#but frankly i feel crummy

[silverskye13]

In which we just need... a little time.

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part nine

Words: 571 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Steve's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Turning twenty-one is supposed to be big and fun and momentous. Or at least that’s what everyone’s always told Steve, but he thinks it’s off to a rather crummy start actually. Surely that means it can only go up from here, right?

Except that part where it absolutely doesn’t do that. If anything, Steve finds his luck getting worse and worse. From missing his bus to losing his wallet to dropping his phone, it feels like one little thing after another little thing, and quite frankly he’s sick of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d blame Eddie.

But the thing is, Steve’s always kind of had awful luck, so if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his own. It doesn’t make him feel better about Eddie just always being there, though.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t just fuck off for like an hour?” Steve asks exasperatedly and for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Trust me,” Eddie deadpans in return, looking just as annoyed as Steve feels which only serves to make him bristle more, “if I could leave for any length of time, I would. But I get dragged back here any time I try.”

If Steve were less annoyed, he might feel sorry for Eddie. Something about a lack of freewill makes him sad, angry, upset? He’s not sure. But Eddie’s annoying, so Steve can’t bring himself to feel bad for anyone but himself. He’s never done well with being annoyed.

“What if you talk to whoever the hell is in charge of you or whatever?” Steve suggests, not for the first time in the week they’ve known each other. “Surely they can give you some kind of away time.”

Sighing like the weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders, Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t get to her if I can’t leave. And I can’t take you with me, so we’re just gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

It’s the same response Steve always gets, but that doesn’t make it any less grating. Steve wants to be alone. Preferably for a long time while he processes the disaster that was the morning after his birthday. Shoving it down, pretending nothing happened because he doesn’t want Eddie (or anyone else) to see how much it’s upset him, can’t work forever.

This time, though, a thought strikes Steve and he frowns in thought. “What if you tried your weird magic shit?” he asks. “You cleaned up a murder scene with it. Surely you can use it to allow me to be alone for a while?”

Mentioning the murder scene to someone other than himself leaves Steve grimacing, but it’s the reality of things. It also brings him that much closer to a breakdown, but he keeps it held back. He always does when the memory tickles at the edges of his brain, which is alarmingly often the longer he dwells on it.

Eddie frowns in thought, expression matching Steve’s as he considers the suggestion. “I don’t think it would hurt to try,” he allows after a few moments. “Not optimistic, but we don’t seem to need many angelic miracles right now so…”

Which Steve disagrees with, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead he just watches Eddie, watches as the blinding light fills the room just like it had all the times before, and when it clears Eddie is gone.

Steve is alone.

As always, tags below the cut. Let me know if you want added!

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddiee @penny00dreadfull @momotonescreamingg @stevesbipanicic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

[louiesselfshipramblings]

Once in a Lifetime: ENA selfship!!

My relationship with ENA as a series is a bit interesting. I knew of her through tumblr for a while, I'd say, but never looked into it. My friend showed me the trilogy of shorts that had her (it was "Auction Day", "Extinction Party", and "Temptation Stairway" at the time), and I thought the style was cool! I didn't think much of ENA as is, but to be fair, I was still a blossoming bud when it came to figure out what I liked. After all I was only, like...eighteen. Lol.

Ena is def one of my more recent selfships, and I was kinda unsure of her when she re-entered my mind. I was unsure if it was really smth special, or just kind of a spur of the moment situation. I was still kinda feeling that as I got this quite frankly amazing commission, but seeing the WIPs and ESPECIALLY the final product made me go "Oh yeh...that's my gf!!!"

The Lore!!

My sona here is known as Lüc, which is a somewhat corruption of my own name? I wanted something that matched the sorta off-kilter, fake-video-game vibes of ENA as is. Tho, given the sparse nature of world building as of now, I'm kinda just making the setting...Earth-like with special features, lol. Maybe DreamBBQ will change things, idk yet.

But!! Lüc!! He's a starry eyed (quite literally) mid-twenty-something who owns a local theater, but it's a lil crummy. Has an old, 80s style appearance due to lack of budget, which also effects the showings. Since I can't afford big releases, I mainly show older public domain films and cartoons, with "new" content being indie films. It attracts...people, at least. I also sell cashews instead of popcorn cause I don't like how kernels get stuck in my teeth (and in lore an unpopped kernel cracked a tooth of his as a kid)

Ena sorta just stumbled in, as she does, and hung out in the lobby. Didn't even see a film, but she did buy some cashews. We did chat for a while. It was a brief encounter, but...I kinda fell for her at first sight XD

The feeling of liking was mutual, course, but she didn't really think it romantic at first. Which is why she visited so often! To see her friend! Yippie...but eventually I had the guts to tell her how I feel (we were close enough friends by then), and she was a little surprised at first! I was worried I upset her at first, but turns out she was just thinking it over. The look of realization on her face and the way she blurted out "THAT'S WHAT THE CARNATIONS MEANT!!!" still stick in my head, heh!

We didn't start right there, exactly. Ena said she needed time to think it over, so of course I let her. I was bracing myself for waiting a whole week of not seeing her, but she ended up popping back in three days later, roughly. She seemed a lil lost for words, which shocked me seeing as she usually had such colorful vocabulary. I tried to give her some support in realizing her feelings and such, before she blurted out, again, "I LIKE YOU A LOT TOO?? CAN WE DATE MAYBE???"

And we just kinda started dating! I took her out to a very nice restaurant, and that's also where we had our first kiss!!! And we've just been kinda going regular since! She still lives at her place, but she visits a lot to mine (second floor of the theater, saves space and money!!).

We're still very much enjoying being each other's bf and gf, so marriage is hardly on the table. No kids either, probably. Neither of us think we'd be able to handle it, lol. Moony visits sometimes too! We...get along best we can. I realize she's Ena's best friend, she realizes I mean a lot to Ena. We tolerate one another for her sake.

But yeah! That's my self ship with Ena! The series timeline is kinda...nebulous? Especially with DreamBBQ and the whole "second" Ena. I mainly just ship with the OG blue-yellow pre-TempStair version of her; gonna have to wait and see with this new gal!

The amazing art of me and Ena coming together was done by the always spectacular @cupiidzbow! I said before but you did just AMAZING here!! Like my sona is great but also your Ena is so cute???? I def gotta get more with her from ya! And you, the reader, should support Freddie and his monkey business!

[donnerpartyofone]

While I was writing the previous post I thought of this person I used to know from the comics world who was like intensely dogmatic about everything and it could get in the way of how much I liked her. (I mean there are a lot of intensely dogmatic people in the comics world, but most of them I'm happy to just dislike)

I had a piece in one of her zines one year, and I was posting all this process stuff on my art blog; honestly I was acting a little insecure (I'm STILL insecure about that piece), but also I was genuinely amusing myself, I liked talking about the choices I made and the challenges I was running into. And I have a right to be a little insecure on Tumblr, don't I, what would this place be without that? But at some point she questioned me about this behavior, and it was really clear from her tone that she thought I shouldn't be doing it--like that she thought an artist shouldn't do all this explaining, the work should speak for itself etc. I found that sort of annoying; I mean she doesn't have to follow my blog, who fucking cares?

