perciver

Audience cheers and applaudes.

[itsphoenix0724]

Save A Horse (Cassian x Reader)

Summary: After a long hard day of work all Cas wants is a cold beer and a pretty girl.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, sexual language about women's bodies

A/N: I love a good cowboy au, and I feel like my boy Cas fits that vibe the best. I'm sorry I've been MIA, but I'm trying to get back into it I promise. Thank you all for your patience. Much love <3

Cassian takes off his hat as he walks into the bar, hair slicked back against his forehead after a long day in the sun.  He appreciates the job Rhys’s father offers him, but he puts him through the wringer every day from sun up to sun down. Friday nights at Rita’s are always packed, and tonight is no exception, especially with the new addition of the mechanical bull. Cassian only has to step up to the bar and a beer is already set in front of him. He takes a sip, letting the drink cool him from the inside out before he turns to survey the dance floor. It’s packed with girls square dancing and some just drunkenly bumping and grinding with the person closest to them. He looks out across the floor watching the buckle bunnies saunter up to every available ranch hand they set their eyes on. Nights like these are some of his favorites, he just lets the girls flock to him so he can take his pick of the litter to get lost in for the night. 

That’s when he sees you, red cowboy boots in all your glory on the back of that mechanical bull.  

The bull is supposed to be impossible to stay on, he knows because he laughed about it with Rita on the first night she had it installed. Rhys, Az, and himself had spent the entire night watching people get thrown into the inflatable pit around it, laughing so hard they almost tipped their barstools.

But you were staying on the bull, and Cas is absolutely entranced. Your hips rock back and forth with the bull's motion, countering every single buck and jerk the machine used to try to throw you. You even had the balls to take one hand off the reigns and Cassian almost fell to his knees right there when you flipped yourself around and started to ride it backward. His eyes wander down to the tight denim of your cut-off shorts, your ass looks good enough for him to bite. 

Every single eye in the bar is fixed on you because no one has ever stayed on the bull this long. 

The machine starts to slow down, the rocking of your hips becoming more sensual as you begin to follow the beat of the country song blasting across the speakers. Everyone watches with rapt attention as the bull finally stops, before erupting into cheers that shake the very foundation of the building. You dismount, bowing with a flourish as you return to your group of friends. Most of the guys in the bar are approaching you, but Cassian is already tucking his hat back on and barreling over. Any other guy who had thought he stood a chance backed off just as quickly when Cassian sent them a glare that could level mountains. 

He didn’t care what anyone said, he had to have you tonight, tonight you were his and his alone. 

“That was incredible.” Cassian rumbles, coming up behind you, a quick wink and smile from him sends your friends fluttering across the dance floor laughing behind their hands. 

“Well thank you,” you drawl, red lips pulling back into a feline grin. “And you are?” one of your eyebrows cocks, eyes lazily trailing up and down his form. 

“Cassian Prince,” he tips his hat and watches as you smirk, “and can I have your name or should I just call you Beautiful?” you laugh incredulously, before rolling your eyes. Cassian’s confidence wavers for a second, that line normally works, but he presses on. “Can I buy you a drink?” You hum in contemplation, making a good show of tipping your head in thought. 

“No thanks, maybe next time Cowboy.” You pat him on the shoulder before sauntering away from him and disappearing back into the crowd. Cassian watches those red boots walk away dumbfounded, but sulks back to his spot against the bar. 

Cassian drinks until closing time, eyes still prowling the crowd but dissatisfied with every potential prospect. Nothing compared to the rush you gave him when you were on that bull. 

Rita’s is emptying, and Cas knocks back another shot of whiskey as Rita cleans the glasses for the night. On the nights he doesn’t go home with someone he usually stays to ensure she gets to her car okay even though he doesn’t think that anyone in this town would be dumb enough to try anything with Rita. 

“Hey Jackass, leave me the hell alone!” It’s shouted across the bar in such alarm that it raises the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck. He moves faster than his brain can keep up with, tipsy feet carrying him to the bar's back corner. Cas finds that the distressed voice he heard belongs to you, and you’re currently facing up with a guy about twice your height, eyes locked on him with a glare that could make the devil flinch. 

“Come on baby, I saw you on that bull,” 

The stranger is pretty big, but Cas still has a couple of inches on him.

“I think the lady said to leave her alone.” Cassian’s voice rumbles, deep and dark like a thunderstorm. Your eyes blaze with lightning in return. The stranger turns and shoves Cassian on the shoulder, his adrenaline spikes, the song in his blood finally happy for a fight. His fist clenches and before he can blink it slams into the stranger's face. Cassian looks at you again as you freeze in shock, the stranger knocked out cold on the floor between your feet. 

“HEY!” Rita’s voice screams across the bar, “Enough! Cassian get cleaned up, I’ll handle this.” She waves a disgusted at the man collapsed on the ground and you silently grab Cas’s hand to lead him into the bar’s tiny bathroom. 

The two of you share the space across the sink, you run his hand under cold water before gently dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles with a paper towel. 

“You know,” you start, a teasing lilt to your voice “no one’s ever punched a guy out for me before.” 

“It’s not gentlemanly to disrespect women” Cassian rumbles eyes watching the way your hands curl around the callous skin of his palm. Maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline from the punch he threw, but the only thing he can think of is that your skin is so soft, hands unburdened by the roughness of labor. You lift your head and Cas can feel the ghost of your exhale skate across his lips. He doesn’t know who leans in first, but your lips taste like the limes and salt used for tequila shots. 

He tries his best to chase the hidden burn as your tongue traces over the seam of his lips. 

You’re surprisingly dominant in the way your tongue traces over his with a sensuality Cassian thinks runs in your blood. Cas lets himself be pulled in like a ship out in the ocean, flowing and bellowing with the tide that is your kiss. Those damned hands start undoing the buttons on his flannel, but he doesn’t let you get too far. “We should get out of here,” he heaves, your chests rising and falling to the same beat, he leads you with a hand to the small of your back out of the bar over to his truck. Cassian opens the door to the driver's seat and lifts you onto the seat before his mouth meets yours again. 

Your hands feel like wildfire as they trace down the hard muscles of his back, his trail sends lightning strikes down the curve of your thighs. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt again, and Cassian can feel himself getting harder every time one gets undone. His flannel drifts down to the asphalt that covers the parking lot and your hands against his bare chest might be the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get. His lips bite dark marks into the curve of your neck, and the moan you release bounces off the curve of the windshield and comes back to rattle his bones. Your hands try to fond Cas’s hair but they run into the wide brim of his hat. The two of you pull apart and the fire in your eyes makes his old jeans get tighter. Your red lipstick is smeared but smile no less wild as you take off his hat and place it onto your head, as triumphant as a queen with a crown. 

“Do you know what that means?” the low timbre of Cassian’s voice sounds more animal than human, his pupils blown wide as his eyes try to swallow you whole. With a laugh, you tip his hat at him and Cas drops to his knees this time. He makes quick work of the belt holding your shorts up, popping the buckle, and sliding the denim down your legs until they hit the concrete below the truck with a metallic thud. He devours you quickly, wasting no time to delve his tongue between your thighs. Your head tosses back with a moan as you begin to grind against his face with the same ferocity that you used to ride the bull earlier. Cassian slips a finger inside of you and lets out a loud groan at the feeling of you clenching around him, he can barely wait to get inside you. You finally release with a broken cry and collapse against his truck's old leather bench seat. You sit up on your elbows, chest heaving up and down with hungry eyes, and Cassian claims your mouth again. Large broad hands drag up your jaw and into your hair, scraping with such delight you almost purr like a cat. Your hands practically rip his belt open, his hips bucking into your hand when you rub hard against his length. Eagerly, you pull Cas into the truck after you and he barely manages to pull the door shut behind you. He kisses his way down your body, worshiping every inch and curve he finds before making his way back up. Lining himself up he pushes himself into you. Your hands claw down his back with a wild ferocity and Cassian loves the bite your fingernails leave. He gives you a few minutes to adjust to him, but when you start squirming underneath him and running your tongue along the shell of his ear, he snaps. He fucks into you with pure abandon, white-hot pleasure shooting between the both of you like a live wire. However, you–like everything else you’ve done tonight, continue to surprise him. You flip Cas over in the seats and ride him until his eyes almost roll back into his head. He never wants to leave this truck, the efforts of your passions fogging up the windows. You tumble over the edge walls squeezing him in a vice grip, and he’s almost embarrassed by it, but with a broken whimper, Cassian manages to lift you off of him and finish all over your stomach. You collapse against his chest, leaving red trailed kisses along the length of his jugular. After recovering, you retrieve your shorts from the ground, pulling them back up your thighs Cas watches with his eyes half-lidded in orgasmic bliss. He tracks the movement of your finger as you wipe away the smeared lipstick from the corners of your mouth. 

“I’ll see you around cowboy.” Your sultry voice echoes out, reigniting the problem in Cassian’s pants when you swing the door to his truck shut and he watches your hips sway as you walk to your own car. 

Cassian has to sit in his truck for another fifteen minutes to recover and its when he runs his hands through his tousled hair that he realizes one thing. 

You’ve walked off with his hat.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

hey..... come here..... take some of my isat/pokemon au headcanons that were spinning around in my brain while i was figuring out how to write yesterday night. i know you want them.

