#fridge molina

[innytoes]

Prompts! “Well well well, if it isn’t the feelings I’ve been trying to avoid” for RayRaggie.

The little room they put him in was blessedly silent. The chairs weren't the most comfortable thing, but well, it was an interrogation room. They weren't supposed to be comfortable.

Reggie rested his forehead on the steel table, his leg bouncing in a steady beat. He felt... fizzy, somehow. Like a soda can that had been shaken and then put back in the fridge for an unsuspecting victim.

The door opened, and an agent stepped through. "Doctor Peters."

Reggie's head shot up from the table, and he sat up straight.

Oh no. "Oh no."

Agent Molina raised an eyebrow at him, and sat down in the chair across from him.

"Am I in trouble? They wouldn't send a Level 7 agent if I weren't in trouble oh my god are they firing me aren't they? They're firing me and I'm going to have to be a barista somewhere because I can't put down Top Secret Government Lab as my former work experience."

Agent Molina smiled a comforting smile. "You're not in trouble, and you're not getting fired. They sent me because I'm experienced in truth serum. We're just trying to figure out what happened."

Oh thank god. "Oh thank god," he breathed out.

"When did you realise you'd been doused with truth serum?"

"Well, probably when I was holding a vial of truth serum to put in the centrifuge and I slipped and it spilled all over me."

"That would do it," Agent Molina said. "Were you wearing your agency issued shoes?"

"Yeah. I just tripped over my own feet because I was dancing along to music and I didn't mean to say that part."

"Truth serum will do that to you," Agent Molina nodded. "Besides the whole truth telling part, it lowers your inhibitions, so you blurt out basically everything you're thinking."

"I'm thinking about how if they fire me I can never get another one of those chocolate caramel muffins from the cafeteria." Wow, Agent Molina was right. "You were right, I am just blurting everything out. Even more so than usual. I mean I'm a dork and a blabber mouth at the best of times but I literally cannot stop talking and I hate it."

"How are you feeling?" Agent Molina asked.

"Really bad," Reggie said. "I ran into Agent Shaw and told him he couldn't pull off the man bun he was sporting and he looked really sad about it. I thought it was for an assignment but it turns out he was Trying Something New."

"I meant physically," Agent Molina clarified, looking rather amused.

Oh. "Oh. Um, fizzy."

"No trouble breathing, sweating, or increased heart rate?"

Reggie took stock of his body. "Only that last one, but that's 'cause you're so hot and I always get a little flustered when you're around and oh my god you weren't supposed to know about that."

Agent Molina looked a little startled at that.

He thunked his head on the table. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the feelings I've been trying to avoid. I'm so sorry, Agent Molina, I know you're totally not interested in a dorky scientist ten years your junior but you're just such a DILF and when you smile your eyes crinkle and if you could just kill me now that would be great thank you."

"It's alright," Agent Molina said. "We all say things we didn't mean to share when we're under truth serum. Back in the academy when we were learning to deal with being interrogated while dosed, I managed to successfully complete the assignment and then immediately after exiting the exam room tell my roommate I would have liked to have sex with him but him leaving his dirty underwear all around our room was a massive turn-off."

"How did that work out?" Reggie asked, moving his head up off the table.

"The dorm room was spotless the last six weeks of training," Agent Molina said, winking.

Reggie giggled helplessly, then whined and thunked his head back down. "Stop looking so hot it's unfair and now my crush will never go away and we have the same lunch hours and I won't be able to get the chocolate caramel muffins ever again anyway."

"I'm sorry," Agent Molina said. He did not sound particularly apologetic.

"You don't sound sorry." Reggie pouted at his shoelaces. "You got what you came for, the dumbass scientist just tripped, no foul play, no OSHA violations. Can I suffer my embarrassment in peace now?"

"I'm afraid someone has to sit with you and watch you for the next couple of hours," Agent Molina said. Reggie whined again. Maybe if he thunked his head against the table hard enough, he could make himself unconscious. "Stop that, you're going to have a headache tomorrow anyway. Now, the basic key to not saying anything you don't want to say while on truth serum is to talk about something else and keep steering the conversation to that. What can you talk about for hours on end?"

"Star Wars," Reggie blurted out. "Oh god now you know I'm a nerd."

"I like Star Wars," Agent Molina said. "What's your favourite movie?"

They talked about Star Wars for two hours, and Reggie only veered off topic to explain fanfiction and the existence of Coffee Shop AUs for like, twenty minutes. Agent Molina didn't ask anything that would make him say anything embarrassing (or well, he tried), and then when Reggie started to get sleepy, he guided him to one of the rooms on base where agents could sleep in between assignments or after stake outs.

He reassured Reggie he'd be outside the door for the next four hours, after which the serum would have worn off, but that Reggie would probably sleep for much longer. He got clearance for a few days off on medical leave afterwards, so he could lick his wounds in his own apartment (and binge read his favourite 50k coffee shop AU, of course).

When he finally did go back to work, he was very much not expecting Agent Molina to show up at his lab balancing a bag with two chocolate caramel muffins on top of two coffees, asking if maybe he'd be interested in going to drink them together.

So maybe truth serum wasn't all that bad.

[mac-lilly]

Hotdog and cold dog

Usually, I do not indulge in German!Alex. But this idea had been haunting me for some time. It’s not very original and a bit dumb. But still – enjoy. And big thanks to @onlygenxhere who came up with the term 'Kit Kat' for ... something.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

It’s funny how dying and coming back to life changes one’s priorities.

Before his death, Willie had spent most of his life on the streets. He’d roamed the city on his skateboard; he’d strolled along the beach. He’d done his level best to avoid returning to the latest foster home he’d been placed in.

After his death … Well, he’d mostly done the same. But he’d also fallen into the orbit of Caleb Covington, which had effectively cost him the rights to his soul.

Needless to say, neither his life nor his afterlife had been very pleasant experiences.

