#fuel hike news today

[chiumii]

rough ~ sunghoon x reader

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ thinking about how sunghoon comes across as the sweet, loving, perfect boyfriend out in public, but an absolute freak in bed. I mean absolutely fucking nasty.

Word count: 1k

sunghoon x reader smut

dom hoon and sub reader. daddy kink, size kink, breeding, slight hints at cnc, slapping, choking, manhandling, slapping dacryphilia degrading, praise. hoonie is so mean n ruthless ugh this was just a super quick thought I has so I decided to write something about it, dont expect it to be good, not proof read.

sunghoon being the most perfect, loving boyfriend is such a yes. he takes you out to fancy restraunts, buys you new jewelry whenever you want, getting you sweet treats as frequently as possible. he spoils you completely rotten. of course he would, you're his little girl! he would hold your hand as he leads you through the mall while shopping, his arms holding your bags as you sip on the cute little drinks you like so much. he would lean into your ear and whisper about how cute you looked today, pressing a long, chaste kiss on your cheek, smirking to himself as your face heated up in the prettiest shade of pink.

you would think he was the sweetest person alive an hour ago, but that opinion was ripped out of your head the second he got you alone.

"h-hoonie, slow a-ahngh please!" it took him less than a second after walking in through the front door, throwing your shopping bags to the side before pressing your front up against the nearest wall and hiking your little short skirt up over your ass.

his thrusts are ruthless as he pounds into you from behind, his hips snapping against your plush ass. his hands are holding you up against the wall and your legs dangle in the air. his pants aren't even pulled all the way down as they hug just below his thighs, your pink panties pulled to the side are now completely soaked as he fucks you through your orgasm.

you squirt all over the his dick and the wall in front of you. your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the floor as you thrash in your boyfriends hold, begging him to let you go.

"stay still you fucking brat" you don't listen to him, your legs still kicking out while his long dick kisses your cervix with every thrust.

"da-ddaddyy hurts, s-low please mmmh" he pulls you off the wall with a grunt, lifting you up in the air as he drags you to the couch, throwing you down onto the cushions. you land on your stomach with a soft 'hmph', and before you can turn around, you feel sunghoons hands force you onto your knees; your back arched with your ass in the air.

you go to look back at your boyfriend, but are quickly met with his hand tangling in your hair, forcing you face into the couch roughly. he gives you no time to think before his dick bullies its way back into your puffy cunt, instantly hitting your sweet spot as his balls slap against your swollen clit.

"shut the fuck up and stay down" his words are so mean :( but you feel your aching pussy throb when he speaks to you in such a way

his hips keep up a steady, quick pace as he fucks you. your screams being absorbed into the couch, your muffled cries only fuel him further, landing a harsh smack onto your ass, a bright red handprint being left on your perfect skin.

your walls squeeze him as he slaps you again, and again, and again. your legs begin to thrash around again, your hands coming up to grip the sides of the couch as you scream

"wan' cum, daddy please may I cum please please !-" he hears you, even though you're face is so deep into the cushions of the couch, soaking the material with your drool. it pisses him off. he grabs your pony tails on either side of your head and forces your head up, biting your ear lob harshly before speaking.

"did you not hear me? I said keep your damn mouth shut" he takes his cock out and flips you over on your back. you whine at the emptiness as he lifts your legs into the air, contorting your body so you fold in on yourself, your knees being pressed next to your head as he forces you into a mating press.

you shriek in pain, his dick finding its way inside you once more, bruising your gummy walls. you quiver at your boyfriends roughness, his delicate touch from earlier long gone as you're left with this monster.

your moans light a fire in the pit of sunghoons stomach. tears roll down your rosey cheeks, and sunghoon can't help but coo at you.

"dont cry sweetie, it'll be over soon, let daddy use your pathetic body just a lil more" you choke at his words, clenching around him when he speaks to you. knots form in your tummy, quickly beginning to unravel as fast as they came.

"daddy! cum please! wan' cum n-ngh fff' pl-please!" you're making such a mess, sunghoons assault on your cunt is so sloppy, and the sight of your ponytails becoming tangled and messy makes him throw your legs down.

His hand moves to your throat as he watches the outline of his dick disappear and then reappear with each thrust.

"oh my god, such a pretty little girl, so perfect and tiny. you like it when daddy abuses your tiny hole hmm?" he asks you and you nod, bringing your lower lip inbetween your teeth as you bite down hard enough to draw blood.

sunghoon retraces his hand from your throat and slaps you. your eyes fling open in shock as your lips quiver.

"you answer daddy when he asks you a question, understand slut?"

"yes daddy, I understand! love it when daddy uses my body, feels s' good !" you squeal, arching your back into the man above you, wrapping your arms around his neck, scratching his shoulders through his shirt.

"you wanna take my cum, sweet girl? stuff you so fucking full 'nd breed your tiny little pussy. oh fuck- good fucking god" sunghoons cock twitches, your cunt clamping down on him with insane grip.

"who owns this pussy, doll?" he slaps your clit, your juices leaping into the air, staining sunghoons shirt.

"daddy does !" you yelp, your orgasm approaching fast.

"such a good girl, cum for me baby, let yourself go all over me sweet thing" and so you do, creaming all around sunghoons length as you flutter around him like the pretties butterfly, souring right into sunghoons cage and being locked away from all eyes.

his pretty little baby ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა

[leeknowlover99]

pervy Changbin brain rot smut

masterlist

that’s just pure filth 🙈

warnings: reader is not really in a state to give consent - dubcon, perv Changbin, unprotected s*x, corruption kink, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, usage, degradation, cum, dumbification,

you and Changbin have been together for few months already yet it still felt like a honeymoon stage in your relationship. today you went to frat boy party organized by few of his friends. as it was quite far from both of your dorms you decided to go by car. earlier that day you played rock paper scissors to decide who will be the driver. lucky for you Changbin lost. that’s what lead to you being wasted drunk after doing shots with everyone and your boyfriend watching you amused not even slightly drunk after chugging one beer. as usual you started to get very touchy and needy with alcohol buzzing in your veins, mind dazed a bit. but how could you not get horny when your boyfriend wore his tightest black shirt today, it was hugging his broad chest and arms perfectly. or when he not so subtly grinded against your hips while dancing, his hands moving teasingly between your waist and hips. oh he knew the effect he had on you. he secretly loved how shameless and needy you were while drunk, only his cock on your mind. it fueled his ego and made him want you so bad. that’s why he was riling you up all night. until you finally broke and whispered in his ear “need you so much Binnie.” you cheeks flushed and eyes dark of lust you were quite a sight, it made his dick twitch. “meet me in the upstairs bathroom in five baby, knock twice.” he instructed and left you in the dance floor.

luckily bathroom was free so he quickly shot the door and took few deep breaths to calm himself down. he was really down bad for you. he took out his wallet to grab a condom. he always had one with himself for emergencies like the one. you didn’t want to use birth control as it had negative effects on your health and Changbin didn’t want to push you. however now he searched every pocket of his wallet and did not find the condom. “fuck” he must’ve forget to grab a new one. before he could think about it he heard a knock on the door. he let you in and you immediately laced your hands behind his neck and pulled him for a kiss. your lips felt hot and plump against his. kiss was full of passion and desperation from the beginning, tongues dancing together in a filthy wet manner. you were basically eating each other out. Changbin hands roughly explored your body. groping your boobs, pinching hardened nipples. “love your perky tits princess, all for me” he whispered against your lips. you moaned and pressed yourself against his hard body. your head was already spinning a little from all the alcohol but now with Changbins touches and words it was spiraling. “please, need you inside, i’m so wet” you begged palming him through his pants and pouting. your boyfriend chuckled amused. “begging already princess?” he turned you around so you faced the mirror and pushed you down so you had to prop your elbows on the counter. you immediately got the idea and arched your back to him. you watched him in the mirror when he was unbuckling his pants and pulling them down. image was a bit blurry due to your current state but anticipation made you even wetter. he hiked up your dress and pulled your soaked panties to the side. you felt cold air on your pussy and gasped. “so wet for me, you’re dripping baby.” Changbin said roughly massaging your butt and then harshly slapping your core. fuck you were a mess, your walls tightened around nothing and your vision blurred even more, you couldn’t even see your boyfriends face now. he grabbed your jaw and pulled you for a messy kiss while his dick grinded against your wet core, slick noises filling the small room. Changbins hand slid down to your neck and he pressed lightly. you were seeing stars and was on verge of crying if he wouldn’t fuck you now. but he was not intending to do that, still grinding and kissing you. even when horny he was still sober enough to remember that there was no condom. but he was enjoying himself a lot, watching you drool and arch towards his lightest touch, acting like a complete slut for him. he loved this version of you, he secretly loved degradating you in bed. you were usually shy about it but when drunk you became shameless.

