#book test drive online

[buytrucknbus]

How to book commercial vehicle online | Tata Motors OSP

If you're looking to purchase a commercial vehicle for your transport business, Tata Motors OSP (Online Sales Portal) provides a convenient and efficient way to do so. In this blog post, you'll find valuable tips on how to book your favorite Tata truck online. By visiting the Tata Motors OSP website, you can easily browse through a wide range of commercial vehicles, compare their features and specifications, and make an informed decision. With just a few clicks, you can book the vehicle that best suits your business requirements and propel your success in the transport industry.

[shamblz]

passed my driving theory test at the grand Old age of 24 uwu

[agirlwithglam]

S.M.A.R.T goals:

How to set and achieve your goals

What does SMART stand for?

S - specific. don't just set vague goals like "i wanna get fit" or "i wanna get abs". how are you gonna know when/ where to start? if you want to get fit: your goal could be "go to the gym for 30 mins everyday" or "i want to run 5k in under 30 mins". whatever works for you. some other examples: -> if your big goal is to get high marks on your next test: your "mini" goals/ steps should be to study everyday for at least 30-60mins. -> if your big goal is to get money/ become rich: your steps/ mini goals should be to save $___ daily first. and also figure out a way you can make a mini business/ get a job.

M - measurable. make sure that your goals are measurable- meaning that you should be able to track them. some examples: -> if your goal is to read more: then create or find a habit tracker or something so everyday when you read, you can mark it down for that day. ! recommended resource: James Clear's habit tracker journal- you can find it on amazon.

A - Achievable keep your goals realistic and attainable. if you know you dont have the time/ energy to read a whole book in 1 week, dont do it- otherwise you'll get easily discouraged. the goldilocks principle: don't make it too easy, where it doesn't give you a challenge, but don't make it too hard either, otherwise you'll get easily discouraged.

R - Relevant basically a WHY. why do you want/ need to accomplish this goal? have a motivation which drives you. make sure your goal is relevant to you in some sort of way. example: -> if you want to learn a language such as spanish, why do you wanna learn it? because you want to travel to Spain one day? to be able to communicate with someone? even if the purpose is as simple as "wanting to be bilingual cus it makes me feel cool and impressive" - if that motivates you, then go ahead!

T - time bound your goals need to have some sort of deadline or urgency attached to it- otherwise you could take all the time you want to start and procrastinate as much as you want. having a deadline for the goal will motivate you to take action sooner, than later.

how to use SMART goals effectively:

decide on the goal. (something that you actually need/ want to accomplish.)

break it down into smaller steps. (very small. so small that you can start working on whatever it is NOW.) you want to get high marks on your test? lets break it down. study 30 mins everyday -> walk to desk -> get material out -> identify what you need to study -> find your weaker topics & write it out -> create a planner or smth -> start studying. // need help? find videos online, go thru material again, find study tips, etc.

write them down. (helps you stay accountable. also people who write their goals down are 42% more likely to achieve them than people who don't write it down.)

create an action plan. (relates to the 2nd point. outline the necessary steps to take, identify resources, set milestones, plan for potential obstacles.)

monitor and evaluate progress. (regularly review your goals, mistakes, and progress. what could you do better to be more efficient and quicker? how can you learn from your mistakes?)

stay committed and flexible. (you really need to be committed to achieve the goals, you shouldn't just start off super excited, doing great in the first week then slacking off. you've made a commitment to YOURSELF. respect yourself enough to stick to it! but also be flexible with your goals. if you're reeeallyy not able to do it one day, plan to do a bit more the next day. stay focussed and don't get discouraged by setbacks.)

celebrate achievements. (recognise when you've hit a major milestone, and celebrate it! this helps you maintain motivation and a sense of accomplishment. and reward yourself!!)

random additional tips:

visualisation. (such a strong form of manifestation. everyday visualise yourself with your goals, feeling all the emotions and thoughts that come with it! visualisation can also really boost your motivation and drive to achieve it.)

PRIORITIES. (remember that also, all goals aren't equally important. prioritise the ones that really matter. this doesn't mean that you can't focus on the other goals, just make sure the ones that need more attention, get more attention.)

positive language. (use kind and encouraging words towards yourself. know and understand that you are that girl who can achieve ANYTHING she sets her mind to.)

seek support. (ask friends and family or a mentor for help. if you want, be careful tho, share your goals with them to help you stay accountable. and if you know a person who's achieved your goals, GET ADVICE FROM THEM! where better to get advice from than someone who's been through what you're going through?)

stay organised. (self explanatory. just stay organised. messy space = messy mind. clean space = clean mind.)

maintain balance. (of course your goals are important, but so is the age you're currently at. especially if you're a teenage, DONT WASTE THESE YEARS!! get out of the house! make friends! go to parties! LIVE LIFE TO ITS FULLEST. also make sure that you get the adequate rest needed!)

write about your journey. (write about the struggles, the obstacles, how you overcame them, insights you got on this journey, etc. trust me, it'll be so interesting and helpful to read when you're older.)

[tkingfisher]

I have had a WEEK.

First Hound got into some chocolate. Ok, this happens to dogs all the time, it’s not baking chocolate, and I know perfectly well that it is not INSTADEATH. Online calculators by weight are like “Yeah, that’s nothin’.” This dog has eaten rotten toads, hardback books, cigarettes…she is a canine garbage disposal. She has also never been sick a day in her life.

Then she starts eating grass. Except Hound does not know what grass is, so she is just in the garden tearing off Random Leaves. I end up chasing her around going “That’s an elm! That’s sticky germander! That’s a rare Himalayan salvia! What are you DOING?!”

Obviously this happens at one AM. Because of course it does.

Then finally she makes a noise like a murloc having an orgasm and all the plants come back up.

Fine, I think. That’s that. Nature takes its course.

Which just proves that I am, in fact, staggeringly naive. The next morning, Hound is breathing shallowly and lethargic. We drive her to the vet school ER an hour away. We explain about the plants and the chocolate and the murloc noises to a nice young vet with a manbun who looks about fifteen years old. They take Hound back, and discover Hound is having severe arrhythmia. Which is a chocolate toxicity symptom. Except we all agree that the quantity she got hold of absolute should not have done that, but hey, maybe she has developed an unexpected sensitivity. They keep her overnight. I leave a large deposit on my credit card. We drive an hour home.

The next day I come pick her up. A nice vet who actually looks old enough to drink gives me a list of symptoms to watch out for, including extreme lethargy. They give me back some of the deposit. Hound comes home.

The next morning, she is extremely lethargic and furthermore, Not Eating.

In a hound, loss of appetite generally happens several hours after all clinical signs of life are extinguished. I drive her an hour to the ER. A nice vet who appears twelve says her heart is working perfectly fine, and suggests pancreatitis. Let’s do an ultrasound. Err…in a few hours, they’re kind of slammed. I go to a coffee shop and attempt to work.

The ultrasound fails because they can’t see around Hound’s stomach, which is enormously swollen. They do an X-ray. There is something weird in there. Foreign body, it looks like. Not blocking anything, just sitting there. “Foamy mass” is the term being used. It has air bubbles. Chocolate wrapper? Weird mass of leaves? (Oh god, was she eating frog eggs out of the pond again?) The vet decides to induce vomiting to get the prize out of this particular canine Kinder Egg. I sit in the waiting room and attempt to work.

An hour and a half later, the vet comes out and says, in awestruck tones, that they have given Hound two doses of their strongest emetic and she will not vomit. “This dog has an iron stomach!” she says. I explain about the toad and the cigarettes. She asks if they were at the same time. (They were not.) Hound stays overnight. I leave a second, larger deposit on my credit card. I drive an hour home.

The next day, the vet calls me, says “So I wanted to give you an update—oh crap! STAT TRIAGE! I’ll call you back!” and hangs up. Some hours later, she calls me back. No, the foamy thing is still there. Stomach is less swollen, though. They’re still hoping she passes it. By the way, did I know Hound has erhlichiosis? I did not, but at this point, nothing surprises me. Hound stays overnight again.

The next day, Hound is transferred to Internal Medicine. Her protein levels are weird, but she is not retaining fluid. (Yay?) If the weird foamy mass is not gone, they will have to perform surgery tomorrow. I leave a third, even larger deposit over the phone. Hound stays overnight again.

The next day, a new vet, of indeterminate age, but with a strong desire to make sure that I understand every single aspect of every single test begins explaining to me about blood protein levels and that they need to do a targeted ultrasound to make sure she doesn’t have a GI bleed. I am so deep in the hole at this point that I’m just like “Yeah, whatever, do it.” Hound stays overnight again.

He calls the next day to say that she has no bleed and no pancreatitis. What about the foamy mass?

What foamy mass?

The…the one that was…I saw the X-rays…?

Well, there’s nothing there now. Maybe she passed whatever it was. No blockages anywhere. They went over her innards with a fine toothed comb. She’s eating like a horse, incidentally. Would I like to take her home tomorrow?

I drive an hour. I get Hound. The vet’s working theory is an erhlichiosis flare-up brought on by chocolate shock. She gets antibiotics, anti-nausea meds, and special bland food in case her appetite decreases. I receive a tiny amount back on my deposit. We drive an hour home.

Hound, cognizant of her delicate digestive state, immediately attempts to break into the litterbox and eat cat poop. I deliver a lengthy lecture on the evils of dumpster diving. Hound gazes at me with great earnestness, then belches gently in my face. Learning happens to other people, not Hound.

The face of a canine garbage disposal who cost me more than my first car

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a student… (some 18+)

… price

- keeps you company. he is well established and then some, and the stuff you study is way to advanced for any schooling he ever had, so he settles for helping you in other ways. if you study full time, you want for nothing. he makes sure your billing account is always topped up so you don’t have to work and gets all the shopping done for you. during your study sessions he’s nearby with the newspapers or a half-done report, making sure to keep both of your coffee mugs full. the night before big exams he gives you a massage and cooks a hearty meal to set you up for success.

- it’s not a secret that he finds you incredibly hot when you don your reading glasses and messy hair, no makeup on, and the fantasy of an old man like him having a darling little college student in his bed secretly drives him mad. so when you need to destress after a long session, he’s there to help.

… kyle

- studies with you. he probably has a little side project on his own - of course, he’s already set in his career, but he takes a local class every other semester just for fun. subjects like art history or food science, perfect stuff for tidbits and party tricks. you are very busy with your own studies so whenever he has free time, he sits down next to you in the kitchen or on the sofa with his own textbook and dutifully highlights important passages, while you scribble notes in the margins of your own textbook. you pull all-nighters together before big exams and read each other’s flash cards. he’s memorised your takeout orders and makes sure to keep you both fed.