So, when fate offered him a third chance, Willie decided that this time, he’d tackle life differently.

That’s why he is here, sitting on a bar stool, watching Alex bustling around in the Molinas’ kitchen as he prepares tonight’s dessert. It’s an incredibly domestic moment, and Willie enjoys it to its fullest.  

The kitchen is a mess, though. The countertops are covered with ingredients and bowls, pots with water are steaming on the stove, and dishes pile up in the sink in a haphazard way. And in the middle of this orchestrated chaos stands Alex, the conductor, wearing a pink apron and holding a chocolate-covered spatula like a baton. Melted chocolate is dripping onto the tiles.

Man, German desserts are extraordinarily complicated, aren’t they?

On the other hand, Willie has been here from the beginning. And from what he’s gathered, Alex’s secret German dessert consists of extremely plain cookies and a lot of chocolate. It looks like an oversized chocolate candy bar that’s now chilling in the fridge.

Willie can’t help it. His curiosity gets the better of him.

“So all of this,” he says, inclining his head to point at a leaning stack of bowls, “for a giant Kit Kat?”

Willie isn’t complaining. Not at all. He likes cookies. He likes chocolate. And he likes Alex … a lot. So, in his books, this dish is already a triple win.

Alex misinterprets his words, though. He turns around, planting his free hand on his hip, scowling.

Damn, that’s way more attractive than it should be.

“It’s not a Kit Kat,” Alex insists sternly.

“But it looks like one,” Willie counters, smirking. But maybe he’s gone too far with his teasing.

Alex’s demeanor changes drastically. His shoulders sag; his face falls. Disappointment crosses his features.

Willie’s smirk vanishes. Oh shit.

“Hey, hey, don’t sulk,” he says hurriedly. “I’m just messing with you, hotdog.” To prove his point, he leans over the counter, reaches out, and snatches the chocolate-covered spatula from Alex’s hands. He licks it clean in a rather seducing manner. “I’m really looking forward to tasting your oversized candy bar.” There’s an innuendo hidden in the sentence, and of course, Alex catches on to it. The effect is immediate and intense. He splutters, and a blush travels up his neck. His face turns crimson – even the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink. He mutters a few words under his breath. It could have been an insult; it could have been German. Most likely, it’s both.

Willie chuckles. Embarrassed Alex is such a delightful sight.

But Willie isn’t a cruel man. They’re going to have much more fun later.  

“So, what’s the name of this dish?” Wille asks to put Alex out of his misery.

To his surprise, Alex snickers, and Willie blinks in confusion. That’s unusual. But Alex’s gleeful snickers are also one of the best sounds he’s ever heard, sending shivers down Willie’s spine. His nerves tingle. Damn.

Thankfully, Alex quickly answers his question, distracting him from the sensation. “It’s called Kalter Hund.”

Willie tests the words. They are not as unpronounceable as expected. However, he’s convinced he messed up the pronunciation anyway because Alex’s smile has morphed into an impish smirk. And damn, Willie loves it. He loves the way Alex’s lips curl. He loves the way his eyes sparkle with mischief.

What he doesn’t like is not knowing. He’s clearly missed something, so he has to ask. “What?”

“Do you know what it means?”

Willie tries to guess but without success. He shrugs.

“Please, hotdog, enlighten me.”

Alex looks more smug than Willie has ever seen him. There’s a glint of triumph in his eyes that makes Willie’s stomach flutter. He squirms in his seat. Oh, yes, he’s gone way too far with his teasing. And then Alex leans over the counter. He’s so close their noses almost touch. The proximity steals Willie’s breath away.

“It means cold dog.”

There’s a long pause as they stare into each other’s eyes. Alex’s eyes are bright and intelligent and … oh fuck, Willie really, really loves them. He really, really loves him. So Willie concedes defeat. He lets out a strangled sound that’s half a snort and half a gasp. “Smart move, hotdog.”

“Yeah,” Alex confirms, smirking. Then he closes the distance, pressing his lips to Willie’s.

Yes, Willie really loves his new life.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Inspired by the IG account uyenninh. Unfortunately, I can't find the video anymore. But her German BF once served her this delicacy. ���

[thephantomchronicles]

Relationships: Ray Molina & Aunt Victoria, Carlos Molina & Julie Molina & Ray Molina & Aunt Victoria

Characters: Ray Molina, Aunt Victoria (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina, Carlos Molina

Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, with a hopeful ending, Good Parent Ray Molina, Ray Molina Needs a Hug, Tia Victoria being a great aunt

Summary

“Ray?” she called his name again. “Qué pasó?”

Ray raised his head with a sigh, a hand going over his face, his arms eventually coming to rest on his knees in front of him as he stared ahead. “There’s no room in the fridge,” he said as if that explained everything. Which honestly, it did. It explained everything, but it still didn’t make things better.

“Okay,” Victoria said after a few seconds of silence and he heard a soft thump. Finally turning to look at her, he saw her leaving a container full of… something on the counter. He nearly wanted to laugh.

[sa7abnews]

St. Paul: West Seventh/Fort Road Federation loses lease at historic Rathskeller building it saved from demolition

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/06/st-paul-west-seventh-fort-road-federation-loses-lease-at-historic-rathskeller-building-it-saved-from-demolition/

St. Paul: West Seventh/Fort Road Federation loses lease at historic Rathskeller building it saved from demolition

