#but i've been volunteering for this event for three years now and it's nice

[prentissluvr]

four hours straight of dancing difficult choreo then three hours of being bent over painting children's faces then almost an hour of cleaning up the event MY BACK HURTS SO MUCH

[madi2112]

The 8 days of Christmas

My plan for Christmas this year was to slowly increase the amount of the holiday I had to deal with.

This, of course, was blown up by the housepest I'm stuck with.

That slow increase was orginally planned because I knew I was likely to be invited to more holiday events then ever as part of the volunteer work I've been doing this year.

Which turned out to be very true.

So rather then posting each event separately I thought I'd just wrap them up as one big present 🎁. So to speak.

Day one: Jingle Cruise

The events started with a special ride on the Jingle Cruise at the Magic Kingdom set up exclusively for the Training and Development Department.

Day Two: WIN Scavenger Hunt

This was a Women's Inclusion Network event at Disney Springs. We broke off into groups and completed a scavenger hunt throughout Disney Springs finding different themed Christmas 🎄 Trees and sending in photos. A great chance to meet other women from around the company and enjoy the evening!

It was also a chance to debut a new holiday dress I got for the season.

Day Three: Come Out With Pride

This was a nice buffet dinner and craft event that unfortunately was sparsely attended. There was, maybe, 25 people at the event?

Still it was fun, and hopefully it will return next year.

I nearly forgot to grab a photo but remembered just before I left. Not visable in the picture was my red skirt to make this a festive combo.

Day Four: The Center

Up next was the holiday dinner for volunteers at The Center Orlando.

Again, the turnout wasn't what I expected. Seems like a lot of the over 100 volunteers passed on this one. The attendance was about 40-50.

I, once more, debuted a new holiday dress for this event. A solid silver dress I thought would look better then it did. In retrospect, it definitely revealed just how bad my weight gain has been lately. Need to do something about that soon.

I also got recognized from my Finding Adventure show.

Day Five: Snowball Express morning

This was a volunteer shift through work welcoming the family of fallen first responders as part of the Gary Sinise Foundation and the Snowball Express.

Over 1000 volunteers welcomed the families to the Magic Kingdom with a parade down Main Street.

Day Six: The Nutcracker

Might be might favorite event this year.

I did a volunteer shift as an Usher for a matinee performance of The Nutcracker by the Central Florida Ballet Company.

Thousands of kids got to see a condensed version of the show. Which was a perfect introduction into ballet for them, and for me!

The dancers did a great job and the hour and fifteen minute run time was perfect.

This was the first time I've seen The Nutcracker as well as my first time at a ballet. I was surprised how enjoyable it was.

Even Rantoul an old friend of mine from my Tony's Town Square Restaurant days who had 2 of his children performing in the show!

Day Seven: Equality Florida

The dinner for volunteers from Equality Florida was up next and was an interesting evening. Once again the attendance was smaller then expected but it was a lively bunch.

They did make a nice speech thanking us all and sharing the amazing numbers of people fighting the horrible things happening to our communities here in Florida.

I did snap a quick photo in the restaurant, but turned out terribly, but I promise I was there, lol.

Day Eight: The Best Christmas Pagent Ever

This was a stage production at the Osceola Arts theater where I did a volunteer shift. I had not had an opportunity to do a shift here in months as my work schedule had not allowed it. I was nice to be back.

Now that these events are finished I can relax a little and maybe do one last road trip of the year....

~Madison

[ronearoundblindly]

Mr. & Mrs.

A/N: Anon asked for a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, specifically the assassins/agents who don’t know the other’s professional identity. [Full disclosure I only ever saw this movie once, and I've adjusted...things.] This was a Steve Rogers request, but not gonna lie, I got heavy Lloyd Hansen vibes. Still using Steve as his name, but I think it works if you squint and say Lloyd has a cover identity. Lots of hand waving there. I have no idea how my brain twisted it into this, but here goes… Warnings: zero editing, action/violence kinda, implied smut. Word count: 1.7k

“We just have to make it to vacation,” you groan. “Please, let’s just try not to kill each other.”

Steve’s in a mood, nitpicking the nutritional value of the meal you absolutely did not slave over because you, too, work. He plunks down his wine glass and peeks through his lashes at you. “I know, honey. I know. Less than a week.” His smile is gooey with a steel edge.

Steve—what can you say?—he’s a specimen of human perfection, a personal trainer who’s so in-demand that you haven’t been on a trip away together in three and a half years, and that was your honeymoon. A workaholic by nature, Steve can’t help himself. He has to get every accolade at his gym, has to help every client, has to take every paid session. All times of day. It’s absurd, but he agreed, after weeks of you being the nagging bitch you never wanted to be, to a getaway, nice and far from here.

You need the break, too. You’ve worked yourself to the bone. Literally. You’re a seamstress by trade, fingers callused and numb to prove it.

“There’s a client event on Saturday,” Steve mutters, knowing full-well what he’s doing.

Now it’s your turn to put down your glass. “And you’re just telling me now? I thought we were going out.”

“Last minute. Very important people. I can’t miss it.”

“Well, let me check your suit. I know there’s a pulled stitch on that button-down—“

“I’m not wearing the pink one,” Steve chuckles. “Why are you always trying to get me in that thing?”

“It’s salmon,” you correct, “and you know that real men wear pink.”