- you both thoroughly unwind after, of course. at a point you’re so mentally exhausted that you just need to let loose and not think for a while. kyle obliges when you not so subtly slide your foot up his calf under the table.

… johnny

- enables you. johnny can’t sit still for more than a minute without anything to do, and being his significant other you sadly are the victim of his excessive energy. some days it’s enough to put on an action movie in the sitting room while you hide out upstairs or send him over to kyle’s for whatever they do together. other days you need to sternly send him for a run that lasts at least three hours, knowing it will knock him out after, giving you a combined four or five undisturbed hours of study time. occasionally you throw one of your theses or problems at him to get him to focus on something other than you, and if it’s within his field of interest he will fall quiet next to you and end up writing two or three pages explaining his own reasoning, citations and all.

- will always try to coax you to leave your books and come join him in the bedroom or shower. always nags that restitution is as important as the work in itself and won’t listen when you tell him it doesn’t work that way with studying. sometimes sneaks in between your legs under the table and laps at you until mess up your handwriting.

… simon

- tutors you. whatever it is you study, simon will become an expert in it by the time you’re ready to graduate. he gets copies of your textbooks and reads and annotates the same chapters as you do. he listens in on your online lectures and makes his own notes. he does all this partly out of curiosity, but mostly to be of assistance to you. before tests and exams he quizzes you and makes short writing prompts for you, forcing you to think about your material in new ways. date nights often involve flash cards (which tends to become a hilarious exercise after a few glasses of wine). it’s so important to him that you reach your goals, that he will spend hours of his own time to be able to support you as much as possible, in every way he can.

- he has more patience and endurance than you, so when you after six hours of repetition and revising lean back in your seat and lightly run your fingers down his back, he lightly swats your hand away and reminds you of the problem you haven’t answered yet. but after a little convincing, even he can’t resist your gentle request for long.

[hazelfoureyes]

i have a bit of a fun ask :) can u put ur spotify on shuffle and write a fic with vox based on the first song that plays? plz plz HAZEL PLZ

Please please please know I am still getting my sea legs with Vox! So don’t go into this expecting my usual… uhhh skill? Confidence? also testing the new tag list system

「Warnings/Promises: Val exists, Vox x Fem Reader, stalking, pastry decimation, casual sexism」

Stalker’s Tango

From the moment you stepped out of your home, he was eagerly watching.

The security doorbell camera on your porch let him see you wore black pants and a white blouse. Perfect. A white pocket square in his suit jacket pocket to complement. “Wonderful choice as always, babe.” He spoke softly to the screen; to you.

He followed every move, jumping with muscle memory speed from traffic camera to home security camera to shopwindow full of screens.

When you stopped to go into a bakery, he was there in the cctv cameras, fisheye view of your order of cold brew coffee and a croissant. “Impeccable taste.” A confident laugh between you two as he shot off a text to craft services, two words, ‘Croissants. Now.’

“Could you possibly warm that?” You asked the young man behind the counter.

Another text. ‘Heated.’

He watched you at the bus stop. A man sat beside you and smiled at you. You offered a kind smile back. “Who the fuck is that?” He zoomed in, taking a screenshot to send to Velvette, ‘Find socials for this pissant.’

When you stepped onto the bus he sighed, relief the man was no longer bothering you but also with a heart heavy. You didn’t belong on the bus. Why couldn’t he just buy you a car? No, better, He should send a driver to pick you up daily. A personal chauffeur. You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with driving.

No, he was thinking too small. You should live in the tower. Angel Dust used to, why couldn’t you? A moment of fantasy.

Perhaps he’d walk in to find you in your pajamas. What ever could they be? He searched your online shopping history and couldn’t find a single purchase for sleep wear. Your lack of home television and a computer limited him to only watching you from your stoop and beyond. He buckled, what if you didn’t wear anything to bed? Why didn’t you let him see you at night? What did he need to do for you to trust him in your home.

A knock at the door he didn’t acknowledge. His sole focus was you. A book? You minx. Always playing hard to get. He knew you got the e-reader he sent. He watched you take the package from the doorbell camera, after all.

“Sir,” a small and slightly pathetic voice spoken through the door, “I’m getting word from downstairs they’re not sure how to keep croissants warm in the studio.”

Another zoom, what were you reading? He’d have the author on Vox programming, sure to take photos like old chums for you to see on your bus stop bench ads.

Vox rose slowly from his chair, eyes on you as he backed away from his desk.

A change in routine. You cut through Jekyll Park. No cameras.

Vox hurried to the door, huffing as he flung it open, “Have you never heard of a warming lamp?”

“They don’t have any… normally they only offer cold items.”

“Fine then have,” he pointed at a random employee walking by, “that fucker stand there with a toaster oven”

The eel demon shrunk, “Well he works for us not for-.”

The screen that comprised his head filled with static, eyes a swirling rage of red and black, “He works for the Vees. He goes where we tell him.”

He slammed the door, taking a moment to recompose himself before turning to face you. He didn’t want you to see him like that.

Spinning back, charming smile cocked on his face, “Alright where are you?” He strolled up to the displays and returned to his seat, scanning around until he found you again. But he wasn’t finding you. He couldn’t do anything about the park’s lack of cameras, it was pentagram city property, or else he’d have staff in there within the hour. Normally not an issue though, you never cut through that way.

Sixty seconds. Where were you?

Ninety seconds. Where were you.

One hundred and eighty seconds. Where were you!

Vox’s chair fell over as he stood with a panic, hitting the speed dial for Security. As the phone was answered and he began to instruct them to the west entrance of the park, you emerged from the tree lined path and tossed your empty coffee cup and food bag into the recycling bins. You’d just slowed your walk to enjoy your breakfast with a pretty view.

“Nevermind, false alarm fellas.” A nervous chuckle as he pulled at his collar. “Sir we’re not all me-.”

He hung up and leaned on the control panel. He should have sent a text. In fact maybe he still should.

Good Morning sinners! Reminder—- you’re only safe when you’re under the watchful eye of VoxTek Security Cameras.

A mass push text to every VoxTek phone in pentagram city. He watched you look at your phone and then up to the camera pointed directly at you from a light pole. A satisfied hum, “Good girl.”

As his view switched to the VeeTower camera system he danced into the elevator.

Vox’s foot impatiently tapped, staring directly into the eyes of the VoxTek employee holding the toaster oven in his hands. The fishy looking demon was squirming as the heat bled into the metal casing and burned his palms.

“Oh! I didn’t know I paid you to arrive late!” Val’s voice carried across the set.

You gripped the handles of your tote bag, “Val I’m sorry! The bus got a flat tire and I had to walk.”

A hiss as Val leaned down to get eye level with you, “Sluts lie as easily as they open their legs.”

“No, Val.” Vox interjected, tone stronger than he had intended, “She’s telling the truth. It was on the local traffic report. Cut her some slack.”

“I don’t watch that shit.” A sigh, exhaling pink aphrodisiac laced smoke into the air between you three, “Fine. If amorcito says so.” Val smiled to Vox before sending a sneer back to you, “Now fuck off to the dressing room.”

He walked away to shout at someone else, so you took the opportunity to say, “Thank you.” You offered a little head bow, grateful for back-up in your lie. Vox had already been trying to sneak off the set when you started speaking to him, causing him to sheepishly spin around on his heels. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I see you all over the place. You’re Vox, right?” You extended a hand.

His screen flickered, blue background now with a gradient pink starting from the bottom, a blush rising up his face, “I see my reputation precedes me.” A false bravado as he gestured to himself. He moved the croissant to his right hand so he could shake yours.

“Well… your name and face is on everything. So, yes! I guess so.” You shook his hand, “Oh, I had a croissant too.”

He beamed, “Ya know what they say, great minds and all that. I was just having a little breakfast after reading. I hear they have some on set today in craft services.” You perked up, looking to the food table and the man holding the toaster oven.

“My lucky day! If only they had iced coffee. It would be perfect.” With a polite smile you took a step away, “I gotta go or Val will kill me. Nice to meet you!”

Vox stood still until you were out of sight. His hand crushed the pastry before he launched it across the room, mumbling about coffee before looking back longingly in the direction you’d left in, “See ya later babe.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[fanhackers]

Fandom/Activism

I interrupt my dive into Abigail DeKosnik’s work to note that as the United States moves deeper into its (apparently endless) election season, we’re seeing a lot of fandom-as-activism starting to emerge, as well as activism-as-fandom. De Kosnik herself was one of the early writers on fandom/activism, writing “Participatory democracy and Hillary Clinton's marginalized fandom” for the very first issue of Transformative Works and Cultures in 2008; more recently, Aja Romano wrote about how Donald Trump’s followers can be seen to be acting like a fandom for Vox: “If you want to understand modern politics, you have to understand modern fandom.” 

TWC hosted an entire guest issue on Transformative Works and Fan Activism, edited by Henry Jenkins and Sangita Shresthova; Jenkins and Shresthova also collaborated on By Any Media Necessary: The New Youth Activism (NYU, 2016) which collects essays on fan activism. Other essays on fandom/activism have been published by TWC with Alex Xanthoudakis’s Mobilizing minions: Fan activism efficacy of Misha Collins fans in "Supernatural" fandom (2020) and  Hannah Carilyn Gunderman’s Fan geographies and engagement between geopolitics of Brexit, Donald Trump, and Doctor Who on social media (2020) being recent examples. Meanwhile, Tanya Cook and Kayle Joseph are the authors of Fandom Acts of Kindness: A Heroic Guide to Activism, Advocacy, and Doing Chaotic Good (Penguin Randomhouse 2023), a guide on how to use fandom and fannish strategies to make a difference. 

Some examples of fandom/activism emerging this U.S. election season include Heroes 4 Harris: Kamala-Con  which is scheduled to happen online today, Sunday September 8, 2024, 1pm PT / 4pm ET: this is billed as “a Comic-Con for Kamala” and “the largest fandom led gathering in support of a presidential candidate in American history.” It will feature: “actors, writers, directors, and super fans of Hollywood's most inspiring heroic fandoms” and promises not just inspiration from some of our favorite stars (Mark Ruffalo, Sean Astin, Rosario Dawson and others - not to mention Henry Jenkins himself) but also breakout groups and training in “fan mobilization.”  