It took the better part of a decade for the West Seventh/Fort Road Federation to get a sizable portion of the century-old Jacob Schmidt Brewery into the hands of a development partner willing to save it from likely demolition and breathe new life into the storied Rathskeller office building. It took just weeks for the federation, a city of St. Paul-backed community organization, to lose its lease in the Rathskeller. Meg Duhr, president of the federation — one of the city’s 17 neighborhood district councils — has been spending her nights and weekends packing boxes. On Monday evening, Duhr loaded filing cabinets onto a wheeled dolly. With executive director Julia McColley out on maternity leave, Duhr — who pulls no salary as president — has taken it upon herself to move the organization from the 1935 German beer hall building into new quarters in the second-floor parish office of nearby St. Stanislaus Church. Some board members recently objected to the idea of relocating the nonprofit into the upstairs level of a religious institution, but the rent was free. “This is purely a volunteer effort at this point,” Duhr said, during a break from her regular full-time job. “It’s just frustrating, because we have so many other issues we should be working on. There’s the Riverview transit corridor and pedestrian issues. Instead, we’re trying to find space where we could have an office, and moving mini-fridges. But I think St. Stan’s is going to be a really good fit.” Suzanne Zahorski, from left, Meg Duhr and Seth Smiglewski load a filing cabinet onto a small trailer outside the West 7th/Fort Road Federation office, located in the Rathskeller building in St. Paul, on Monday, Aug. 5, 2024. The federation has to relocate as quickly as possible after a new owner bought the building the group currently resides in. (Devanie Andre / Pioneer Press) Rent too costly Earlier this year Wilson Molina and the Molina Group acquired the Rathskeller from a Texas-based holding company that had purchased the building at a foreclosure auction. Duhr said Molina, the Rathskeller’s new owner, quoted her community nonprofit a monthly lease of about $1,700 monthly which the federation could not afford. Reached by phone on Monday, Molina, who is based in Minneapolis, said he has been renegotiating leases with all of the Rathskeller building’s tenants. Several tenants, including a hair salon, the ROK music lounge and the federation, are packing up. Molina said an Asian restaurant that he believed will offer fusion cuisine will move into the ROK space. An existing commercial bakery also plans to stay in place. “We’re getting new tenants in and renewing leases from the previous tenants who are there,” Molina said. “I think it will be a big switch. … We’ll see if we have a commitment. If not, we’re evicting them.” Saved from likely demolition Board members with the federation previously hoped their lease would protect them from a price hike, as they’re roughly five years into a 10-year lease agreement. Their arrangement with original Rathskeller developer Craig Cohen guaranteed them free rent until the year 2029 — or so they thought. An attorney dug into the mechanics of the deal and found they had no legal protection against higher rent. Meg Duhr, middle, President of West 7th/Fort Road Federation, Maggie Rock, left, 1st Vice President of the group, and Hayden Kilkenny, right, Area 2 Coordinator, pack up the conference room in the Rathskeller building in St. Paul on Monday, Aug. 5, 2024. The federation is relocating their offices after a new owner bought the building. (Devanie Andre / Pioneer Press) In 2011, the St. Paul Housing and Redevelopment Authority — the city’s land-owning arm — provided the federation with $1.9 million to buy the Rathskeller building and the adjacent Keg House property, likely saving it from demolition. The federation then sold the Keg House property to Schmidt Keg House Holdings in 2014 for $550,000, and the proceeds were deposited into an escrow fund to be used toward the building’s redevelopment. The federation later used the funds to replace the building’s roof and remove lead-based paint, asbestos and polluted soils. Roughly $2 million of city, HRA, Metropolitan Council and state Department of Employment and Economic Development funds soon followed. The federation returned the Rathskeller building to the HRA in 2015 to reduce holding costs, but remained involved in maintenance and pre-development work. In December 2015, the HRA board expanded a nearby tax increment financing district associated with the old Koch-Mobil petroleum tank farm site near the future Victoria Park. The district, which effectively borrows money from future tax proceeds generated within its own borders to fund site improvements, produced $1.4 million in a “pay-as-you-go” TIF loan to the federation. All the while, the federation looked for commercial tenants to move into the Rathskeller, which hosts multiple office spaces above its distinctive basement beer hall. That’s when Cohen arrived around 2017 as the managing partner of Rathskeller Renaissance LLC. He had previously acquired and renovated three buildings along West Seventh Street. In addition to the Rathskeller and the Keg House, he acquired from the federation the West Seventh Street building that is now home to the White Squirrel bar and performance stage. Every corner of the West 7th/Fort Road Federation office is boxed up as the organization moves its office from the Rathskeller building in St. Paul to St. Stanislaus Church on Monday, Aug. 5, 2024. (Devanie Andre / Pioneer Press) Keg and Case — and the beginning of the end Cohen quickly drew a flurry of commercial tenants, debuting the Keg and Case food hall in 2018 following some $10 million in improvements. The 168-year-old keg house’s 22,000 square feet of commercial space was outfitted with 23 vending stations, from a 14-foot-tall mushroom farm to a glass-encased bee hive, an artisan pickle booth, an upscale restaurant and eventually Clutch Brewing on its mezzanine level. From the start, some called the Keg and Case set-up too pricey for the neighborhood. Two sit-down restaurants, the southern-themed In Bloom and the Woodfired Cantina, closed in succession. Clutch Brewing called it quits at the end of 2023, by which time most other food vendors were long gone. Cohen, of St. Paul, filed for personal bankruptcy protection in April. MidWestBank One took title to the Keg and Case deed last October, but it was unclear on Monday if it was on the market. The neighboring Rathskeller building was sold at a sheriff’s auction in May 2023, with a one-year redemption period ending mid-May of this year. On May 13, the Rathskeller title transferred to JTS Capital, a Texas-based asset acquisition and management company. The Rathskeller was then quickly acquired that same month by Molina and the Molina Investment Group, which talked up the possibility at the time of installing a Brazilian steakhouse. Since then, several Rathskeller office tenants have been unable to reach agreement on new leasing arrangements with Molina. Mike Jacobson, who ran Bad Penny Pinball since last fall, also lost his space at Rathskeller when his rent — which he said had been $900 a month — went to $1,500. Duhr noted the irony of the federation having to depart the building. “We’re getting kicked out of a building that would not exist if not for the federation,” Duhr said. “The federation really led the way to keep the building from demolition, and to coordinate with the Heritage Preservation Commission to restore the space to how it was when it was a functioning office and Rathskeller for the Schmidt Brewery.” Related Articles

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[ace-bookworm]

Spreading the good word of Fruke this morning

@futurearchaeologyprof @thedeathdeelers and @star-astro I may have completely inserted myself into this unprompted but I’m still blaming you guys.