“The blue will be fine. It’s not a fancy gig.” He twiddles his knife on the table, clearly done with the half-eaten food before him.

You met Steve at a self-defense class that he volunteered to teach at the Y half a decade ago. He was cute, and you were pretty distracted by his muscles. To your surprise, he offered you more lessons even though, or maybe because, you were the worst in the class. A different sort of power struggle came out of those sessions, but still there was a lot of sweating, a few bruises, and lots of screams. He’s…uh…good at his job, and it does pay well, just not ‘a week-long international trip’ well.

You’ve been working overtime, if you can call it that, for months to save up. Your—cough—job in fashion is highly specialized. You make protective ready wear for the city’s top mob bosses: bullet-proof three-button vests, blade resistant suits, and whole wardrobes. Of course, Steve doesn’t need to, or want to, know who you design and sew for; he calls it frilling about with the 1%.

Ironic. His job is to make the 1% feel like they can take on the 99% in hand-to-hand combat with lots of rules and a referee and padded gloves on. You respect what he does just as much as he respects what you do, which is to say he brings home money and so do you.

You both just have to make it to Tuesday.

Well, if he’s got to spend your date night schmoozing dudes, then you may as well get some work done. Old Bruno wants cruise wear for himself and his wife. Mr. B may be a portly sod, but at least his trophy wife offers you a fashionable challenge…and something to vaguely speak to your husband about, if he ever actually asks.

“Just the blue then,” you mutter back, pouring yourself more wine while Steve stares at your lips slowly wrapping the edge of the glass.

You two may have issues verbally communicating, but there are zero issues in the bedroom. He knows that. You know that. You’ll still make him wait until you're done sipping a lovely, juicy red.

Or not.

Steve pushes his chair out and stalks over to you, blue eyes fiery beneath those damn long lashes, and he kneels at your feet.

“The blue,” he repeats absently, knotting his fingers around your waistband. Yeah, he’s not in a waiting mood, and come to think of it, neither are you.

***

Steve hums in thought, rolling his thumb over the odd fabric the medical examiner studied from Tinker Boy Joe’s suit. The second-level goon of the city’s Family had only gone down after four agents pursued. Down to his felt—or what looked like felt—hat, Joe was untouchable. Bullets, knives, a random tranque-dart the Torres fired at him: nothing went through. It was only a somewhat lucky sniped shot from Bucky on a rooftop that had brought down the mobster. Clean through the throat.

Not exactly ideal when the whole point was to bring Tink here in alive, but Steve supposes one less criminal, one less crime at least.

“Where would he get something like this?”

“Ah,” Torres pipes in, sorting through a small stack of paperwork in his arms to hand Steve a file, “we have a CI who identified the shop they all frequent, but it’s unlikely the tailor works out of there. Most of the clientele are straight-laced anyway. Society types. It’s a decent cover for—“

“Anytime now,” Steve blurts.

The young agent snaps back to, rummaging and handing Steve a map from the pile. “Here,” he points. “CI says that’s the warehouse where it’s made. Abandoned sweatshop. Which is fitting.”

Steve sighs and tucks the info under his arm. “Let’s get a team together and hit it tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Torres squeaks.

“Yeah.” Steve flings open the door, ready to get out of the morgue-scented white room. “I have vacation coming up. I want this squared away before then.”

Thank god he already gave you an excuse for date night.

***

The warehouse is, indeed, abandoned for the most part. Thick dust everywhere. Hap-hazardously tossed furniture piled in corners.

And then Steve hears music. He tries not to laugh at how random it is to be hearing your favorite song at a moment like this, but then again, you always like quite popular artists. It was bound to happen. They are expecting a team of women working under a master tailor, and their intel was right so far. Steve had a pair of agents watch the facility all day. Several women left in the afternoon. There are no other cars around, so it’s either empty or only one or two remain.

What Steve isn’t expecting when they bust the door open is a single person dressed in a baggy work smock with a hair net and mask on. He can’t even tell if it’s a man or woman. Torres screams freeze, and as the figure turns around, hands raising, his or her arm knocks the lone work lamp out of place and plunges most of the room into darkness.

Nobody fires a shot, not without light to see they aren’t shooting each other. Steve’s team is calling out prompts in the dark to let each other know who is where and if they have the tailor. He hears thuds and stunted cries from each man, not overly swift in the takedowns but efficient.

Steve can hear Torres bang the leg of a table and shout out which corner the person is trying to escape around, and Steve dives.

He knows the move used on him. He’s taught it hundreds of times before, but the strange part is that it’s a defense move generally for women. His body-weight is used against him, flinging him off-balance and into a door to the grass outside. 

He falls to the ground, and the tailor tries to run past. Steve’s grip is tight grabs the lady’s ankle, her momentum pulling harshly at his stretched out arm.

She topples, body scraping back towards him in the grass when he doesn’t yield, knocking the mask on her face loose. There’s nothing but moonlight as she scrambles towards him. He can see…you?

What the fuck?

In his tactical gear, you can’t see his face, and he’s too stunned to form any words.

You’re searching, nails—no, scissors—scraping along bits of his kevlar until you find the seam you’re looking for and hit the blades into it with your other palm.

Goddamn, yikes, that hurts.

“Honey, OW!” Steve finally manages, but he can’t lower his arm without pushing the sewing sheers diagonally into his armpit. He can’t rip it out for fear of blood loss. He’s stuck but so is your face...on him.