you on the other hand was too dizzy to form any words and ask him to finally fuck you so you decided to do it yourself. with the next move of his dick you aligned your ass in the way that his tip stopped at your entrance. it did not go in yet but pressed hard enough to make you moan. you caught your boyfriend off guard and he stopped all movement. you started to rock your hips which resulted in his length slowly sinking in your heat. he grunted at the feeling of your tight wet walls hugging his member. he could everything without the condom, all your softness, wetness and warmth. and without a prep you were tight as hell. your legs was shaking slightly as you started moving faster his balls slapping against your pussy with each move. oh he was so deliciously thick, you swear you’ve never felt him so well as now. “such a whore fucking herself on Binnie’s bare cock.” he said grabbing your hips and halting your movements. but you were so far gone you didn’t even registered him saying that you are fucking raw. you just moaned in response, desperate to cum. Changbin just couldn’t resist. he could not pull out. not when you were so warm and wet around him. he was not sure if he will get another chance to feel you like that. he knew it was wrong and he was using you when you were drunk and vulnerable but he justified himself with the fact that he informed you that he was in bare and you didn’t protest. deep down he knew you didn’t even register him saying that but he pushed that thought away and started fucking into you at rough pace. you were in heaven now, his tip massaging your spongy spot in the most perfect way, his big hands supporting and caressing your hips. you orgasm hit you unexpectedly and you moaned loudly tightening around him. even though he knew he was close Changbin didn’t expect that to feel so good that it will push him against the edge. but it did and just after your orgasm he was spilling his load inside of you. “fuck” he grunted slowly pulling out. he did not mean to come inside but it felt amazing. he watched his cum slowly spill out of your swollen cunt and smirked. you were still coming down from your high so when you boyfriend started to clean you up with a tissue you thought he’s only cleaning up your wetness not his cum. “let’s fix your make up princess and we can go home.” he said hugging you tightly. “i love you” he whispered. but only one thing was on his mind, he needs to have you like this again.

[punk-in-docs]

🕷️ Girlfriend is Better 🕷️

Eddie Munson x reader

10.9k words

Summary: Eddie x Pencils hit a bit of a hurdle in their early relationship. But she puts it to rights - and then hits the sweet metal head with an offer he can’t refuse- tw violence, past assault: in this chap folks - sorry its taken so long to get this done - enjoy

Eddie can feel their eyes on him.

He feels it’s undeserved and let’s be honest, a little odd. It’s not as if he’s not doing anything out of the ordinary here. He’s just being- normal.

His version at least. His wheelhouse batshit normal. Eddie-like.

They’re looking at him like he’s grown a new head.

Munson Motor mouth, rabbiting on its usual mile a minute as Motörhead shreds through the van speakers with Lemmy’s choppy and tasty riffs.

Early morning cigarette that he lit before he hopped in the van for the drive to school, curling smoke held between two fingers.

He’s batting the saggy steering wheel in time to the song. Ba-da-da with his other open palm to coincide with drum clashes that pound through like falling rocks and crashing thunder.

He still takes the corners way too fast like a coked up maniac. Some things will never change.

He looks the same. Smiles the same. But there’s a new breed of manic warping his usual calamity of a nature.

He’s not grumbling about this morning. Or a test or pop quiz he had coming up. No miserable sluggishness. Toothpaste breath. Not slumped and still yawning. With nothing but a weak instant coffee, two sugars, as his one and only source of breakfast. Gritty coffee that still catches the grounds between his back teeth.

Hair that mushed dry state that’s hard to tell if it’s met with a brush or not yet. Possibly this morning. It’s a maybe. It’s a not really.

Leather and battle vest showed up for duty on his lanky torso as per usual. Hellfire shirt of course. The ripped jeans. The wallet chain that swings and jingles and clatters to denim when he walks and makes him sound like a jangling six foot cat with a little tinkling bell on its collar. It’s all there. The jangly jacketed freak is all assembled.

But there’s this newness to the way he’s smiling.

So wide it dimples his cheeks. Creases the corner of those intimidating wells of eyes. It’s like someone’s fuel injected him with something to make him wilder. More swirly. Practically floating. Any higher he’d be in the big blue stratosphere. Sun grazed and heady. Icarus soaring too close to the sun. Not yet plunged to earth. Melting gold spattered on milk white swan feathers as he tumbled to earth.

Jeff makes a joke about him toking up before school. Eddie reached over and ruffled his hair. Making that demons smile. Rings flashing from his fingers in the meagre sun. “Man, I wish.”

“Got new pills from Rick or something?”

Eddie frowned. “Hell no. Besides. Wouldn’t be wasting those beauties right before first period English class.” He scoffs.

Dustin and Mike share a furtive glance that begs to know what’s up. Dustin mumbles What the shit, man?

He’s finally cracked. I’m calling it.

He didn’t have far to go.

He judders the van along the lot at school. Rumbling tyres over the loose gravel. Head bobbing to the metal as he lurches the wheel and swings into a space.

“Be seeing you. Little hellions. Be free. Give em hell.” He chuckles. Lumping the van into park. Watching them open doors and frown. Scurrying away to class. Gathered close and whispering. Hiking backpack straps up their shoulders and clutching chunky math books and still regarding him like more of an oddity than he actually is.

Of course there is a reason for the golden sunshine visibly sneaking out his pores, and bouncing the soles of his happy feet today. And it’s his wonderful secret.

Eddie shakes his head, and shoulders all his jagged chips and hatred for this place.

The amount of chips he’s got shelved there, worn on his shoulders, about this stunning educational penitentiary, frankly, he could very realistically wear like scales at this point.

He puts a cigarette to his lips and slips around the corner of the lot, jacket and wallet chain clinking as he goes, sneaking to the smokers spot.

A balding patch of grass skimmed to mud, and a graffitied brick wall, snugly hidden around the side of the squat building where some go to steal a quick smoke before class. He usually occupies the spot alone and has to haul ass like a frightened racoon if a teach clocks him.

No sooner had he come within an inch of the corner, cig almost to his lips, and he is yanked around it by a sturdy hand yanking him fully out of view - by his wallet chain. He feels the tug on the denim around his hip, pulling taut.

He wants to yowl and start squirming away from the grip, slinging fists into faces at this ambush. When really he wants to turn tail and leg it in the opposite direction. Flight not fight.

His back collided with graffiti breeze block and before he could turn out his pockets, show them holding lint and nothing else save for a quarter and a D20, screechily proclaim his dispensary is clean out man, back off-

Then some warm lips mould to his.

A gentle artists hand, faded blue polish on the nails, knuckles scraping bricks, is cupping the back of his wild mane and cupping him for a kiss he slowly melts too.

He honest-to-god goes fully boneless with the way you kiss him. The scrappy fight and shock slowly leeches out those gangly poky limbs. Sparks shoot to his fingertips.

He smiles. You can feel his dimples and a cold leathered arm comes folding around your back. The bracelet and the jangle of those zips up his wrists. Settling at the dip of your waist and his fingers slide into the back of belt loop of your jeans.

When you pull back for breath that you’re not sure you want more than him, he has the dopiest grin skated on his face.

“Morning.” You beam finally.