But I definitely didn't get the worst of that attitude. At some point somebody who lives extremely far away, who we'd have barely known from the internet, started circulating a zine that was just xeroxed and stapled, and it was really crude and just frankly not good. But I mean everyone has the right to make a crummy zine, that's sort of the beauty of zines OR SO I THOUGHT--naturally my friend was analyzing this thing that she didn't even really need to know about, and eventually she got so worked up that she declared that the person SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO MAKE COMICS. It was so crazy to me, like how did she even come up with that idea? Frankly she was being really fascist and sometimes I wish I had told her that because it would have blown her hippie mind into a million billion pieces. But I don't get off on treating people like that, unfortunately.

Later I started this collective blog, the point of which was explicitly to make a space for people to practice drawing together even if they didn't feel good at it. People could reblog random posts to it that looked fun to draw, and then they could post their drawings if they wanted. It was fun for a little while, but I stupidly told my crotchety friend about it and of course she instantly had a big problem with how loose and casual it was. She kept needling me about how I should add all these rules and set all these quality standards and make barriers for entry and keep everybody in line, and I could tell she was getting really mad. I mean I was very explicit about how the entire point was for it to be relaxed enough for anyone to use it without feeling intimidated, it wasn't like this project that I was sculpting to impress people and honestly SHE COULD DO HER OWN THING if she wanted to have something really competitive and ambitious and hard to succeed at. It seemed like she was just really angry that someone, somewhere was having a good time. And just to drive the point home she joined the blog and posted this painting she had made, having nothing to do with any of the posts on the blog, that was like an MFA-quality self-portrait. And naturally it got a lot of notes because it was a good painting, but I couldn't understand why she felt like she had to actively punish a group of people for just, like, casually doodling together because they fuckin feel like it.

[itsythebitsyspider]

Thought dumping part one:

Sometimes I look at my body and see its soft, pale skin and think ‘I complain a lot for someone without scars.’ Because in my mind, having scars— a physical showcase that I have been through something and survived it and it hurt me enough to scar— is one of the only reasons I should have to complain about my crummy life. But I don’t have any scars, because a lot of the stuff I go through is just mental stress and emotional turmoil. It doesn’t seem fair to me that I get to carry the burden of surviving some emotional or mental distress and not have some kind of scar to show off that I survived. All I have is the fact that I can still laugh and smile and find things to make my day better. And I guess that in itself should be something I should be grateful for. Not a lot of people can go through what I have and still find the will to laugh and smile. But that’s not enough for me. (Frankly, what is?) I want to be able to look down at my leg or my arm or my stomach and see something. I want proof that I survived. I want to see something, feel something, have some kind of testament that I’ve won some unseen and difficult battle. But all I’ve got is some moles and arm hair and veins that show from beneath my skin.

Context: I woke up and there was a scab on my hand that I’ve no clue where it came from

[irkimatsu]

Hi Irk!! I saw your earlier posts about feeling crummy over seeing certain hot takes in the fandom about Husk and how his relationship with sex in the series will be depicted—I hope you're doing okay now. Frankly, the idea that Husk has to abstain from sex on Angel's behalf is odd to me, especially as someone who's also dealing with sexual trauma. Survivors can reclaim their sexuality! Plus, from what we've seen from the show—Husk seems like the type of guy who would be willing to take things slow and work through unpacking heavy baggage together. And hey, if he could do that for Angel, I'd say he would extend that same love and tenderness to you! I do very much relate to feeling bonkers over my attachments with fictional characters though. I get insecure at times because I feel like I could never be Angel's type due to being multigendered and genderfluid </3

Oh and for the fic ask—I think it was the one where Husk pours whiskey on reader's breasts that I read first from you that I really liked. That one was sooo good holy fuck.

- ⭐ blue-dream-boye

Thank you so much for the message! <3 A big part of my worry is the feeling that I have no right to speak on sexual trauma at all. My history with sexual trauma, if it can even be called that, is mild - never directly victimized, just exposed to tons of shit I was way too young for, with a heaping scoop of Catholic hypocrisy on top. I'm almost positive all that shaped my sexuality into whatever the hell it is now, but whether it's trauma and whether I have any rights to speak on such things, God only knows.

(This isn't even my first fandom where I had to figure this out - last fandom I was in had a suicidal porn star character shipped with a main character. She was just a one-off, but she's immensely popular, I love her and wanted to write more about her but never felt like I could get it right... lingering anxiety from that, maybe?)

I absolutely do feel like Husk can take good care of Angel, taking things slow with sex and making sure he's comfortable. But I also don't want to strip kink from the equation, you know? I still want Angel to enjoy kink with an observant dom who listens to his signs, spoken or otherwise. I really don't like playing into "bad people have icky kinks, good people who are really in love have missionary with the lights off." But then the sex-negative bug gets in my brain and I feel like a weirdo for thinking that being able to safely communicate stuff like kinks is important. I want Husk to have kinks! I don't want his personal growth to require him to give them up! Of course he wouldn't engage in anything Angel doesn't want, but don't make the fact of Husk wanting it inherently be some sort of moral failing!

Angel's attraction... that's another thing I always tread lightly around, since I'm not at all a gay man. Still, regardless of his canon gender and sexuality, labels can always be fluid, and quite frankly I'm also of the opinion that a fan changing a character's sexuality does not take away from representation because the canon material is still right there. Making him straight for homophobic reasons would of course be nasty, but having him experiment with his attractions for the sake of shipping? Go nuts! But as someone who tries to go nuts but gets caught up in "yes, but would he really", I do get the difficulty...

Aside from all the weird anxiety nonsense, thank you so much for the comment on the fic! <3 That whiskey fic was tons of fun to write, still one of my favorites, and I'd love to write that kink again sometime! I love the idea of Husk enjoying exploring every inch of his partner with his tongue...

[2nd2ndalto]

Spaceman

Written for the @writers-choice prompt "astronaut"

___

Will pushes himself up in bed, propping his shoulders against the wall, hoping that maybe the change in position will help his damn sinuses drain. He can’t remember ever feeling this miserable. His head is throbbing, his throat is raw, and neither the nectar nor the Tylenol seem to have done much good.

He closes his bleary, watery eyes. It’s been three nights since he’s slept properly, and he thinks he’s starting to hear colours. He’s feeling so sorry for himself he’s tempted to burst into tears. But he’s pretty sure that would make his head hurt even more. It doesn’t help his mood that this stupid cold has coincided with a day he was really looking forward to.