“Oh,” you whine, sitting back on your heels. It takes you all of one second to process before the sounds of his team coming knock you back into action. You lean down to his face and give it a little pat. 

“You should always let your wife dress you--” you stand up "--and don't count on dinner being ready when you get home." Then you rush off into the night.

Well…shit.

***

A few days later, Steve sidles up to his gate at the airport, ball cap pulled taut on his forehead and sunglasses already on. He rolls his bag behind him with the arm not in a soft sling.

You knew he’d come, so you let your smile broaden across your face. He’s wearing the salmon-colored shirt, his way of apologizing for underestimating you for years.

He tilts his head down at you. “Where you headed, miss?”

It’s all you can do not to giggle. “Somewhere without extradition.”

“I’m Steve, by the way—“ he doesn’t present a hand to shake because you stabbed him and it’s in a fucking sling “—I…train people…for a living.”

“Hi.” You introduce yourself and purposefully shove your hand forward, mocking him lightly. “I make clothes with very sharp sheers.”

Steve moans gently and licks his lips. He loves a bit of a game.

"That sounds very important," he drawls. You can tell he's staring even behind the shades.

The passengers are being called to board, and Steve looks around with a cheeky smirk.

“Any chance I could sit beside you?”

You think about it, dramatically. “I’d like that, but it’s a long flight. Hope we don’t try to kill each other on the way.”

For more works, check out my masterlist!

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were

inspired by conan gray’s “heather”

warnings: stepsibling incest (not yet but that’s the whole premise), underage masturbation, underage sex, angst. peter’s like 16 and a half, Tony’s almost 18

word count: 2.2k

summary: peter’s in love with his big brother. no biggie. (spoiler alert: it’s a big deal)

(A/N: okay this has been living in my head rent free for over a month. i've written more, but it's not fully fleshed out yet. 

i figured i would post this and see if anyone is interested in reading it before i put a bunch more effort in lmao. this is filth. most of the angst comes later lololol (and more filth).

i hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think / if you'd like to read more!

- bloo)

PART ONE

Peter stands at his locker, desperately trying to blend in and remain unseen as he switches out his English textbook for Physics. The school year is basically over, given that it’s the last week of May but he’s still not comfortable in the junior-senior hallway. He’s always been the youngest (and therefore smallest) kid in most of his classes, given that he’s been in the ‘gifted & talented’ track since middle school. (He’s on track to graduate next year, taking his last few mandatory classes and completing an internship for additional credit.) This year, Peter feels even smaller than usual; maybe because most of the seniors are already eighteen, while as a sophomore, he isn’t even seventeen. He doesn’t have many friends this year, because of it. Ned moved away last summer because his dad got a new job, and, well, he’d never really needed more than Ned before. 

“Hey Pete-squeak,” comes a voice from behind, making him jump. Rolling his eyes, Peter pivots slightly to face the newcomer. The infestation of butterflies that he's been harboring for the past few months begins to flutter immediately, tickling the walls of his stomach as his cheeks flush lightly.

The voice belongs to a tall (or, well, taller than Peter, anyway), ridiculously handsome boy with dark hair and dark eyes, walking towards Peter with his hands in his pockets. The cheeky smirk on his face is all but permanent, but the small, genuine smile it slips into is something that Peter holds close to his chest, something that is typically reserved for him.  

Tony, his older brother, is pretty much Peter's favorite person in the world. Technically, he’s Peter’s step brother. Maria, his mom, and Peter’s dad Richard got married when Peter was a year old and Tony was almost three. They’d essentially spent their whole lives together; neither of them could really remember anything before. They’ve always been close, but that’s changed a little bit this year.

“Hey Tony,” Peter chirps, reaching back into his locker to grab his physics binder. He tries to act natural, even though he feels anything but. His heart’s going a mile a minute inside his rib cage. He feels a little ridiculous, he has for the past few months. Swallowing, he manages to sound relatively calm. “You read the last 2 chapters of Beowulf, right? Mrs. Herrera gave us a pop quiz last period.” 

The older teen groans. Closing his eyes, he throws his head back, a metallic thunk sounding as it collides with the locker he’s leaning back on. “Fucking hell. The final paper is due in like four fucking days! Is that not enough?” It’s quiet for a moment as Tony pauses before he opens one eye, cutting it to look at Peter. “What were the answers?” 

Peter snorts in response, shutting his locker. “Not happening, T.”  He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and lets the left side of his body rest against the cool metal. Three minutes til the bell rings, and Mr. Riley’s class is right across the hall. So he’s essentially got three minutes to indulge himself and the fuzzy warmth that’s running through his veins. He loves any time he gets to spend with Tony. “You’re lucky I told you at all, be grateful.” 

Tony wrinkles his nose at him. “Rude,” he scoffs in mock offense. “I know you can remember them,” comes his teasing accusation. (And he’s right. Peter can recall the entirety of the quiz, but he’s still not going to enable Tony.) Then he pauses and raises an eyebrow at his younger brother. “Is that my sweatshirt?” The garment in question is a worn and slightly faded black Led Zeppelin USA 1977 crewneck sweatshirt. Peter’s wearing it over a charcoal and white check button-up. The sweatshirt is one of Tony’s favorite pieces of clothing, he wears it all the time (hence why Peter...borrowed it...without asking).