Meanwhile, Lynda Carter (always a Wonder Woman!) is also trying to get out the fan vote for Harris with her group Geeks & Nerds for Harris Walz (@GeekOutTheVote); this is also billed as “a fan activist campaign” and they are planning special online events, the first of which will be an online call on September 24, 2024.  As they describe on their website: “Fandom has never just been about media consumption. Fans are artists, creators, and digital ambassadors. When we share what we love, it radiates around the world. And to paraphrase the Vice President, it’s how we show them who we are. By connecting battle-tested campaign canvassing strategies to the heritage and practices of fan communities, we can encourage fans to get out the vote in key battleground states.”

Donald Trump, aside from being his own fandom with himself as fan in chief, also seems to have had some self-identified fandoms collectively organizing for him over the years - these include Fans of Kanye West, Fans of Race Car Driving, and, strange but true, Fans of the 1980s, who apparently believe that Donald Trump would also be a fan of 80s horror movies, Scritti Politti, and  the soundtrack to Pretty in Pink. (I’m not making that up; it’s on their Twitter.) That said, Mel Stanfill’s newest book Fandom is Ugly (2024) argues that, despite its popular reputation, media fandom is not essentially progressive; that in fact, “reactionary politics and media fandoms go hand in hand.” Stanfill’s book looks at the ways in which fans have organized in conservative, reactionary, or even hateful ways, from Gamergate to the collective abuse and harassment of actors in the latest Star Wars franchise. 

The discipline of fandom studies is now being used to study all different kinds of affiliations and advocacy movements, not just those based around film, tv, sports, or music. Fan studies is now applied to political and social movements. Jenkins is still a powerful voice on the relationship between fan studies and participatory democracy (whether progressive or reactionary): read this 2024 interview with him published in Communication and the Public: “The path from participatory culture to participatory politics: A critical investigation—An interview with Henry Jenkins.”  As Jenkins notes:

Part of the ethos of fandom is to ask questions—from nitpicking to imagining other outcomes, different trajectories for character arcs, and other worlds where the story might occur, all of which is expressed through fan works. I would say that fans are often more critical than the general audience in asking these questions, which makes them somewhat different from many partisans and activists I might know who rarely question their beliefs and ideological commitments. And fans are more tolerant—as an aggregate—of different interpretations than partisans are of different ideological stances. So, you could do worse in grounding a democracy than engaging with fans.

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Thick Part 6/8

Y/N, done messed up in this one 😭 big time

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Kenan and Reader share the same high school friend group. As graduation is near, Reader sets out to pass her drivers license test but ultimately struggles to. Thankfully Readers friends agree to help her with driving lessons and take turns doing so. It is during one of Rader's lessons that it becomes clear that Kenan likes her. A chock to Reader, who has a crush on someone else in their friend group.

Enjoy!

Being Kenan Yildiz girlfriend included three things:

1. Long drives home from school.

2. A lot of listening and talking about football.

3. Late night cuddles.

Out of all these three things, the late night cuddles you enjoyed the most. It never came down to anything sexual. It would just be you and Kenan in his bed, cuddling. You'd stay at his house whenever your parents were away. It somehow became an ongoing thing one day after Kenan dropped you off at your house, and the two of you came to realize that your parents had left the country without telling you. It wasn't the first time that they had been late to inform you about a trip abroad, but seeing how hurt you got by it made Kenan convince you to stay with him whenever your parents weren't at home. And frankly, you loved it.

Kenan actually lived alone in a seemingly big house for a nineteen year old. But then again, he had no problem paying for it with his salary as a football player.

"What are you thinking about?"

You lay in bed with Kenan's head in your lap. You were watching a movie on his computer when he tilted his head to meet your eyes.

"Us?" You smiled.

"Us?"

"Yeah, I think like us."

Kenan chuckled. "I like us too."

Although dating Kenan included a lot of benefits, like unlimited driving lessons, it also included a few perks.

"Oh my God Kenan I love you. Can I please take a picture with you?"

It all came down to the fact that Kenan was seemingly becoming more and more famous as a footballer. The more games he played for Juventus. Fans, mostly young girls, would come up to him in the streets, begging for an autograph or a picture with him. Kenan, the nice guy that he was, would always accept. Even that one time when a group of young fans caused a line in traffic by pulling their car up alongside yours. Mind you that this was during one of your driving lessons, meaning, you were more than nervous to have other cars honking their horns at you because a car full of teenagers were getting their school books sign by your boyfriend.

Another perk were the comments that you were getting online. Somehow, people found out who you were and who you were to Kenan. The comments you received online were mainly from complete strangers commenting negatively about your body and the fact that you were on the bigger size.

"Why would he date her?"

"Oh my God what does she eat in a day, she's so big."

"Ahahahha I see Yildiz like em extra large."

These were only a few of the nasty things that people were saying about you. However, over time, you learned to ignore it and them. Spending time with your friends helped.

"So what are we doing for Y/N's birthday this weekend?" Rebecca held an informal meeting during lunch at school.

"Party, of course!" Gio exclaimed. "How about a themed one, like 'A night in Hawaii.'"

"Oh Gio, that's not....."

Everyone held their laughter.

Gio shifted his head. "What?"

"That's not what Y/N wants." Said Rebecca. "If we're having a themed party, it should be something cool like "The red carpet."

This time, you and your friends actually burst out in laughter.

"No?" Rebecca cheeks blossmed. "Why don't you guys decide then, since your ideas are that much better than mine."

"How about we let Y/N decide?" Maria, the rational one, said. "It's her birthday, not ours."

"Fine. What do you want to do for your birthday Y/N?"

You failed to notice how everyone's attention was brought to you. In your defense, you were sitting in Kenan's lap, his hands around your waist and his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

"Ugh, you guys are unbelievable."

"Yeah, get a room you two."

You were brought back to reality, locking eyes with Luca, who sat before you. Unlike the others, he didn't seem bothered by you and Kenan being overly affectionate with each other. Instead, he seemed genuinely happy for you. Stronzo. (Asshole)

"How about we throw a party at my place?" Kenan suggested. "We could make it low-key by listing people who are invited."

Gio raised his hand. "I can get us the booze."

Rebecca sighed. "Let'em guess, your uncle knows someone?"

"My cousin actually."

The party happened on a Saturday, with Kenan's suggestion to have an entry list, keeping him busy all night. He and Gio seemed to fend for their lives at the door. Once the word got out that Kenan Yildiz was throwing a party, all of Turin seemed to have shown up.

"A great party, no?"

You had been wandering alone for most of the night. The majority of the people at the party had no idea that it was thrown in your honor. You were a bit startled when Luca approached you at one point during the night, carrying a wrapped gift in his hand.

"Luca, you shouldn't have."

He smiled. "I felt like getting you a gift was the least I can do." He smiled. It was also cute the way he had to talk over the loud music for you to hear him. "Party's aren't really my thing. Although I'm impressed how the others managed to pull this off."

"Well, none of them have gotten a chance to give me a gift yet." You said, eyeing the package in his hand.

"It's nothing major, but I think you'll like it." He handed it over for you to open it. You did so immediately to Luca's amusement.

"Childish Gambino!"

"It's his knew album. Armeni actually help me...."

It was in the heat of the moment. The sudden rush of blood to your violently beating heart that urged you to do what you did. Nevertheless, in all haste, Luca caught you as you leaped forward, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was everything you could've imagined, soft yet sweet, with Luca's hand pressing to the side of your face. Except he wasn't pressing. He was pushing. Pushing your face away for your lips to detach.

"Y/N...I"

"Oh, shit."

Regret. You could see it on his face as well as feel it inside of you. Although the kiss was everything you dreamed of, it was hard to admit that it hadn't happened with the right person.

"Y/N....I had no idea that you?...I thought you and Kenan..."

"We are." You nodded. "I'm so sorry Luca,  I don't know what came over me."

"I do."

Your heart ripped at the sound of his voice. Kenan had spotted you and Luca in the corner of his living room. He had crossed the room to get to you, a small jewelry box clenched in his hand. However, once he got to you, that jewelry box was dropped to the floor, dropped along with all the feelings Kenan had developed for you.

"Kenan it's not..."

"Save it." He hissed, his eyes darting at Luca as if he wanted to kill him on the spot.

"Hey, man, she kissed me." Luca said in defense.

"I know."

"I thought that the two of you were a solid thing now."

"So did I." Kenan turned to you with nothing but darkness and hurt in his eyes. "We're done."

"Kenan?" You squealed, tears already running down your cheeks, ruining your make up.

He shook his head, fighting the urge not to give into you. "We're done Y/N, alright! Just leave it at that."

You didn't want to. You refused to. However, it's just what Kenan did, turn his back on you, and leave. You watched him make his way through the crowd and out the door of his own home. All because of your mistake.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[urlittlevenicebitchh]

𝟏𝟓𝟎 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

go for a walk

take a nap

go to a pet store

play just dance

look at grosspo

find a new aesthetic

design your dream wardrobe

read

make a list of movies/tv shows/books you want to watch/read

color

write a short story

make a vision board

journal

make spotify playlists

write a letter to your future self

go to the gym

draw your dream body

have a photoshoot

explore somewhere new

join discord/insta/tumblr groups

writeaprisoner.com

learn a language on duolingo

make a new social media account

find new makeup + hairstyles to practice

watch a childhood movie

declutter your phone

online quizes

at-home spa day

make a time capsule

play roblox or minecraft

make a photo wall

start a manifestation journal

test old pens and markers

rearrange furniture in your room

unsubscribe from emails

make a birthday/holiday wishlist

upcycle old clothes

make a bucket list

clean your car or room

declutter bags

find a new podcast to listen to

update your resume

apply to jobs

paint or draw

practice gratitude

yoga

start a bullet journal

create a 5 year plan

start a free course

discover new music

work on your insta feed

sell clothes online

start a blog

organize a drawer

clean your makeup brushes

learn a new skill

start a youtube channel or podcast

call a family member

build a puzzle

plan your week

paint your nails

learn a new dance

laundry

write a letter to a friend

find a pen pal

write 3 short-term goals

work on current goals

plan your next vacation

explore your neighborhood

do a face mask

organize your closet

find new blogs to follow

do a hair mask

do mirror work

take a shower or bath

pinterest crafts

watch youtube

tan

dust your room

tye dye clothes

facetime friends

make a comfy fort

invite a friend over

go to the mall

amusement park

homework!!

binge a movie/tv series

make slime

scrapbook

sidewalk chalk

have a tea party

make friendship bracelets

thrift

plant a flower

go through old magazines + make collages

hand massage

make your own face scrub

create a skincare routine

research something you've been meaning to learn more about

make popsicles

create a budget

drink water!!!

meal plan

sign up for volunteer work

watch a random documentary

follow new tags on tumblr/insta

hug your pet

organize stationary

watch a ted talk

clean mirrors in your house

reply to old texts

write your own list of things to do

make lists

visit a museum

go to the beach

sign up for a workout class

meditate

tidy your desk

make a warm drink

practice hand lettering

vaccum

5 minute doodles

follow a disney animation lesson (youtube)

watch animal videos

online crossword puzzles

origami

find live shows in your area

play board games

go for a drive

go through junk drawer

pick flowers

start a nature journal

do therapy worksheets from pinterest

make weekend plans

research your family tree

create your own game

make a fruit salad

print coloring worksheets

poetry

ride a bike

play a childhood game (mine's animal jam :) )

search for your spirit animal

paint rocks

random act of kindness

make a busy box

plan a yard sale

start/join a book club (can be virtual :) )

shop ikea online

make room decor

closet fashion show

[univac1219]

Does your 1219 have a nickname?