Camp Half Blood’s not a regular camp by any means, but with nothing world-threatening going on at the moment, the head counselors had planned a field trip to the science museum this weekend, and earlier today most of the year-rounders had loaded up in the camp vans and headed into the city. But not Will.

There’s suddenly a soft tap at the door of the cabin. “Yeah?” Will calls out, his voice hoarse.

The door creaks open and Will turns to see Nico framed in the doorway, dark, shaggy hair damp from the rain that’s been falling since last night, water droplets speckling his aviator jacket.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” Will frowns. “What are you doing here, though? Is everyone back already?” He glances at his watch, wondering if he’s lost track of time in his hazy state.

“Nah, it’s just me. Everyone else is still in New York.”

Will rubs at his eyes. “Why are you back? What happened?”

Nico shrugs, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I don’t know. Wasn’t the same without you. Didn’t seem right walking through the Star Wars exhibit without anyone trailing along behind me telling me random bits of trivia.”

Will lets out a surprised laugh. They’ve been friends for almost a year now. He liked the other boy to begin with - his sharp sense of humour and his quiet intelligence. Frankly it doesn’t hurt that Nico’s also one of the most beautiful people Will’s ever laid eyes on. But it still surprises Will how honestly sweet this kid is, under the scowl and the sarcasm and the occasionally-stupid bravery.

“Anyway. I thought you might want some company,” Nico finishes. “If you don’t, that’s cool too. I just - I felt bad about you being left here on your own. I know you were looking forward to getting out of camp.”

Nico meets Will’s gaze, and the look in his eyes is somewhere tenuously on the border between fierce and terribly vulnerable. It warms Will to his core, and his first instinct is to jump out of bed and wrap the other boy in a hug. But he’s almost positive that would scare him right back to New York.

“Yeah, company would be nice,” Will says instead. “I mean, I’m feeling really crummy, honestly. But as long as you’re not expecting me to be entertaining…”

Nico’s shoulders relax and he almost, almost smiles, Will’s sure of it.

“Okay. Cool,” he says

They gaze at each other for a moment, Nico hovering just inside the door, then -

“I um. I brought you something,” Nico says, holding up a small plastic bag. He crosses the cabin to perch on the foot of Will’s bed.

“There’s um… ice cream sandwiches. For your sore throat,” Nico explains, passing the bag to Will.

“Aww!” Will exclaims. He grabs the bag and spills it out onto the bed, letting out a gasp. “And astronaut ice cream?” he says, holding up a package.

“Because, you know. You like space stuff, and - I don’t know. I grabbed the astronaut stuff first, but then I saw the ice cream cooler…” Nico scrunches up his nose, suddenly looking unsure. “Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He moves to grab the package back from Will, but Will snatches it out of his reach.

“You can pry my astronaut ice cream out of my cold, dead hands,” he tells Nico sternly, reaching to place the package on the window ledge next to his bed.

Nico snorts.

Nico’s brought two ice cream sandwiches, now beginning to melt, and the boys eat them in companionable silence. Will’s still feeling stuffy, achy and exhausted, but he suddenly finds there’s an unexpected warmth in his chest.

Nico accepts Will’s empty wrapper, crumpling both and tossing them into the garbage.

“Okay, what now?” Nico asks, sounding awkward but determined. “Do you need more nectar? I can make like… tea?” He gazes at Will in silence for a moment. “Honestly I don’t really know how to make tea,” he adds, frowning. “But I could probably figure it out if you told me how.”

Will blinks at the other boy, marveling at how all his sharp edges have turned out to be so much softer than Will ever would have imagined.

“You didn’t just come back here to keep me company. You came back to take care of me,” Will says softly.

“Yeah, well.” Nico shrugs. “I figured you’d done it for me enough times.”

“Yeah, but I’m a healer.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “I’ve been paying attention, Solace. Mostly what you do is pass out nectar and lecture people about vegetables."

Will snorts. “Jerk.”

“Nerd,” Nico retorts, a smile pulling at his lips.

Will sticks out his tongue.

“Anyway, what’s the plan?” Nico asks. “Do you want to watch a movie?” He frowns, studying Will for a moment. “Or maybe you should sleep. You kind of look like shit, actually. No offense.”

Will grimaces. “I feel like shit. I haven’t been able to sleep properly for days. I just want to feel normal again.”

Okay, that sounded really pathetic. Will braces himself for a teasing, sarcastic response from the other boy, but instead Nico’s gaze softens.

“That really sucks,” he says quietly. “I hate it when I can’t sleep.”

Will nods. And gods, he actually feels tears welling in his eyes. He really is pathetic. And exhausted. Stupid rhinoviruses and their stupid resistance to Apollo healing powers.

“I can help you with the sleeping part, though,” Nico says.

“You - you can?” Will blinks. “Oh, you can.” His eyes go wide. “I totally forgot about your sleeping powers. Oh, Nico, that would be amazing. Can you knock me out for like, three days?”

Nico laughs. “That might not be the best idea. How about if I give you a good nap now and then I can come find you later this evening and knock you out for the night?”

“Oh gods, yes please,” Will croaks. “You’re seriously the best. I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask you sooner.”

Will slumps back against the wall. His sinuses throb even more loudly, if that’s possible, and he presses his fingertips into the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I missed the stupid Star Wars exhibit,” he says regretfully.

“Can’t you go another time? I’m no healer, but I’m guessing this probably isn’t terminal.” Nico nudges Will’s foot.

“Nah,” Will sighs. “This is the last weekend it’s in New York. I think they’re moving the whole exhibit to Denver next week.”

Nico watches him for a moment. “I know a guy who can get us to Denver.”

Will gazes blearily at the other boy, taking a moment to process. He’s so tired it’s becoming difficult to make sense of words. “What? Who?”

Nico gives him a sardonic smile, but it’s like… half affectionate, Will thinks.

“Me, you idiot,” Nico says.

“Really? You’d take me all the way to Denver and do nerdy stuff with me?” Tears spring to Will’s eyes again, but this time he can’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah, probably,” Nico shrugs, suppressing a smile.

And Will’s inhibitions must be suffering the same fate as his ability to parse sentences, because he scrambles across the bed to wrap his arms around the other boy. “Oh my god, I love you, you’re the best,” he rasps.

Nico lets out a small, surprised laugh against his ear, and when Will doesn’t immediately let go, his arms settle tentatively around Will’s shoulders.

“Okay, Solace,” Nico says after a long moment, patting him on the back. “Less hugging, more sleeping.”

Will drops back to the bed, grinning. Nico looks embarrassed, but pleased, Will thinks.

Nico stands so Will can adjust his blankets. Will reaches for the kleenex, blowing his nose loudly, then snuggling into his bed. Gods, sleep sounds so good right now.