Worldbuilding Specific

On account of humans being able to master Craft skills as a use of self defense, it's less common- but not unheard of- for children to get their first pokemon when they're so young. Many consider it a better use of time to learn how to master your own Crafts first, before relying on a pokemon to protect you. Then, in a worse case scenario if your pokemon were to faint, you aren't completely defenseless

Receiving your first pokemon, then, becomes a sort of rite of passage for a lot of children. A demonstration that they've internalized and practiced their Craft to the point where their parents trust them enough to bestow them a pokemon

Scholars are constantly at each other's throats about the nuance of Craft types and how they compare to pokemon's elemental abilities. Some believe that Craft types are exclusive to humans. Others believe that some pokemon can learn Craft, but only if they have a strong enough sense of self. Others still believe that every attack can be sorted into some classification of a Craft type (slicing physical damage for Piercing Craft, bludgeoning damage for Protector Craft, and special/ranged damage for Creative Craft)

The only thing that they can come to a consensus on is that Craft attacks from humans are classified as 'normal' type attacks to pokemon (leading some to believe that pokemon may have evolved from humans, or vice versa). This can be proven rather easily, considering Craft attacks are completely ineffective against ghost type pokemon

There was a brief attempt made to rename either Rock Craft or the rock elemental type due to the fact that they are two separate things. Trying to change it, however, proved more difficult and confusing than the previous issue they had, so they just leave it as is. Worst case scenario, you just elaborate by specifying Protector Craft.

Though pokemon battling is pretty much a worldwide sport, it originated in Ka Bue, and to this day that's the country that goes in the hardest on it. Pokemon battling is to Ka Bue as football is to America (<- most terrifying sentence I think I've ever written but it's true)

However, pokemon contests, on the other hand, originated in Vaugarde and spread from there. While not nearly as popular, it's taken root in the world all the same.

For those who follow the Change belief, it's very common to have at least one pokemon with a branching evolutionary line. It doesn't have to be a battling pokemon- usually it's just something to keep you company around the house. A lot of the times, children will grow up alongside their family pokemon, and seeing them change in fascinating ways affirms their beliefs about the religion and the beauty of change

Minior only crash land in one place

Jirachi is I think something but you'll have to come back to me later on that one

Character Specific

Bonnie didn't reach a point where their sister officially gave them a pokemon partner before everything started freezing in time. On their journey, however, they found a Cyndaquil, and the whole gang helped them catch it for themself

(Note that catching it was not at all essential to them having it. It already liked them. It probably would have stayed regardless. Bonnie wandered into camp one night just holding it like a cat and asked to keep it. It was just a fun bonding moment for them all)

Isabeau has a few pokemon, but his branching-evolutionary one was a Rockruff he had since childhood. Outgoing, energetic, playful, brave. It was everything he wasn't, back then.

The two of them Changed at around the same time, Isabeau first, and his Rockruff second, into a Midday Lycanroc. Normally, you give your pokemon a different name after its Changed to better reflect who it's Changed into. Isabeau could never figure out what to name it, though, and has just been calling it Lycanroc until he can think of a good name. He doesn't tell anyone but it's kind of stressing him out a little.

Mira has an Eevee, which is rather predictable of Housemaidens. However, it's kind of stressful for her because so many of the evolutions are triggered via a stone, which means that she would have to choose what the Eevee would become, and that's!! So much weight on her shoulders! What if it doesn't want to be what she chooses it to be?! What if she forces it to become something it hates and she hurts it on accident?!

It takes her a while to realize that 85% of this is self projection

Odile doesn't really have the time to care for a lot of pokemon, so she only has one. A very large Persian that's probably older than she is. It is terribly strong, but also terribly lazy, so there's a 50% chance it simply won't participate in a battle at all unless it really wants to (or, of course, if Odile is in genuine danger)

In her youth, the only social interaction Odile ever really had with her peers was battling them. And she was good at it, too. Wiping out someone's team of pokemon was the quickest way to get people off her back, so she did this easily and often.

Eventually though, this begun to backfire when people begun seeking her out looking for difficult fights. As a result, this intensified her shut-in behavior tenfold.

To this day she could still probably sweep a full team with just a handful of pokemon, battle strategist she is. She's not a braggart, though, so it's just another one of those things that her friends don't know about until she just blurts it out one day out of the blue and now everyone has several questions that she's purposefully never going to answer.

Siffrin

... Um. Hah. Siffrin, uh-

Siffrin...

...

Well, uh. Siffrin can't remember ever owning any pokemon! Haha!

Isabeau's helped them catch a few once or twice, but it never felt quite right, and they would always let them go soon after... It's a good skill to learn, certainly, but something about it feels... off, and they can never really explain why.

[losersolace]

to add to my opposites attract solangelo hcs: let’s talk about music.

i agree with the emo and goth music listener nico di angelo hc BUT i also think he is the furthest thing from a music snob. i feel like once he got out of the lotus casino and found out how many years of music he missed out on he started listening to as much music as he could. like what do you think he did during all those years of self isolation???? look out the bus window while it’s raining WITHOUT a mitski song??? plot revenge WITHOUT a country song about a cheating husband??? daydream about finding love WITHOUT a cheesy 2010s pop song????? i also think he’s one of those people who don’t know how to make playlists and throws everything they like in one and it’s WILD. he has disco followed by black metal followed by country followed by techno etc, multiple decades and multiple languages. there are songs he likes more than others but he doesn’t let genres stop him from at least trying.

will however had his whole life to experiment at a normal pace. had multiple phases and ended up a podcast enjoyer. which is funny bc his mom is a singer and his dad is the god of music, but that’s exactly why!! music is too powerful and personal, while the talking is like white noise and helps him concentrate. the times he does listen to music however?? he’s a certified YEARNER. nico canonically got the hint he liked him bc he kept staring from afar like that miley cyrus pic. my conclusion? HE’S THE REAL EMO MUSIC ENJOYER IN THE COUPLE. specifically, emo-rock and midwest emo. also alternative indie. he’s also not a snob, occasionally listens to other music, but while nico kinda likes whatever he likes, will heavily prefers these genres. also, opposite to nico’s messy playlists, will listens to albums front to back in the same order the artist put the songs in.

[twstfanblog]

*~Toddler Chronicles-3rd Years PT.1~*

A/N: I have no excuses. I've just been hoarding my writing and trying to stack finished stories and post them out when I have depressive episodes—just to make sure I have something for you all! So anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this part. The series is going to be so full of cute baby shenanigans that you'll have a toothache. Thank you again to @bun-lapin for letting me use their wonderful OCs! They are so fun to chew on... Word Count: 6.3K Pairings: Alluded Ruggie/Leona Warnings: Needles, Children, Me typing out a country accent, Google translate french

Starter, Pt 1

Ruggie had only felt fear so strongly he could taste it twice in his life. The first was when he was five and awoke in his hut with his grandma nowhere in sight. The second was when he was twelve and a drunk man had gripped at his arm to the point it bruised him for days.

And now he can say he's tasted fear three times. The third being he realized the second prince of the Savanna had been turned into a four-year-old and was missing. Anyone left in Savanaclaw that weekend morning was out and searching, using every nose and ear in the dorm to hunt down their missing leader.

Ruggie had to stop after an hour, his panicked breathing pulling in the scent of his search party more than the sandy flora he was looking for. He stood to the side, his head in his hands while his thoughts raced on what could have befallen the defenseless toddler that a pack couldn't find him.

“Ruggie!”

He looks up, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. A rhino beastman, a third-year who heard Leona was missing and the pure distress in Ruggie’s voice quickly helped mobilize the dorm, stood before him. He shook his head, “We've searched the gardens side to side, we've got teams combing the woods. The school and coliseum are next for the beta teams, but we haven’t found anything.”

Ruggie’s sigh was ragged, dropping his head back down to grip at his hair in frustration. Dropping to the ground in a squat as he started to rock in a self-soothing motion. 

The third-year sighed along with him, folding his arms as he looked out to the campus, “The ‘Emergency Protocol’ for a lost member is normally Rook��but you said he was four, too, right?”

“Yeah…”

“...” He tilted his head, a questioning sneer showing his teeth, “Why are they four?”

“If I fucking knew, do you think I would be five steps away from a heart attack?”

“Okay…geeze…” The third-year turns around hearing someone call his name. With a nod to them, he turns back to Ruggie, “Cool your head. You know Leona best and you're in charge when he's not available. If anyone could figure out where he went it'll be you.”

As the other beastman left, Ruggie was left to calm himself. Once he could breathe without the laborious tug of his own nerves, he really thought. Leona had very key areas he went to, all secluded away from others as he was always more comfortable alone. But those areas were also easily accessible, a factor that the possibly scared four-year-old no doubt didn't care for.

Away from others, carefully hidden, familiar…

Ruggie’s eyes snapped open, jumping from his position and bolting back to the empty dorm. His hands braced against one of the open-air window sills, hopping through it with ease as he sprinted into the faux savanna their dorm resided in.

In his first year, before they had started their situationship deal, Ruggie remembers waking up in the middle of the night. Nothing serious, just thirsty, so he left his room. But on his way to the kitchen, he saw Leona outside of the dorm's walls and walking into the fields of scattered vegetation and rocks. Ruggie never asked where he was going, but that memory was enough to tell him Leona had more places to hide than he thought.

Tracking Leona became almost laughably easy once he was far enough from the dorm, after a while the only smell was Leona in the magically sterile lands. A scent he followed to a small cave, the opening semi-hidden from view by a large rock resting in front of the opening and the amount of weeds growing from the top. Brushing the strands of grass aside he bit his tongue to hold in the urge to bark out laughs at the scene before him.

It was a pretty sweet setup, by Ruggie’s standards. A large rug had been laid out on the ground, softening the area while also keeping the dirt trapped underneath it. There was a low table at the center of space, the remnants of a quick meal by way of multiple snack wrappers and an empty juice bottle. But the best thing was the ‘bed’. A pile of old blankets and pillows all pressed into the corner, a tiny mass with reddish brown hair swimming in a daishiki resting on it. As always, Leona slept with his back to the entrance, laying in a curled up ball with his tail laid out behind him.