Also, I was wondering if you have any fun stories surrounding it! Strange quirks it has or anything like that.

I'd love to see more photos if you're allowed to post them!

Thanks for the question! These are my favorite part about my blog by far.

Not exactly, the UNIVAC 1219 doesn’t have a nickname. I did realize recently that I should specify the pronunciation (Twelve-Nineteen), but it doesn’t have any nicknames. Apart from ‘the 1219’, it’s also regularly referred to as the CPU or just ‘the computer’.

Fun stories or weird quirks? Boy, I could fill a book with this machine’s weird quirks (or as we say, intermittent issues), but I’ll try to blitz through the most common ones:

Sometimes the computer will stop running and enter a WAIT mode. No reason, it just needs a break. We can’t fix it, it just has to decide to go back into operating mode.

The computer will often start attempting to communicate on IO channel 13. We’re not telling it to talk to anything, it just decides to try to.

One of our teletypes (the Kleinshmidt) stamps ink splotches into the paper rather than characters most of the time. However, this weekend it worked for the first time in 10 months! We didn’t change anything, it just had an extra cup of coffee or something.

The Digital Data Recorder, or the tape drive, has the most gremlins out of any of our units. The top handler works fairly well, but the bottom handler won’t properly read data, write data, move the tape forward, initialize the tape, or any number of other issues.

There’s more but hopefully this satisfies your curiosity.

Fun stories? Well, I can’t name any specific ones, but I can say it’s a very endearing machine. It’s the very last of its kind and being one of three individuals in the world responsible for it makes every issue that more frustrating. There is no real forum for it, the subject matter experts sit next to me and are often just as exasperated as I am.

But the unique nature of this situation make every successful diagnostic test that much sweeter. Every new addition (5.25” floppy drive via serial) that much cooler. I have an IBM PC-XT clone at home, but I thank my lucky stars every day that this big iron is what I get to specialize in.

As for more photos, I have none that are as grandiose as you would probably expect. I do have my working photos though. I took all my photos when I first started working on it and now I am more dedicated to fixes than photo-ops.

This is a photo of our finicky Kleinshmidt teletype. Still has blotches but it actually printed!

This is the back of the bottom handler. Pictured is the vacuum pump in the bottom left (so sudden stops just yank magnetic tape slack rather than ripping tape). The big cylinder in the center is a motor for running the magnetic tape handler itself. The big black ‘hose’ of wires coming out of the steel plate contains all the cables that come right off the handler’s head for reading and writing data!

This is the forward pinch roller of the bottom handler. It was replaced after this photo was taken as you can see the rubber has deteriorated in the 55 years this machine has been operating.

As for being allowed to post photos, that’s not an issue. The last 1219 was decommissioned in 2014 and now you can find all of its documentation online at http://www.bitsavers.org/pdf/univac/military/1219/

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

Kate is not your drama queen Her self-possession drives people wild - Jenny McCartney UnHerd.

Just over a decade ago, the late novelist Hilary Mantel delivered a lecture to an event at the London Review of Books and triggered national outrage. In the course of a talk on “Royal Bodies”, which ranged widely across royal women from Anne Boleyn to Marie Antoinette and Princess Diana, she had made what many perceived as disparaging remarks about Kate Middleton, then the Duchess of Cambridge. The Duchess, she said, appeared to have been “designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished”. Indeed, Mantel said, Kate “seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character”.

At this, the newspapers were soon in uproar. The prime minister David Cameron called the comments “completely misguided and completely wrong” and the Labour leader Ed Miliband agreed they were “pretty offensive”. Mantel doggedly refused to back down, saying that her remarks had been twisted out of context, and that she was in fact writing with sympathy about the perceptions that are forcefully projected on to royal women, the cage in which they are held to be goggled at. That was true, but also perhaps not the entire truth, for there was still a perceptible trace of authorial vinegar in the portrait: which of us would be happy to learn, even in sympathy, that we were held at low risk for “the emergence of character”?

Royals are public as well as private figures, of course, and authors are free to hang intellectual ideas on them to try out, as designers do with clothes. Yet while much of the lecture was sharply perceptive, I didn’t agree with the portrait of Kate. That word “selected” had rendered her passive, when in fact her behaviour thus far had suggested both an active intelligence and an unusual degree of self-discipline. The context of her entry into “The Firm” was different from that of other royal brides. Unlike Diana, who had barely emerged from the fractured chrysalis of her troubled aristocratic family when she first met the much older, more worldly Prince Charles, Kate was a contemporary of Prince William’s at the University of St Andrews. Her family background, which appeared warm and supportive, was comfortably middle-class. She seemed generally cheerful and unruffled, even when the press was at the barbed peak of its “Waity Katie” hysteria, trying to goad Prince William into a proposal or abandonment.

After the wedding, in her approach to royal duties, she clearly took the role she had inherited with marriage seriously. The royal whose attitude her own most resembled was the late Queen Elizabeth II, who had long understood the essential nature of the job: to turn up to public events looking the part, intuit precisely what was needed — gravitas, fun, consolation or reassurance — and deliver it while keeping one’s personal emotions on the back burner. This is what a monarchy demands, and the ability to act as an impeccable interpreter of the public mood, year after year, is a particular and testing art. A few have a natural aptitude for it, but most of us do not, and would quickly find its scrutiny and restrictions intolerable.

Grace under consistent pressure is an admirable quality. Were a ballet dancer to execute a string of flawless performances, or a pilot to conduct numerous flights without incident, it would not be deemed evidence of an absence of character: quite the opposite. Yet in Kate — especially for those who increasingly conduct their lives online — serene self-possession seems to drive a proportion of onlookers insane: what lurks behind it, what dark secret is waiting to destroy it, how best might it be disrupted? The uncomfortable truth is that what many people deeply crave in a young and beautiful royal wife and mother is not competence, but crack-up

The increasingly bizarre treatment of Kate, or the idea of Kate, is connected to the most dominant phenomenon of our age: a cultural prioritising of drama over duty. The supply of drama has spilled beyond the confines of the novel, theatre, cinema or television to become a commodity on which our public figures are judged. When Mantel spoke of Kate’s apparent absence of emerging “character” she was assessing her primarily through the hungry eyes of a novelist. In books, central female characters often generate dramatic tension by chafing against their circumstances, by the intensifying dazzle of their discontents, something that Kate refused to transmit. In contrast, Mantel described Diana as a “carrier of myth”: Diana, publicly trapped in the disappointments of her marriage, certainly carried more plot twists than any author had a right to expect. Unfortunately for her, the final one was her shockingly premature death.

Set against this artistic conception of “character” — distinctive qualities or flaws that, one way or another, deliver drama — is the societal judgement “of good character”, meaning someone who is broadly reliable and respected in relation to their behaviour to others. In recent years the electorate, in line with Neil Postman’s warning in his 1985 book, Amusing Ourselves To Death, has proved increasingly ready to select the former over the latter, even to the marked detriment of our civic health. The former prime minister Boris Johnson instinctively understood it as his job not to deliver the detail of workable policy, but to satisfy the public’s appetite for story: “People live by narrative,” he once told UnHerd’sTom McTague. In the US, Donald Trump — that relentless generator of low mockery and high fury — is now running for a second term as president, after his first one ended in his supporters storming the Capitol building.

Men are often permitted to survive the frantic generation of drama: it is everyone around them who suffers. Yet women — in art and life — have a greater tendency to be destroyed by it. There is no strutting female equivalent of the male “hellraiser”, but rather a woman who, soaked in the crocodile tears of the tabloids, is tragically “causing concern” among friends. Art and its audiences have always relished the restless struggle and disintegration of female characters who are, or become, unmoored from the harbour of marriage and children. Flaubert’s Emma Bovary — her imagination inflamed by reading novels — is bored with her marriage and disenchanted with motherhood; she seeks solace in affairs and excessive spending, the consequences of which hasten her suicide. Zola’s Nana, a courtesan who ruthlessly captivates Parisian society, has her beguiling face eaten away by smallpox. Janis Joplin and Amy Winehouse, immolated on their blazing talent, are hung posthumously high in the musical hall of fame, next to Sylvia Plath in the poetry section and Marilyn Monroe in cinema.

In Jean Rhys’s Good Morning, Midnight,a middle-aged English woman called Sasha Jansen, mourning an unhappy marriage and a dead child, finds herself in Paris, a vulnerable drifter seeking solace from stray men. Rhys herself, who died at 88 after a precarious but surprisingly long life, had much in common with her literary creations. As the writer and editor Diana Athill crisply put it: “Jean was absolutely incapable of living, life was just hopelessly beyond her. When she was young, she floated from man to man in a hopeless way… by the time she was old, she floated from kind woman to kind woman.”

In Rhys’s latter years — hard-drinking, irascible and impoverished — Athill and a small group of female friends formed what they called “The Jean Rhys Committee” which met regularly to ask “what should we do next?”. Rhys’s claim to such loyalty, I suppose, was the weight of her literary talent, her ability to exert an odd kind of fascination, and the fortunate soft-heartedness of her friends. The dramatic collided with the dutiful, and was kept alive by it.