“They had an interactive thing where you could fight with lightsabers,” Nico says as Will makes himself comfortable. “Which is cool, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

Will snorts. “No way. You just wait. I’m gonna… you’re gonna see -” Will interrupts himself with a jaw-cracking yawn that morphs into a coughing fit.

Nico smirks. “Yeah, I’m really scared now.”

Will groans, throwing an arm over his face. “We can argue about it later. Please just put me out of my misery.”

He hears Nico say, “okay,” and then -

“No, wait,” Will opens his eyes again. “Nico - thanks. For everything.” Will’s not entirely confident in his ability to form sentences at the moment, nor is he exactly sure what he means to say. But from the look in Nico’s eyes, he thinks he must have managed to convey something of the warmth and gratitude he's feeling.

“Of course,” Nico says softly. “Any time.”

Nico clears his throat. “You ready?”

Will sighs happily, closing his eyes. “A thousand times yes. Knock me out, baby.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd,” Nico mutters, and then Will’s abruptly overwhelmed by a sense of peace, and comfort, and then blessed unconsciousness.

He wakes several hours later to the sound of his siblings’ return. Still achy, still congested and feverish. But somehow not nearly as despondent as he was this morning.

[dukeofriven]

SNW's unwillingness to free itself from canon is best illustrated in this image: it is presented as triumphant, Uhura clearly deciding that her place in in Starfleet, that her place is here on the bridge of the Enterprise. But we the audience know that, practicably speaking, her only place ends-up here. Outside of that one quasi-canonical TAS episode where she gets to command the Enterprise, by the TOS era Uhura will—functionally speaking—almost never leave this chair. In episode after episode her only job will be to say 'hailing frequencies open, captain' and nothing else. MLK famously had to beg Nichelle Nichols to stay in the role because he thought it so important for racist 1960s white America to see a professional black woman so prominently on television. His logic makes sense, but from 2023, examining TOS from the perspective of character in a world with better racial casting (in Star Trek, I mean: whatever NuTrek's flaws, its commitment to racial diversity has been really good), TOS' Uhura is barely more than a prop. No wonder Nichols wanted to quit: she's ill-used in almost every TOS episode and absolutely in every film. Frankly it feels like the 'glorious future' SNW is pushing Uhura towards is one informed by an understanding of the character as she exists in the broader realm of fandom, not the crummy reality of the text. This is why I find SNW's approach to canon so frustrating: it wants to break free and do its own thing, to tell fresh stories and have exciting new takes on familiar characters who never got the chance to really shine—but it keeps reflexively shoving TOS-is-our-canonical-future in our face: remember the Gorn? Remember Talos IV? Remember what will happen in The Menagerie? Remember how Spock and Chapel will be kind of romantic in one episode once in the first season and then it'll largely be forgotten about? Remember? REMEMBER? For all the legacy characters other than Spock, the 'future' of Strange New Worlds is death. Literal, in some cases—we know Sam Kirk's going to wind-up a blink-and-you'll-miss it corpse in Operation -- Annihilate!., and crispy Pike's fate is framed entirely as essentially death (abelist issues there for sure). The death is figurative in others: Uhura and Chapel will lurk in the background saying 'comms open' and 'yes, doctor.' M'Benga will get demoted to McCoy's deputy, show up in two episodes, and then never be mentioned again. That's not a future worth arriving at. Not for these more dynamic and interesting versions of these characters. So why do it? Why make these characters people who will end up as nothing? No matter how satisfying SNW's Uhura's story is, why do you want to link her to a future so narratively sterile for her? Does she not deserve better? I like TOS. I love TOS. It's often thoughtful and meaningful television, full of issues, plagued by actor egos, Roddenberry's sclerotic management, and all sorts of production problems—but at its best, when everything aligned, it is some of the most important television of its era. It has endured for generations for a reason. But that doesn't mean every element is good: the bridge crew outside of the triumvirate get more to do than the poor bridge crew of Discovery, but not by much. SNW keeps trying to chart a middle path between two better options, ending-up with a deeply unsatisfying worst of both worlds: not canon enough to satisfy the not insignificant portion of the fanbase for whom that's a serious concern (and for whom that's the entire fun of a prequel: spending more time in an era they know and love), but too canon-reliant to be unburdened by it. 'Here's our version of Uhura, but don't worry everyone, she might seem different but we promise that one day she'll be the woman who does nothing for a whole season other than sit in a chair with a dookickey in her ear and answer her boss' space phonecalls." Uhura looks at that console as her future, but all I want to do is scream "RUN! RUN FAR, FAR AWAY AND NEVER RETURN!"

[cardworksartblog]

Ten Cycles Before Sliver Of Straw's Triple Affirmative; direct connection line between Consequence Of Curiosity, Smoldering Sun's Unrelenting Rage and [EXPUNGED]

.

.

.

I feel like something bad is going to happen soon.

Do either of you have any clue as to why?

Well, what do you happen to be implying there, dear brother?

Neither of us have done anything, as far as I'm concerned. I'm too busy making creatures to do maintenance so my specimens don't perish. Consequence, you haven't done any more... things like that, right?

Consequence? Are you there?

Ah, my apologies for not responding right away.

I've been.. busy. The mistake is being doted on by the nearest group, despite his rather moronic nature.

He's been complaining non-stop about having nothing to think about, so I gave him something to... chew on, for a bit. I have not done anything akin to what my creator allowed me to do upon ascending, no.

... am I correct in assuming you sent him on a wild goose chase to look for the 'rare and exotic purple wheelflower' ?

Oh my suns, you didn't!

Thats utterly HILARIOUS 'Con! I can't believe he actually fell for it!

Well, if you were stuck with him whining in your communications every single day you'd likely start getting creative with your entertainment as well.

He's quite annoying, frankly. I believe he was named after a creature that has more of a moral compass and brain than he ever will.

Rather rich coming from you, I think.

Oh, please. If you had to deal with them condescending you while being wrong about all of your damn inner functions for every day of your life you'd gladly boil our gracious creators in voidfluid too.

At least I made sure nobody else realised I was the one to do it. Other than you two, who I told willingly.

Fair, I suppose.

Anyways. I've been seeing odd readings from around the group of iterators near you, Consequence. I believe this is what has me suspicious of something about to go awry. If you haven't been tampering with more odd creatures, then I advise you to keep an eye out.

Just in case, you know?

Oh, interesting! Do you think it could be a creature? Ooh, that reminds me! I've heard that some of the others have been experimenting with slugcat genes!

Its SUPER interesting! I hope you two will send me pictures if you end up seeing their results!

I see, how odd.. I've seen nothing of the sort. I trust your word more than my overseers though, brother, so I'll keep as much of an eye out as possible. Maybe I'll even tell Moon and the others...