Because that kiss seemed way more important. You can’t help the feeling he instills. Feels like your belly is birthing a wild jungle crammed with winking wings of butterflies. Brilliant blue. Wicked electric yellow. Gossamer pink. They all shimmer.

“Hey hot stuff.” He smiles. Not restraining himself whatsoever.

Oh, they shimmer even more to the sight of that. Mad. Wild. Unhinged.

His cheeks kissed a little pink. He doesn’t even care that he dropped his cigarette in the mud. He’d rather chase the taste of your lips and let that sustain him all morning. Better than pills and nicotine. This static-fizzy-starburst feeling he gets big lungfuls of when around you.

“Didn’t mean to grab you like that. But I must admit that chain is certainly a handy hook.” You flick a fingertip to it. Sway that lolling chain into his thigh. Biting your lower lip in a smile.

He cups one side your face. If anyone got to chew that lip, it’s gonna be him. Leans in to gently smooch you again.

“Goddamn. I was reaching for my attack whistle there, pencils.” He rubs his hand over your hip. Rings chafe against your denim waistband.

“Maybe I was overzealous. But I do have a stunning defence.”

You lean up on tiptoes to smash a polite smooch back to his mouth. He mumbled a curious sound into your lips.

“Which is?” He seeks. Lips chasing yours for more. Even through speaking. Insanity catches.

“I missed you like crazy and it’s been barely 12 hours since I last saw you, and kissed you. And etcetera…” You flirt.

He can see these little delighted pips in your eyes. Like sowed little seeds of pride. The etcetera being all the dirty things you finally got to indulge in last night. Threaded in moonlight at skull rock.

No regrets. He doesn’t see any tint of regret in you.

Seeing that kicks his rocker heart right up to the moon, and sailing on over it. Like those old songs. Moonbeams and old soft tinkling pianos. Ladies with gardenias in their hair crooning about moondance, love and seeing stars.

He gets it now. He totally gets all of that sappy shit.

“I hereby decree that is far too long, and way too stupid of us, actually.” He finishes your thoughts for you. They were symmetrical to his own after all.

“So stupid. We’re just like, a complete pair of morons right now.” You concur. Linking your fingers into his. Standing toe to toe and just drinking in how it feels to be near again.

“So I’m thinking, we should cease all impending stupidity and uh y’know, catch a movie tonight or, grab a bite at Benny’s. Something like that. Anything.” He says. Smile all limned in excitement.

Shaking that big moppish mane of hair as a grin splits his mouth when he speaks, makes him look like an out and out excited little kid.

Fidgeting with your hands and immersing himself in the tactile deliciousness of your hands being held in his. Little touches that stayed with him all night.

Kept bugging him even in dreams he’s sure thoughts of you crept at the oil slick lining of his mind like wing tips of persistent gentle moths. The dusty old ones the colour of sour grey milk. Ones that they get flapping around the trailer porch light at night in balmy summer. The soft blink as they hit the glass shade.

“Burgers at Benny’s sounds so good.” You grin. “Loaded chilli fries?”

He scoffs. “Naturally. I’m not an animal.”

You run your hands through his wild hair. Listen to him talk. Heart entirely bloated with love of this boy. You swear it’s knocking all giddy up against your ribs like some deformed roaming creature seeking release.

“Shall we head out after class? I’ll drive.” He offers. His stomach zig-zags in vicious excitement.

“Catch you after class, handsome.” You grin.

“Ohh, whoa. I never said I was done with you yet.” His eyes flicker with something you think is cheekiness.

Swooping in to slow kiss you for a beat too long. An embrace that makes him hum softly. Makes you mewl. Right at he back of his throat. Lips roaming gentle and soft and your bodies rock together. Gets him cupping your back to keep you near.

“Fuckk gimme another one of those, pencils. I’m not below begging.” Cups your face again. He wants another kiss. Eyes wide as bourbon brown saucers

Chuckling in the muggy space between your smiles, cheeks fired all warm, sharing the same breath, you lean in and give it to him. Giving him the deep messy kiss you’d been craving.

When it’s time to pull back to guzzle air and maybe some reality again, Eddie chases your retreat with his mouth. His lips bruised a stunning cupid pink. Taking a breath that he’s not sure he needs more than he does you.

“Jesus H Christ. How the hell am I gonna even attempt to concentrate today-“ He asks. Voice all raspy and slow gravel.

“What usually stops you?” You sass him. He bites his lip all naughty and softly jabs you right in the stomach; a move designed to tickle.

“Blasphemy. Dear one. I mean, how dare you.” He grins. Chocolate drop eyes all crinkled at their corners. You cover his hand on your stomach, with your own. He likes the soft warm pouch of you there.

It’s tactile. It’s touch. It shoots right to the roof of Eddie’s brain and does something so funky to him he can’t even describe it in words. Actions maybe - Beer on an empty stomach. The first hit of some really silky smooth strain Rick gives him to try. The home made warm sugary scent of that peach cobbler Wayne makes him on his birthday.

They haven’t designed or discovered enough appropriate words to put to this feeling. None that even his whip smart nature can grasp at.

“I’ll soothe that wounded ego and buy you a chocolate shake later if it pleases.” You offer. Tilting your head. Offer placed on the table.

“An ego bruise is a problem I will gladly allow you to throw chocolate and ice cream at.” His fingers worm their way through yours. Knuckles locked. You could do this all day.

“Can be swayed with chocolate. Good to know.”

“And candy. Pizza rolls are good too.”

“Noted.” You beam. Snuggling to his front. Hands still joined. Fused as one.

The sound of the bell ringing for first period is a rude interjection into a morning that’s shaping up to be stellar.

Eddie didn’t seem best pleased by this. Judging by the way he takes advantage of that split second of your distraction hearing the bell, to snatch his hands at your shoulders and loop you round so your back is to the wall instead of his. Sneak attack.

His arm is a leather band over the back of your waist and he gently cups your chin and deepens a silky melting kiss that is, just, so many elements of perfect it should be outlawed that just kissing can be this good.

The plush of his deeply plump lips, with the scraping push of some stubble on his upper lip. It’s delicious. The way he kisses is better than any hit off any joint. You don’t care what he says. Better than purple haze. Better than fucking anything. Backed by sheer dopey sized crushes that take you both, head to toe. Crushes taking on a life of their own. Wearing your skins whole and making you desperate. Make you ache.

You kiss him back. Desperately. Drenched in want. But also knowing that you should be hot-footing it to your first class lest you get a tardy slip. To turn up late, with a very very kiss worn mouth like that would be about as obvious as the nose on your face.

“Eddiii-mmmmm.” You plead to his bewitching mouth. Smoky minty breath and the faintness of his morning coffee on your tastebuds. He’s cupping your face like your some sacred relic he has to handle gently. As if he had corrosive fingertips. Strychnine laced touch.

When he pulls back. Hands two big gangly paws holding your neck, there’s this sweet dazed look all over his expression. Drugged on you. The way you kissed him like his tongue is made out of cherry candy and you only want more- oh lord.

How’s that for irony. The Hawkins High school dealer and here he is getting a huge hit, from kissing you. Nothing that comes pre rolled in a baggie making his mind fuzz like hot molasses, or circled into a wild little chalky pill that makes his head all bright and fuzzy sharp like cotton candy.

Making out before class he can gladly get hooked on. He thinks he’s there already. DT-Ing for more. Make him shake and rattle on all fours like a rabid dog.

“One for the road…” He explains inbetween raspy pants for breath. A silly smile all yours for the keeping.

You pat his chest. He could honestly whimper at the tactile feel of your hand resting on the meat of his pectoral. So dangerously close to skin on skin.

“I better go.” You sigh. A drop kick to your mood to leave him. You take a step back.

He can’t allow that. He whines like a kicked puppy. Button eyes all round and shiny with whatever amount of sadness it would take to root you here, with him.

“Don’t. Pencils. Stay here. Stay uneducated and stupid with me and let’s just make out, all day.” He waggles some filthy intentioned brows at you. Pleading threaded onto his voice. Trying his best to yank you back.