Ruggie stepped into the area as slowly as he could. Yeah, Leona was four, but he was still Leona. And Ruggie did not want to see what the potentially scared toddler could do to him in an enclosed space. He couldn't stop the swear he mutters, seeing a single tiny ear suddenly flick around and point toward him. He sunk to his knees, hands held up in a motion of surrender as Leona slowly woke up, “Hey…hey there, bud. You ok?”

The kid turned, a big green eye full of distrust peering at Ruggie as if daring him to move. Before long Leona had moved to fully face Ruggie, sniffing the air a few times before narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, “You smell like the sheets in that room…”

Nodding, Ruggie tries to walk on his knees, one step for every few seconds to not startle the toddler, “Yeah. I do your laundry, it smells like me sometimes. I'm Ruggie, I…I take care of you here.”

Leona did not look pleased in the slightest that Ruggie was getting closer, but made no move past the adorable sneer, “Where's here? If you're trying to get money you picked the wrong kid.”

Ruggie didn't know if that was the inkling of something terribly sad or if Leona was actively threatening him and he didn't care to find out. He chuckles, one-half hobble of a step makeing Leona tense up, his poker face pinching together as he struggles to hold it together. Ruggie takes two knee steps back.

“I'm not dangerous. Hell, I think you'd wipe the floor with me anyway. I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Leona eased, his face slowly morphing into a pout and placing his tiny hands onto his stomach as he looked to the side, “I haven't either…”

Ruggie chuckles, eyes looking to the table and the empty wrappers, “You haven't?” He snorts at the little growl of a huff Leona lets out. He turns back to the kid, his smile turning soft as he held a hand out, “How about we get out of here and I make you some food? You can call Kipaji and we can go from there…”

“Kifaji…?”

Name dropping the aid was the right move, Leona's eyes lighting up at the familiar name before he schools his expression again. He wrings the edge of the now oversized sleep shirt in a show of nervousness. Sniffing the air, Leona wasn't able to smell anything pointing toward malice from the hyena. If anything it calmed him in a sense, the scent of something sweet with the earthy smell of dandelions, the same smell clinging to the fibers of the room he woke up in. 

Ruggie kept his hand outstretched, breathing in relief when Leona finally walked closer and grabbed at his fingers with both of his hands. the sophomore stands, his scrawny hand wrapping securely around one of Leona's, “Let's get you a good meal then. You're so tiny; I gotta make sure you're well-fed!”

Leona pouts, following as the older boy guides them out of the little sanctuary, “I'm not that small for my age…”

Epel sighed, placing two plates down in front of the toddlers, “Here. Some nice and filling breakfast. Y'all want somethin’ to drink?”

Vil looked up, the long sleeves of his button-up pajamas neatly cuffed to allow his hands to be free of the fabric. He tilted his head, purple eyes curious, “You talk weird…Can I have peach juice?” he looked to his plate, smiling as he took notice of the gold swirls along the rim.

“...” Epel sighed, quirking his lip as he rolled his eyes. He couldn't smack the little bugger across the back of his head, he was four, he was going to say whatever was on his mind. 

While Vil started to eat his breakfast, buttered toast and cut-up fruit just as he had requested, Rook was pouting, poking at his food in mild confusion.

“Rook?” The child snaps up, looking to Epel at the sound of his name, “Ya okay bud? Do ya not like ya food?”

“...” Rook pouted, eyebrows pinching together before he turned to Vil. He patted Vil on his shoulder, calling him to lean closer to whisper into his ear.

Vil hummed, nodding and swallowing his food before looking at Epel, “You got his food wrong.”

“Ah…how!?” Epel gestured to the bell pepper omelet on Rook's plate, “You said he wanted eggs and bell pepper! Did he want them raw!?”

“Don't yell at me!” Vil huffed, his tiny nose scrunched up as he slapped his hand to the table, “He told me you made it weird. You're the big kid, you should know what little kids need.”

Epel rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before speaking to Rook, “What's wrong with it? What'd ah get wrong?”

Rook only looked at him confused, blinking a few times before mumbling a few words to Vil. The other blonde perked up again, swallowing his food before he responded in stilted Florian. Epel watched the back and forth, eyes following and wondering why…they were speaking in the other other language…

Vil nodded after a while, turning to Epel, “You made it wrong.”

“What did ah make wrong?” How could such a cute kid be so annoying in this small amount of time?

Sighing, Vil gestured to the omelet on Rook's plate, the other child finally picking at the food to eat it in tiny bites, “His food! You made it wrong!”

Epel gestured to the plate almost in a hysterical fashion, “Ya said he wanted eggs and peppers!?”

The pout Vil pulls is cute, Epel can't lie. But the glare he gave him was all too familiar to the disapproving stare of his 18-year-old self, “That's what he said he wanted! That…Rook, qu'est-ce que tu voulais?” *

“Shakshuka! Mon papa le fait pour moi, mon frère et ma sœur. Il n'y a pas des tomates…”

Nodding, Vil passed over a few chunks of his fruit medley to Rook, turning to glare at Epel, “You forgot the tomatoes.”

Sighing once again, Epel braced against the table and leaned closer to Rook, “Lil guy, ‘ou're gonna need to communicate with me. What is Shakshuka?”

Rook blinked his two big green eyes, tilting his to side as he gave Epel a look of pure confusion.

Vil leaned past Rook, cupping his mouth with both hands to loudly whisper, “I don't think he knows Common yet…”

“...”

Oh, that…that was bad. Epel forgot that Rook was one of the younger third-years; most kids didn't start learning the worldly language of Common until they were around four or prepping to enter the school system. He could make the assumption that the other third-years had at least started their introductory lessons, allowing the school's translation charm to be properly activated for them still.

Epel looked to Vil, trying to keep himself from looking concerned, “Wait, why? He should at least know a few words by now?”

Another brief conversation in Florian between the toddlers, Vil turning to Epel, “He said his mommy said he wasn't getting lessons until he was five.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Epel breathed out. A new annoyance to this pile of nonsense that has become his school life.

Crewel sighed, leaned over his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him up. brushing his hair from his eyes he looked at the group of students and toddlers gathered in his homeroom. The toddlers all dressed in makeshift clothing of oversized shirts, socks, and magically resized shoes.

Riddle stood behind his two turned juniors, eyes watching them like a hawk. His gray pupils moving back and forth to make sure neither child was acting out. A helicopter guardian move that proved unnecessary since both children were sharing a chair and crowded against each other, looking with wide eyes at whatever was on Cater’s phone.

Ruggie stood still with a blank expression, for a second Crewel had feared that the Savanaclaw students hadn't managed to find Leona. Only to see tiny hands creep from behind Ruggie’s head to tug at the corners of his mouth. An equally tiny face peeking from Ruggie’s shoulder and demanding to know when he was going to be fed again.

Epel sat in a chair, eyes glaring straight ahead in purely concealed annoyance. In his lap was Vil, the toddler quietly whispering in a harsh tone as he held and picked at Epel's nails. Clearly scolding him for having dirt under his nails and the small nicks on his fingers. In contrast, Rook was comfortably seated on Epel's shoulders. The other child smiling and having fun messing with the freshman’s hair by running his hands through it and trying to pull it into pigtails.

Ortho was the calmest, Idia practically swimming in his standard hoodie from Ortho's arms. The junior's long hair had shortened dramatically, now a fluffy halo of blue flames compared to the tail it was before. He sat curled into Ortho's arms, his mouth covered by his hoodie sleeve as he nervously glanced around the room and chewed on the fabric.

The most contrasted pair were Malleus and Lilia. While Mallues stood on the ground, holding onto a folded over Sebek's hand and calm, Lilia…

Silver held the still hissing and yowling child by the arms and as far away from his body as possible. The long-haired bat fae was kicking and squirming, nearly fighting for his life to escape Silver's hold. Though from how he kept angling his head and biting into the fabric of the shirt, Crewel could only think it was also a demand to be freed from the prison called clothing.

Crewel groans, covering his face with both his hands. Soon Hui-Yan enters the room, looking annoyed as she tips her head toward Crewel in greeting, “I’ve alerted the other teachers, no one else seems to be affected so I believe it was just this group affected…”

“Uh…” Ruggie reached up, Finally pulling Leona's hands off of his face and moving to hold the toddler to his front, “So…I know they have these meetings every now and again. I help Leona make stuff for them sometimes. That's most likely where they got spelled or dosed…”

Riddle hummed, eyes still locked on his unbothered charges, “A potion makes the most sense…it would explain the delayed reaction more than a spell-Cater, don’t you dare open that message!” He reaches down, pulling the phone away from Cater’s little hands and ignoring his and Trey’s whining.

“...” Crewel sighed again, reminding himself that he had a bottle of scotch calling his name once this whole event was settled, “What potion even does this…? Bucchi, do you have any idea how they could have dosed?”

“Leona was making a big fuss last night on Malleus fuc-” He nearly bit his tongue, closing his mouth as nearly everyone’s eyes snapped to him, basically daring him to finish his sentence, “...He said Malleus messed up the drink mix he brought and it tasted bad…”

Silver sighed, trying his best to rework his hold on Lilia as the child managed to wiggle one of his arms free from his hand, “I remember…Kalim came over a day or so ago with various syrups and sodas…Malleus just said they were mixing things for fun but it must have been for this meeting- Ow.” He groaned frowning at the growling child digging his fangs into his hand, “Please, stop biting me…”

“I don’t think Kalim al Asim would bring anything that contained magical properties. So that leaves the Scarabia and the Diasomnia dorm as the prime location for a third-party to slip something into the beverage.” Ortho nodded at his reasoning, giving his brother a worried glance, “My most present concern is what could have done this. It was strong enough to effect full-blooded fae but weak enough to humans to ‘deage’ them  both to the same age.”