Having mentally prepared himself to be questioned at some point, Peter’s reply is already on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, it ended up in my laundry and once I put it on it was too cozy to take off. And it looks good with these jeans and the button-up. And my boots. Trying out a new look,” he finishes, smiling as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. Tony often teased him about the thick, clear-but-slightly-pink frames, but Peter hadn’t wanted glasses at all (he doesn’t need any more reasons to be teased, thank you), but he likes these. They make him look cute, more feminine. More like someone Tony could want. 

“You’re right,” Tony smiles. One of his hands comes up to playfully ruffle at Peter’s russet hair. “Looks great on you, kid.” There’s warm affection in his voice. 

Peter feels his cheeks go hot again, and he wills the flush to go away. He can’t take compliments from Tony, now- they make him ache and preen simultaneously. He knows that Tony doesn’t mean it the way he wants. Peter knows that Tony would never speak to him again if he knew what was really going on inside his little brother’s head. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. 

Speaking of stomachs. “Hey,” he starts as he fingers through the papers in his physics binder, attempting to find the problem set that’s due today. “Did you ever catch up on Hell’s Kitchen? I’ve been rewatching episodes trying to wait for you, but you’re taking too long. You saw the episode where Gordon-” Peter’s heart falls to his stomach and he abruptly stops speaking when he looks up to notice that Tony isn’t looking at him anymore, barely seems to be listening. 

It falls completely out of his ass when he sees just what, just who, has stolen his attention. 

“Sorry, Pete, gotta go,” Tony mutters once he realizes that Peter’s stopped talking, shooting him a hasty smile and shoving off the navy metal. He skirts past Peter, a slight skip in his step as he makes his way down the hallway. 

Peter's swallows and clenches his jaw as he watches his brother walk straight to her, the bane of his existence. The reason he and Tony don’t spend as much time together anymore. The object of Tony’s affections. Pepper. She's...everything Peter wishes he could be, honestly. Tall, somehow a perfect mix of skinny & curvy, bright blue eyes, long strawberry-blonde hair. She's perfect. And not only in looks; she's also ridiculously smart. If Tony wasn’t valedictorian, she surely would be. She even volunteers at the local soup kitchen every weekend, and Peter’s pretty sure she reads to dogs at the animal shelter once a month. He hates that Pepper is so nice; he hates that he can't hate her without hating himself for it. 

As if he didn't have enough self-loathing already.

***

Peter exits the bathroom that connects his bedroom with Tony’s after gently flicking the lock on his brother’s door to disengage it, the soft ‘snick’ ridiculously loud in the quiet of the house. He’s the only one home; Mom and Dad are at some sort of event for Dad’s law firm, and Tony went to a party at Rhodey’s house. (Tony had insisted that Peter was invited, but he had to know that the younger would never go- why would he want to be surrounded by drunk, horny, belligerent teenagers? The last thing he wanted to see was Tony and- )

There’s a dark gray towel loosely wrapped around his waist, so loose he has to clutch it in his hand to keep it from falling. He closes his own bathroom door behind him and drops the towel, digging through his underwear drawer to pull out a random pair of plaid boxers. 

After sliding them on, the brunette takes a deep breath and lays back against the pillows, arms behind his head. He tries to consciously relax his muscles, the tension of the day not having melted away during his shower like he had hoped. Time for Plan B. It’s never let him down before. Peter reaches for his phone and unlocks it before swiping through his apps to open Spotify. The sound of “Dazed and Confused” fills the air through his speakers, and he sets it to repeat on a loop. It’s a little fucked up, the way he’s conditioned himself to respond to this song, but- Peter knows the whole thing is fucked up; he’s fucked up. 

Closing his eyes, he does the only thing he’s been capable of for months: he thinks of his older brother. 

He’s growing fond of the new facial hair Tony’s trying out; he wonders how it would feel against his skin. Which areas would be the most sensitive to its touch? His thighs? His neck? Peter’s head tilts back and to the side as he imagines wet, warm lips and the scratch of stubble. Just the thought, the phantom sensation, makes a soft mewl leave his mouth. It’s a little ridiculous how easy he can get himself going, when he thinks of Tony’s touch, of his body. Of his love. In his boxers, his cock shifts against his thigh as it begins to fill out. 

The sensual, plucky bassline and wailing guitars of the song drag along, and so does Peter’s breathing as he brings a hand up to pinch at one of his nipples. He imagines the way Tony would tease him until he was whining, begging for release. He supposes it wouldn’t be dissimilar to his older brother’s typical manner of playfully taunting him. Maybe Tony would pin him down like he did when they were younger, climb on top of him and hold him there with the muscles he’s gained from boxing in the garage. The opportunities he’s had to see the older teen breathing heavy, shirtless and glistening with sweat, would be forever ingrained in his mind. The mental image sends more blood rushing south and his dick throbs as it quickly reaches full hardness, drawing a gasp from his mouth. 

Peter takes himself in hand, studying the details of his cock. He knows he’s not huge, but he’s at least on the larger side of average. It’s flushed a deep, mauve-y pink, and he traces the line of a vein on the side with the tip of his pinkie. A shiver shoots down his spine. He wonders how similar it is to Tony’s. Is he circumcised like Peter is? Is he bigger? Longer, thicker even? Sure, he’s seen him naked before, when they were younger changing or in the bath, but that stopped around the time Tony was seven or eight. 