“You could easily tempt me to play hooky any day, Munson. But I’ve been studying for this test all week.” You point out.

“Well. I can’t deny that dorky chicks turn me on.” He sighs nicely. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? I figured tiny pleated little cheerleader skirts and peppy bouncy pom-poms turned you on.” You tease. Voice all sultry.

He leans in and smacks a kiss to the end of your nose.

“Nuh-uh. I like em’ covered in paint and jeans and artsy, and working in record shops with old hippies. And hopelessly in all consuming love with me.” He grins.

“Kiss ass.” You smirk. Smacking a kiss to his cheek. Stepping back. His hand slithers to find yours again. Links fingers. His rings glitter. They’re all warm where he’s been holding hands with you. On you.

“Hey, my girlfriend is a damn fox. This is a hill I’ll die on.”

You bring your joined hands up and kiss the back of his for that.

“Class beckons.” You roll your eyes. Shouldering your bag. Unwilling to unlink hands until you absolutely had too.

“See you at lunch?” You ask. His brows creased. Makes him look like an upset puppy.

“Can’t. Got a drop to make in the woods.”

“Parking lot after school?” He counter offers.

“You bet.” You agree. And you cannot even handle the wait.

You walk away around the corner. Eddies eyes trail over you as you go.

“Enjoy the smoke.” You turn over your shoulder and call back.

He saluted you with a flicking motion, with that million dollar grin pleasured all over his face.

“Brutal babe. You know what I’d enjoy more…” his inflection at the end of his words lets you know what he’s referring too.

“Down boy.” You play as you head off. Smile all secret and wide for him. Grin so wide it makes his heart pulse.

He’s grasping a hand over his mad heart as you slip away. One knee bent up. Sneakered foot flat to the wall behind him.

He reaches for that cigarette and his lighter. Though he doubts this little stick will do any damn thing that kissing you didn’t. He lights up. Grinning. You left his heart thrashing about and kicking inside the shell of his denim and leather like a damn drum in a cramps song.

Way, way across the field, sat high up on the bleachers with some of the girls on the cheer squad. In full view of the back brick wall where you had just been. Supposedly around the corner and concealed from view-

Linda snapped her binder shut. Eyes packed in venom. Huffing as she picked up her books.

Lipsticked lips pursed together in a grim hot pink line. Annoyance fills her chest and rams up against her ribs. Sour in her stomach. Nastiness curdled up on her tongue. She’d seen enough.

You and the freak. Just like Jonny said.

No fucking way.

~

Eddie bapped along to some rock that had been trapped in the lining of his crazy head since this morning. Head bumping as he hummed along, sang under his breath to Rattlehead. That mane flicking every which way.

Metal lunchbox swings from his hand and clatters as he bounced along the familiar route. Feet trained for the way. Leaves cushion his rustling step. He drags his eyes over the foliage spread high above.

Dappled with gold sunshine of the afternoon that chips down. The odd scurry of a bird flapping around the treetops. Nature and the soothing crash of wind lacing through wide apple-green leaves. He darts his eyes around, seeking and searching for the shape of anyone to come crashing through the trees.

He arrived at his little decaying stoop in the woods. The table that’s so carved and scarred with crude drawings and initials it’s chipped and falling to bits. Cig butts littered everywhere and Eddie shamefully admits some of them are most likely his. His place of business is well reputed.

Swinging his leg over the bench seat and slinking himself up onto the table to take a pew. Sneakers resting on the seat. Cause when has he ever approached anything normally, or fallen into doing anything that comes into the category of usual.

He throws the lunchbox lid open with no gilding the lily, and braces his scattered mind into this deal. Shoves through the bags to find the semi-decent stuff. Wave of heady green hits him in the nose as he rummaged and carried on humming to himself.

Though really for the preppy guy who propositioned this drop, he’s tempted to charge way too much for a thin little roll of ditchweed.

Alas, his reputation is too important. One bad sale and he’d never touch profits on it again. He will unwillingly part with some decent sativa for the knucklehead.

He thumbs through his papers and rustling bags and makes a note of exactly what he’ll put his fistful of measly dollars from the sale towards; another date with you.

He’s heard of this great alt store a couple towns over. Super your style. Record store in back, cool clothing, apparantly a rock n roll kinda vibe that you would appreciate. Posters, merch, jewellery, you name it.

He can’t think of a better place to take you for a date. He’s keeping it under wraps even though, god knows, his blabber mouth which runs and rants away from itself, wanted to yell and shriek about it to you nonstop.

How he wanted to scrape together some dollars to buy you something. A handful of punk style patches, a tee, a poster for your bedroom door that needed some anarchy or some goth Siouxsie. Maybe a little Joan and some Blackhearts action.

He’s heard you crank them up on your headphones to blaring when you’re trying to concentrate on a sketch. Like the loudness lifts you out your mind and transcends into the paint.

How he wanted to make a mixtape for you, of all the metal songs - and to his embarrassment some of the less tacky love ballads - that bring you to the forefront of his mind when he hears them. Even some older crooning songs that Wayne likes.

The stuff he was drip-fed on in his early days, sweet and crooning, like slow gold honey melting into his ears. Listening to them and snatching pieces of melody that breezed through the trailer. Warm and sunny to listen to. Softly swaying Don Henley, Woodie Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Even some Ella or some Julie London and her smokiness.

He smiles to himself as he comes to Rattlehead’s chorus. Toes tapping the rotten old bench and creaking the wood, as he scrunches bags aside this way and that to find the pre-rolls. Fingers drum the beats off the side of the tin. Clacking out into the woods.

The brutal snap of a twig makes him peer around.

Eddie swims his eyes through the trees and eventually drags them to find a Jock with his hands shoved in his pockets.

It’s not someone he’s on a first name basis with. He’s lost amongst a sea of sensible jeans and varsity two tones. Sea green and blinding white with the lion gold yellow Hawkins H proudly blazoned on his front.

Crazy how differently they wear their allegiances.

He’s the anti-thesis of Eddies style. Shirt tucked in. Sensible white sneakers that aren’t beat up to shit. Preppy. Hair brushed. Some square jawed Ryan or Chad or whomever, pads towards him.

The look in his eyes twists Eddie’s gut like wet flannel. Scathing.

He’s seen hatred and distain before. Of course. It’s poured very freely his way.

Thats nothing new to him. Distaste. Eye rolls louder than claps of thunder and tutts coming stabbed under breath peppered with nasty words.

This is that crowd at its ugliest. The tribe this guy is happily a part of. Supposed fuckin’ Normalcy. They scar the word ‘Freak’ into him over and over again. Stomp it into his messy maned head over and over with their feet.

Finally he got tired of the brutal raining down kicks and just took it. Weened the power of it. Stole it from them and flipped it. Made it his shield. Propped it up with that DIO patch on his back. Let their hatred sink into that and roll away useless.

Let them know it doesn’t sink down to places where they want it to hurt.

Eddie swallows. Throat suddenly a sticky chasm. Tried to soften the blow and put away whatever the fuck this guy was trying to scowl and throw at him.

“Hey, man. You’re my 1 o’clock right?” He asks. Tapping his knee still and fiddling with his hands.

The guy swerved his jaw before he spoke. “Yeah.” Spine held poker rigid as he answered. Like it offended him to have to be here and talk.

He came into the clearing. Sneakers rustling leaves. Something feels sour about this whole thing.

“Okay. Well- um.” He awkwardly clears his throat. Reaches into the box that he gently sets beside himself. Grabs the joint and fidgets with it for a second.

“It’s uh, it’s twenty bucks for a pre-roll.” Eddie tells him.

“Great.” He watches the guy nod. Curt. His expression steely. Eyes glassy in a way that’s beyond unsettling.

“Ohhhkay.” Eddie nods. Eyes a fraction too pinched at the corners. Concerned frown dragging down his brows. Wondering what the stitch up is. His eyes dart around. Bordering on panic.