“...No?” Sebek spoke quietly, eyes glancing between Malleus in his arms and Lilia wrapped around Silver's arm and biting into his wrist, “They're…they're not. Waka-sama! Do you know how old you are?”

Malleus had only jumped a bit at the sudden volume increase that was Sebek’s voice before calming back down, “I'm forty…”

“...”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose, counting back in his head to calm his rising blood pressure. He grabbed his phone with one hand, texting Oster as he searched in his other coat pocket, “I’ll need to do some tests to determine what’s in their systems. Not to mention just making sure it’s not actively hurting them…”

Epel spoke up, Vil moving from his hands to poking and pulling at his face claiming he was going to get wrinkles if he kept glaring, “How are you gonna test it?”

“Blood sample.” Crewel then pulled what they could only conceive as the biggest-looking syringe any of them had ever seen. Silver and Sebek both only seeing one of such style in the valley since it seemed more modern needles weren’t so…comically terrifying.

…

Every child once in a relative calm had started to sob the second the syringe was brought out, each wailing and struggling to escape the room or their guardians' hold once they realized they were going to be stuck with the insanely scary needle.

Silver was fighting to keep Lilia from kicking him in the throat in his efforts to break free of his hold. Sebek wasn’t any better as Malleus whimpered and whined, the lights flickering the more distressed he became as the clouds darkened outside. Ruggie had Leona on his head, the child hissing and trying to tug Ruggie by the ears to demand he turn around to leave the room. Epel and Riddle had it the worst. Both of the smaller boys tried to strong-arm two wailing toddlers from flinging themselves to the ground.

Riddle yells, face red both from overexertion and rage, “Why do you have a sterile syringe in your coat pocket!?”

“Don’t you bark at me, Rosehearts! I’ll keep what I need to deal with you lot of rowdy puppies!” The teacher groaned, the sound of wailing children something he had no desire to ever hear. 

Hui-Yan was no better as the woman stood almost frozen beside him with her eyes jumping from one crying kid to the other. She leaned over, eyes glancing to Crewel’s phone to see what he had texted the other science teacher, “Is Oster bringing more syringes or are you going to draw from each of them?”

“... I'm not using the same needle on all of them Hui-Yan.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I just assumed that’s what you’d do.”

“Why-”

“Um!”

Crewel and Hui-Yan look in surprise. The voice was squeakier but Idia was clearly the child to speak out. He was making direct eye contact, pulling his face from his sleeve and nodding his head.

“I can go first! To show them it’s not scary.”

“O-oh…Thank you, Idia…?” Both teachers glanced at each other, almost asking if they had heard the same thing. Idia as an 18-year-old was not brave, loud, nor as considerate as his toddler counterpart. While very helpful, it was simply jarring…

Crewel pulled out his crop, starting to cast a few spells on the syringe in hand, “Another teacher is coming with more supplies so I can safely get a sample from each of you. You’ll get one of those needles since I have this one for Malleus or Lilia. Modern syringes are made from steel which, if you puppies have been doing your science homework, is a mixture of iron and carbon.” He held up the syringe again, eye twitching at the increased wailing of the children, “I have a few vintage syringes that are still functional that were made with silver. A few cleaning spells and they’ll be safe to use for the fae…”

Oster bursts in, a bag slung over her shoulder as she huffed and puffed, “I’ve come with the items!”

“Perfect timing. Please prep the baby Shroud to draw blood and prep yourself to potentially fight several children…” Crewel pulled out the single-use bags of syringes, looking each over before he started to prep the second vintage syringe.

Rook peaked from under Epel's arm, watching as Idia let Ortho and Oster maneuver his jacket around to show his arm. He whimpered louder, watching the teacher wipe at the other boy's arm with a cotton ball that stained his skin orange, “Vous ne savez pas ce qu'est un tir? Ils font mal et font peur!” **

Idia looked down, eyebrows creased together in confusion, “Wha…?”

Ortho hums, gaining Idia’s attention, “He’s speaking Florian.”

“Oh…” Idia turned back to Rook, shaking his head at the terrified child, “I don’t speak Florian…”

“Scary! He’s saying shots are scary!” Vil wailed, struggling and twisting his arm in Epel’s hold while Rook started to do the same with his other side.

“Oh…Well. I get shots a lot, so I’m used to them.” Idia gains a fearful expression seeing both Oster and Crewel give the needles a final check over, “Yeah, it feels like a pinch but then you get a sucker!”

Malleus stopped his whimpering, shyly peaking from a fretting Sebek’s shoulder. He sniffled, looking over to Idia, “What…what is a sucker?”

“...A sucker?” Idia responded, looking just as confused. How did anyone not know what a sucker was…?

Sebek spoke up, patting Malleus on the back in an effort to calm him more, “It’s a confection; like the honey drops given out at the spring festival! Once you have the test done, you will receive a sucker as your payment for your bravery!”

“...” Malleus looked over to Crewel, the man realizing he was being watched and stiffly held the syringe up. Turning back to Sebek, Malleus nodded his head in a determined manner, “...I want a honey drop…”

“I will ensure you have as many honeydrops as you can stomach, Waka-sama!”

Two of the eight children pacified by the promise of candy, Riddle and Epel took notice and decided it was their best bet.

Riddle managed to kneel down, almost being pulled over by the two struggling toddlers, “Trey, Cater, you can have sweets if you both allow the nice teacher to get a blood test-”

Trey all but wept, the fight slowly leaving him after nearly two minutes of tugging against Riddle’s grip, “I want my moooooooom…!”

Vil cried out, much angrier and still fighting to be released from under Epel’s arm, “I want my lawyer!”

It took another five or so minutes for every child to be calmed and pricked. Trey demanded to call his mother and father once he had his blood drawn and his sucker firm in hand. Cater completely rejected the idea of candy, pitching an even bigger fit at the idea he would be force-fed the sucker after he had his blood taken. Riddle had to promise not only on his life but his favorite color that Cater would be the one allowed to pick what they all had for lunch that day.

Vil had nearly screamed himself hoarse when Crewel approached him with the needle, completely falling into tears on the ground and forcing Epel to fully console the child. It took a promise of as much frozen yogurt as he wanted for dessert and to swear he hadn't been kidnapped by crazy fans of his father. The other blonde toddler had helped Epel explain to Rook that they needed to take a bit of blood to make sure he was healthy. Though he didn't look happy about it, he gained his sucker by holding Vil's hand and closing both of his eyes tight.

Malleus had allowed Oster to stick him with the needle, hiding in Sebek's shoulder and whimpering. The first-year nearly making the woman break the needle off under the toddler's skin, yelling at her that she had taken enough blood when the sample had barely reached the first measurement mark. Lilia fought tooth and nail, never having seen a syringe and thinking it to be a weapon of sorts. It took both Silver and Hui-Yan distracting the child with the promised bright green sucker, allowing Crewel to gather his sample the moment Lilia had let his guard down, barely moving away to avoid razor-sharp baby teeth.

Leona refused and no promise of candy nor food nor any activity Ruggie could think up was accepted. In the end it took Ruggie holding the little prince in a body lock with both his legs and an arm. His last appendage helping Oster by holding Leona's arm still as he hissed and yowled. Once released the first thing the prince did was turn around and lunge at Ruggie, biting down hard on the hyena’s ear and had yet to let go.

Idia had watched it all, comfortable and snug in Ortho's arms with his star-covered bandaid and already blue sucker-stained mouth, “Bunch of babies…”

A botched potion was the answer. From the trace of ingredients found, Crewel and Oster were able to conclude the original potion was a magic reduction syrup. A rare concoction, but commonly prescribed for younger children with high levels of magic and no proper training. A potion that Oster had started to make once she and Crewel realized the children would possibly need it, Malleus mostly…

The main deviation was the substitution of moon crystals for moon petals. An ingredient commonly found in high-quality beauty creams for rejuvenating purposes. Both Crewel and Oster recognizing it from their own beauty night creams. Not harmful, but, it did manage to turn the recipients four. Luckily the potion would only last for a week or so, two tops.

Crewel had tasked Hui-Yan to do what she did best, hunting down students. Someone had planned to potentially poison multiple students and it was an act that would not slide, even by Night Raven standards. But, until the culprits were caught, there wasn't much any of them could do but make sure their new tiny charges were comfortable.

With promise of properly sized clothing and other necessities to be delivered, everyone took their respective toddlers back to their dorms.

Riddle sighed, a pouting Cater holding onto two of his fingers and a still sniffling Trey clutched in his free arm. Walking back to Heartslabyul was a chore and his workload would only grow as the days went on. While aid would be coming in the form physical items, Cater and Trey were pillars of the dorm, emotional support for many a student and Riddle's closest aids. He was aware he'd lose them once they went off to their internships, but to have it happen only a few weeks into this repeat year was cruel. Even if it was only for at most two weeks, Ace and Deuce were not ready for the task of filling their juniors roles yet…

As he entered the dorm's lounge area, he made eye contact with Ace. The redhead freshman sitting on a couch opposite Deuce while the other muttered quietly.

“Wow…they're still four, huh? I would have thought Crewel-Sensei would give them something to make them older again…” Ace stood from his seat, walking closer and raising an eyebrow. Both at Trey whining into Riddle's shoulder and the foul little pout Cater was giving him, “What's their deals?”

“Shots. Suffice to say, neither were too happy about it…” While he was able to guide Cater toward Ace, the smaller redhand's pout lessening when he was picked up, Trey had simply refused to detach from Riddle.

Deuce smiled soft, poking at Trey's back, “Hey, lil guy. Nothing to be afraid of, we're all pretty familiar with each other when you're older.”