(Tony and Peter had come home from school one day, and Peter’s head had been reeling over what he heard some older girls saying on the bus. He’d decided to ask Tony about it. His big brother knew everything. ...Mom & Dad caught them kissing in their bedroom. That was the end of bathing together, and Tony got his own room, too. Peter never forgot about the way his big brother’s lips felt against his own.) 

A bead of precum oozes out of his tip and Peter rubs his thumb over it, smearing the liquid over his cockhead. Robert Plant’s voice moans over the speaker and Peter echoes the sound as he slowly strokes himself with a loose grip, his hole tightening around nothing. Biting his lip, he hesitates before slipping his left pointer finger into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it sloppily. Once it’s wet, he reaches down and gently presses the pad of his finger against the tightly furled muscle between his cheeks. His breath hitches as the sensation; he’s only touched himself down here a couple of times before. 

The tip of his finger begins to breach his opening and a whine leaves Peter’s mouth. It stings a bit so he tries to relax, muscles fluttering, making a mental note to grab some lube next time he goes to the drugstore. He wants to be able to stretch himself out more, to imagine Tony’s fingers, Tony’s cock, splitting him open and stuffing him full. Fuck-

Tightening his grip on the base of his cock, Peter grits his teeth and grunts softly as he pulls his finger from his ass. He can’t cum yet- he’s not done. He reaches under his pillow, pulling out the balled-up t-shirt that’s taken up residence there. The black fabric has faded in some spots, and the Black Sabbath logo is cracked and worn; it’s one of Tony’s favorite shirts. Peter brings the soft cloth up to his nose, fumbling with it to find the area with the strongest smell. There are hints of Tony’s Old Spice deodorant mixed with a scent that’s distinctly Tony, a warm, masculine musk that has saliva pooling in Peter’s mouth. Delirious, fucking his hand to the beat, he wishes he had dug a little further in the hamper, pulled out a pair of Tony’s briefs. 

That’s the thought that does him in. Peter cums into his fist, gasping his brother’s name, the sound getting muddled in the maelstrom of guitar and drums. Thick ropes of jizz splatter on his stomach and chest, entire abdomen heaving with his breaths. 

He wipes the mess up with Tony’s t-shirt before tucking the fabric back under his pillow for safe keeping.

to be continued???

[eretzyisrael]

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

[luvdsc]

Hihi Cat! I've come to deliver some good news! (This is pretty long huhu ToT)

MY ERB HAS BEEN APPROVED AND I CAN PROCEED TO RECRUIT PARTICIPANTS!! Ahh it's been such a blessing to be able to proceed immediately! I've actually hit my target amount of participants in less than a day (IT'S CRAZY) but I'm gonna collect more responses cuz the more the better! (Would you wanna check the questionnaire out? I can PM you the link!! :3)

Also also I PASSED THAT FINALS! The one I took a day after my vaccination (1st dose) ToT GAHH I'm so happy I won't even ask for more, it's enough :3

I've been writing my thesis during this sem break but it's progressing pretty slowly cuz I've been so drained from last semester and the vaccine itself. Huhu but I've written a brief rundown for my proposal so there's a rough idea there, just needa rly assemble it into a clear narrative. And yes I agree! Psychology studies are a beautiful fusion of science & human essence imo, and its fascinating learning more abt ourselves and how we as the human species progress in life ya know? 😌

I got my second dose exactly a week ago and got the same side effects - headache, arm soreness, hunger, fatigue; I felt like a fusion of psyduck & snorlax HAHAHAHA 😂 - it wasn't anything serious so yay I'm fully vaccinated! (in a few weeks time keke I'll be)

HAHAHAHA my vaccination appointments were pretty eventful. The nurses and volunteers were all so warm and friendly! I'm the type of person who feels whatever's being injected into me, it's not the pain that I wanna distract myself from (it wasn't pain tbh) but that sluggish discomfort I get from the needle ejaculation >//< sooo as they showed me the vile and syringe before injecting me, I prepped my Yangyang photocard in my hand. During my second dose, the nurse thought I had some fancy way of taking a video when in actual fact I was just looking at my Yangyang photocard hehe UwU she asked me whether I wanted to see the needle going in (smtg I can't look at tbh) and I was like HELL NAH ToT

And also some recap from the previous ask!

There's no need to apologise for the delayed response okie!! UwU my sem break is ending this week, but I've spent my time completing my academic research trainee tasks (transcribing audio clips), I've also created the content & design for my uni's newsletter, did some thesis writing, and I took a course on financial planning on Coursera to prep myself for the adulting life ToT

And idm sharing my back up / failed topics! I didn't have a lot of cards in my hands, but here are some of em!