The look of sheer horror on my friends face was brilliant

[hollywood-hat-club-official]

@endless-navigator & @themascot3000 still funny as ever.

[amythecinnabunny]

I see your druke patterbox and I would like to raise you:

Fridge Molina

[a-tomb-with-a-view]

I think Reggie randomly Googles other countries’ terms for things and adopts them into his own vernacular for literally no reason except to annoy the others. Calls candy floss daddy’s beard (literal translation of the French term), calls gloves hand shoes (literal translation of the German term) etc etc, and I think Flynn would join in immediately

[blackwoolncrown]

For the past few days, a heatwave has glowered over the Pacific Northwest, forcing temperatures in the region to a record-breaking 118ºF. Few people in the region—neither Americans nor Canadians—have air-conditioning. Stores sold out of new AC units in hours as a panicked public sought a reasonable solution to the emergency. Unfortunately, air-conditioning is part of what’s causing the unusual heatwave in the first place.

We came close to destroying all life on Earth during the Cold War, with the threat of nuclear annihilation. But we may have come even closer during the cooling war, when the rising number of Americans with air conditioners—and a refrigerant industry that fought regulation—nearly obliterated the ozone layer. We avoided that environmental catastrophe, but the fundamental problem of air conditioning has never really been resolved.

Mechanical cooling appeared in the early 1900s not for comfort but for business. In manufacturing, the regulation of temperature—“process cooling”—controlled the quality of commodities like cotton, tobacco, and chewing gum. In 1903, Alfred Wolff installed the first cooling system for people at the New York Stock Exchange because comfortable traders yielded considerably higher stock returns. Only in the ’20s did “commercial cooling” appear. On Memorial Day weekend 1925, Willis Carrier debuted the first centrifugal air-conditioning system at the Rivoli Theater in Midtown Manhattan. Previously, theaters had shut down in the summer. With air-conditioning, the Rivoli became “the talk of Broadway” and inaugurated the summer blockbuster.

-another direct tie to capitalism. Everything born out of colonio-capitalism carries its toxic mark. Article totally not under the cut for those who can’t pay for Time. It honestly paints a really clear picture of the situation. Bolding mine.-

“It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.“

Before World War II, almost no one had air-conditioning at home. Besides being financially impractical and culturally odd, it was also dangerous. Chemical refrigerants like sulfur dioxide and methyl chloride filled most fridges and coolers, and leaks could kill a child, poison a hospital floor, even blow up a basement. Everything changed with the invention of Freon in 1928. Non-toxic and non-explosive, Freon was hailed as a “miracle.” It made the modernist skyscraper—with its sealed windows and heat-absorbing materials—possible. It made living in the desert possible. The small, winter resort of Phoenix, Arizona, became a year-round attraction. Architecture could now ignore the local climate. Anywhere could be 65ºF with 55% humidity. Cheap materials made boxy, suburban tract housing affordable to most Americans, but the sealed-up, stifling design of these homes required air-conditioning to keep the heat at bay. Quickly, air-conditioning transitioned from a luxury to a necessity. By 1980, more than half of all U.S. homes were air-conditioned. And despite millions of Black Americans fleeing the violence of Jim Crow, the South saw greater in-migration than out-migration for the first time—a direct result of AC. The American car was similarly transformed. In 1955, only 10 percent of American cars had air-conditioning. Thirty years later, it came standard.

The cooling boom also altered the way we work. Now, Americans could work anywhere at any hour of the day. Early ads for air-conditioning promised not health or comfort but productivity. The workday could proceed no matter the season or the climate. Even in the home, A/C brought comfort as a means to rest up before the next work day.

The use of air-conditioning was as symbolic as it was material. It conveyed class status. Who did and didn’t have air-conditioning often fell starkly along the color line, too, especially in the South. It conquered the weather and, with it, the need to sweat or squirm or lie down in the summer swelter. In that sense, air-conditioning allowed Americans to transcend their physical bodies, that long-sought fantasy of the Puritan settlers: to be in the world but not of it. Miracle, indeed.

But it came with a price. As it turned out, Freon isn’t exactly non-toxic. Freon is a chlorofluorocarbon (CFC), which depletes the ozone layer and also acts as a global warming gas. By 1974, the industrialized world was churning out CFCs, chemicals that had never appeared on the planet in any significant quantities, at a rate of one million metric tons a year—the equivalent mass of more than 500,000 cars. That was the year atmospheric chemists Sherry Rowland and Mario Molina first hypothesized that the chlorine molecules in CFCs might be destroying ozone in the stratosphere by bonding to free oxygen atoms and disrupting the atmosphere’s delicate chemistry. By then, CFCs were used not only as refrigerants but also as spray can propellants, manufacturing degreasers, and foam-blowing agents.

The ozone layer absorbs the worst of the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Without stratospheric ozone, life as we know it is impossible. A 1 percent decline in the ozone layer’s thickness results in thousands of new cases of skin cancer. Greater depletion would lead to crop failures, the collapse of oceanic food systems, and, eventually, the destruction of all life on Earth.

In the 1980s, geophysicist Joseph Farman confirmed the Rowland-Molina hypothesis when he detected a near-absence of ozone over Antarctica—the “Ozone Hole.” A fierce battle ensued among industry, scientists, environmentalists, and politicians, but in 1987 the U.S signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, which ended Freon production.

The Montreal Protocol remains the world’s only successful international environmental treaty with legally binding emissions targets. Annual conferences to re-assess the goals of the treaty make it a living document, which is revised in light of up-to-date scientific data. For instance, the Montreal Protocol set out only to slow production of CFCs, but, by 1997, industrialized countries had stopped production entirely, far sooner than was thought possible. The world was saved through global cooperation.