He stands to get off the bench, the guy doesn’t so much a muscle to reach across and take the joint off him. Hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

Eddie holds the joint. The guy doesn’t even move to take it.

“It won’t bite man. Smooth as silk and just, hits you like a cool wave when you smoke that puppy. Trust me.”

Something flickers like a sneer across the guys mouth. He looks at the innocuous rolled joint Eddie’s holding out to him. Looks at the brown paper all rolled in his palm.

Eddie shrugs. Wide open. Leather crinkles over the jutting movement of his shoulders.

“You want it or not?” A razor edge starting to creep into his tone.

If this is someone who hasn’t made their mind up, he’s got other places to be. Better times to be had. Than waiting on whether or not the preppy jerk is gonna take the goods off his hands. Or use more than two syllables.

“If you don’t want it. I’ll go right now. Forget it. No hard feelings.” He takes the edge off for him.

Despite the fact that actually a little simmering front of annoyance bubbles at his belly for the guy wasting his free period he could have used to kiss you senseless with wandering hands, right up against the side of his van.

He turns around and throws the joint back into the box. Shaking his head. Making his hair do that wild kicky thing it usually does.

“Maybe you should go. Freak.” Comes spat his way. Drawn in a snarl.

“Whatever, dude.” Eddie puts his back to him. Folds his product back into his box.

More snaps. More rustled leaves. Eddie drifts his eyes up and sees three more guys coming through the woods to the clearing. Walking slowly, picking over nature to come to the bench all menacingly slow. Like he was a deer they were in danger of spooking.

All wearing Hawkins letterman jackets. Sneers writ on all their faces. Intimidation carved into every step they take. They look way too happy to see him here alone.

Suddenly Eddie feels small. Feels like he’s right back in middle school. Being tossed around and bashed up by the bullies. Coming home with stinging scraped knees and a cheek that feels swollen hot, itchy like bloated meat. The crust of dried rust scabbing under his nose.

This feels exactly like that. Some things never change.

“The fuck?” He asks. He won’t lie. His voice wobbles to a croak. Set on shaking sands.

“Where you goin’ loser?” One of them huffs out. Eddie turns his head.

Strutting towards him like the bullshit cover of macho magazine. Or J-Crew, is Barbies boyfriend. The blonde ape.

One of them he doesn’t recognise proudly comes up and slaps the lunchbox out his hands.

Eddie flinches back. Shrinks away. Puts distance between every step they eat up eagerly to come towards him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want whatever’s coming barrelling his way. He hasn’t done anything except sell some reefer.

“Alright. Alright-“ Eddie stumbles back from the table. Hands high and empty. Voice jittery. His head and gut yell in sync - telling him to run the hell outta there.

“Clearly you guys have some sort of agenda I’m not aware of so why don’t we all just-“ His smile is all tremulous and shaky.

A fist drags his collar into a yank. A curled up punch swings into his face and knocks him clean to the ground before he can chew out his next words. His jaw snaps together. Hot pennies comes flooding his tongue where his teeth cut his cheek.

Stars and bursting black galaxies accompany his artless tumble to the ground.

And then some more fists come raining down. A sneakered foot planting square into his side to kick the wind clean out of him.

They leave him crumpled on the ground. Cushioned by rotting dry leaves. Smeared in mud, blood leaking from two places in his face. Spotting down to his dark shirt.

As a parting gift one of them empties his lunchbox over the floor and stomps its contents into the dirt.

He knows the feeling only all too well.

~

You clatter into the bathroom after your last class.

Let the bustle of crowds fall far behind you as everyone rushes to the lot to leave. Afternoon summer sun stripes its sneaking glory across the halls and slants the window ledges in gold.

You cross to the sinks and set your sketchbook crammed with new drawings on the side. Leafs of the paper and all the dried paint crinkling, as it’s wedged partially open by the sheer number of crammed pages all skated on dusty pencil or charcoal.

You’d need to buy another pretty soon. One with thick cloth like paper pages for you to fill up.

You go through new books like running water. Never stop sketching. You’d wanted to take Eddie to the funky art shop you grab your supplies from. You’ve a feeling he’d love seeing the paint sets and the sheer number of spray paints they got.

Creativity seemed to flourish from him. His imagination permanently running wild. Could never stop it. One of your favourite things about him in fact.

He would talk about your sketches. Ask you about them. Ask you what the best paint would be for decorating some new figurines he’s got.

He’d twirl the pen you’re using out your hand and tell you all about the way he’d sit in the library for hours drawing fantasy maps for his campaigns on graft paper. Drawing rolling green islands. Mountain caves with trolls. Boggy muggy swamps with draping trees and hidden dangers. Vast seas with coily sea serpents hiding in the waves.

He’d chat to you about your ideas. The ones you’re struggling with for art class. The things you need to study and learn about. The theory of colours. The use of them all dotted in a Poussin or swirled in a Van Gogh.

You could talk to Eddie about anything. For hours and hours. The mere fact of going to grab a huge greasy meaty junk fest of a dinner with him has you walking on clouds.

You want your evening with him already. It can’t come fast enough. You want salty loaded fries and a cold shake and relentless plush Eddie kisses. You wanna climb into the comfy ratty seat in that tired old van that you love. Listen to whatever blasting metal cassette he’s been humming along to all day.

Hell- even just seeing his whole face light up with a smile as you saunter up to his van. The way he’d look at you - the way he always looks at you - with those big shining brown eyes all haloed in golden sun. Brimming with mirth. Cheeks split wide and crow-eyes all bunched up at the corners in glee.

He burns so bright to see you, it’s like he’s swallowed the sun and stars combined. You feel so lucky to have that.

The way he links his fingers with yours. Lopes your fingers together as one and doesn’t even mind if your all paint spattered or your hands are too dry. Palms all hard from scrubbing off acrylic smudges.

He kisses your fingers and acts like you’re draped in diamonds.

Acts like you weren’t wearing a ribbed worn Henley. A large - borrowed - Berkeley blue varsity sweater knotted around your waist, or your straight worn baggy jeans, cuffed up hems and patched at the knees that you mended. And your truly awful red sneakers that are so beat up with age they’re almost a sad faded pink.

He still looks at you like you’re a holy revelation. Each time.

You heap your bag next to the sinks and scrub the last of the charcoal off your hands. Sticky pink soap making a lot of lather around your fingers as you washed the smudgy grey away from the creases in your knuckles. Watch the way it circles down the drain.

You pull up and dry them with the crinkly paper tissues sat on the side.

Take a second to look back to the mirror. Centred all around the ugly squiggles of old sharpie doodles etched on the walls. Contemplate your reflection.

You smooth the hair away from your forehead. Attempt to neaten some of the crazy fluffy bits that kink down around your ears. Fuss with it for a minute or two. Smudge the charcoal away off your cheek.

“Who you trying to look so nice for-“ Comes a cutting tone from behind you. Tone dredged through revulsion and back out again.

A twist over your shoulder reveals Linda. Stood there in her oversized acid wash denim jacket and too-short purple skirt. Hair all bunched up and piled on her head in a half up style wound with a magenta scrunchie. She stands with one hip cocked. And her eyes are frosty daggers.

Heat licks your spine in the shame that you’d been caught preening. “No one.” You say too quick.

Try and inflect some humour on your voice. “You know I don’t exactly have anyone to preen for.” You lie.

Looking down at your hands as you dry them. Scrubbing water away with damp paper. Crush it into a fist and ball it in the bin when you’re done.

You can feel her stare embedding itself into your skull. Like an engraving. Sharp. Scratch of a knife on hollow bone.

“I saw you with him. So don’t try and come at me with your bullshit.” She spits. Words tired and clipped.

You turn over your shoulder. She stands there seething. Looking as bitchy as she usually does. Pink lips pursed.

“Saw me…” you check.

“Yeah. You and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” She poses the words like they’re offensive. Mocking.

Anger furred the back of your tongue. Like feasting on too much sugar. Or a chalky jagged pill lodging itself in your throat.