1) time perspective and meaning in life 2) anticipatory nostalgia 3) not a topic but a variable! fragility of happiness / happiness aversion

what ideas did you settle on for yr art pieces? If you dm sharing, I'd love to hear abt it! 💖💖💖

Tbh I can't think of a fav ice cream flavor hmm 🤔 i rly didn't think it'd be so hard thinking of a fav ice cream flavor but the first that comes to mind is green tea! I like them milky flavored ice cream😍 though my fav from this ice cream place I go to is thai milk tea, it's so fragrant and milky!! 🥺💖 I just got myself a tub of milk & biscoff gelato keke UwU what's yr fav ice cream flavor? :3

For my course structure:

We have 2 long sems (Jan - Apr, & Aug - Dec, 16 weeks) & a short sem (May - July, 9 weeks)! Our sem breaks are only around a month then it's back to sleepless nights ToT AND YES those weeks were the most stressful weeks ever 🥺😭 I'm glad I'm graduating soon for that reason 😂(though idk what awaits in the working world ToT that is another fear I have :/)

Thank you for being part of this journey and being open to listening to my lil adventures! 🥺🙆🏻‍♀️💖😭 esp w the amount of responses and ppl helping me, I feel a lil more motivated to work and excel in this pregnancy (thesis, I call it pregnancy cuz it's around 9 months too HEHE) Since the pandemic, it's been pretty hard separating studies & hobbies :/ I've learnt it the hard way from my period cramps last sem (mine's the severe type where you can faint ToT), and it was also on my last paper for finals !! Very traumatizing ._. but I'll continue to manage myself better! :3

Huhu Cat since you're working now, I also wanna ask abt yr experience in job seeking! Cuz unemployment is a real deal here esp. w everything that's going on :') I don't have working experience either (only had 1 through internship) and it literally feels like I'm going into the unknown ToT I've been running over some case studies and assessments just to better prep myself for this. Do you have any advice as someone who's already working? UwU

Take care and stay lovely as always!! 💖💖💖

hi, sweetpea !!!! 🌸 omg major congratulations for getting your ERB approved, honey bee !!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 that’s absolutely amazing, and I’m uber proud of you 🥺💗💗 also, it’s wonderful that you hit the required number of participants so quickly !!!!! (And I would love to participate if the questionnaire is still open 🤧)

AND HECK YEAAA CONGRATS ON PASSING THE FINAL TOO 🤩🤩🤩🤩 big congrats to you all around, miss smarty pants 💓💓💓

Oh gosh, I hope you got to rest during your semester break too ): you’re working so hard, please remember to take care of yourself !! 💕 your mental health is more important 🤍 have you finalized your proposal now? And omg yes exactly !!! It’s so interesting to see the thought process behind an action and how it can be manipulated or influenced by various stimulants or there’s also the argument between nature versus nurture too and how that affects psychology and it’s just all so cool to learn about 🤩

Omg you had so many symptoms, I’m so sorry to hear that 😭 I only had a sore arm, but that’s what happens when I get any shot 🤧 I hope you’re feeling better now 💘💘

I’m really glad to hear that the nurses and volunteers were kind and friendly !! it’s always comforting to have nice people as doctors, especially when you’re trusting them to stick a needle in you bshdjdjdkd omg yangyang to the rescue !!!! 💞💞 we’re not allowed to record record any medical appointments, like I think the nurse thought the person in front of me in line was recording when they were getting their vaccine and said they weren’t allowed to do that 😅 and aaaaa I always have to look when they inject me, I don’t like being taken by surprise 🤧

oh my gosh you were so productive over your semester break !!!! :o and oooo you do content & design for your school’s newsletter? Do you do stuff like graphic designing and write articles? 💓 and how was the financial planning course !! Did you learn a lot? Did you like the studies? :’)

aaaaa those topics sound so cool ??? 🤩🤩 I would definitely be down to read about those omg 💛

for my 3D design class, I decided to do lightbulbs and flowers as my overarching theme for my art pieces !! I included a couple pictures below under the cut at the bottom 💓 the first one is a soft sculpture made out of newspaper, and there’s a pencil next to it for size reference, the second one is made of wires that I shaped myself, and the third one is made of foam boards that I cut and assembled myself as well 💕 and I included a picture of my final painting project! it’s a triptych and I believe the size was like 18 x 24 for each one? If you click on the picture, it should be better quality!

omg I love green tea ice cream too !!!!! 🍵🍦 I like going to somi somi for their matcha and milk swirl ice cream with red bean taiyaki 💚 I only had thai milk tea ice cream once, but it was phenomenal 🤩 I wish they sold it near me too !! milk and biscoff :o I’ve never tried that flavor! I’ll have to see if it’s sold around here :’) green tea is my favorite, but I also really like everything but the... from Ben and Jerry’s !! 💛 also alcoholic ice cream.... like there’s this one kind where it was a breakfast esque type with vanilla, corn flakes, and bourbon, and it was delicious 😋

omg what 😭😭 you’re basically going to school year round with no break bahsjdjdjdkd when I was in uni, i had a month off for winter break (usually something like dec 9 - jan 9) and then mid june to mid September off, so around three months of summer vacation? Your school schedule sounds absolutely brutal 💀💀

and omg of course !!! Thank you for letting me be a part of the journey 🥺💗 bdjdjddj pregnancy omg that’s such an interesting way of seeing it :o sending you all my love and support for a successful delivery of your thesis baby 🥰🥰 oh yeah, it’s definitely been a struggle to separate everything, especially when the lines between home and workspace blur with online school or working from home. And oh my god ???? Are you okay ?? Did you go see a doctor or take any medication? I hope you’re feeling better now !! Please take care of yourself 😭

ah, I got my job through my internship, so I’m not sure how helpful I will be 😅 but during the process of interviewing for internships, there were several rounds for each company that range from a group interview, a one on one interview, video interview where they give you random questions that you have to answer on the spot (some of mine were discuss the stock market, give a sales pitch on something you’re interested in, etc), a test, etc. I think it’s different depending on the job you’re going for, but that’s what I had to do in the business field! It’s important to study and prep for all of this!! It’s like taking an verbal exam for one of your classes. And also make sure to study the company’s website and familiarize yourself with what they do/sell.