The trouble is that the refrigerants replacing CFCs, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), turned out to be terrible for the planet, too. While they have an ozone-depleting potential of zero, they are potent greenhouse gases. They absorb infrared radiation from the sun and Earth and block heat that normally escapes into outer space. Carbon dioxide and methane do this too, but HFCs trap heat at rates thousands of times higher. Although the number of refrigerant molecules in the atmosphere is far fewer than those of other greenhouse gases, their destructive force, molecule for molecule, is far greater.

In three decades, the production of HFCs grew exponentially. Today, HFCs provide the cooling power to almost any air conditioner in the home, in the office, in the supermarket, or in the car. They cool vaccines, blood for transfusions, and temperature-sensitive medications, as well as the data processors and computer servers that make up the internet—everything from the cloud to blockchains. In 2019, annual global warming emissions from HFCs were the equivalent of 175 million metric tons of carbon dioxide.

In May, the EPA signaled it will begin phasing down HFCs and replacing them with more climate-friendly alternatives. Experts agree that a swift end to HFCs could prevent as much as 0.5ºC of warming over the next century—a third of the way to the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Yet regardless of the refrigerant used, cooling still requires energy. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, air-conditioning accounts for nearly a fifth of annual U.S. residential electricity use. This is more energy for cooling overall and per capita than in any other nation. Most Americans consider the cost of energy only in terms of their electricity bills. But it’s also costing us the planet. Joe Biden’s announcement to shift toward a renewable energy infrastructure obscures the uncertainty of whether that infrastructure could meet Americans’ outrageously high energy demand—much of it for cooling that doesn’t save lives. Renewable energy infrastructure can take us only so far. The rest of the work is cultural. From Freon to HFCs, we keep replacing chemical refrigerants without taking a hard look at why we’re cooling in the first place.

Comfort cooling began not as a survival strategy but as a business venture. It still carries all those symbolic meanings, though its currency now works globally, cleaving the world into civilized cooling and barbaric heat. Despite what we assume, as a means of weathering a heat wave, individual air-conditioning is terribly ineffective. It works only for those who can afford it. But even then, their use in urban areas only makes the surrounding micro-climate hotter, sometimes by a factor of 10ºF, actively threatening the lives of those who don’t have access to cooling. (The sociologist Eric Klinenberg has brilliantly studied how, in a 1995 Chicago heat wave, about twice as many people died than in a comparable heat wave forty years earlier due to the city’s neglect of certain neighborhoods and social infrastructure.) Ironically, research suggests that exposure to constant air-conditioning can prevent our bodies from acclimatizing to hot weather, so those who subject themselves to “thermal monotony” are, in the end, making themselves more vulnerable to heat-related illness.

And, of course, air-conditioning only works when you have the electricity to power it. During heatwaves, when air-conditioning is needed most, blackouts are frequent. On Sunday, with afternoon temperatures reaching 112ºF around Portland, the power grid failed for more than 6,300 residences under control by Portland General Electrics.

The troubled history of air-conditioning suggests not that we chuck it entirely but that we focus on public cooling, on public comfort, rather than individual cooling, on individual comfort. Ensuring that the most vulnerable among the planet’s human inhabitants can keep cool through better access to public cooling centers, shade-giving trees, safe green spaces, water infrastructure to cool, and smart design will not only enrich our cities overall, it will lower the temperature for everyone. It’s far more efficient this way.

To do so, we’ll have to re-orient ourselves to the meaning of air-conditioning. And to comfort. Privatized air-conditioning survived the ozone crisis, but its power to separate—by class, by race, by nation, by ability—has survived, too. Comfort for some comes at the expense of the life on this planet.

It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.

[curvesomesunsets]

ray’s list

ray molina has a list. well, he has many: the shopping list pinned to the fridge, the two lists of potential birthday and christmas presents, a list of high schools for carlos (started in advance because it has to be the most suited one there is), a list of his regular clients.

but this list is new; freshly torn off the notepad, lying on the kitchen counter, a pen keeping it in place.

julie and carlos are not the only kids around anymore. there are three teenaged boys that he can’t always see, but has come to accept do exist all the same. three boys with music in their veins, with eager voices, without a pulse. three boys with pasts he doesn’t know. but he has a list.

because when ray dropped the old floral casserole dish on the kitchen floor and swore loudly, the excitedly chatting teen leaning on the counter flinched back and disappeared, unable to meet ray’s eyes for the rest of the week.

because when ray asked the boys to join them for grace, the tallest of them hunched his shoulders, drew into himself until even carlos seemed to loom in comparison, and froze whenever ray sat down at the table.

because when ray told the band they could not practice one weekend, with both carlos and julie needing to spend time on school projects and exams, the third boy looked at ray with wide, betrayed eyes and didn’t come to dinner.

because ray wants to help. so he has a list:

avoid loud noises & raised voices for reggie and luke

alex freezes up around religion, take it easy

luke thinks you’ll punish them for their music

reggie flinches at sudden movement, be careful

don’t touch alex without warning

luke and alex are slow to trust, give them time

reggie likes to chat (ask him if he’s into photography)

talk to luke about his song writing process

it grows over time. when julie sees it, she hugs him and promises to help flesh it out. because these boys need a home, and ray is starting to realise that they desperately need a good parent too. and he will try his hardest to help.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

rose- alex- foster care

thank you friend! this is actually a request from @sunsetcurvecuddles. This takes place in a newer AU of ours, currently unpublished, where Ray and Rose foster each of the boys for various and at different points in their lives. This takes place when they're 17 and 18. Reggie and Bobby are adopted Molinas, Luke and Alex are Ray and Rose's foster kids. Enjoy! G, I hope you like it, I gave you some Bobby as a bonus :) Happy belated birthday!