“Look. I know you’re like, a lonely little virgin or whatever, and you wanna pop your cherry and all, but there’s way better guys out there to screw-”

Your venom stops her words dead.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You bite.

You see her face fall into shock at your tone. Snappy and sudden. She looked stunned. As if you’d wheeled around 360 and slapped her.

“Oh my god. Don’t tell me you actually like him? Are you serious?” She gapes like it’s illogical.

“He’s a loser with ratty hair who sells weed and lives in a shit hole trailer park.”

“I do like him. I more than like him. We’re dating.” You tell her with steel. “We’re going out tonight as it happens.”

“I knew you had a screw loose but this is just another level of low. Even for you.” Linda bitches.

“How do you never get tiredwith that constant tirade of shit that spills out your mouth Linda.” You snipe.

She rallies to respond. Scanning you with hard eyes backed with new levels of poison.

“I’m not the one dating the King of the freaks.” She hits at you, real low.

“No. You’re dating a two-bit jockstrap who doesn’t even like you, unless you blow him. At least Eddie wants me for more than my pussy.” You point out.

She swallowed. Eyes glimmer. You know that one bit deep.

“Don’t come crying to me when that trailer park asshole dumps you like a cup of cold poison.”

You shake your head and try to remember how to breathe. Snickering cracks of bones in your throat as you swallow. You want to fly into rage and slam your textbook into her stupid scathing face until it dents one of her precious cheekbones.

“You don’t even know him. None of you do. You don’t even know the first two things about him.” You defend loud.

“I know he’s weird as shit and sells skunk. What a catch.”

You bite your tongue. Plenty of insults about Jonny come crawling to mind.

“How long have you two been-“ She sniffs.

“Couple of weeks now. Since Kyle’s party.” You hurl at her furiously.

Her face fills with an expression you can’t read as everything comes to make sense. Falls into place. Puzzle pieces clicking.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

“Yeah. And you’re so self centred look how long it’s taken you to even notice or give a shit about what’s happening to me or my life.” You finally say all the things you should have voiced long ago.

“You’re only interested now because you care what other people are gonna say on Monday, and what they’ll gossip about.”

“He’s trouble, and he’s gonna get you hurt. Probably gonna give you a filthy rash or something too.” She sneers. “Lord knows what he’s riddled with.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” You grit your teeth. Emotion gets the better of your voice. Tears bubble at your lash line. Red hot.

“Not gonna be my problem to have you trailing round after me anymore. Cause by the way, we are no longer friends.” Linda spits. Eyes narrow to slits.

You nod. Resigned. Tears of anger prick the corners of your eyes. You’re too angry to let them loose.

“What a goddamn relief.” You hit back. Chew your lower lip.

“I’ve had to listen to you bitch at me, and whine and snipe, and moan, for years. I’ve had to endure your tantrums and your cutting comments, and every play-by-play of every unsatisfying Friday night screw around, with your shitty dirtbag of a boyfriend who treats you like garbage. And who you run back to each time he fucks you over. And I’m so sick of you.” Your voice comes out raw.

“So yeah. You’re right. We’re not friends anymore. I don’t think we’ve been that for a very long time.”

You put your back to her and grab your books.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Freak.” She sideswipes nastily as you shoulder your way past her.

Catching her on purpose. Shoving her with your shoulder to catch her teetering in those heels.

“Have fun with your trailer trash.” She snips.

“Word of advice. Make sure Jonny wraps it first. Word is he’s been screwing Tina on the cheer squad behind your back every Wednesday.“

You watch her saunter up past you to get to the mirror and touch up her lipstick. Ignore ignore ignore.

Her too sweet Revlon perfume making your stomach roil. She looks at her reflection. The thing she loved most. It’s amazing you ever got a look in. She scrunches up sections of her hair to make it bounce. An indifferent mask on her face.

Trying to ignore you already so the tears don’t come. So what else is new.

You pause at the door. Hand on the handle. Books piled on your arms.

“Sad thing is. I never expected you to act any different when you found out. Turns out you’re just that shallow vain bully I always suspected you to be.”

She pretends not to hear as you slip out the door. You’re sure to slam it as loudly as you can.

Coming out into the partially empty hall. Quickly skating a hand down your cheek. Taking a gulp of a deep breath. Starting down the hallway to come to the doors at the end.

Letting the distance to that girls restroom salvage some of your anger. Let it ebb away and let the savage venom words roll down your skin like blunt razors.

You wait to see if they feel like they’ve drawn any blood.

Maybe just a raking deep black bruise. Perhaps the confrontation has lifted a rock solid weight off your chest. Cut your ties to something corrosive.

You storm to the doors at the end, and push your way out. Into the midsummer air. Afternoon sun washing over you as it creeps it’s golden-fiery way by. Slanting ochre across the parking lot.

A gaggle of people clutched around one of the sticky lunch tables stops you dead in your tracks.

That weight comes crashing back with all the subtle tact and grace of a tank storming a building.

It’s Hellfire. The crowd. It’s Gareth, Mike, Jeff and Henderson. They’re all clutched around someone sat on the bench seat. Someone who is leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees. One hand held up to his head.

Your mood plunges even more. There’s a sour shift as some of them twist to look at you.

Big childlike eyes full of something that approaches wariness. Sadness dashed with insecurity. The kid-like uncertainty of how to deal with this very gruesome and very real situation.

A cold can of tab, now warm, for the crescent bruise taking shape around his eye socket.

One of them fishing around in the bottom of their bag for crumpled blue band aids. Anything to help.

A wad of crinkly and loveless paper towels snatched from the boy’s restroom and wadded into a wet lump for the blood pouring under his nose. The fresh red that’s staining his tee like big gruesome poppy petals.

His free hand is wrapped around his side for the bruise he can already feel like a dark cloud of cherry red and blue cobwebbing up his skin and over each slat of his ribs on his left side.

They shuffle away from the table and you finally get to see what they all look so grim about.

Eddie is hunched over with a black eye and a bloodied face and nose. He’s muddy and dirty and scratched up and when he meets your gaze, your world shudders on its axis, to a grinding halt.

The way he’s looking at you shatters your damn heart into huge glassy shards. Diamonds and sprinkles of it, sharp and chunky, cut into your chest. Daggering.

He’s hurt.

He swallows and keeps eye contact. Looks at you with such fear and sorrow emanating from those big round bourbon eyes. You see the apprehension in his body.

It doesn’t get any better when he winced and tries to stand. Body bowing as he slowly eased himself off the bench seat. Hand cupping his ribs as he inched his way to a full stand. You hear him groan.

You see as pain flickers across his face. The usual springy frolicking gait is muted. It’s etched with pain and writ with ache.

He wishes he could read your expression right now. As it is he’s struggling to sort it into one emotion.

You look hurt, tear stained, livid and clenched rigid with something that could only be bone deep anger. Venomous, mind numbing, anger. And it was just bubbling and clawing it’s way to a fever pitch.

“Pencils-“ He wets his lips. Looks meek as he watches you carefully. Tenderness in his voice.

You dump your books where you stand and turn on your heel. Sketchbook cast to the floor and heaped atop your bag. You slam back through the doors and into the school - mind set on one salient thing.

The doors slam not seconds after you. The creaking jolt as the metal crunches back into place. Footprints scatter after you on the lino. The squeak of muddy sneakers. The gusting air of a sigh bred with a wince.

Eddie chases after you with all his might. Hooks his hand to your elbow. Tries his best to stop you.

“Hey. Pencils. Babe. Please, let’s get outta here. Let’s just forget this. I don’t know who it was- I didn’t see them.”

He’s really a terrible liar.

“With all due respect Eddie. I know who did it.” You explain bitterly, as you wander along. His touch turns to a tug on your elbow. Pulling at your shirt.

“Because he’s not smart enough to juggle two thoughts at once, much less try and hide the fact he beat you up. And second his jagged pill of a girlfriend just tore me to strips in the girls restroom for finding out.” You say. Possibly louder than you intended.

His face falls.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly.