From what I can see, the Princess of Wales exists at the opposite end of the feminine spectrum from Jean Rhys. Pinned firmly in place by her royal obligations, her wealth, her marriage and three children, she belongs to the realm of the respectable and dutiful rather than the erratic and dramatic. She is not a “character” in the artistic sense, nor does she desire to be, but both a survivor and upholder of an institution: hers is the territory of the prompt thank-you note, the kept promise, the commitment to public service, the uncomplicated pleasure in children, the stoic endurance of difficult times in the hope that better ones will come along soon. The public senses an emotional solidity in her, and it is partly why she is held in broad esteem. In this age of insistent self-definition, duty to others might be an unfashionable concept, but it is nonetheless one that keeps families and institutions from chaos and collapse.

With the advent of the internet, however, anyone with a keyboard can become a form of author, with the freedom to insert a toxic form of drama into real-life situations. What was extraordinary, during the Princess of Wales’s recent health problems, is how speedily and carelessly such speculations overrode the bounds of decency. It was already known that she had undergone major abdominal surgery, and was taking time to recover. And yet — egged on by the participation of silly celebrities and malicious US comedians — conspiracy theories about cosmetic surgery and affairs and nervous breakdowns spread like knotweed. According to social-media researchers, these were also vigorously introduced and amplified by fake accounts set up on Twitter and TikTok, some associated with Russia-linked disinformation eager to spread the termites of mistrust and doubt in Western institutions. Only the Princess of Wales’s revelation of cancer, which carries a testing drama all its own, served to shut up the majority of them.

Unlike these callous gossips, Mantel recognised her own complicity in dehumanising royalty. Upon encountering the late Queen, the novelist said: “I passed my eyes over her as a cannibal views his dinner, my gaze sharp enough to pick the meat off her bones.” The Queen looked back at her, she said, briefly hurt. Mantel warned of the way in which “cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty” precisely as it has done in recent weeks. Her talk concluded with a prescient instruction for those who comprehend monarchy mainly as a source of entertainment: “I’m asking us to back off and not be brutes.”

In the midst of treatment and recovery, the most hitherto stable of royal women could be forgiven a keen sense of injustice: her job description, it seems, must now include the ability to weather the online public’s fits of brutish mania for drama. With its contempt for duty, and its savage appetite for story, it is hungry to chew up far more than just the Princess of Wales.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Just over a decade ago, the late novelist Hilary Mantel (6 July 1952 – 22 September 2022) delivered a lecture to an event at the London Review of Books and triggered national outrage.

In the course of a talk on “Royal Bodies,” which ranged widely across royal women from Anne Boleyn to Marie Antoinette and Princess Diana, she had made what many perceived as disparaging remarks about Kate Middleton, then the Duchess of Cambridge.

The Duchess, she said, appeared to have been “designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished."

Indeed, Mantel said, Kate “seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character.”

At this, the newspapers were soon in uproar.

The prime minister David Cameron called the comments “completely misguided and completely wrong” and the Labour leader Ed Miliband agreed they were “pretty offensive.”

Mantel doggedly refused to back down, saying that her remarks had been twisted out of context, and that she was in fact writing with sympathy about the perceptions that are forcefully projected on to royal women, the cage in which they are held to be goggled at.

That was true but also perhaps not the entire truth, for there was still a perceptible trace of authorial vinegar in the portrait:

Which of us would be happy to learn, even in sympathy, that we were held at low risk for “the emergence of character”?

Royals are public as well as private figures, of course, and authors are free to hang intellectual ideas on them to try out, as designers do with clothes.

Yet while much of the lecture was sharply perceptive, I didn’t agree with the portrait of Kate.

That word “selected” had rendered her passive, when in fact her behaviour thus far had suggested both an active intelligence and an unusual degree of self-discipline.

The context of her entry into “The Firm” was different from that of other royal brides.

Unlike Diana, who had barely emerged from the fractured chrysalis of her troubled aristocratic family when she first met the much older, more worldly Prince Charles, Kate was a contemporary of Prince William’s at the University of St Andrews.

Her family background, which appeared warm and supportive, was comfortably middle-class.

She seemed generally cheerful and unruffled, even when the press was at the barbed peak of its “Waity Katie” hysteria, trying to goad Prince William into a proposal or abandonment.

After the wedding, in her approach to royal duties, she clearly took the role she had inherited with marriage seriously.

The royal whose attitude her own most resembled was the late Queen Elizabeth II, who had long understood the essential nature of the job:

To turn up to public events looking the part, intuit precisely what was needed — gravitas, fun, consolation or reassurance — and deliver it while keeping one’s personal emotions on the back burner.

This is what a monarchy demands, and the ability to act as an impeccable interpreter of the public mood, year after year, is a particular and testing art.

A few have a natural aptitude for it, but most of us do not, and would quickly find its scrutiny and restrictions intolerable.

Grace under consistent pressure is an admirable quality.

Were a ballet dancer to execute a string of flawless performances, or a pilot to conduct numerous flights without incident, it would not be deemed evidence of an absence of character: quite the opposite.

Yet in Kate — especially for those who increasingly conduct their lives online — serene self-possession seems to drive a proportion of onlookers insane: what lurks behind it, what dark secret is waiting to destroy it, how best might it be disrupted?

The uncomfortable truth is that what many people deeply crave in a young and beautiful royal wife and mother is not competence, but crack-up.

The increasingly bizarre treatment of Kate, or the idea of Kate, is connected to the most dominant phenomenon of our age: a cultural prioritising of drama over duty.

The supply of drama has spilled beyond the confines of the novel, theatre, cinema, or television to become a commodity on which our public figures are judged.

When Mantel spoke of Kate’s apparent absence of emerging “character,” she was assessing her primarily through the hungry eyes of a novelist.

In books, central female characters often generate dramatic tension by chafing against their circumstances, by the intensifying dazzle of their discontents, something that Kate refused to transmit.

In contrast, Mantel described Diana as a “carrier of myth”: Diana, publicly trapped in the disappointments of her marriage, certainly carried more plot twists than any author had a right to expect.

Unfortunately for her, the final one was her shockingly premature death.

Set against this artistic conception of “character” — distinctive qualities or flaws that, one way or another, deliver drama — is the societal judgement “of good character,” meaning someone who is broadly reliable and respected in relation to their behaviour to others.

In recent years, the electorate, in line with Neil Postman’s warning in his 1985 book, Amusing Ourselves To Death, has proved increasingly ready to select the former over the latter, even to the marked detriment of our civic health.

The former prime minister Boris Johnson instinctively understood it as his job not to deliver the detail of workable policy but to satisfy the public’s appetite for story:

“People live by narrative,” he once told UnHerd’s Tom McTague.

In the US, Donald Trump — that relentless generator of low mockery and high fury — is now running for a second term as president, after his first one ended in his supporters storming the Capitol building.

Men are often permitted to survive the frantic generation of drama: it is everyone around them who suffers.

Yet women — in art and life — have a greater tendency to be destroyed by it.

There is no strutting female equivalent of the male “hellraiser,” but rather a woman who, soaked in the crocodile tears of the tabloids, is tragically “causing concern” among friends.

Art and its audiences have always relished the restless struggle and disintegration of female characters who are, or become, unmoored from the harbour of marriage and children.

Flaubert’s Emma Bovary — her imagination inflamed by reading novels — is bored with her marriage and disenchanted with motherhood.

She seeks solace in affairs and excessive spending, the consequences of which hasten her suicide.

Zola’s Nana, a courtesan who ruthlessly captivates Parisian society, has her beguiling face eaten away by smallpox.

Janis Joplin and Amy Winehouse, immolated on their blazing talent, are hung posthumously high in the musical hall of fame, next to Sylvia Plath in the poetry section and Marilyn Monroe in cinema.

In Jean Rhys’s Good Morning, Midnight, a middle-aged English woman called Sasha Jansen, mourning an unhappy marriage and a dead child, finds herself in Paris, a vulnerable drifter seeking solace from stray men.

Rhys herself, who died at 88 after a precarious but surprisingly long life, had much in common with her literary creations.

As the writer and editor Diana Athill crisply put it:

“Jean was absolutely incapable of living, life was just hopelessly beyond her.

When she was young, she floated from man to man in a hopeless way… by the time she was old, she floated from kind woman to kind woman.”

In Rhys’s latter years — hard-drinking, irascible and impoverished — Athill and a small group of female friends formed what they called “The Jean Rhys Committee,” which met regularly to ask “what should we do next?”

Rhys’s claim to such loyalty, I suppose, was the weight of her literary talent, her ability to exert an odd kind of fascination, and the fortunate soft-heartedness of her friends.

The dramatic collided with the dutiful and was kept alive by it.

From what I can see, the Princess of Wales exists at the opposite end of the feminine spectrum from Jean Rhys.

Pinned firmly in place by her royal obligations, her wealth, her marriage, and three children, she belongs to the realm of the respectable and dutiful rather than the erratic and dramatic.

She is not a “character” in the artistic sense, nor does she desire to be, but both a survivor and upholder of an institution:

Hers is the territory of the prompt thank-you note, the kept promise, the commitment to public service, the uncomplicated pleasure in children, the stoic endurance of difficult times in the hope that better ones will come along soon.

The public senses an emotional solidity in her, and it is partly why she is held in broad esteem.

In this age of insistent self-definition, duty to others might be an unfashionable concept, but it is nonetheless one that keeps families and institutions from chaos and collapse.

With the advent of the internet, however, anyone with a keyboard can become a form of author, with the freedom to insert a toxic form of drama into real-life situations.

What was extraordinary, during the Princess of Wales’s recent health problems, is how speedily and carelessly such speculations overrode the bounds of decency.

It was already known that she had undergone major abdominal surgery and was taking time to recover.

And yet — egged on by the participation of silly celebrities and malicious US comedians — conspiracy theories about cosmetic surgery and affairs and nervous breakdowns spread like knotweed.

According to social-media researchers, these were also vigorously introduced and amplified by fake accounts set up on Twitter and TikTok, some associated with Russia-linked disinformation eager to spread the termites of mistrust and doubt in Western institutions.

Only the Princess of Wales’s revelation of cancer, which carries a testing drama all its own, served to shut up the majority of them.

Unlike these callous gossips, Mantel recognised her own complicity in dehumanising royalty.

Upon encountering the late Queen, the novelist said: “I passed my eyes over her as a cannibal views his dinner, my gaze sharp enough to pick the meat off her bones.”

The Queen looked back at her, she said, briefly hurt. Mantel warned of the way in which “cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty” precisely as it has done in recent weeks.