Also, don't worry, Sunny. I'll be sure to ask for any genome sequencing if they do end up succeeding with the slugcats so you can get more than just some crummy bad quality images and maybe a video.

Thank you!!! That means so much to me, you don't understand. It SUCKS out here!

Well, if thats all, then I should get back to monitoring and cataloguing everything I can see. You two enjoy talking, if I find anything more about the odd signals I'll let you two know. See you on the other side :]

See you on the other side, [DATA CORRUPTED]

See ya on the other side, bro!

.

.

.

Ten Cycles Later; mere hours after Sliver Of Straw's Triple Affirmative;

[DATA CORRUPTED]! Holy shit, I think something just went really wrong!

Sliver Of Straw just sent out a Triple Affirmative and then fucking exploded!

Did you know??? Could it have been that strange signal you talked about a few cycles ago????

Could whatever caused that end up effecting the rest of us???

Holy shit, can you for please just ANSWER ME?!

It's in my systems.

Communication Ended Abruptly By [EXPUNGED]

[scoutandvioletfan]

May has a munching mouth, Tiana has tall teeth, but My Name Is Frank. And I've got funny feet, funny feet, funny feet, funny feet Frank, that is I Feet that flip, feet that flop, flip and flop, never stop Flap-a-doodle, I can fly...Well, I try! CHORUS: And though I've never found shoes around to keep my feet on the ground, Fiddlesticks, do I cry? Not I! Give me that free and easy beat For the fanciest, friendliest, fidgety free-for-all Funny, Funny Feet. Flap-a-doodle-doo, Flap-a-doodle-dee, Fall on your face with me! (Repeat Chorus) Funny, Funny Feet! (Instrumental) (Repeat Chorus) Funny, Funny Feet!

My Name's Frank! And I've got Funny feet, funny feet, funny feet, funny feet, Frank-that's me. With these fabulous feet of mine, Full of fun, feeling fine, Fancy as feet can be. You'll see! And though I've Never found shoes around To keep my feet on the ground, Fiddlesticks, do I cry? Not I! Just let me feel that famous beat For the funniest, finest, fanciest, fidgety, Funny, funny feet. Foodle-doodle-doo! Feedle-deedle-dee! Follow my funny feet. And though I've Never found shoes around To keep my feet on the ground, Fiddlesticks, do I cry? Not I! Just let me feel that famous beat For the funniest, finest, fanciest, fidgety, Funny, funny feet. Foodle-doodle-doo! Feedle-deedle-dee! Funny, funny feet!

Frank (SPOKEN): Hey, Pig Won't, Pig Will, Lucas The Spider! It's time to sing the song about the letter that comes after "E"! Pig Won't: I don't wanna do this icky, crummy, lovey-dovey old F song! Pig Will: C'mon lets all sing together Frank: All those words that start with the letter F! All: (sing)Four furry friends Frolicking fellows On Friday afternoon (Afternoon) Four furry friends, frankly affectionate They sing the future soon (Future soon) Faithful, fearless, friends for forever Fabulous, fun, family Four furry friends, faithful together Fun-filled, and forever free (Ever free) Frank (SPOKEN): F is the letter that brings us togetherF is funF is famousAnd together our friendship will forge forwardThanks to that fantastic letter F All (SING): Four furry friends, faithful together Fun-filled, and forever free (Ever free!) Pig Won't: Boy, I really hated that!

[solisvidentis]

>Sburb be someehat normal challenge: impossible. To be fair to the two of them as well, they were still in the crummy walk cycle portion of the video. Sue them if they find Jack's lack and need of a fat bitch more entertaining at the moment. The mayor would graciously accept her offer though. Might as well exchange numbers and such if they're being that friendly. ...Now which cheek did he leave his phone? No, thats the one currently holding the swelling surrogat- oh.

She couldn't remember precisely how long the video had been- cut her some slack! It had been like, what, an entire single day since she'd watched it? She wasn't a robot. Number exchange sounded like a swell idea to her, and she was quick this time to tell the pawn she could feel it just under her chin- but then he caught sight of her double, which she'd be waiting for for a moment judging by the wide grin on her face. Over on her right cheek was a frankly unseemly display of fluid capacity. Her avatar, eschewing the massive jug WV had seemingly drawn from the aether, had been working her way through various colas and clear sodas, both on and off brand, one 2 litre at a time. Around her a small collection of plastic vessels was scattered, most of the rolling down Rose's cheek to collect in the divot between it and the first of her many neck rolls- though a few remained, mostly dammed by the one who had emptied them.

Swollen, gurgling, and with yet another bottle to her lips, the lithe lalonde resembled nothing more than an alabaster water balloon, her stomach swollen to such capacity her fairly conservative robes could do nothing to hide it, laying limply over top of the yoga ball sized soda orb like the world's saddest orange drape. She was lounged sideway, almost obscured by her own stomach- with just enough of her visible from WV's angle to reveal her head propped on one hand, somehow giving the smarmiest smirk despite the bottle pressed greedily to her lips. Shortly drained, she tossed it aside where it skittered off, slapping her sloshing midsection with a satisfied sigh, sending a ripple through it the echoed with the gallons of soda sloshing around inside- with nary a hiccup escaping her lips. "Everything alright, WV?" rose asks from her true face, dripping innocence. "I think he's just about to arrive and start doing things, wouldn't want to miss it!"

[to-the-fishies]

Y'all, I feel in such a bad way right now.

I've had this Sinus Gunk/Cough for a month, and it's presumably dragging on because of getting Covid for a week in there. Went to urgent care on Saturday and got an antibiotic BUT the appointment was so swift and they didn't do any tests, which leaves me going "How do y'all know this is bacterial, not viral, and couldn't you have spared two minutes to tell me, so I would trust the antibiotics to work?"

Keep having trouble sleeping because of my persistent cough and congested sinuses. Sudafed is really not making me feel better like I thought it would. I'm both restless and Not Up To Things.

Period is nearly over, which you'd think would mean crying less, not more.

I have emails I've been putting off so I feel acutely ashamed and anxious about them, and also feel stupid because obviously they can't get worse? I don't even know. I can't look at them.

My dad went from the hospital to a rehab center but I haven't been to see him there because I've felt so crummy. My mom's been at her flat without him and I haven't been to see her because I've felt so crummy. I missed church on Sunday and still haven't at least viewed the livestream of Epiphany.

My brother asked me to babysit on Saturday so he can help clear out my late uncle's house; I keep feeling bad that I haven't done more to clear out my parents' old house; I keep feeling bad that I haven't finished my boyfriend's quilt; I keep feeling bad because my room is stuffed full of things waiting for After That Quilt is Done.