You turn back. Tears springing down your cheeks. His hands are all over you. Cupping your neck. Your shoulders. You can smell the blood coming off him. Sour pennies. Desperation laced his voice. Comes off him in waves.

Desperate for you not to to this.

“This isn’t stupid shit to me Eddie. This is not okay. Not something I’m gonna let get brushed under the rug-“ your lip wobbles. You shake your head. You rub your nose. Chase the tickling tears away.

He mimics you. Shaking his own head so his hair flicks out. Eyes wide and terror stroked words pour out his mouth.

“Don’t go getting into trouble for me. I don’t want that for you.” He begs. His eyes are wide with it.

“Good thing I want it then.” You resolve.

He looks apprehensive. Choked by it. Scared by your resolve. He doesn’t want to let you do this. This is a doomsday territory.

“Pencils-“

You continue down the hall. He follows. Still doing everything in his power to convince you, or try to stop you. Credit to him, his list of reasons are pretty excellent.

Babe. Please. It doesn’t have to be a thing.

You’re on track. You have your grades. You got Indie state in your future to think of. I don’t want you jeopardising that for me.

I don’t want you going and getting in trouble for this.

He doesn’t stop you from making your way to the gym. But he is right there at your back as you push open the doors, shove your way inside and you don’t care if your entrance is loud.

The idiot jocks practice in the gym after school. Basketball mostly. Some dotted in the bleechers. Long suffering girlfriends sat with bubblegum pink coloured files, shaping their nails to the side and chatting and trying not to look too bored whilst the guys play. Linda sits chattering to one of the cheerleaders.

You wrinkle your nose at the stench. Whole place smells like musty sweat, floor polish and old socks.

Jonny has his back to you as he dribbled the ball. The ricochet of it pangs across the court.

You race across the floor to him like a hell fury. Fists clenched at your side. Eddie still trying in vain to get between you and your stubborn brain. To try and talk you out of this before it’s way too late.

Your entrance with him hot on your heels and whispering pleas at you, draws laughter and sniggering sneers from some of his dirtbag friends. Shouts come aimed your way.

Hey, look who it is. It’s the freaks.

Closed practice, morons.

Jonny doesn’t turn back but you make your presence known.

“Hey. You dumb fuck stain.”

You march right up to his sweaty back and shove him hard with both hands. Wrinkle that goddamn white basketball jersey.

The guys around him make mocking noises. Chorus of awes and exclamations.

The room slowly dawns quieter. The squeak of shoes muffled. Everyone’s eyes centre court where you stand seething. Panting for breath and trying to look as livid as you felt.

He turns back to you all slow and condescending. Like he’s some golden haired Apollo flouncing down from Mount Olympus to grace you with his presence. He’s limned in sweat and dissects you both with conceited arrogance.

“What’s your damage?” He sarcs. Looking down at you like you’re an ant. Or a mangy mongrel.

He flicks his eyes across and landing on Eddie.

“Munson. How’s them ribs.” He sneers.

You’re about ready to topple over the edge and spit nails. Anger gently creeps to a boil.

“Just peachy, thanks for asking.” Eddie answers. Mouth is a grim line. And his eyes look stern coal black. He turns his attention back to you.

“Pencils please. Let’s just let it go. There’s no point…” He whispers. Standing with his hand gently cupping your forearm.

“What do you want? Teams full. We don’t accept weirdos anyway.” Jonny pushes at the both of you.

“I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me why you attacked my boyfriend.” You steel. Voice low and even.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you like lasers. Burning holes in the back of your head.

His mouth gapes a little. If it weren’t for the fact he’s terrified off his ass stood here, his heart would flutter like a fledgling baby birds wings, to hear those words admitted aloud.

“No reason. Just don’t like him.” He shrugs all honesty. Passing the ball over to his friend. Standing with his hands on his hips.

“Careful hefting those big thoughts around. You might hurt yourself.” You fire out.

Your fight with Linda left sharp scalpel words on your tongue and now you ache to use them to their fullest.

He doesn’t look happy. Dark gold hair beading sweat down into his cenote blue eyes. Rigid anger on his frown as he glares at you.

“Linda didn’t like the idea of him being around you. She told us we were teaching him a lesson. To stay away from you. We were protecting you, moron.” He says like it should be obvious.

“How fucking considerate. Your girlfriend couldn’t think her way out of a damn paper bag if she had a map, Jonny.”

You feel Linda’s scowl all the way across the room. The weight those slitted eyes and a bitchy scoff. You know those echoing words found their target. Slammed right into bullseye red making their mark. You hope it truly hurts. As much as she hurt you

“She didn’t reserve the right to presume any fucking thing about me. And not one thing gave you not the right to hurt Eddie. Not under the guise of some macho-stupid ‘protecting-you’ crap.” You snarl.

He bounces the ball. You slam forwards and bat it out scathingly out his hand. Send it rolling away.

More chorus of noises scattered around you both as you stepped toe to toe with the guy who almost towered over you.

“You acted out of pure hatred. So don’t try and dress it up at something else. You useless. shithead.” You insult.

“And what are you going to do about it, freak, huh?” He jabbed. Nostrils flaring. Lips pressed together unattractively thin. Looks like a provoked silverback in his enclosure. About the beat his chest.

He turns to guffaw laughter and sneer with his friends.

When you speak it’s so reed thin it even makes a shiver run up Eddie’s spine. Slices of jagged metal.

And he’s not even on the receiving end of this frightening ire of yours. The one that’s bursting out of you like raw lightning. Like it can’t fathomably contain you. Love and fierce packed rage tight in situ.

“This…” You remark with a clenched fist. Thumb wrapped over your knuckles.

Your nail polish glints blue in the light like steely-inky beetle wings. Your eyes barely smother down live-wires. Danger, danger.

You thought about how they would’ve laughed at him.

Kicked him into the dirt like wet leaves and muck that drifts off the trees in fall.

How they would have laid into him and left him there. On the floor. Blood soaked.

Shown the freak who’s in charge.

It flashes when you rear your arm back. Putting full force into your right shoulder, feet taking a firm stance. You channel everything you have into this fearsome right hook;

You swing your fist straight into Jonnys face.

It’s powerful enough to hear a loud crack, you feel the blow shudder into bone. Catching his nose, which spurts blood.

He recoils and staggers. Knocked off balance. Sound punctured out his mouth. Clutching his bleeding face as red streams drip on his pretty white shoes. Stains his pristine uniform. Good.

Try explaining that one to mommy and daddy dearest.

You don’t even let him swing back around. You grab the shoulder of his disgusting sopping jersey and ball it in your hand. Using that as leverage to drive your knee high - hard - into his balls.

Before you let him slump to the floor in a bleeding pile of sweat glazed limbs. You mutter words just for him to take caution of.

“Come near me or Eddie again, and believe me I will break your goddamn jaw, Lopez.”

You let him crumple this time. Flag to the floor in a heap of collapsing bones and sweaty jock uniform.

He looks up at you, trembling. Blood skirting down his arms and past his cupped palm. Tears streak down his cheeks. You step back and let him crumple.

He’s spitting and snarling crude insults in between wails of pain, and a sticky mouthful that smears his teeth red, and stains his tongue with metal.

“You broke my nose, you crazy fuckin’ bitch.” He spits. It sounds wet. Words sluiced in crimson.

“Finally. A nickname I can warm too.” You scathe.

When you look up, guys around him flinched back a good few paces in case they fell into the category of your rage. Wariness edging their expression. Eyes wide and mouths caught suspended open, like brain dead guppies at feeding time.

Eddie stepped forwards and gently laid his hand on your shaking arm. His fingers urge you closer. Get you following him to haul ass outta there.

You scan the room and find Linda gaping at you just as dumbly as everyone else. She’s risen to a stand. Face like she’s just swallowed a painful poison pill. Apparently in no rush whatsoever to get to her boyfriend.

“It’s ok. I’m done here.” You tell him. Gritting your teeth. Meeting Linda’s eyes.