Her talk concluded with a prescient instruction for those who comprehend monarchy mainly as a source of entertainment: “I’m asking us to back off and not be brutes.”

In the midst of treatment and recovery, the most hitherto stable of royal women could be forgiven a keen sense of injustice:

Her job description, it seems, must now include the ability to weather the online public’s fits of brutish mania for drama.

With its contempt for duty, and its savage appetite for story, it is hungry to chew up far more than just the Princess of Wales.

NOTE: Additional photos have been included in this article.

[bekkachaos]

✨ Bekka's Buddie Fic Recs ✨

I just thought it would be nice to do some fic recs for some of the wonderful creators in this fandom because there is literally so much talent it blows my mind that these beautiful people are out here giving us pieces of their beautiful brains 💕

Long fics and AU fics

☀️ Kiss Me Before it's Over (if only for a Minute) by @buddierights aka the Baseball AU (Rated E, 54k words). Buck and Eddie are pro baseball players on opposing teams, and Buck never gets nervous getting up to bat, until Eddie Diaz, the new star pitcher for the LA Angels, is standing on the pitcher's mound, and his stomach flips and twists. He's pretty sure it's because he hates the guy, until, you know, he doesn't. {I love this fic, it's such a beautiful kinda enemies to lovers ride that you will love every sweet and sexy moment of}

☀️ Let My Ink Stain Your Pages by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels aka the Castle AU (Rated E, 107k words). Buck is a professional crime fiction writer in need of a new muse. Eddie is an LA homicide detective, and the last thing he needs is to be followed around by a reckless author. A sexy six foot plus mystery writer who he absolutely does not find charming and attractive. But when Buck decides that Eddie would make the perfect muse for his new book, that's exactly what Eddie gets. {I might have read this fic 3 times, it's one of my absolute favourites and you better believe I will go back and read it again}

Stupid People by @gayhoediaz (Rated E, 160k words). Eddie is new in town in LA, and he's just come to terms with the fact that he's gay. He figures that hiring a sex worker is the easiest way to explore that side of himself and keep it separate from his son and his work, to keep things uncomplicated. And that's how he finds his way to Buck. His plan works, for a while. {This was one of the first buddie fics I read, and it is an epic sexy, moving, emotional fic that I thought about for so long after, honestly I recommend anything that Nie writes!}

Unless You Ask Me To by @elvensorceress (Rated M, 182k words, in-progress). Eddie starts dating a man, and Buck is completely, one hundred percent Fine(TM). This is a beautiful fleshed out journey of a fic. {I believe one of the tags is 'the most oblivious obtuse pining idiots you will ever meet' and the accuracy of this is insane, I can't wait for the last chapter!}

☀️ never felt this way before (yes I swear) by @rewritetheending aka the dirty dancing AU (Rated M, 50.8k words). Buck and his family go on vacation to the 118 ranch and lodge, where Buck meets a number of new people including Eddie Diaz, and he's pulled into the world of the one-eighteen in a way he never expected, and learning to dance from the most beautiful man he's ever seen. {What more do I have to say other than dirty dancing AU? This fic is amazing from start to finish and so so hot!}

Explicit fics

Bases Loaded by @lamardeuse (Rated E, 2k words). Eddie wants to take things slowly, and Buck obliges him. {It's a sexy slow build between the two of them and just sucks you right in!}

More bang for your buck by @prettyboybuckley (Rated E, 14.2k words). Eddie's got a problem with a noisy neighbour, only, he can't exactly confront him because how do you knock on someone's door and say 'you have the loudest sex I've ever had the pleasure of hearing through the wall'? Because it is, a pleasure, the sound of him is just doing things to him. And then he finds the guy's twitter, and then his Instagram, and he is too far down the rabbit hole to back down. {This is hot the whole way through, and Buck testing toys and posting online? Spicy hot content!}

I lit the match, the firemen can do the rest by @honestlydarkprincess (Rated E, 6.6k words). Eddie needs to see Buck, so he drives over to his place to see Buck getting railed by Natalia with a strap on, and he can't look away, especially when Buck comes just by Natalia mentioning Eddie's name. When she leaves, Eddie feels the need to prove that it's even better when he takes things into his own hands. {This is Eddie pining for Buck and then getting to have him, all to himself}

☀️ today I live for a single drop of you by @alyxmastershipper (Rated E, 38.9k words). This is the 5 + 1 blowjob fic, five times Buck dreams of sucking Eddie's cock and the one time he gets to do it. Nuff said {Ryan just has such a beautiful lyrical way of writing that they can make an epic fic about blowjobs poetic, a masterpiece}

More AUs

mark me like a bloodstain by @monsterrae1 (Rated M, 6k words). A fic where your soul marks appear on your skin when they appear on your soulmate, when they are badly injured. Buck's first marks show up in college, and his first thought is that his soulmate is dead. He doesn't figure it out until his best friend is shot in front of him, and then he realises it's been Eddie all along. {I love soulmate fics and I love the shooting arc, and this fic is just so wonderful from start to finish}

and I'd choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 (Rated E, 16.7k words). Eddie and Buck are pen pals when Eddie is in the army, and god it shouldn't have been so romantic, but he got Evan Buckley. And he thought maybe he might just be the person he spends the rest of his life with, until he completely disappears. Four years later, they meet again, only Buck has no idea who Eddie is. {did I include another Rae fic? Yes I did, because this one was just too good to leave out}

☀️ all I know is a new found grace (all my days I'll know your face) by @heartbeatdiaz aka the photographer Buck AU (Rated E, 4.5k words). Eddie is participating in the annual firefighters calendar, and the photographer is stupidly beautiful. Like, crazy gorgeous with big blue eyes and a smile that makes Eddie's palms sweat. {Photographer Buck is just such a beautiful thing to imagine, and honestly you could hit shuffle and pick any of April's fics and you're bound to love it}

even gods die by @kitkatpancakestack (Rated T, 7.6k words). This is quite a heavy fic, Buck has brain cancer and he and Eddie are at a cabin together talking about his diagnosis and how they feel about it. It's angsty with a hopeful ending. {This is a beautiful, emotional fic and it moved me so much to read. Not for everyone, but wow was this amazing}

Fun, Flirty and Fluffy fics

☀️ To have and to hold (what's mine is yours) by @the-likesofus (Rated G, 3.3k words). It's Buck and Eddie's one year anniversary (paper). Eddie gives something Buck has had all along, that last piece of his heart. {This is such a heartwarming Buckley-Diaz family feels fic and made me smile so hard}

Everything But (temptation) and Worth the Wait by @spotsandsocks (Rated T, 4.7k & 5.4k words). Five times Buck is tempted by Eddie and the one time he finally gives in, or, five times Eddie attempts to tempt Buck and the one time it finally works. {These fics are from Buck's pov and then Eddie's, and they were so much fun to read both times!}

smile to hide the truth by @fallingthorns (Rated T, 5.1k words). Eddie is getting married, only it's not to Buck. And Buck should really say something, should have really said something earlier. Because now Eddie is standing at the altar, only he's staring back at Buck and asking what would make him happier. {This isn't exactly fluffy but god the anticipation and the build up to that wedding, and the ending? You won't regret this read, I loved it}

still by @gayhoediaz (Rated T, 9.3k words). Based on an episode of Castle (are you sensing a theme here?) where Eddie steps on a plate in a house where they've just put out a fire, and he just knows that he's stepped on a pressure bomb. Buck refuses to leave him standing there alone while they figure it out, but time is literally ticking for them. {These two just fit the Caskett shoes perfectly, and this was tense, emotional and just a wonderful read}

between who you are and who you could be by @paranoidbean (Rated T, 5.6k words). Eddie is working at a plasma donation centre, and Buck just keeps coming back in, after making an impression the first time by passing out. {This is an adorable meet cute that just made me feel fuzzy inside}

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two by @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy (Rated G, 7.2k words). In which Eddie is buried alive, and Buck loses his mind with worry and grief. Basically a missing part to Eddie Begins. {This was a beautiful exploration of Buck's emotions as he's afraid he's lost Eddie}

I hope you all enjoy these fics as much as I did, just wanted to spread some love and appreciation 💕

[justmeinadaze]

We're A Family Part 16 (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is very much a Steddie chapter and I love it so much. This is probably going to be one of if not my favorite chapter in this series. I wanted them to really fully embrace that lovers aspect of their relationship and totally be ok loving each other as much as they love the reader.

Warnings: Parent Dads Steddie and Mama Reader, mentions of trying and struggling to get pregnant, SMUT (between the boys <3), lots of fluff, Steve VERY BRIEFLY mentions fears of telling his family they are trying to have another kid. I think that's it. Genuinely just a lot of sweetness in this one.

Word Count: 3116

“Fuck me…”, Steve pants as he throws his arm over his eyes. 

“I just did.”, you giggle as you roll over to face him. 

You and Steve had been spending a lot more time alone in the pursuit of baby number three. Of course, Eddie was still very much involved in sexy time but he insisted if there was a point where he could take the kids out of the house, you three should take the opportunity. 

It had been a few months and still no positive test. The doctor insisted you both were healthy and fine, you just “need to keep trying.” The metalhead did everything he could to help. 

“Eddie, baby, why are you smoking so far away? You can sit next to me on the porch here.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I read online that smoke can affect you when you’re trying to get pregnant.”

“You were smoking around me constantly before and we still got Ro.”, you laugh.

“Baby, I can do the dishes. You’ve been at work all day.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You and Steve just relax, ok? I got this. Wayne said stress sometimes can make it harder for you two to…you know…”

“Hey, princess! I went grocery shopping today so you don’t have to on Friday after work. I also got some more fruit. I read this book at work that was saying it helps with trying to have a baby.”

Steve grins as he turns to face you as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…I don’t know.”

“Honey, it’s ok. It will happen when it happens.”

“I just feel bad. I feel like Eddie is stressing himself out taking care of us.”

“He has been going a little overboard.”, he chuckles. “Oh, I know that look. Dylan makes that face when he’s planning something. What do you have in mind, baby?”

***

“Mom, this place is amazing.”, Dylan’s jaw drops as he looks around the house the realtor brought you guys to. 

It was a rustic style home that definitely had that country feel. The entryway lead into the kitchen on the right and gigantic living room straight ahead with a gorgeous stone fireplace. The back door was mostly clear glass so you would be able to see outside when the kids were playing. 

“It’s beautiful. It’s not too far from Wayne either and it’s right next to the lake.”, Eddie grins, running his fingers along the countertop in the kitchen. 