I need a haircut, I'm scared my car's going to die at any minute, I'm scared of my bills, I have overdue library items but am reluctant to drive through the cold rain to return them, and I'm frankly a little nervous my apartment neighbors will get mad at me for essentially howling like an animal in my room.

Well. A shower can't make things worse; off I go.

[ultra-maha-us]

What Makes Good Italian Food and a Great Italian Restaurant?

What makes good Italian food and a great Italian restaurant? This is what I think.

Italy has a wonderful tradition of fine food. Italian food's importance to Italian culture cannot be overstated. It is one of the central elements, and why shouldn't it be? Think about Italy's geography for a second:

It runs a long way from north to south. Therefore, it has a wide array of growing seasons and soil types. This means a rich diversity of ingredients for food. It is a peninsula, meaning it is nearly surrounded by the sea but also connected to the great Eurasian land mass. There is an abundance of fresh seafood and foreign ingredients from neighboring lands. It sits between Europe and Africa in the Mediterranean. All Mediterranean cultures have excellent food traditions from North Africa to Lebanon and Israel, France, Greece, Spain and, of course, Italy. When you think of noodles and pasta, you probably think of Italy, but those wonderful inventions came to Italy from China thanks to Marco Polo. It tells you a lot about Italian food culture that something so basic became associated with Italy even though it did not originate there.

Anyway, food is a key element of Italian culture. Therefore, the food is the most important part of the restaurant. Of course, a great Italian restaurant will have a great wine list, a clean and elegant decor, and wonderful service, but a good Italian restaurant can get by on great food alone, even if they have a crummy restaurant in London city wine list, poor service, and a dingy decoration scheme.

By the way, if you leave an "Italian" restaurant hungry, it's definitely not authentic. A white tablecloth and high bill do not a great bistro make. Frankly, I can't stand those fancy Italian restaurants in Manhattan that charge you $400 for a morsel that makes you want to stop for a slice of pizza on the way home. A great Italian ristorante will leave you full, not stuffed, but full.

The second aspect of a great Italian restaurant is the service. The service will be warm and professional, but not overly friendly. After the orders are taken and the meal gets rolling, the service should be nearly invisible. Run -- don't walk -- from any Italian restaurant where the waitperson address the table like this:

"How you guys doin' tonight?" when ladies are seated at the table. This is most un-Italian of them. An Italian would never call a woman "guy." Even in spaghetti-and-meatballs-type places, the waiter might say, "How is everyone this evening?" The won't tarry with small talk in the white-tablecloth places, not the good ones, anyway. It is all about the meal and your comfort.

The third aspect of a great Italian restaurant is the ambiance. I don't know what it is, but Italians seem to be able to create a wonderful atmosphere anywhere. I have eaten at places in strip malls in the suburbs of Denver -- as un-romantic a setting as there is -- that come close to great. A truly outstanding Italian restaurant will just have a certain feeling from the minute you walk in the door, a warmth and a glow that can't really be described.

[bullsh1tterz]

Oh to explain - if so much as to himself - what he's feeling right now. Envy, is it? Relief? An emptiness? He's not sure - he doesn't know. Frankly, this is much too foreign a setting for him to ever truly know anything. The uncertainty lining their fates seems, and with staggering, irksome voluptuousness, to have stunted Adam's typical mechanisms of conclusion-jumping and self-assuredness. That isn't to say that they've been wiped clean, no, but the stubborn edge to either seems to have... dissipated into the moment. And it continues to dissipate the more Lawrence speaks. Why Adam believes him, he doesn't know, even in spite of the skepticism still lining everything being processed. He can't help but doubt people, after all, it's in his system. And yet the doubt falls short now. Perhaps it's the way Lawrence looks at the picture. Eyes do lie - he's a firm believer that they can - but would such blues under the crummy lamplight of this shit-hole dare to? He doesn't even know what answer he wants.

Lawrence has a reason to get out of here. This much is clear - this much dawns on him. What, then, does Adam have to parallel? Not one thing comes to mind but his camera and the general, spiteful will to live for the sake of remaining alive. This innate human desire to hold onto what little breaths one might have left.

"... Tell it right 'n ya might get a threesome outta this." he states, non-abrasive, brows threatening to furrow but not yet performing the action. He knows it's in poor taste. Still, Adam couldn't stop himself, and now drives the room into a moment of silence.

"... I envy you." Then, an honesty he would only display here, now. What use is there for lying and invulnerability when there's barely any hope of a 'living it down' period - moments of retrospect to be denied the both of them at the whim of this game's cruel creator. "I dunno what the fuck would even happen if ya tell 'er 'n whether or not it's even gonna be worth it. 'n I don't really care, to be honest.... But, at least you've... got somethin' ta tell - someone y'oughtta tell it to." a half-huff-half-sigh, the furrow now finally coming to be. "I figure most people would be pissed at ya for havin' it and squanderin' it 'r -- 'r would even judge ya, but I'm just jealous y've even got a mistake on your roster that's worth fixin'." a little shake of his head. "I always hear others yappin' on and on about not knowin' whatcha got till it's taken away from ya 'n the like." he's pretty sure he's rambling - used to it, but not quite as earnestly. "Guess that's what you're goin' through, yeah?" head tilt. It's rhetorical. The answer has to be yes because what else is there to reply with.

A pause, breath slowing down just for a moment. He doesn't quite know what he's saying, to tell the truth, or what his point is with the ramble. It's not cohesive, he knows that much, but behind it lingers a desire to understand what Lawrence has; a real life. Something to love. Something to lose. Something worthwhile to think about - flash back to - during one's final moments. "... Would ya really gouge y'r eyes out for 'em?" the question falls much too curiously, not quite as accusatory as anything else he'd thrown Lawrence's way. They're both bullshitters - most of what they've said to one another since the start had been complete and utter bullshit. Lawrence's calmer demeanor, Adam's vulgarity. It's all really bullshit. But that expression? The proclamations which followed? Adam almost wants to believe it isn't bullshit - confirm it for reasons unbeknownst even to himself.

How long has Lawrence been staring at the picture he's holding? He has nary a clue; it feels as though he can now think no farther ahead than one second to the next, the calm and methodical rationale he's always been so proud of splintered into tiny, intangible fragments.

It's only the sound of the other man's voice that finally jars him from such catatonia. As Lawrence glances up from the creased polaroid in his hand, he's struck, not for the first time, by the notion that Adam's something of a paradox, less simple to gauge than he might have initially believed ( if there's even a shred of authenticity in that stipulation, ' I don't give a flying fuck, ' why bother, then? ). Briefly, he's tempted to push back on that, deflect a question with a question; it's so easy, most people like talking about themselves. However, he's now of the opinion that Adam would be able to tell that's what he's doing, and that bothers him in a way it wouldn't have before.