Trey merely shook his head, not moving from Riddle's shoulder.

Sighing, Riddle did his best to shuffle Trey in hopes of moving his weight in his quickly tiring arms, “It was a very emotional morning for everyone. Maybe a nap is in order for them, at least until lunch…”

Ace takes notice of Cater in his arms. At the mention of lunch, the toddler seemed to be on the verge of tears the longer Riddle spoke on sleeping arrangements instead of the actual meal time.He bounced the toddler lightly in his arms, gaining his attention before doing a stage whisper to gain everyone's attention, “Hey. Why are you so mad?”

Cater puffed his cheeks out, sending a glare over to Riddle before whispering back to Ace in a harsh tone, “He lied about letting me pick lunch. He didn't say I could pick…”

Ace gasped, looking toward a confused Riddle scandalized, “Housewarden! Shame on you! Did you promise Cater could pick lunch? And you go back on your word? Shame! Jail! Jail for one thousand years!”

Deuce turned to Riddle, frowning himself at the slight, “Rosehearts-senpai…”

“I-! Cater is still allowed to pick lunch!? I didn't say he wasn't? I only gave the opinion that they should have a nap beforehand. It was a very busy morning.”

Cater’s demeanor changed, his eyes widen in amazement and moving away from curling against Ace, “You mean it? I can still pick what's for lunch?”

Riddle softened, smiling at the clearly excited toddler, “Of course you can, Cater-CATER, DON'T JUMP!”

Calm had fled quickly, Cater managing to slip out of Ace's relaxed hold and hit the ground running. His little legs zooming him out of the room before any of them realized he was running.

Deuce was the first to sprint after the child, “Diamond-Senpai! Where are you going!?”

“To pick lunch!”

Ace and Riddle rushed after them both, Riddle still carrying Trey in his tired arms, “Cater, lunch isn't for hours!”

Cater demanded to pick lunch, only then would he even entertain the idea of a nap. So Riddle, Ace, and Deuce all walked along the kitchen. Following behind a far too excited toddler as he looked around the curvy space looking for something to eat.

Trey had finally calmed down, pulling himself from Riddle's shoulder to look around the kitchen himself. Luckily he was distracted enough for Riddle to hand him off to Deuce, finally giving his arms a break.

Riddle watched from a stool, Deuce carrying and holding Trey up to cabinets and various items of the kitchen for closer looks. Ace was following behind Cater, laughing whenever the child opened a cabinet below only to be greeted with pots and pans instead of the food he was expecting.

But soon, Cater found actual food in the cabinets he could reach. The redheaded toddler proudly presenting an unopened jar of tomato sauce to Riddle, “This! I want this for lunch!”

Riddle looked at the jar, knowing the sauce was healthy enough but…, “Just the sauce?”

“Yes.”

“No. You're not just eating sauce for lunch.”

“...” Cater’s face started to flush, tears welling up in his eyes before he started to stomp his feet, “No! You said! You said I could pick! You promised!”

“I did promise, but sauce isn't lunch. You need to pick something else.”

“Nooooooo!” Cater had fallen back onto his bottom, shaking his head and nearly throwing the glass jar to the ground in fury before Ace kneeled down. The now older redhead trying to both calm and reason with the child.

“H-hey. It's ok. We can find something other than sauce for lunch-”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Deuce had appeared, still holding Trey at an arms length while the toddler held out a box of dry spaghetti  pasta. Trey shook the box, gaining Cater’s focus before he shook it again.

“We can have sauce and noodles! Then you can have a lot of sauce with them.”

“...” Cater seemed to weigh his options, casting a pout at Riddle who remained seated in his chair but was unable to look at the upset toddler for long, “I want a lot of sauce on my noodles…”

“...” Riddle knew they had some chicken in the fridge, Trey had wanted to try to teach a few dorm members proper breading techniques, “Yes. A pasta is a wonderful idea for lunch. You're both very smart boys. Cater’s sauce will help make the perfect food for lunch.”

The praise was more than enough to dry Cater’s tears, the toddler holding the jar tight in his hands as he smiled.

Ace, Deuce and Cater walked around the kitchen, both of the freshmen taking turns lifting the toddler to see into the upper cabinets. Riddle sighed, a weight settling into his chest. Children were…so emotionally fragile. A part of him feared this was another avenue of his life that his upbringing failed to prepare him for. Feeling a tug on the top of his boots, the housewarden looked down to Trey, the once content toddler now looking unsure and back on the verge of tears,

“Can I call my mom now? You promised…”

“...” Brief panic gripped his heart, a bead of sweat forming at his temple before he smiled at Trey, “S-sure. Just one moment…”

Riddle pulled out his phone, looking at the personal content number of Mrs. Clover, a number that was routinely deleted and re-added before and after every school break. He gulped, clicking on the icon for a video call and waiting.

The line had rung only a few moments before a middle-aged woman with cropped black hair appeared on screen, she blinked at the camera with warm honey eyes before a wide smile took over her face, “Oh! Riddle, hello, lovely. How are you? You don’t normally call. Oh! While I have you on the line, can you tell Trey I tried to call him this morning but his phone kept going to voicemail?”

“...About that…” Riddle smiled nervously, making brief eye contact with a very excited looking Trey at the sound of his mother’s voice, “Something happened today and…Well…” Riddle turned his phone around, doing his best to keep Trey in frame of the camera.

The sound of pans falling from over the phone was loud and as disastrous as Riddle feared it to be. Instead, Trey beamed, waving with both his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hi, mommy! I got shots today and was really brave!” Trey moved closer to the screen, holding up his unopened sucker for his mom to view, “I got a sucker. I think it’s strawberry. I can tell because it’s pink but still red. So it’s not cherry. I can tell!”

Riddle could hear how frazzled Mrs.Clover was, the woman stuttering over her words, “Oh, how amazing, Trey! You’ve gotten so good at telling flavors, haven’t you? Um…B-be a good boy for mommy and be nice to Riddle okay? He’s gonna look after you for a bit, okay?”

“Okay, mommy! I’ll be good!”

“Trey!”

Riddle and Trey looked over, Cater now on Deuce’s shoulders and looking into a cabinet with an expression of wonder, “There’s more pasta shapes in here!”

“I wanna see!” Trey had dashed over, only to stop and double back to wave to the camera one more time, “Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, sweetie~...” Once Trey had ran off, being picked up by Ace to look into the cabinet, Mrs.Clover whispered, “Riddle, what happened to my son?”

Riddle turned the camera back to himself, whispering low as to not gain anyone’s attention, “There was a situation involving a misbrewed potion being slipped to a group of juniors and Trey was unfortunately a part of it. Bloodwork was taken and there’s no harm being done from the potion. They’re simply…four for the next few weeks.”

Mrs.Clover stood with her mouth lightly agape, giving Riddle a hard stare that lasted so long her husband had called out to her in mild confusion and concern. She shook her head, blinking herself back before turning around. She said a few words that Riddle couldn’t make out before facing him again, “We’ll get our ducks in a row over here. By…By Sunday we should have everything all set to close down for the week to come help you boys out.”

“Mrs.Clover, I couldn’t possibly ask-”

“Well, you aren’t, I’m offering, Riddle. You said a group got turned right? You boys over there are still just kids. My husband and I will be there to take the load off of you from watching them. Plus, it’ll be nice you know? We missed so much of Trey’s childhood…It’s not permanent but it’d be nice to have more pictures of him from when he was small…”

“...” Riddle huffed, looking to the side, “That would be helpful…I will have plenty of paperwork to handle now that Trey and Cater are indisposed…”

“I’ll call you later tonight! I can help you get Trey settled into bed. You should think of calling Cater’s parents, too. Bye, Riddle. Talk more later, okay?”

“Understand. Farewell and a good afternoon to you Mrs.Clover.”

Once the call had ended, Riddle thought over her words. It may be helpful for the others dealing with toddlers to have a week break from tending to them. Humming under his breath, he sends a message to Ortho, wondering what the android though of the idea of alerting the turned junior’s families…

Translations!

*V: Rook, what did you want? R: My papa does it for me, my brother and my sister. There are no tomatoes

**R: Don't know what a shot is? They hurt and are scary!

[katanablue]

Y’all will never guess the song I was listening to when this idea popped into my head lmfao

Dancing with Mikey is one of those things that’s just a normal part of your routine with him and one that you’ll never ever get tired of, no matter how many times he takes you by the hand and pulls you to him.

It could be any song playing from either of your phones; jazz, country, rock, 80’s, alternative, pop, Mikey won’t hesitate to start dancing and take you along with him.

His favorite specifically is when you’re cooking together, needing something to occupy the time while you wait for something to boil or bake. Music already plays from your phone and it doesn’t take long for him to turn up the volume a bit more and latch onto your hands.

Your laughter gives him energy, fuels his soul and drives him to be a better mutant because God does he love the way your face lights up each and every time he starts making you dance with him. It’s even better when you initiate first, finding the perfect song to match the mood and tug him away from the kitchen counter as soon as he’s done with whatever he’s doing.

You’re not afraid to get silly with it and it’s something you absolutely adore about the other. Making up dance moves and screaming the lyrics, not caring if your neighbors or his brothers shout complaints because in the moment it doesn’t matter, too engrossed in making a memory with the love of your life.

You like that you don’t have a specific way of jiving to whatever song it is, sometimes he’ll have you slow dancing to an upbeat song and then the next you’ll be doing the robot to a powerful ballad. His favorites are the ones he can act out literally, overdramatizing them so he can make you do that full belly laugh while other times he’ll do the choreo he saw in a movie like ‘Grease’.

And in the end he’ll always thank you the exact same way: a kiss to the back of your hand, ‘thank you for the dance, (insert whatever nickname he’s feeling)’, and then another kiss directly to your lips.