“It’s also within your budget and has those five rooms you had originally mentioned, ma’am.”, the man showing you the house guides you around, pointing out the two bedrooms downstairs and the backyard that is much bigger than your current one. 

Steve pats Aurora’s back as she continues to sleep, drooling on the shoulder of his jacket.

“Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“No, ma’am. Take all the time you need.”

The four of you lean against the counters in the kitchen as you wait for him to leave. “What do you think, kid?”, Eddie asks.

“I like it a lot especially since it’s by the water.”

“It’s closer to my store but it’s a bit of a drive for the three of you every morning.”

You chew on your nail as you think. “Just an extra 10minutes which isn’t too bad. What do you think, Stevie?”

“I’m fine with the drive. We may need to update some things though like childproofing the locks and stuff. Other than that, I think it’s perfect.”

“Alright, gentlemen. Let’s fill out some applications and pray.”

##############

“Hang on, Ed.” Steve reaches over and grabs Eddie’s arm as he begins to get out of the car. “You guys have fun! “

“Bye dada an daddy.”, Aurora waves.

They wave back with a smile, waiting for you three to get inside before the man drives away. 

“What’s going on?”, the metalhead asks. 

“Y/N and I thought you needed some time away from the kids and the house so we’re going on a date.”

“Did Y/N not want to come? She should have a night out to.”

“Eddie!”, Steve chuckles. “She’s fine, trust me. Let me show you what a date night with Steve Harrington is like.”

“Oh, someone’s cocky. Alright, Harrington. Wine and dine me.”, he grins. 

***

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, can you just…hold my hand. I’m so nervous.” Dylan smiles as he sits on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his. “This anticipation is killing me. With you and Ro it was just like ‘Hey, there’s a baby in there.’ I’ve never really had to utilize a pregnancy test like this.”

“With Aurora, you thought you were sick. Did you think the same thing before you found out about me?”

“Naw, with you, I was doing a routine exam and they had to make sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

The timer on your phone beeps and you sigh before reaching onto the bedside table where the test had been sitting. As you read the results, uncontrollable tears begin cascading down your face while Dylan wraps his arms around your neck.

***

“That band was fucking awesome!”, Eddie exclaims as the other man grins at his excitement. 

Steve decided to take the metalhead to new bar just outside of the city limits. He knew how much he loved music, thinking it would make him happy to see some bands play while they drank and talked. 

“It’s been a while since you guys have been on a stage like that. Do you miss it?”

The man shakes his head as he takes a swing of the beer from his glass. “I mean I still play with the guys but that rush that I used to get being on stage…no it’ll sound stupid.”

“No, come on. Tell me.”

“That rush I used to get…I get now with the kids. Dude, seeing Dylan on his first date and watching Ro learn do those vocabulary card things you got her… that makes me happy. I can’t wait to see what this new baby will be like.” Eddie notices Steve’s posture stiffen and he promptly reaches out to rub his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll happen, man.”

“I know. I hate seeing that sad look on her face with every period or failed test.”

“The doctor said everything was good though, right?”

“Yeah, just have to keep trying.”, he sighs before glancing towards Eddie. “I haven’t told my mom yet that Y/N and I are…you know. I’m afraid she’ll tell my dad and I have no idea what he’ll do.”

“Steve, babe, fuck your dad. He can try whatever he wants but he’s not breaking up our family.”

The man exhales a cute, breathy chuckle. “Did you just call me babe?”

The metalhead grins even wider as he leans closer to him. “Depends. Did you like it?”

#######

 The bathroom door to the men’s room hurtles open as Steve pushes Eddie through it with his lips on his and quickly locks it behind him. The metalhead groans, shoving his back against it and begins fumbling with the other boy’s belt before lowering himself to his knees. 

“Fuck.”, Steve mewls as the man below him takes his already leaking cock into his mouth. Eddie knows exactly how his husband likes it, you showed him well, and he revels in the sounds he pulls from him as he takes him deeper till he’s gagging around him. 

It’s not just the action itself but his small, tender touches that have Steve moaning. While Eddie bobs his head, his hands roam the other man’s body, tracing the back of his thighs, up to his stomach. Steve can’t help but wonder how he would react if he spoke to Eddie the same way he talked to you. 

“That’s it, Eddie, baby, fuck. Just like that.” His eyes fluttered closed as he tangled his fingers into his hair, guiding him as the metalhead’s rhythm picked up. Steve couldn’t hold out any longer, he needed him now. 

He tugged on the boy’s hair and he took the hint, rising to his feet and hooking his lips to Steve’s sweet spot on his neck. Growling with desire, he lifted Eddie into his arms and placed him on the counter, aggressively yanking off his jeans. Pulling him to the edge, he lifted his leg over his shoulder and guided his cock into the man’s entrance. 

Eddie’s eyes rolled as Steve slid his hand along his stomach, slowly thrusting his hips as he relished the feeling of the man he loved.

Did he tell him that enough? I’m sure if he asked, Eddie would tell him he’s being silly and of course he does. They had gotten much closer these past few years and became more comfortable sexually but there was a level of intimacy Steve felt they still struggled with. 

“Eddie?” The man responded with a hm as he bit his lip to keep from moaning too loud. “I love you.”

He heard the change in Steve’s tone, promptly opening his eyes to scan him over. Propping himself up on one of his elbows, he reached over to caress his cheek as his thumb glided along his skin. 

“I love you to.”

“No, No. I love you.” 

Eddie blinked a few times before wrapping his hand around the man’s neck and pulling him down till he was hovering over him.

“I love you to. So fucking much, sweetheart. I-I grew up feeling like no one—mmm—no one ever really cared about me. Then I met you and Y/N.” He craned his neck to capture the man’s lips. “Steve, you can talk to me like you talk to her. I like it.”

“Yeah? So, you would like hearing—fuck—hearing me say things about how good you fucking feel, baby, squeezing my cock?”

“Jesus.” Eddie laid back flat against the counter as his hand reached down to stroke his own dick. 

“That’s it, Eddie. Play with yourself while I fuck you. God, you look so fucking sexy right now.”

“Ha-harder, Steve. Please.”, he moans. 

“Is that what you need, honey? I can do that.”

As he rolled his hips into his roughly, the metalhead covered his mouth with his palm, suffocating the urge to scream at the pleasure that ran through his body. His back arched as his abs tensed as rope after rope of spend hit the skin on his stomach. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve groaned as he pounded into the man faster chasing his high. After a few more rough thrusts, Eddie felt him cum inside of him, look up to watch his eyebrows scrunch together and his neck muscles tighten as he did. 

Gradually, he pulled his softening cock out of him and reached over to grab some napkins to help clean Eddie up.

“I’m sorry if these are rough. They aren’t like our towels at home.”, Steve sighs as he tosses the paper in the trash. As he begins pulling up his pants, Eddie abruptly tackles him into a hug, squeezing tightly as he lays his cheek on his chest. “Is everything ok?”

The metalhead nods. “Y/N does this to us after and now I kind of see why. I feel…closer to you if that’s even fucking possible.”

Steve softly laughs as he wraps his own arms around him, pressing him tighter to his chest with his palm. “Yeah, baby. I know what you mean.”

***

As they walk into the front door of the house, they are surprised to find it completely silent. Steve quietly searches the downstairs, turning off lights while Eddie locks everything down. 

When the enter their bedroom, they grin finding everyone asleep in your bed. Dylan was on his side with you behind him, arm draped over him and Aurora who was snuggled up in her brother’s chest as she sucked her thumb. 

Both men quickly changed out of their cigarette, bar smelling clothes and crawled into bed; Steve behind you and Eddie behind his daughter. 

***

“Daddy.”, Ro coos as she lightly taps her father’s face with her palm. “Daddy. Wake up.”

“Ro. Aurora.”, you whispered as you tapped her side. “Leave daddy alone and let him sleep, sweetie.”

“Mama, no. Daddy wake up.”

Dylan groaned in his sleep as he rolled over to face you. 

“Why? Why do you need daddy to wake up?”

She giggles as she falls to her knees and pushes at his arm. “Daddy, I miss you.”

“Well, that’s adorable.”, Steve sighs.

“Dada help Rara.”

“What do you need help with honey? Waking up daddy?” He lazily lifts his arm towards Eddie, trying to reach him with his hand. “Op, he’s too far. I can’t.”

“Dada!”, she growls and you feel the man smile in your shoulder. Aurora begins pushing at him again until he rolls onto his back and playfully pushes her aside with his hand. 

“I think I chose the wrong side to sleep on.”, he grumbles. 

“Hun-gee.”, she points to her stomach. 

“Aurora Munson- Harrington, you did not just wake him up for that!”, you giggle as she beams at you. 

“Whoosh!”, she exclaims as she pretends to throw something in the air. 

“She wants dad’s pancakes.”, Dylan yawns as he stretches. “Which actually sounds good.”

“Can you take her downstairs and put on a cartoon for her, weirdo? Give them some time to wake up.”

Your son nods as he slides off the bed, coming around to pick up his sister and bring her downstairs. Both men immediately scoot closer to you, pulling you into their embrace. 

“Did you two have fun last night?”

“Mhmm. He took me on a ‘Steve Harrington style date’.”

“Oh, you lucky man.”

“Did you three do anything exciting last night?”, Steve asked. 

“We did. Watched a few movies and ordered a pizza. I did go to the store real quick and bought you guys something. Eddie, baby, can you look into your nightstand and grab the thing on top for me?”

He sleepily nodded as he shifted his body to grab what you were asking for. His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realized what he was holding. 

“Harrington. STEVE!”, Eddie shouted startling the other man as he sat up making you laugh harder. The metalhead handed him the pregnancy test and he promptly sat up straighter. 

“Is this…? Are we…? Is this real? You’re really pregnant?”

Your grin grows as you nod. Steve tackles his arms around you, kissing every part of your face his lips can reach. As soon as you’re free, Eddie does the same much more gently. 

“Oh my god. I’m so happy.” Steve lays back down with a big smile on his face as he exhales. 

“You see what I mean, babe? Same kind of rush but better.”, the metalhead grins as he winks at the other man whose own smile grows. 

“Oh wow.” Both men look at you with confused looks as you smirk. “Ok, I don’t know what you two did last night but that energy is back.”

“Are you drunk? You shouldn’t be drinking if you’re pregnant.”