My one piece of overall advice would be about interviews! Interviews are important in which the person interviewing you is seeing if you’ll be a good fit with the company, not in terms of skill, but personality. They already know you’re qualified and have good skills - that’s how you got the interview. With the interview, they’re essentially trying to see how personable you are and if you will work well with their team. Some people are so intent on proving their skills that they kinda just rattle off all their achievements and whatnot, and it’s like... the interviewer already knows this, it’s all on the resume they reviewed when they decided to give the interview offer. Be friendly, open, maybe make a little small talk at the beginning (“hey, how are you? any weekend plans / how was your weekend?” This is what I did for all my business interviews, and I got an offer back from every one 🤧💗), make appropriate jokes / be a little funny, just show that you’d be a fun person to have in the office whom people will want on their team, but that you will also be dedicated to the job and work hard 💘

And thank you so much, honey bee!!! 💞 I hope you’re doing well and having a good week , and please take care as well 🌷🌷

[onrainynights]

So I'm about to tell y'all a tale, buckle up. Everything here is 100% true, except names are changed or shortened because duh. Also warning there is slightly nsfw content, nothing explicit and only mentioned but still warrants a warning.

So, I'm 17, almost 18. I'm a high school senior. The story starts almost two years ago, in the fall of 2018. I was a sophomore. One of my best friends, V, was in our school's show choir for the first time, and had made friends with a new guy one year our senior who was also in slow choir. I knew before I met him that he was gay, because V told me. This guy can be called E. One day, he sits at our lunch table and I'm not really paying attention to his conversation with V, I'm just eating my lunch. But then I look up and my first thought when I see him is "eyebrows" because he has really thick eyebrows and then "wow he's actually really cute." He was the first person I was attracted to in over 2 years. I proceed to ask V all about him while admiring him from afar for several months. At this point its nothing more than attraction because I've never really had a conversation with him. Then, in the spring, I volunteered at the show choir competition my school hosted. I ended up talking to him (yay), and he hugs me within minutes of meeting me. One of the first things I ever say to him is "I like your eyebrows." Things are slightly awkward, because I'm an awkward person, and so is he, but it's pleasant. Unfortunately I don't get to spend too much time with him because we both had things we needed to do and there was A LOT of drama that night not involving either of us.

After that point we would talk occasionally but never really got to know each other, UNTIL fall of my junior year and his senior year. By this point I had a crush, but it wasn't more than that and I didn't feel we knew each other well enough to warrant me telling him my feelings. We were both in the fall musical. At auditions, we were friendly. Except he asked me about J, a guy one year younger than me, who was also just as gay as both me and E. The way he asked me "Who is that?" I knew, immediately, that he was attracted to J. He sounded exactly like I did when I first asked V about E after seeing him for the first time.

Regardless, E and me talked a lot more during rehearsals, though we usually kept our conversations light in topic. We flowed well, and he was just as physically affectionate as I was. After a few weeks, I see him cuddling with J during rehearsal, and a friend informs me they started dating. I asked them both questions about how it started—a Snapchat story, go figure. At first I was jealous, but I saw how happy E seemed, and that was all that mattered. But I didn't really know J, like at all other than his name, so I started spending as much time as I could with the both of them. They were a cute couple, I have to admit, but they always did PDA because of J's homophobic family. They only ever saw each other at school.

The first time I talked to J without E there, we bonded. I don't remember over what. The next time, we were alone because I pulled him aside after he made a dirty joke that I honestly couldn't tell if he meant (he did. It was hilarious, and I told him up-front that I wanted to be friends with him. He enthusiastically agreed.) The time after that, it was because I decided he should know about my feelings for E. I didn't want him to potentially find out later on and think I was trying to steal his boyfriend. He was amazingly mature. He said he felt bad for taking E from me when I had liked him longer, but I assured him that E didn't belong to me by any means and besides, J made E happy and that was all I cared about. I think I was already in love with E by this point but I didn't know it yet. J and I joked about my feelings for E whenever we were alone. We got along really well and it was a great time.

One time I cuddled with them, and it was nice, and when E had to get up J and I kept cuddling and talked about how much we both just wanted E to be happy. It was really nice.

And then, closer to the opening night of the show when the set was being built and there were more places to be out of sight, something strange happened. Now, earlier when I said PDA I meant they made out in front of others frequently, and the first time they did anything sexual with each other was in a well-known security camera blind spot in the upstairs math hall after all the teachers had gone home. I know that because J and E (mostly J) liked to tell me about their sex life. In fact, I knew more about their relationship than most people probably did.

So we were backstage one day, when E wasn't needed on-stage much despite playing a main character. There were two prop chairs between the three of us. J sat on E's lap on the chair that had a higher back and I sat as close to them as I could in an office chair. They weren't kissing or anything, just talking.