Then you use the down time to calm down, going back to tending to your cooking and checking to see if anything needs to be turned or whipped.

And if the recipe calls for another wait time, he’s already queuing up the next couple of songs, counting down the seconds until he can have you in his arms once again.

[coirinthyurilo]

Cabin 7 headcanons!

All are morning birds. (Against their own will sometimes.)

Keeps fucking bandaids or gauze everywhere. (Literally everywhere.) Will randomly pull out one if you ever get hurt and you're like. Wtf?

Very sunshiney, but can be joking about dark shit in the next. (I prove this.)

Their hair color ranges from gold to brunette. Anything that looks golden in the sun. But if you're a rare one and have black hair, you get highlights! Or the sun just damages your hair to become their head ranges.

All Apollo kids can glow. Just not so obvious or even at will. (Pun.) But they can glow a little. Either their freckles or little strands of their hair glows. But they rarely ever notice anyway.

They will crack a joke in serious situations to lighten it up. But if not. Then it's *very fucking serious.*

A lot of them actually like the water. Or water open areas. (Like the lake, or beach.) Cause they feel much more closer to their dad in a sense and it feels like a relaxing day. (They get along with Percy well.)

They get along with everyone at this point. But if they don't like you. Nobody likes you.

Each have their musical taste so all are expected. One can have rock and country, and another can have like.. Pop and the 80s taste. So if your music taste is shit from social expectations. Go to the Apollo kids they don't give a shit!

Will randomly tell you some medicine facts that actually work in a needed situation.

Knows when something big is coming up before the Oracle spitting the green shit out.

Always very jumpy during those prophetical shit.

They have insane accuracy even without a bow they can throw something and somehow land in the perfect spot.

If one of them is a music writer they always will have some kind of music sheet one them and writing it down. Or a notebook or a piece of paper they're writing their songs with.

Infirmary is insane sometimes. One will be shouting. One will be shoving people. One will be throwing shit to get across the room because of traffic. And one will be doing surgery. (It's just how it is.)

They always have some kind of accessory that represents them as the sun. (Like a little keychain, sticker, earing, ring. Whatever.)

They always have high body temperature. But if their body temperature suddenly drops. Get fucking help immediately. They're literally getting extinguished.

They hate the fucking winter.

They can all make a musical anywhere. In the infirmary? Yes. The dining pavilion? Yes. The strawberry fields? Yes. If you put all the Apollo kids together they can literally make a choir or an entire concert.

All apollo kids will pitch in when they happen to make a musical. It doesn't even matter what song it is at this point if you have enough Apollo kids near you. They can make a musical out of anything. Like literally. One will start a song and the other will start a bass. Then so on and so forth.

Will make music out of anything.

If you can't sing or play an instrument. It's either you can heal. Or beatbox.

All are great dancers at some point. They can either speak Italian. (Language of music.) Or Filipino. (Considering Filipinos are the ones with the most nurses\doctors that travel all over the world, also do karaoke, and can dance. It's makes sense.)

Are the most heavily depended on in camp.

They choreography their dances a week or two earlier.

Most depressed at winter. (Will be less sunshiney during that time.)

They're used as the weather cast actually. If a rainy day is coming all the Apollo kids will either sneeze, but if it's a cloudy day, they all have less energy, but if it's a thunder storm\storm. They all have coughing fits. But if it's some kind of natural disaster heading their way. They all randomly lose balance or just collapse out of exhuaustion. (But if it's just a normal sunny day, they're all really energetic.)

That's literally all. Thx.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

A lot of good sources linked in the original article!

By Bruce Mirken

As the dangers of Long COVID become more recognized, the country's going backwards on preventing new infections.

While I’m far from the only person worried about Long COVID and our society’s general inclination to look away and pretend it’s not there, people like me certainly feel badly outnumbered. It’s beginning to feel reminiscent of how people with AIDS and their loved ones felt circa 1986—and maybe it’s time for the same kind of response.

For those of you lucky enough not to have lived through that era, by the end of 1986, AIDS had killed nearly 25,000 Americans, but president Ronald Reagan had yet to speak the word “AIDS.” His press secretary had joked about it and the White House press corps laughed. While individual scientists were doing important work, the bureaucracies running the NIH and FDA seemed very much to be in business-as-usual mode. Because the casualties had largely been gay men and injection drug users, it seemed like no one with any power cared whether we lived or died.

So, a group of New Yorkers – mostly gay men – decided it was time to start raising hell. Calling themselves ACT UP, they disrupted the New York Stock Exchange and, as chapters sprang up nationwide, they staged protests that shut down the FDA and NIH. Eventually, people like Anthony Fauci began to see they had a point. I joined the Los Angeles ACT UP chapter in 1988 and ended up getting arrested half a dozen times in protests at the LA federal building, the County Board of Supervisors and the U.S. Capitol, among others. We won major improvements in HIV/AIDS care in the Los Angeles County health system, which cared for thousands of people with AIDS who had no health insurance. When I landed in San Francisco in 1993, I connected with ACT UP Golden Gate.

Here I am (with my late boyfriend Tim at the left) at one of the protests in that L.A County healthcare campaign. Most of my closest friends from that era have been dead for decades.

I get that COVID has played out very differently than HIV/AIDS. AIDS ramped up slowly and seemed not to affect “normal” people until it killed closeted gay movie and TV star Rock Hudson in 1985, and even then officials largely looked the other way. Only scientific breakthroughs in the 1990s finally stemmed the tide of death. In contrast, the much more highly transmissible SARS-CoV-2 virus came on fast and furious, turning Americans’ lives upside-down almost immediately.

But now, we’ve arrived at what seems in some ways like an eerily similar place. When needed precautions to curb a highly infectious airborne virus spurred frustration and political pushback, officials largely threw up their hands and gave up. Even measures that don’t involve mandates or restrictions on behavior have mostly either been dropped or never happened in the first place.

LONG COVID’S GROWING TOLL

Unfortunately, the virus hasn’t gone away, even if the initial wave of mass death has receded. In August, as a summer surge peaked, US COVID-19 deaths exceeded 1,000 per week, though the latest September data suggests the numbers have begun declining toward pre-surge levels, when deaths were generally in the 300-400 per week range. That’s still equal to a 9/11 every eight to 10 days. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention tracking of SARS-CoV-2 levels in wastewater—probably the best data on US viral prevalence now that cases aren’t being reliably tracked—showed 15 states with “very high” levels and another 19 rated as “high” as of Sept. 19.

But COVID is not just a matter of cases and deaths. The disease’s long-term effects have disabled millions of Americans, and the numbers keep growing with each new wave of infection. An updated review published in Nature Medicine puts the current global number of Long COVID sufferers at 400 million and estimates the worldwide economic impact at a staggering $1 trillion.

We now have plenty of people experiencing repeated SARS-CoV-2 infections. The good news, if you can call it that, is that these reinfections may produce fewer new cases of Long Covid than a person’s first infection – but they absolutely produce some, and the Omicron variants circulating in the last year or two seem to produce more Long Covid than earlier viral varieties. Every time you get COVID, you roll the dice with your health – maybe for the rest of your life.

If I sound alarmed, well, I am. As longtime readers may know, I have some first-hand experience with Long COVID, though in milder form than many experience. My January 2022 infection left me with peripheral neuropathy—painful nerve damage—in my legs and feet. It’s incurable and nearly impossible to treat, as conventional pain drugs don’t help. I will likely never live another day without pain and walking more than six or seven blocks at a stretch is a struggle. I used to enjoy hiking, but will probably never do it again. Still, I don’t have the more debilitating symptoms like crushing fatigue or dysautonomia—disruption of the part of the nervous system that controls automatic functions like heartbeat, blood pressure, digestion and breathing—that afflict some Long COVID sufferers. Lots of people have it way worse than I do.

We know that COVID can have lasting impacts on many parts of the body, including the brain. A recent study of 52 COVID survivors—about half with mild to moderate initial illness and half with more severe disease—found that compared to healthy controls, both groups “had a significantly higher score of cognitive complaints involving cognitive failure and mental fatigue” 27 months after their original illness, with no significant difference based on the severity of that initial illness. On a series of tests, researchers found “changes in brain function” that may explain the reported problems.

Just as scary, a study of people aged 65 and up just published in the Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease reports that “people with COVID were at significantly increased risk for new diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease within 360 days after the initial COVID diagnosis.” This review of the medical records of over six million patients found that the risk escalated with advancing age. As with many of these long-term impacts, the mechanisms involved remain unclear.

Survivors of an initial SARS-CoV-2 infection also have increased rates of high blood pressure, now documented in multiple studies. High blood pressure increases your risk of deadly cardiovascular complications like heart attack and stroke.

I can’t help but wonder whether these issues have affected me, but there’s no way to be sure. My blood pressure, well-controlled for a dozen years with a very low dose of medication, began ratcheting upward about a year and a half ago, necessitating three medication adjustments since then. I’m also definitely more forgetful than I was, mostly little things like walking into a room and forgetting why I went there. But those things can happen to older people with or without COVID, and it’s hard to know cause-and-effect in a given individual.

But I sure as hell know I don’t want to get this virus again and risk these and other issues getting worse. Unfortunately, avoiding it is getting harder by the day, and neither government at any level nor public health authorities seem to care.

PREVENTION? WHAT PREVENTION?

While there’s some evidence that the antiviral drug Paxlovid can reduce the likelihood of Long COVID if administered early enough, the results so far are mixed and not overwhelming. The best way to avoid Long COVID is to not get infected in the first place. As a society, we’ve pretty much stopped trying.