Bobby’s in the kitchen when Rose comes home with the groceries. He’s leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone and eating an apple, but he puts his phone away and holds his snack between his teeth so he can take some of the bags from her.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Rose says as she starts unloading cans onto the counter. “Where is everybody?”

Bobby hums and shifts his bags so he can take the apple out of his mouth. “Dad took Julie and Luke to Eats and Beats cause some indie group’s playing. Reggie and Carlos are at the skatepark with Willie, and I think Mr. Wilson’s gonna bring them home after dinner.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

Bobby shrugs. “Nah. Long day.”

Those two words tell Rose a lot more than Bobby’s able to say, so she doesn’t push it. “And Alex?”

Bobby makes a face and then tries to hide it by taking another bite of his apple. “Think he’s upstairs, doing homework or something.”

Rose frowns, loading the last of the groceries onto the counter. “I thought I told you kids to work on including him.”

“We’ve tried, Mom,” Bobby insists. He tosses his apple core into the trash and starts putting the groceries away, an easy excuse not to look at her. “I think Luke even invited him to the show, he’s not interested. And I don’t think he likes us very much.”

“He’s adjusting,” Rose reminds him. “And he had it really hard before he came to live with us.”

“Yeah, so? We all had it hard.” Bobby punctuates his words by slamming food items into their places in the fridge and pantry. “Reggie lost his folks, Luke felt strangled enough by his to run away six times, mine didn’t touch me for eight years. None of us took that as invitations to be assholes.” He adds, before she can chide him, “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

Rose sighs. She supposes she can’t really have expected Alex to become best friends with his foster siblings, the way they’ve been lucky enough to become friends with each other. She supposes the six of them co-existing at all— Bobby and Alex especially, sharing a room as they do— has to be good enough for now, after everything Alex has been through.

She supposes she can’t blame Alex for having trust issues, and she can’t blame the rest of the kids for wanting to avoid getting hurt.

“Will you finish putting these away?” she asks, reaching up to run a hand through Bobby’s hair. “And then I’ll try to get him out of your room so you can have some time to yourself before dinner.”

Bobby lets out a long sigh, tension visibly bleeding out of his shoulders as he stands in the light of the refrigerator. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

Rose heads upstairs and knocks on the door to the bedroom at the far end of the hall. 

The music playing softly inside— Billy Joel; she’s impressed— cuts off abruptly, and a moment later, Alex opens the door. He looks exhausted, hair out of place and eyes tinged with red, but his posture is as stiff and perfect as ever, one hand curled tight around the doorknob. “Hello.”

Rose manages a smile, even though looking at Alex usually makes her heart chip a piece. “Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to let you know I was home. How’d your day been, do you need anything?”

“No, ma’am,” Alex says politely. “I’m just studying.”

“Test tomorrow?”

Alex glances over his shoulder. “Friday. And one next Tuesday. But I like to get ahead.”

“That’s good,” Rose says. “Come study in the living room for a while, will you? Bobby had a long day, he’d like to rest for a bit before dinner. No one else is home. I promise I won’t distract you.”

Alex hesitates, opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and then closes it again. His jaw goes tight, but his tone is neutral when he says, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be down in a minute.”

He closes the door, just short of in her face, before Rose can say more, can ask him if he’d like a drink or a snack or to do something just the two of them, instead of more homework.

Not that she really expects him to take her up on that last one. But it’s like she’s been telling the kids— they have to try. To make an effort, to make Alex feel included, wanted, part of their family.

Even if it takes time. And a lot more effort than it took with the rest of them.

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs 

[innytoes]

"You know, because of colour theory" totally sounds like something Willie would say

Throwing a housewarming party for the house they bought was something that Alex had always felt would feel very Adult. Like, they had a dining room table now. This was less 'paying your friends in pizza and beer for helping you move' (though they'd done that too) and more 'inviting your friends over a few weeks later to look at how adult you were with your unpacked house and freshly painted walls'.

The dining room table was set. There were even fresh flowers on the table, because they owned a vase now. Sure, the dinnerware was still all mismatched but it was on purpose, because Alex couldn't make up his mind on what he liked and Reggie liked thrifting and Willie enjoyed the chaos of it all. It was an aesthetic choice.

They'd gotten a grill, and Ray was on the patio showing Willie and Reggie how to use it. Alex was happy to let them, since Willie loved playing with fire and Reggie loved spending time with Ray. He preferred to be in the kitchen, checking on the garlic bread, making people drinks before getting overwhelmed and Julie reassuring him 'we know where the fridge is, don't worry about it'.

He didn't feel like a real adult. Not even with the cute little house and his two handsome boyfriends - partners, all of them on the title, which was a huge step, almost as big as marriage - and his dining room table and their beautiful homemade mailbox with all their names on it.

He wondered if he ever would, looking out from the kitchen to watch their friends mingling, Carrie and her Candis taking in the gallery wall, Luke impressed with the charcuterie board Alex had made in an attempt to make it feel like a real adult party, Julie and Flynn impressed by the bookshelves they'd put up.

Two arms snaked around his waist, and Reggie pressed a kiss to his neck. "You okay, babe?" Alex relaxed into him.

"Yeah," he said. "Just thinking about how I still don't feel like a real adult."

Reggie laughed. "That's why we have Ray. Or if we really fuck up, Julie's aunt. You know, adultier adults."

And yeah, all three of the had been pretty much adopted into the Molina family, given their own families of origin were either gone or awful. They were their own family now. Maybe that was the real meaning of adulthood.

"Stop worrying and go enjoy the party, I'll finish setting the table and stuff," Reggie said, ushering him out of the kitchen.

"Don't forget the garlic bread," Alex warned him, and went to move to join people in the living room.

Except as soon as he turned around, he heard a squelch, and a gasp, and Reggie saying 'oh no'.

He whirled around to see their kitchen, their freshly painted, freshly cleaned, perfect kitchen, covered floor to ceiling in ketchup.