You giggle as you slap Eddie’s shoulder. “No, no, no. Nothing wrong with it. I kind of missed that…electricity…between the two of you. Maybe you both need a date night more often.”

After kissing them both again, you climb out of bed and head for the bedroom door, pausing as you turn to face them. 

“I hope you know you both can be intimate without me. I genuinely don’t mind. I know you both love me just as much as you love each other.” You flash them one final smile before going down the stairs. 

“We don’t deserve her.”, Steve sighs pleasantly as he watches you leave. 

“Yeah, we do. Charlie didn’t deserve her. Fucking idiot.” Eddie lays back down, scooting closer to the other boy. “I still think about the first time I talked to her on the stairs outside of the apartment. He was making her feel bad about him not coming to see Dylan. When I opened the door to sit outside and smoke, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to drive to wherever he was and kick his ass.”

Steve slid a little closer to him till the back of his hand was barely touching his. 

“I always think about that night at The Hideout when we surprised her while she was on her date and you played that one AC/DC song for her. When she ran out of that bar…I can’t tell you how happy it made me especially after being away from her for so long. She fucking flew into our arms and I never wanted to let her go.”

“We kind of didn’t.”, he chuckled. 

Their fingers intertwined as they turned to smile at each other. Eddie leaned over and brought his lips to his, both men laughing as they pulled away when they heard loud noises downstairs.

“Hey! Are you trying to make everyone lose their hearing?! Turn the tv down!”, Steve hollered over dramatically as they both entered the area. 

“Told you.”, you sang from the sink as you washed some dishes you knew the metalhead would need.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you to his chest as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air She told me to come, but I was already there 'Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking My mind was aching and we were making it

And you shook me all night long Yeah, you shook me all night long.”

You grinned at the memory as he sang softly in your ear. Steve turned off the water before circling his arms around you both, kissing the top of your head. The sound of tiny feet slapping into the kitchen had you laughing in his chest. 

“Daddy! Rara and Din hun-gee!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah ya little butt. Come here.” She giggled as she ran into his arms and he lifted her onto the counter. “You’re going to help me?” Aurora nodded her little head as she waited for instructions. 

Steve lifted you into his arms and carried you to the living room, placing you gently on the sofa. 

“Did you tell them?”

“I did. They’re pretty excited.”

“I am to.”, Dylan smiled. “Did you guys want to play a game while we wait for breakfast? Especially since now she’s distracted.”

“I’m not really good with games.”

“Uh huh. Making excuses already, Steve Harrington. That’s ok. Dylan and I already know you suck.”

He jokingly scowls in your direction as your son hands you both a controller. 

“What are we playing?”

#############

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[jmtorres]

Hi, this is random, but would you mind sharing more about your gut issues/long covid? (I.e. diagnosis, treatment). I have chronic fatigue, and gut issues that are definitely linked to that, but all of my doctors are being extremely useless about it. (No worries if this is not the kind of info you want to share with a total stranger on the internet)

(This is in reference to my comment on this post)

@reptilerex I appreciate you recognizing the sensitivity of this ask, I am going to go ahead and answer it because I feel like the likelihood that you or someone you know (or even others of my readers) are struggling with long covid and finding adequate medical help vastly outweighs the minuscule probability that you've hacked into HIPAA records and are planning to dox me lol

so in the immediate aftermath of my first bout of covid (despite vaxxing and masking regularly, I'm up to two now 😭) my obvious symptoms were fatigue – going to the grocery store would wear me out for 2+ days – and a 20 year-old scar from a car accident reopened, which sounds like some scurvy ass bullshit, and I do wonder if the fact that my friend @niqaeli, who knew that long covid symptoms are highly correlated with MCAS symptoms and was encouraging me to start MCAS otc treatments like vitamin C supplements, helped. (worth noting that while I didn't hear anything about old scars reopening as a covid/post covid thing before it happened to me, but when I told people about it, they were like "oh yeah, that happened to me or someone I know" SO often) My doctor sent me to a wound specialist for that, and they kept poking it trying to figure out if there was some embedded shrapnel that they hadn't realized was in there originally, but ultimately it just healed back over much redder and angrier than the first time.

so then, the fatigue. My doctor had me wait three months because it wasn't officially long covid until three months. obnoxious as hell. I found out the DMV accepts long covid for a disability placard reason and got my doctor to write me a DMV form about how I couldn't walk hardly any distance. she was willing to do that before the three month mark.

I was Johnny on the spot coming back three months after, the first thing she did was send me for a chest x-ray because the obvious/expected reason for fatigue is you're not getting enough O2 in your blood. There was nothing wrong with my lungs and we were kind of at a dead end until I presented my doctor with more options.

I mean, I was kind of like, my PCP is being useless, I have a PPO, why can't I just go directly to a specialist, but it turns out specialist won't take you without a referral because reasons. I had heard rheumatologist is as good at figuring out weird vague shit so I tried to book there but when I told them long covid, they said that wasn't their department. They said I needed to go see an immunologist which sounded wrong to me, but there was a pretty good HIV specialist immunologist in the area that I tried to book with who said no that's not what long covid is. someone recommended a Long Covid Specialty clinic in a city that is 2 to 5 hours away depending on traffic and I knew I wasn't making that drive in my current condition so was like somebody local gotta help me.

so I went back to my PCP and said to her that I had learned from disability communities online that sometimes a rheumatologist can be helpful. And she said OK we can do some blood tests for inflammation markers to see if I can justify a referral to a rheumatologist. (and I thought of my weird scar issue and thought gee I better have some weird inflammation markers)

So I had some inflammation markers pop and I got a referral to a rheumatologist, and they were actually willing to see me. The rheumatologist ordered so many tests, like an unbelievable number of tests. I think they drew like eight vials of blood. Plus other samples. The rheumatologist was basically like let's look for anything and everything.

I had a borderline response on Calprotectin. To quote from the explainer in the test notes:

Calprotectin in Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis can be five to several thousand times above the reference population (50 mcg/g or less). Levels are usually 50 mcg/g or less in healthy patients and with irritable bowel syndrome.

so I wasn't high enough to qualify for IBD outright from that test results, but I was high enough that it flagged to the rheumatologist, and I had reported a family history (brother has IBD), so he said that was enough to diagnose and started prescribing me for that.

The thing is, rheumatology is an ass backwards way to get an IBD diagnosis and I was having another symptom that I hadn't reported because I was a dumbass and this is the apocryphal frog boiling slowly thing. I was having fairly regular loose stool/diarrhea. if I had told my PCP that could I have gotten a referral to a gastroenterologist and gotten a less ass backwards diagnosis?

I hadn't told my PCP about loose stools for two reasons:

I didn't think it was relevant to the fatigue, and in fact, I still didn't think it was relevant when the rheumatologist called it, and I was really surprised when taking medication for IBD did actually turn out to help the fatigue

I knew I was lactose intolerant, so I thought it was already explained. However, the rheumatologist and I had this exchange:

Him: so do you still drink regular milk or just Lactaid?

Me: Lactaid

Him: then you shouldn't still be having diarrhea

Me:…

I can't remember the first med he started me on because I was only on it for a couple of weeks before we had to switch. (it helped a lot when I could tolerate it but about every three days I had to throw up and then I felt awful and didn't take the med for a couple of days and you can guess how that went.) the one that I went on long-term that actually worked without side effects for me was mesalamine/lialda. I also started experimenting with some dietary changes, the low FODMAP diet is intended for IBS not IBD, but you are still expected to have IBD triggers so I was playing around with that.

for a few weeks, I had incredible improving energy. It was crazy.

then I made what I can only now think of as a mistake in trying to be proactive about my care. because I had stumbled ass backwards into an IBD diagnosis and I felt like I should have gastroenterologist confirm it, and I went to go see my brother's gastroenterologist. he wanted to do a colonoscopy and he asked me to go off the mesalamine for six weeks so that he could see what my colon was like without treatment and it was the worst fucking six weeks of my life. Hated it. colonoscopy results: he didn't see anything fucking wrong and would not diagnose IBD or prescribe mesalamine based on what he found. I said, but the mesalamine improves my symptoms, what does that mean? He said, it means keep seeing your rheumatologist.

I went back to the rheumatologist and told him about the whole debacle with the gastroenterologist and he was like "so how did he explain your inflammation readings?" like CHECKMATE. And he concluded that any lesions I had must be in the small intestine, not the large intestine and so were not seen by colonoscopy.

I kept taking mesalamine. My improvement was slower after the break from it which sucks but I did get back to normal lab work within six months, hallelujah.

Follow up: MORE stuff that might have been avoided if I had gastroenterologist regularly, had gotten an IBD diagnosis from a gastroenterologist, or had mentioned my shitty symptoms in the immediate: the gallbladder bullshit this summer

I had my second round of covid in May and I didn't notice a lot of fatigue coming out of it, though I was more cautious with myself the second time around, but I was sort of holding my breath for what horrible nonsense is going to come out of this now? so then I had what I thought was a really bad case of Gerd that didn't go away for two weeks even though my Gerd usually resolves in like a day. I went to my PCP twice during this period and then ultimately ended up at the ER when I realized my pain was in my side not central anymore and I was worried about appendicitis. It wasn't appendicitis. It was my gallbladder. and it came out that night. overall, I am very happy with how the hospital handled the emergency for instance, I didn't realize until two weeks later that I seriously could've died because they were so calm about it the whole time but like they don't do same-day surgery unless death is on the line, let's be real.

but here's things that could have been helped if I had better gastroenterology care:

I didn't find this out until I was researching gallstones after the fact, and I would like to think a gastroenterologist would have warned me whereas the rheumatologist wasn't super aware of it but: IBD can lead to gallstones because one of the ways a cholesterol gallstone forms is, if you get an imbalance of bile and cholesterol in your gallbladder; your body wants to recycle bile by reabsorbing it at the end of your small intestine, but if you have IBD, sometimes it loses the bile instead of reabsorbing it, and then you get an overabundance of cholesterol, turning into a gallstone the size of a golf ball

I told my PCP it was a case of Gerd that wouldn't go away, but I didn't tell her I was also having diarrhea. Diarrhea is not a Gerd symptom. Maybe if I had just fucking told her she might've recognized or could've sent me to somebody who would have recognized it as a gallbladder symptom before it turned into an immediate emergency

tl;dr don't hide your gut symptoms from your doctor because you "think" you know what's wrong with your guts or that it's not related to your other problems or you're embarrassed or what the fuck ever just tell them that you're shitting yourself because it might turn out to be important