The government is still encouraging vaccination, as it should. But it’s been clear for some time that while the vaccines are very good at reducing the chance of severe illness and death if you get infected, they offer only limited protection against getting infected in the first place. “Vax and relax” can prevent mass death, but it can’t prevent mass infection and an ever-growing number of cases of Long COVID, even if most people get vaccinated. And vaccination rates have been declining for a while, with a new Ohio State University survey reporting that only 43% of U.S. adults have gotten or plan to get the new COVID-19 shot.

And in a bit of absolute madness, Florida’s Ron DeSantis-appointed Surgeon General Joseph Ladapo has actually advised against use of the newly updated mRNA vaccines. In a post on Mastodon, Yale epidemiologist Gregg Gonsalves called this “beyond irresponsible. It is malpractice.”

Ladapo is an outlier, but even his saner colleagues around the country downplay the fact that we don’t have to limit ourselves to vaccination. It’s an airborne virus, so there are two main ways to stop it from spreading: 1) Get the virus out of the air, or at least reduce its concentration to a very low level, and 2) Protect yourself from breathing in any virus that’s in the air around you. We know how to do both.

Masking works, but the type of mask matters. As the Mayo Clinic notes, “Respirators such as nonsurgical N95s give the most protection. KN95s and medical masks provide the next highest level of protection. Cloth masks provide less protection.” Two and a half years ago, a CDC study found that those who reported regularly wearing an N95 or KN95 respirator in indoor public settings had an 86% lower risk of catching COVID-19.

Recently, during my first return visit to San Francisco after moving in early 2022, I met my nieces for lunch at the Ferry Plaza. It was a Saturday, Farmers Market day, and the place was jammed. In three-plus hours I saw no more than half a dozen people wearing any sort of mask, and only a couple were N95s. In my new hometown of Hilo, masking is only slightly more common. At the supermarket, I see barely 10% of customers and staff in some sort of mask. In some venues, it’s less.

A recent Ipsos survey found that half of Americans believe they’ll never get COVID again. Only 20% described themselves as “trying to stay as safe as possible.”

None of this is a surprise—people are simply responding to the messages they get from the people supposedly leading on health issues. The CDC promotes vaccination but barely talks about masking anymore; it acknowledges the value of indoor air quality but doesn’t seem to be doing much about it. In interviews, CDC Director Mandy Cohen regularly urges vaccination but almost never brings up masking or air quality and says little about Long Covid. Political leaders mostly talk about COVID in the past tense and pat themselves on the back for a job well done in prior years. The result is what you’d expect: Most Americans now treat COVID like a common cold, disregarding most precautions and not bothering to test when they get sick.

Back in 2022, when public policy on COVID was still relatively sane, the Biden administration published indoor air quality guidance and made congressionally-approved funds available that “that can be used in schools, public buildings, and other settings to improve indoor air quality.” It’s unclear exactly how much of that money has been used and for what, although some school systems have definitely made HVAC upgrades. But we’ve never had either enforceable indoor air standards or a coordinated plan to implement them. As Science noted in July, “The COVID-19 pandemic has clearly shown the vulnerability of society to the spread of infectious diseases. At the same time, with frequent outbreaks in elder care facilities and school classrooms, it became clear that it was a fatal mistake to largely neglect the recommendations of scientists and engineers regarding minimum standards for ventilation and indoor air quality.”

In any case, those federal dollars were aimed at schools and public buildings. It’s been left entirely to the private sector to do, or not do, anything to reduce airborne pathogens in supermarkets, theaters, clubs, malls and other privately owned spaces. Local groups like Chicago’s Clean Air Club and Austin’s Clear the Air ATX have tried to fill the gap by lending HEPA filters and other clean air equipment to arts and performance venues and other gathering places.

A RADICAL IDEA: DO WHAT WORKS

We know what to do. As Clean Air Club founder Emily Dupree and co-author Shelby Speier wrote in Sick Times in May, “We possess the technology to make public spaces safer. Studies show HEPA air purification and far-UVC lamps drastically reduce the number of airborne pathogens in a room and therefore lessen the likelihood of COVID-19 transmission. When combined with other layers of protection, these tools have the potential to finally make our shared spaces more accessible during an airborne pandemic.”

A key word here is accessible. Failure to address indoor air quality and other prevention measures makes public spaces seriously dangerous for those at highest risk, including the elderly, the immunocompromised and those with long-term health issues, including Long Covid.

Such simple, factual messages are rarely heard in official statements about COVID. “What I find the most frustrating about official handling of COVID and prevention is the lack of care, education, and honoring the science around COVID,” comments Clear the Air ATX founder and Long Covid activist Katie Drackert. “Telling people to ‘stay home when they feel sick’ for a virus that spreads asymptomatically? Well, they are just straight up ignoring science.”

Admirable as they are, the small, volunteer-driven efforts of groups like Drackert’s and Dupree’s are not remotely comparable to the scale of the problem. For now, people must take matters into their own hands. “In the year 2024, people still need to be wearing a well fitted KN95 or above for optimal communal and individual protection,” Drackert says. In the absence of reliable information about air quality in indoor spaces, she suggests getting a portable air quality monitor, which can be reasonably affordable. “High CO₂ levels indicate poor ventilation, which may lead to higher concentrations of aerosols that could contain the virus,” she explains. “Some air quality monitors track particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10), which are small airborne particles. While COVID is smaller than these particles, high PM levels may indicate poor indoor air quality.”

Most of us can’t entirely avoid being in spaces with poor air quality, and that leaves us with masking, which the country has largely abandoned. Worse, we’re starting to see bans on face coverings in public spaces being enacted—for example, in Nassau County, New York, and North Carolina.

These laws typically contain exceptions for people masking for health reasons, but, as New Jersey’s Star-Ledger noted in a recent editorial opposing a proposed mask ban, “t leaves it up to the cops to decide whether someone has a legitimate medical reason for wearing a mask at a public gathering. “How will they know that? It’s subjective. And based on past experience, we know what that means: Police will disproportionately stop and question Black and brown people, who have also been the most likely to continue wearing masks to protect against COVID-19.” It’s hard to imagine a more demented public policy than making disease prevention illegal. And it’s not hard at all to imagine a COVID-19 prevention framework that would make a meaningful difference without causing a nationwide freakout: Encourage masking. Even if mask mandates are a political non-starter, there’s still plenty we can do. First, officials can talk about it and actively encourage people to wear high-quality protection like N-95s when in busy, indoor spaces. They can remind people of its importance—that COVID is not over, not just a cold, and that even a “mild” case can change your life forever. Federal, state and local governments could distribute N-95s or KN-95s free or at minimal cost. Get serious about indoor air purification. Build on what the Biden administration started a few years ago: Develop medically informed, enforceable indoor air quality standards and create a verification system so that people know when a building they enter meets them. Start with public buildings and the largest, busiest private venues, like sports arenas, concert halls and theaters, and move on from there. Give business owners generous technical and financial support in meeting those standards, and a reasonable amount of time in which to do it. While this program is ramping up, fund the local organizations now struggling with limited resources to fill the gap. None of this is that difficult. It’s not even that expensive when you consider that the federal government is in the process of spending $634 billion to upgrade nuclear weapons that with any luck will never be used. What’s missing is political will, and that won’t be there until people scream bloody murder. That’s why I think it may be time for a new version of ACT UP focused on COVID-19. The issues are somewhat different, but less so than you might think. While the original ACT UP focused a lot on research, treatment and care, it also addressed prevention. ACT UP chapters around the country started syringe exchange programs, handed out condoms at high schools, and sometimes succeeded in shaming the system into doing the right thing. And of course, there are issues to tackle around Long Covid research that I haven’t addressed here, but which I will try to cover in a future piece. The fundamental problem is much the same as people with AIDS faced in 1986: a system stuck in neutral, politicians stuck in denial, and a public closing their eyes, covering their ears and shouting, “I don’t hear you!” The first task must be to break the system–and the broader population, as much as possible–out of its present inertia, complacency and denial. I honestly don’t know whether ACT UP tactics like occupying the CDC and disrupting state and local health commission meetings will have the same effect they did decades ago, but at this point I don’t know what else to try. Nothing good lies at the end of our current path.

[umbrellajam]

*steeples fingers and stares at my tablet with gimlet eyes*

so. Road to NML. You mean to tell me that the reason the rest of the country, Congress, and the President himself decided to write Gotham off, blow the bridges, and isolate everyone left - all criminals and asylum lunatics and 'undesirables', of course - was in large part due to *checks notes* a satanic rock star's unnatural, irresistible charisma and cult-like media manipulations aimed at dooming the city for his own benefit?

and that in order to find out what actually happens to this villain, who disappears from the Batman and 'Tec storylines...I'd have to *checks notes* read Azrael's event issues?

....yeah, PASS. I only included JPV's book on my reading list when I absolutely had to (*cough* whenever Cass pops up *cough*), so it's off to the wiki summaries for me!

...but okay, on the one hand I find it very funny how thoroughly fandom has excised this demonic media influencer aspect from the collective consciousness of NML - or at least it had never made its way to me via either fic or fandom posts. I know how few people read comics in general in this fandom, and even for those who do, NML is a Beast that only a percentage have tackled (see: me just starting to pick away at it!), so honestly it's not that surprising.

and like it can easily be left out of the story and still leave it coherent lmao!! One can certainly argue things are in fact neater that way; certainly it's not something that would ever be kept (or at least not in the same form) if NML were adapted to another medium, except as perhaps a normal media demagogue (or a montage of them).

but on the other hand...hmm. Thinking about Hurricane Katrina hitting all of six years after the NML storyline played out. And the debate over whether funds should be used for reconstructing New Orleans and other massively damaged areas. And people around the country wondering if New Orleans would or should be rebuilt at all. Or if a vibrant, historic city would just be basically wiped off the map.