"What..." he managed, as Reggie stared at him with wide eyes. The glass bottle of ketchup - because glass looked more adult than the squeezy bottles, Alex remembers thinking in the supermarket - was still in his hand. "How?"

"I was gonna give it a good shake before putting it on the table!" Reggie said helplessly.

Oh no.

"I'd already loosened all the lids," Alex said. This was all his fault. He hadn't warned Reggie. And now their kitchen was ruined.

"I'm so sorry, Alex, don't be mad," Reggie started, and Alex wasn't mad at anyone but himself. Thankfully Reggie was mostly ketchup free, so Alex grabbed some paper towels to wipe his hands and pull him into a hug. Reggie freaking out would only make him freak out. Reggie buried his face in Alex' shoulder for a moment, before collecting himself.

"Oh man, it looks like a children's hospital in here," Willie said, coming in with a plate of burgers. At Alex' confused stare, he elaborated: "You know, because of colour theory?"

That did not clear anything up, but Reggie giggled.

"I don't want to know," Alex decided. "Go serve people while I clean up this mess."

In the end, they did not need an 'adultier adult', because one of the Candis knew how to get ketchup stains off of freshly painted walls. She helped him get the worst off, and saved the garlic bread from the oven, and they joined the dinner.

And finally Alex felt a little more like an adult than he had. They'd had their first minor disaster in the house and none of them had freaked out or needed to call in a Real Adult. He was taking it as a win.

[oh-to-be-alexs-hoodie]

Willex art/fanfic combo that would happen after they defeat Caleb:

"It's wild that we beat Caleb a month ago," Willie remarked as he dug through the ever famous Molina Kitchen™.

It was a sunny morning, and Willie was in the mood for waffles. Alex absentmindedly bit his lip when he watched Willie's crop top ride up his back as he leaned down in search of flour. He could hear the jingle of Willie's key from where he stood (Alex decided to be a useful gay for once and lined up the mixing bowls).

"Yeah," Alex agreed after his momentary lapse. With a bit of a chuckle, he added, "It feels like you brought us to the club just yesterday."

Willie stood up at that. "I'm sorry for that, by the way."

Alex could sense the guilt laced in Willie's words. He walked up behind Willie and rubbed a slow circle on his back.

"Don't be, dude," Alex started softly, "It was a fun night, all things considered. I got to watch you dance-" Willie rolled his eyes with a smirk at that. "-and it ended up with your soul belonging to you."

Alex's hands were firm on his lover's shoulders, blue eyes looking softly into brown. Darker hands rested on Alex's hips. Willie hadn't known if he'd ever see love ever again since his death, but there it was, all in Alex's eyes. They both let the silence rest between them for a bit, sharing what comfort the Molina Kitchen™ had to offer.

Something switched behind Willie's eyes though. He gave Alex a grin and pecked him on the cheek before reluctantly breaking from Alex's arms (Did he allow himself to give Alex's biceps a squeeze? Maybe). He sauntered to the fridge with a hip sway knowing Alex was following him with his eyes.

"You're right, hotdog," Willie allowed mirth to fill his voice.

He circled the counter to grab a stick of butter from the fridge. He reached in a way that he knew would expose his abdomen.

"Speaking of that first night," Willie started, shutting the fridge with a hip check and a hair flick, "do you remember when we all sat down with Caleb?"

Alex knew that Willie knew just what he was doing to him. His feet, unknowingly, had trailed behind Willie, stopping before the counter. He gulped thickly and nodded. Willie simply walked languidly back to him and set the butter down before leaning slowly onto the countertop. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at Alex with a smirk.

"Magic, huh?" Willie's eyebrows danced.

Alex flushed a deep red, both at Willie's suggestive expression and with an embarrassed recollection of that night.

[ID: A drawing. Willie leans over a counter, saying, "Magic, huh?" to Alex. Alex stands behind the counter, blushing. End of ID.]

Alex scrambled for a sassy retort, but found himself too flustered to when Willie looked at him like that. A breathy "Okay" was the best he could manage. Before Alex could register it, Willie hopped onto the counter, seating himself in front of Alex. Alex could feel hands pulling his collar, legs wrapping his hips, and lips searing against his own.

Breakfast was delayed that day.

--

I drew the fanart first and built a ficlet around that. I did draw some inspiration from this piece of fanart though!

There will be a part 2 to this 👀

[hurglewurm]

the first gif this post (x) really spoke to me i just really love. them 

[ID: an illustration of julie molina and luke patterson from episode two of julie and the phantoms. julie is pulling orange juice out of the fridge as luke stands just behind her shoulder. julie is rolling her eyes as luke speaks excitedly. end ID.] 

[blustainedfingertips]

he’s circling stand tall. it’s weird because it’s not at the top even though they opened with it, so it seems like he just made a list of every single song and circled stand tall even though it’s further down the list like “yeah that one’s first” idk I guess that’s just Luke Logic™

Y’ALL NOW OR NEVER WAS ON THE BAND’S SET LIST FOR THEIR ORPHEUM SHOW WHEN THEY PLAYED WITH JULIE I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS

Edit: ok I just noticed this pic is even worse quality than I thought but the quality is better if you click on it. I’ll try to get a better one and then I’ll edit that one in later but I’m sorry it’s so blurry. Luke’s handwriting combined with a terrible picture makes it really illegible

If you look closely you can see it (the “ever” in “never” is the clearest part) but I can’t believe that on the night they thought they were either going to be destroyed or cross over, they played the song they never got a chance to play at the show they never got to do. Like. Wow. Just.

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GHOSTS | Julie and the Phantoms - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Gah… I'm such a procrastinating butterfly. I should be writing my Billy Russo series which I'm so excited about, but I just want to be able to read it already instead of having to write first + I'm currently writing each and every chapter instead of the next one (struggles of a fanfiction writer - am I right?). So, what do I do instead? I flew from one of my obsessions to another and got inspired by this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt. 