For a long moment, Lawrence's gaze remains steady while his jaw tenses; then, he tips his head back against the tile while a nearly inaudible sigh escapes him. "I do love her and Diana both. I'd gouge my own eyes out if it meant I got to see them safe before I did it." There's a humorless roll of those blue aforementioned eyes as Lawrence says, "I know people say dramatic things like that but, well. " He gives a dismissive shrug of his shoulder, because: a) they're chained up in a dilapidated bathroom with a dead man on the floor between them, how the fuck does one even scale what's dramatic anymore? and b) lying to each other for the sake of pretense seems, quite frankly, insulting at this point; if he says something, he'll mean it.

A beat passes. "I put a stop to it, that night you saw me at the hotel." Dropping his wrist from where he's resting it on his propped up knee, the photo is now held between his thumb and forefinger. "I hadn't decided what I was going to do afterwards. But — you're right." Lawrence's voice is quieter now, yet unequivocal. "That's why I'll tell her."

[blakecooley]

How to sabotage your work without losing your job (probably)

Hi! Lifelong contrarian and well-known pain in the ass here. I’ve noticed a recent trend following the unsurprisingly quiet death of the conversation around “quiet quitting” and well, I’m hardly seeing anybody talking much anymore about passive resistance at work. Sure, there's always the under the radar talk of big, showy ways of sabotaging your job. That’s great for some. Heck, might even make you feel like a real hero throwing a literal wrench into that conveyor belt. And to those willing to take the risk, cheers! We’re eternally grateful for your contribution in the fight against capitalism! But most of us teeter in a cosmically cruel paradox whereby we recognize that the systems that dictate our lives and extract our very livelihoods in order to fuel itself have likewise arranged themselves to be our sole means of survival in an attempt to guarantee eternal subservience and supply. (We need our jobs. Ew, bummer.)

Look, we all hate them. We all know and understand exactly how wildly unnatural, inhumane and exploitative they are. But goddamn wouldn’t you know it, the local utility just absolutely refuses to barter. And until they do we have to keep going to our stupid, pointless jobs that we know are slowly killing us but(!) don’t give up hope! Just because you can’t afford to lose your job doesn’t mean you can’t make things generally difficult for your employer, slow work down a few ticks and ultimately waste company resources! Today I’m going to offer you a few tried and true tips that I’ve collected along my twenty years as a member of the american workforce on how to quietly and mostly passively sabotage your work. Welcome to the resistance! Time to not get to work!

First up is a hard one that I feel might be met with some criticism. Which, I honestly understand as it seems counterproductive to the overall goal but, you have to be good at your job. I would never ask that anyone care about their job or devote a second more than is contractually required to even thinking about it but everything else is going to be a lot easier to accomplish if you’re not a problem employee. You don’t need to be stellar or outstanding at your job, in fact that would be aggressively productive for the company and ultimately counterproductive to your efforts towards counterproductivity and frankly is a lot of work. But be good enough at it that no one gives you much of a thought. This means avoiding write-ups, being generally present and on time, not being noticeably hungover or stoned at work and most importantly being consistent. Bosses love that shit. People that they can rely on without thinking about them make their lives easier and can often get a little more leeway with the rules. You need this to succeed at failing.

With that out of the way, onward! To impishness and the foiling of toiling!

Slow down. This seems obvious and I won’t spend much time on it but, slow down. Be deliberate, be mindful, be consistent. (There’s that word again!) Be slow. You don’t have to be sluggish or make your motions theatrically drawn out but just move a little more slowly than anyone else. While some are more concretely quantifiable than others, we all have expected productivity rates at our crummy jobs. How many orders have you served? How many phone calls have you taken? How many parcels did you pick, stack, toss or deliver? How many emails did you respond to? Fuck ‘em. Don’t meet these often arbitrary, almost always aggressively enforced, micro-deadlines. Hover. Float along just below quota. Not enough to get in trouble but just enough that other people have to wait on you, consistently. Measure every portion before plating. Run that dishwasher twice. Leave that detailed voicemail to confirm receipt of the email you just sent (I don’t know how office jobs work. Ask your friend who loves Gilmore Girls, they’ll know what not to do and ultimately may be the key to understanding the best ways to get nothing accomplished). Take the stairs, insist on walking, go to the office of someone you could reach by phone or radio and meet face to face, count everything twice, be obnoxiously thorough, do whatever you can however you can do it, just do it slowly. Make yourself a well-meaning but undeniable pain in the ass. Waste company time. 

You might be asking now, “Blake, I thought you said you weren’t gonna spend much time on that tip? Sure seems like either this is the beginning of an arduous and lengthy trend or you’re a fucking liar. Perhaps both. Would you like the opportunity to speak to that?” 

To which I would say, “Welcome to tip #3! It looks like you might’ve already got this one pretty figured out. Good work, champ. (sly wink (definitely not in a sexual way, unless you're into it in which case, hello there (winks both eyes, slyly)) But that’s right: Asking unnecessary, unanswerable, open-ended and otherwise asinine questions is a great way to waste company time! It’s great to really understand every single, miniscule, esoteric and inscrutable detail of the operation of every facet of your job, of your employer and of the majesty of life all around us. Will you ever realistically need this information? No. Are you ever going to be asked to demonstrate any of this knowledge to maintain your employment? No. Should you still turn that 15 minute meeting into a half hour marathon of interrogation? Abso-fucking-lutely! Should you really ask your elderly, probably q-anon addled, foxmaxxed coworker about that winding and vaguely related to whatever someone else was just talking about, personal story that requires more context to understand than the story conveys? Get fucking real, you beautiful asshole! Learn her whole family history! Learn to love her estranged children more closely than your own! Should you ask your boss about exploring the idea of setting up a meeting with your district manager so that you, and really the whole team, can get a chance to benefit from a more in-depth education about the new product, menu item, system rollout, policy change, or safety guideline update? FUCK YES! YOU GORGEOUS AND BRILLIANT FUCK GOD!  Fuck everyone’s day up. Make every single person you interact with late to their next thing. Ask so many inane questions so consistently (fuck yes!!) that your neuroticism has to be soft scheduled into itineraries. Herald yourself among Socrates, Lao Tzu, Al-Khwarizmi, alongside all the great minds of history in your place at the pantheon of curiosity. Leave no one’s schedule, routine or plan intact. Make yourself a well-meaning, curious but undeniable pain in the ass. Waste company time.”

You, out of breath from cumming so hard from thinking about wasting company time after you stopped listening to me three words in, “What?”