I know this is a conversation that happens everywhere and every time a major disaster wrecks a city. There are always huge fights over disaster aid and funding allocations of any kind.

but man. It's something to see this fictionalized depiction in such close proximity to a real life disaster that paralleled it so strongly, and to know that - yes, there are always people who Do Not Abandon Their Homes and work to reclaim them. Yes, massive amounts of aid (federal and otherwise) and federal reconstruction funding did get dispensed. Yes, people cared, and yes, we rebuilt.

so...maybe we do actually need the demonic social media influencer's evil powers in order to comic book logic explain how everyone in the country turned their backs on Gotham and created No Man's Land.

like - no, it's not necessary. the narrative would work without it. and yet...

the premise imagines - requires? - a significantly more callous, selfish populace. Still plausible and compelling! Possibly even stronger as a story since the turnaround for No Man's Land still hinges on winning the country over to open Gotham back up, let aid in, and rebuild. But. You do have to start from - kind of a bleaker take on humanity?

it also kind of reminds me of what scintillyyy pointed out a few weeks ago about Dick killing the Joker, and how actually there's an important comic book superpower interaction going on there, too, with Rancor present massively amplifying Dick's hate and anger to push him over the edge.

but so few people ever notice or remember that and it certainly isn't one of those things that gets transmitted via fandom osmosis. (It was news to me!!) People focus on Dick breaking down and letting loose solely due to being pushed too far.

and that's extremely compelling on its own! It is! Just like the no-satanic-Nick-Scratch NML.

just thinking about fandom's tendency to ellide the supernatural or powered influences that are canonically affecting a situation, in order to explore/focus on more purely humanistic explanations or motivations...that actually end up being darker than what we might reasonably expect from real life, or from a character's typical values.

like it's part wanting to brush off comic book nonsense, part wanting to dive into gritty realism (that's not always realistic), part not having all the information because of learning things secondhand so you construct the most reasonable explanation...idk it's just interesting.

anyway.

more importantly: Dick and Tim are adorable in 'Tec 727-729!! Especially love them trading off yelling each other's names in fear/alarm, and also trading off protecting each other - Dick's "You hurt that kid and you're gonna be eating through a tube!" and Tim's clever solo rescue of a thoroughly captive Dick via clever use of a voice modulator and a two-way radio. The Boys 😊

[khush-chronicles]

A brief history of Bangladesh and why it is relevant to the current situation

The Indian subcontinent liberated itself from the British in 1947. Two new countries were born, India and Pakistan. The Bangladesh we know today was a part of Pakistan.

In 1952, the students of Dhaka University, along with my other, marched on the streets, protesting that "Urdu"-the national language of Pakistan- would not be the national language of East Pakistan, now known as Bangladesh.

The reason behind this was that 52% of the people in the entire Pakistan spoke Bangla. There was no logic behind declaring Urdu as the national language of Pakistan as a whole. Much like India, there was no need to have a national language.

Students marched on 21st February, ignoring the red alerts. 7 students were martyred, shot by the police. But we protected our mother tongue, we established our rights, and their bloodshed was worth it.

Now, why is it relevant now? Because the history is repeating itself. Only Bangladesh's own government is playing the role of the autocratic Pakistani government. Worse, our prime minister is the daughter of the man who was the prime force behind the liberation of our country.

Bangladesh is the only country in the world that has 256 kinds of quotas reserved for various kinds of people. Even 10% for women. All are applicable at various levels, starting from primary school admissions to government jobs. 56% are reserved for quota holders altogether. 44% are for normal people.

Now, if it had been the other way around, no one would've been that angry. Bangladesh is a country of 200 million people. let's just say 1/4th of them are students. 50 million. The population of quota holders is 200 thousand. Is it not laughable? The 200 thousand students have the right to study, and get jobs and the remaining 49+ million have to fight for 44%? What kind of joke is this?

See the similarities? Trying to give everything to the minority?

The quota most applicable is the "freedom fighter" quota. The people who fought during the liberation war in 1971. Utmost respect and love towards them. But why should their grandchildren benefit from their participation? What is the guarantee that these grandchildren won't harm the country, the same country that was liberated by their grandparents' blood?

The freedom fighters who are still alive, they are ashamed. The population during the war was 70 million. 3 million were martyred. But more than half of the population fought, and the women gave shelter, food, and help in any way they could. Not every one of them collected their certificates. Most of them were illiterate, they didn't even know what a certificate was. And those who knew but didn't collect, and are alive, are saying that they didn't fight so their grandchildren could take advantage, they fought to save the country, they didn't fight for glory.

Our Prime Minister fled the country during the war. There are no records of her brothers fighting in the war either. Her father gave speeches in his white clothes but never picked up a rock to throw.

That aside, now students from almost every university in Bangladesh are protesting against the quota system. So many students cannot be wrong. And the government cannot again be right. It's the minority vs majority all over again.

Another uncanny similarity, 7 were martyred today. 16th July 2024, 7 were given their lives again, for the right study and do jobs and serve their country. What a downfall it is when our friends, seniors, and juniors are giving their lives, just for such simple rights. Where is democracy? Where is liberation? Is this what our grandfathers fought the war for?

The situation is worsening every hour. On 25th March 1971, Pakistani military forces raided homes. Not universities, not halls, HOMES. Of the general public. This was called "Operation Searchlight". No electricity, no light, no warning. Only breaking into homes and massacring men, women, children, and old, children without discrimination or thoughts. Again, something similar is happening.

There is this group called "Student League", they are students of various universities as well, but they are basically bootlickers of the prime minister. They follow whatever she says without any sense of morals.

The minister for education paid them to attack students in halls- confessed by a member of the Student League.

They entered the halls, and hospitals, beat up injured students, locked the hall rooms, and harassed the female students. The video clips that were shared, the screams of the girls, the way they were saying "Brothers save us", it's giving me goosebumps while I am typing it.

They stabbed many students who were returning home. They beat up many many girls who were silently standing by the roads. They harassed the general public.

Both sides are students. Only their teachings are different.

What's about to happen? How many more are dying? The internet connection is off. We can only access through VPN and Wifi. There is a red alert around the areas where most universities are situated. They are cutting off electricity where the protests happened and raiding houses. Again, the similarities. They are checking the homes of the general public if they are housing student protestors. If yes, the students are being dragged out on the roads. Where is freedom?

There is much more happening, which I am not even writing about right now. Much more to come.

Is this what Liberation is? Then I do not want it. If this is what freedom is, I would rather be in a cage.

My account isn't very big, but I am still posting about it. If yours is or if your friends' is, if you come across this post, spread it. Let the world know what an autocrat that woman is. What a tyrant she is.

PS: About a month ago Bangladesh was deemed "The most Peaceful Country in Asia" which is a blatant joke.

I have never been so ashamed and proud of my country at the same time.

[sleeplesssmol]

HC: Looking at all the promotional art, I believe Sonetto and Schneider would have been friends.

Regulus and Vertin's relationship have a similar same vibe as Sonetto and Schneider's. That friend who drives you nuts but you're a pretty awesome duo.

Vertin's involvement might complicate things but I can see them teaming up on her when she does something stupid or fighting side by side to protect the crew.

If I had to use the lore and context around Reverse 1999 to explain how Vertin, Sonetto, and Schneider's dynamic would work, it'd be a compromise. While others may say Vertin would be the reason they fight, I'd say she's one of the things that draws them together and makes them appreciate each other. Here is how I see it:

Schneider understands what it means to sacrifice and provide for a family. She knows the struggle of fighting against a world constantly taking from you. She and Vertin have a natural chemistry because of these experiences. Sonetto understands this and instead of being jealous (not that she isn't at times but she learns to let go), comes to realize its good for Vertin's mental health. They "get" each other. At the end of the day, Sonetto wants what's best for Vertin.

While there was turbulence in the past, Sonetto's devotion to the Timekeeper is unwavering. Vertin isn't impartial either since we know Sonetto lives rent free in her head from the trails (analysis of this here). Sonetto grew up and is willing to cast aside her faith in the Foundation if it means protecting Vertin. Schneider finds that admirable and its gives her a sense of security. Sonetto is someone she can depend on, which is a big deal considering she's used to being the "rock" in her family holding everyone up.

At first its like "I need to keep you around for Vertin's sake."

But then it turns into "I'm happy you're here."

Vertin's always making sacrifices for people. They'd rather compromise than force her into a position they know she can't handle (no matter what Vertin decides, someone will get hurt).

On that note, they do exist outside of Vertin. Schneider might enjoy telling Sonetto about her home country while Sonetto eagerly listens. Sonetto doesn't know much about the outside world, but she can share insight on the world of arcanum. Its utterly insane and Schneider is amused by this. They teach each other things and also complain to each other about Vertin's gremlin ways.

Moving on, it's possible to have complicated feelings for more than one person. The important thing is deciding on whether or not you want to pursue a future with with them.

I'm about to drop a hot take so hot it could burn you. This is an opinion that ties into my HC. Ok, here I go.

Love isn't just feelings, it's work. You need to put work into a relationship or else it'll fall apart.

There are so many people on this earth. In my eyes it's normal to going to have chemistry or complicated feelings for more than one person in your lifetime.

But you choose the people you love out of the other potential candidates because you see a future with them. It's not about what you feel today but what you're going to feel years down the line so you devote your time and energy to those people in you life. You see something worth fighting for which is why you commit to those people (could apply to all relationships honestly).

That's why I HC Sonetto and Schneider like this. They could move on. Sure it'll hurt, but its not impossible. However, they found someone they want that future with. Someone with a lot of love to give yet asks for none in return, which is really sad tbh. If Vertin's not going to love herself then damn it they will! Maybe its unconventional and sometimes difficult, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth it.