Anyways... This fic will be a little to late for some of you guys, but still: Merry Christmas everyone! And if you do not celebrate Christmas I still hope you have a wonderful day and a rest of the year filled with love and happiness. You did it, you fought through it. I’m sure you had your own pair of himbo ghosts taking care of you.

word count: ~ 1k

summary (and basically background info): Y/N is Julie's & Flynn's friend who doesn’t know about the ghosts (let’s just say she believes that they’re holograms). The boys become attached to Y/N due to her kindness and positivity and do everything in their (ghostly) powers to keep her days sunny and bright, especially in winter.  Or: Two times Y/N is oblivious to the boys 'paranormal' activities and the one time she notices it

prompt: Comfort in the Cold by @flashfictionfridayofficial​

warnings: english is not my first language, therefore, typos

| Part Two | Part Three |

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#1: Luke

Slowly and quietly you made your way down the stairs of the Molina household, leaving Julie's and Flynn's sleeping forms behind. Even though you had just watched multiple Christmas movies and probably eaten double your weight in popcorn, your stomach was still asking for more. As Julie knew about your habits of needing a midnight snack and since Ray repeatedly told you to make yourself at home you weren't feeling bad about stealing some small bits and pieces out of their fridge or cupboards.

Which is why you were straining your ears to hear any sounds that might indicate that you had woken up either Carlos or Ray, but you were only met with silence. Releasing the breath you were holding you hastily hopped down the last few steps down to the living room, grabbed the stair railing and used the momentum of your movement to swiftly swing yourself in the direction of the kitchen, freezing at the sight that greeted you.

A quick glance at the clock told you it was 2 a.m. and the continuous silence indicated that nobody except you was awake and around. Yet, as you hesitantly took a view steps towards the kitchen counter, pulling your blanket like a shield tighter around your body, there was a perfectly fine peanut-butter/jelly sandwich waiting for you, a smiley made out of Nutella painted onto it. Your favourite midnight snack.

A small note peaked out from under the plate and it took you some time to decipher the chicken scratch. Can't have our favourite groupie going to bed hungry! 

Smiling and shaking your head, thinking that either Julie or Flynn must have sneaked out of the room sometime earlier to make you this sandwich you happily bit into it. 

If you'd known that there was a brown-haired ghost with hazel eyes sitting opposite to you and watching you with a smile, the sandwich would have probably gotten stuck in your throat.

#2: Alex 

Doing multiple Christmas movie marathons would be fun they said. No need to worry they said. Only Christmas cheer and joy they said. Well… long story short, even fun movies can make you bawl like a baby! 

A few days after the midnight snack incident, which you completely forgot about, you were once again sitting on Julie's bed. With her and Flynn to your left and right, you had been watching different movies on her computer. Currently, however, you were only trying. Tears were blurring your vision and your sniffles were the only sounds reaching your ear. 

Pressing the plushy's soul that Flynn had won you at a fair out of its body and sobbing into it, you felt Julie shift beside you and lay her head in your lap and mumbling something while Flynn was searching for a handkerchief.

"Whose idea was it again to watch this movie?" you tried to ask, but your voice came out all thick and full of emotion, so you weren't sure if they understood or heard you at all.

What you didn't know was that the boys were watching the movie, and now mostly you, with big eyes.

"Remember the day when Julie was crying in the garage and then Flynn came in crying too? Remember how I said that two girls crying are worse than one girl crying? This… this is way worse!" Luke pointed exaggeratedly at every single one of you and moved quickly out of Flynn's way when she left the room to get a box of tissues. 

"Dude… they're not actually crying crying. It's just a really sad movie," Alex said and sighed quietly when he heard Reggie whisper, "Do you think that's what Willie meant when he said Caleb floods the place during movie night?"

"That's... no, okay." Shaking his head Alex moved towards the bed and sat carefully at Flynn's place to not alert you of the shift beside you. Then he gently took a paw of the plushy that you weren't currently pressing into an embrace and lifted it to wipe away your tears and free your sight. 

You sniffled, too confused and full of emotion to realize what just happened and that it couldn't possibly have been Julie or Flynn, and whispered a small, "Thank you". 

Alex smiled, proud of his action.

#3: Reggie

You didn't even bother to take off your shoes or wipe away the residual snow still sticking to your hair as you flopped yourself down onto your bed, groaning into your pillow. Everything was already grey, wet or at least soggy anyway. To say your day had been bad was an understatement.

It's the most wonderful time of the year With the kids jingle belling And everyone telling you be of good cheer It's the most wonderful time of the year

Confused you lifted your head and starred at your computer who apparently decided to become sentient and cheer you up.

It's the hap-happiest season of all With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings When friends come to call It's the hap-happiest season of all

The next thing that happened would forever be burned into your brain. Your favourite pen suddenly lifted itself up into the air and started to scribble down onto a nearby paper. Slowly and unsure you stood up and inched closer to your desk, but as soon as you were able to sneak a peak onto the paper the pen stopped and fell down.

Shaking your head you rubbed your eyes and turned back to your bed. "This is the weirdest lucid dream I ever had." The moment you flopped back down onto your bed you heard the familiar scratching of pen on paper again. Turning your head there it was again - the floating pen. "What?"

However, once again, as soon as you reached the desk the pen fell down, lifeless. “Alright... alright. I understand! Don’t worry, I won’t sneak a peak.”

"I am dreaming... right?" You weren't. Pinching yourself hurt, trying to breathe through a closed nose didn't work and your pointer finger would not move through the palm of your hand.

Shakily, yet weirdly motivated by the happy Christmas music still playing in the background, you picked up the note laying beside the now still pen. "Merry Christmas Y/N! Lots of love from Reggie, Alex and… Who?" 

"It told you, Luke… I should just have signed for us all."

"Shut it Reg, I know my handwriting sucks."