It was innocent, at first. But then J started working E up, if you know what I mean. It wasn't really uncomfortable for me, because J somehow made me feel ~included~ in their activities. He would whisper something lewd to E, who would blush or say something back, and then would tell me about how affected E was, how hard he was. At some point I think E mentioned not wanting to come in his pants, but I'm not sure. I kinda forced myself not to look into this event after it happened, so the details are a bit fuzzy. Eventually, E made J stop because he had to go on stage soon and didn't want to have a boner while pretending to be straight. J and I talked afterwards, but I don't remember what about, and it was never mentioned between us again. I'm fairly sure that J was a bit of an exhibitionist, and that E wasn't really one but wasn't opposed to what J was doing, either.

Honestly, in hindsight, I'm not sure what to think about this, because I was always so certain they both viewed me 100% platonically, but then they included me in their "sexytimes" without hesitation. In fact, at one point a plan was in place for me to room with them on an overnight trip so that they could do the do without making their roommate uncomfortable. They were both fully aware that I was probably the only person who didn't mind their PDA, and that sentiment may seem incongruous for a love triangle such as this, but I never questioned it. I loved E selflessly, and so it made me happy to see him happy, no matter what—or who—was doing so. Also, I think perhaps I was crushing on J at some point, but I'm not sure. These screenshots are of me explaining the event to a very close friend a few days ago after the shock wore off that I hadn't told her about it as soon as it happened.

At some point, a mutual good friend of mine and E's, who we'll call A, hosted a party for the cast of our musical. I'm not sure if this was before or after the casual exhibitionism incident, but I'm inclined to think it was before.

This party did not involve alcohol of any kind because theatre kids don't need any to make a party unique, wild, and totally unforgettable. It was small, with maybe 20 people at its peak. E and I were there and J was not, because his family thoroughly sucked ass. Anyway, at that party E told me he was in love with J, and wanted to marry him some day. I, obviously, thought that was kinda crazy to say after knowing each other for two months, but I held my tongue because E smiled so widely when he said it. Later that same night, everyone was sitting around a fire, playing a game somewhat similar to truth or dare. Due to a lack of seating, E ended up sitting on my lap for most of the game, which lasted over an hour, my hands around his waist. It was very nice, and when he got up he laughed and said he forgot he was sitting on my lap. He forgot little things like that a lot. I always found it endearing.

Then the show performed and then it was over, and I didn't get to talk to E again until a few months later, and I never talked to J again. Unlike most teens, I do not talk to people online /through text unless I already know them super super well. I hate getting to know people over text. By the time I see E again, because he's the student assistant in my choir class that semester, he and J have broken up. It was messy, and E is hurt. They're on-again-off-again for several months, but I can never forgive J for hurting E, not when he had talked about only wanting E to be happy. Despite that, I wish I could have spent more time with J. He was a good person, but he and E had a toxic relationship after the honeymoon stage, I think because J simply was not ready to be in a serious relationship. (A agrees with me fully on this.)

So E talks with me and a mutual "friend" (we're all friendly but I wouldn't consider this person a friend. Funnily enough, he also had a crush on E at some point, and we bonded over this. Funny how that happens.) about his relationship, and the things he says raise some red flags about J (including J doing something E didn't like during sex and then not stopping when E asked him to. I was very very angry at this but tried not to show it). It became clear to me that their relationship was toxic, but I didn't feel like I could do anything about it. In hindsight, I should have known their relationship was doomed a lot sooner.

Specifically, there was one point during the musical that J had to resolve things with his ex, who was a friend of mine (who I didn't know was queer and wasn't supposed to until E accidentally let it slip.) While J and his ex talked, I cuddled with E and reassured him that everything would be ok. He was convinced that J would cheat on him or get back with his ex. This lack of trust should have been a sign for me, but I didn't realize it until much, much later. I was focused on comforting E at the time and J couldn't have been farther from my mind.

Then, after E and J got back together again for the last time, covid happened, and school closed. I haven't spoken to E since, and no one knows what's going on with J. The only thing anyone knows is that they're not together anymore, and from what I can tell, they're not in contact at all and aren't going to get together again. E graduated, J is at a different school, and despite everything, I miss both of them.

Every day, I pass by a photo of E and A in the hallway of my school, and my heart swells, and I feel like crying. A graduated too, and she's moving thousands of miles away at the end of October for college. E is still living in our town, going to community college, but I never get to see him.

Our school is doing a fall play instead of a musical this year, and E and A are coming to visit and see a rehearsal before A moves away. It could be one of the last times, if not the last time, I get to see either of them. I'm going to tell E about my feelings, because for the first time since I realized my feelings for him were not skin-deep, he's single and not recovering from a nasty breakup. I'm not expecting him to return my feelings, but I'm expecting surprise. I've been very careful up to this point to keep my feelings from him—I thought it would be selfish to tell him when he wasn't emotionally available. A loves the idea—apparently she thinks someone confessing feelings for her after years would be sweet—but I know that if someone did that to me I might not be so happy. I would be shocked and surprised first, and then my reaction after that would depend on the person.

Also, to complicate all of this, I'm trans and he has expressed confusion about that before (poor guy is uneducated in that department, but not bigoted and certainly better than some gay men can be, but I still have no clue if my trans status would deter him from having feelings for me)

My feelings for this guy are deeper than anything I've ever felt before. I really love him, and I know that I'll regret it forever if I never tell him. His visit feels like it's as close to the right time as I'm gonna get, and it might be my last chance on top of that. I don't need him to return my feelings, but I need to know that I did everything I could to take my chances.

TL;DR: I'm a gay idiot but I'm finally gonna tell him how I feel