This next one’s pretty simple but if executed improperly can backfire in some pretty “Either go see a doctor and find out what’s going on or stop wasting everybody’s time,” kind of ways but: Stay very hydrated. A well hydrated saboteur is a healthy saboteur. A well hydrated saboteur is a saboteur who has to go use the restroom, “Seriously, like every thirty minutes all day. Are you sure you’re okay? You can call it a day if you need to go home or whatever.” You don’t have to live in the bathroom but you should definitely be a regular. And really this is a tactic that you probably can’t employ every day without raising some questions and maybe drawing some medical concern from your employer but if and when it’s appropriate, go nuts! (I feel like if I were responsible or anything near the proximity of a medical professional I would say here that you should drink a lot of water instead of like soda or coffee or energy drinks or whatever cause too much of those sorts of things will probably kill you or something. But also don’t drink too much water cause I heard this story on the radio once about people dying from that too. It mostly seemed like it was accidental deaths during like frat hazing which I mean still sucks but seems pretty unlikely to happen in most daily scenarios so, I don’t know just be careful, okay? You're important, you're loved, we need you and I absolutely refuse to even think about living in a world without you). Remember, it’s not about creating urgency it’s about not getting work done so don’t try to be a hero and hold it in longer than you need to. Drink plenty of water, keep your body comfortable and rest easy knowing that as a pleasant side-effect of your hydration and abundant urination, you are absolutely fucking glowing! Being a saboteur never looked so good! Your skin is clear and radiant and you are wasting company time. Keep it up you stunning fucking fox!

#5(?) As a means of sort of rounding things to a close, my last tip is meant to be taken as broad advice. It’s really more about a general attitude that encapsulates a deliberate indifference instead of being a direct tactic. In all things related to work, be a devout incrementalist. Let  your tactics develop slowly, gradually and naturally over time. Develop yourself as a character (maybe with a sexy mustache? Vroom vroom, let's ride!) that performs increasingly elaborate eccentricities which ultimately cost the company whatever unnecessarily expended resources you can scrape out of their coffers. But don't be afraid to let your coworkers be part of that development. Oddities and quirks are often off-putting and can make you unlikeable when meeting new people. People don't like things that they have to think about and anything new or different is challenging. (Don't flatten yourself for the sake of passive resistance though. You are a beautiful, unique and loveable flower. Shining like a star is part of who you are so you better not hide that light you magical fucking goddess! But, maybe remove the shade slowly. Sensually even. Pull the cover down nice and easy and let little rays of light peek through for a while cause you don't wanna blind anyone, you glowing Adonis!) Part of this, and part of class solidarity at large, is being liked by your coworkers. (I know, applying praxis with people who might not explicitly agree with everything you believe. Ew, bummer.) Let them in early, be friendly and do your best to be approachable. Maybe you could try revealing your tactics as mildly embarrassing habits on par with being particular about how you tie your shoes? Or maybe you could be more matter of fact and quietly keep at it, offering a chat about it to whoever asks? There's no wrong approach and with some experimentation you can find what works best for you. Small, gentle reveals will be much easier for everyone to accept with enough time, dedication and consistency. (Hey?! It's fun right? Getting blasted with the same thought over and over again. Almost seems like a good tactic to employ. Just saying.)

When using any of these tactics, those you’ve learned from others or any of your own that you’ve developed it's a good idea to be careful and pay attention. If any of this is done carefully you can always fall back on some degree of plausible deniability (legal gaslighting) but it's best to just be careful and avoid direct confrontation from the get-go. You don't want to lose your job. And unless your coworker can absolutely be trusted (blood bonds are probably too extreme here but definitely not off the table, use your best judgement), or if you can make it sound so ludicrous that even if were they to tattle to management that you were actively sabotaging your own workplace that no one would believe it, probably don't tell anyone what you're doing. This might take something of a more creative approach depending on how you feel about committing to some light deception but coming up with a cool explanation for why you do __________ (insert tediously slow, annoying, persistently disruptive behavior/activity here) can also be a real blast. Heck, maybe you and your tabletop buddies can get together some weekend and design a whole character? (I don't know how tabletop games work. I've had sex lots of times with lots of different people. Sorry nerds.) The possibilities are endless. You don't have to lie but it is fun and I guarantee your boss has almost certainly lied to you. So, fuck 'em. (Your employer, as a corporate entity, business or whatever, despite being legally recognized as a person thanks to the 2009 Citizens United vs. FEC ruling, is physically incapable of experiencing or understanding your puny, outdated and puritanical feelings of guilt. Abandon morality! Reject theological and cultural authority! Be your own god! Become death and destroy what destroys you! Arise, arise! Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride!)

Above everything else remember, you control the means of production. Your employer profits off of your labor by refusing to compensate you fairly. If you were being paid what you're really owed there'd be no profit to collect. By making your company as inefficient as possible you're simply doing your part to flex the power that comes with those realizations. You have the power to refuse being overworked. You have the power to tilt the balance and let your productivity reflect your wages. You can perform your own tiny little strike every day! Be creative! Have fun! Create the world you want to live in! Fuck work!  

[softsnzstuff]

14,15,16,19 for doctor!au steddie?

Thanks for sending friend! I switched up the order of the questions so it flows better with the answers lol. ❤️KB

16. How often do they get sick?

Steve gets sick all the time. 3 times a year minimum, but in the Fall around cold/flu season he just picks up every little thing that comes his way and at this point in his career, he’s used to it quite frankly.

So Eddie *used to* almost never get sick. Enter Steve Harrington. After getting together with Steve, every now and again he’ll catch something that off Steve, but that’s not too often. Eddie does not do anything in halves though, so if he does get sick it’s usually pretty bad.

15. Do they tend to always catch the same type of cold, or do the symptoms vary each time?

When Steve gets sick it’s almost always colds. Maybe once a year it’ll turn into something more serious like a sinus infection or the flu, but for the most part it’s all the same.

Again, Eddie doesn’t get sick that much. He might pick up a cold or flu off of Steve maybe once a year or so. But otherwise, it kind of varies. It’s always a gamble on whether or not it goes to his chest or stays in his head. 🤷🏻‍♀️

14. What is their limit? How bad does it have to get for them to take a day off and stay home?

Oh Jesus Christ. Steve is at a point now where he just works straight through colds and everyone is used to it. He’s pretty good about staying home if he either knows he’s contagious or if he’s feeling really exceptionally crummy, although he doesn’t like doing it.

Eddie on the other hand is Mr.Never-Takes-A-Day-Off. Mr. “Doctors don’t get sick”. Mr. “The patients are sicker than me”. If they want him to stay home, Robin will have to bargain with him or Steve will have to stay home with him or something. But yeah. He’d have to be pretty bad to stay home.

19. Do they have any weird beliefs or superstitions about illness? (e.g. the rain thing, or going outside with wet hair…)

Hmmm this one is hard because they both have like legit medical knowledge. I feel like they both are firm believers in the chicken soup fixes everything phenomena.

Ironically enough I think Eddie would maybe believe in the wet hair sort of thing because I can see him like getting mad at Steve for doing it and then getting sick.