You turn and walk away. Back to this whole affair Amazed how scarily easy it is. Leaving your supposed friendship in the dust. Bleeding crumpled on that floor.

You feel an enormous sense of relief walking out that gym.

Your hand killing you. No doubt about it. Shooting mad red hot fireworks up and down your forearm. Your knuckles feel like hell. Sparking furious with pain.

You reach for Eddie’s hand anyway. Screw the pain. You slip your fingers into his. Turn and catch his eyes.

He’s watching you with so much cautionary care and concern.

You breathe. Lungs shivering around new calm air. Words come easy but you feel shaky with them.

“C’mon. Let’s go get you something for that eye.”

He agrees with a nod. Then that hopping spark that’s truly skated in usual Munson mischief, comes springing back full force into his eyes. Lovely happy bourbon again.

“Wouldn’t dare refuse you, Pencils. Not after seeing what you’re capable of.” He grins. Nudging you with a shoulder to get a smile out of you.

“Damn right. Those idiots just cost us a date night. He deserved all that and more.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He smiles. Eyes still stuck on your face.

He lopes alongside you. Hand clutched in yours. Shoulder rolling to yours. It feels whole. It feels like trust.

~

You sit in Eddie’s van in the parking lot of the Fair Mart. Despite your protestations, he fully insisted he was fine to drive. He rolled into park out front just about as the sun began to set.

The night started to pull in. All lilac and periwinkle skies, soft as a vintage eiderdown that made you think of bluebirds feathers as you watched that solemn shade of blue overtake the sky.

Making the all too yellow lights within the dingy place stand out proud. Blinking a little. Humming along with the huge freezers inside. All the twee touches of home made signs telling you about the canned goods on offer. Written on card with flicky show-manly italics. Some easy friendly music sparkles out the speakers.

The plump clerk is smiling and jolly and bubbly bright, even when you unload for a whole armful of some medical supplies on the counter. Eyeing your now purpling knuckles with sparky perception. Ringing things up, you throw in a bag of jolly ranchers and a couple of ice cold cans - they suggest a rattling jar of aspirin.

“Take away the sting, honey.” He wafts a knowing hand. “That’ll be $11.90.”

You pay with a watery smile and walk out with a paper bag full. It crinkles in your arms as you go back to Eddie. Who’s sat with his legs dangling out the driver side of his van. Fidgeting with his rings all skittish. Legs swinging to an invisible tune. Still Rattlehead, actually.

You’re the only people in the place. Talk about lulled and sleepy Hawkins. This clearly isn’t a place for two teenagers on a Friday night. They’re all off sucking face at the quarry or skull rock. Or gathering at the arcade.

You come back and get to work cleaning him up.

Lump the bag down beside him, close to his hip, and you stand between his spread legs. Hand fiddling with your belt loop so carefully. He feels you gently brush sweeps of his bangs off his forehead to get at his skin and smudge away a bit of dirt. He lets you. Sat there and losing himself in his gazing.

He winced a little when you gently dabbed some antiseptic cream on the cut at his cheek.

“There’s Jolly ranchers in there you know.” You supply.

“Is that a bribe for me to sit still?” He checks. “Cause it will definitely work.” He dives his hand into the crinkly paper and searches for the candy. He finds one and holds it in his palm until you’re done.

“Who, um.” He swallows. Looking too intently at his ripped jean kneecap. “Who taught you how to—“

You draw back and let him find his words. Let him come to you with it.

“Who taught me how to throw a punch?” You smile.

Still dabbing his cheek. Fingers slipped under his chin and tilting his head up to you. When he could stay still enough.

“My sister. She bought me self defence lessons after-“ The words die and wither up all grey and ashen in your mouth.

You break eye contact for a second and rub at your brow.

It slowly creeps over his head like some dreadful tide. After what?-

Eddie knows he doesn’t like the look settling over your features. One bit. He doesn’t care for it at all.

“It was the summer before junior year. Around the time Linda and Jonny started dating. We went to this party. She didn’t want to go alone so I was roped in. Dressed me in one of her stupid mini skirts, planned to set me up with one of his buddies, Alex.” You pause and chew over the words.

“It was stupid as shit, looking back now, but we got so stupid drunk. Teen freedoms and lite beer. We thought we were so cool. So much so I didn’t notice that my drink was spiked with something. I don’t even know what. All I can remember is just, blackness, and then waking up with Alex sliding his hand up my skirt.”

Eddie blinks. Shuts his eyes for a second. His voice sounds so far away. “Shit. Pencils.” He rasps. Upset and angry on your behalf. He looks more hurt than all those bruises scattering his face.

“Nothing else happened. I screamed blue murder, and shoved him off me and just turned tail and got the hell out of dodge. Walked miles home in heels til I got blisters all over. Charlie was so so pissed. First time I’ve ever seen my Mom go full apocalyptic angry.” You explain.

“She wanted to bring charges but Alex’s family lived on Loch Nora, and his dad was a bigwig in local council so naturally he just chalked it up to underage kids having too much drink and touting it around town that a ‘misunderstanding’ occurred. Transferred their golden boy to a private school. And it just got, quietly swept away.” You accept.

All the pieces slowly floated and formed together to clarity in Eddie’s head.

“Linda stayed with Jonny even after all that shit you went through…” He asks. You nod.

“Stuck like glue.” You infer.

He can’t stand it any longer. wraps his arms around you fully and tugs you into a bold hug. Burying his face in your chest. Listening to the tick of your heart, and feeling you hold him back. Smiling and pressing a kiss to the wild nest of his hair. He smelled like sour-sweet green apple shampoo and earthy papery leaves.

“I’m so sorry.” He rumbled into your arm. His hug says so much more than that.

I’m here and I’m not leaving. Whatever you need - I’ll give it. Carve it out of my chest because you own every piece of me - in full.

“Not your fault, Eddie. I stopped being mad a while ago.” You tell him. Pressing another kiss to his head.

That’s why he’d been so unsuccessful in being able to stop you today. Because you’d let one bout of assault go, like hell were you about to let that happen all over again. And not to him. Drew some blood of your own to partially settle an old debt. To quiet some old violent ghosts.

He lets go of you and plonks the red wrapped jolly rancher in your right hand.

“I think you need and deserve this more than I do. And I’ll keep on being mad on your behalf - if that’s ok.” He says honestly. Fingers slithering through yours. He twists your hand over and sees the bruises wrapping around your knuckles.

You smile.

“I’ll take that.” You answer in reply to his offer. “The candy and that kind offer.”

Cause this is exactly what you need. Him. Him in all his unusual and funky glory.

Metal head with a heart so pure you’re actually certain it is made of solid gold. He whom proclaims to the world he’s nothing but a devil worshipping Satanist, made up of cynical death metal, and pot smoke.

Yet, he’s the guy who puts wrapped candy in your hand. Plies you with kisses and tried to hard to keep you out of tumbling headlong into trouble for his sake. Wanted to take you for a greasy burger and just share every silent soaked moment with you. No matter what you’re doing as long as you’re shoulder to shoulder.

He’s springing up before you can stop him. Sits you in the seat he occupied and told you firmly to ‘wait here, toots.’

Then, he’s scampering across the grocery store lot all jangly jacket and mad frizzy rocker hair bouncing as he goes. The soft pad of his feet on the doormat and the swish of the door he pushes open.

He drifts around the aisle for a few minutes before you see the top of his head bounce as he jaunts to the checkout and pay with a load of coins and a crumpled bill dug out his pocket.

He’s out the doors and whirling back to you in no time at all.

Hand on his ribs as he winced and realised that moving around all silly like he normally does would have its consequences. Ode to a bruise.

He comes over and crouched in front of you. Proudly showing you his purchases. He holds them up like he’s won an award.

bag of frozen peas and a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“For you, my most dangerous slash badass weirdo.” He grins. Even under that black eye, and the cut limned with purple across the bridge of that nose, his brightness and joy is infectious.

He takes your hand and you smile as he settles the peas on it. Settles his hand on top of it and stays crouched. Looking up at you with literal stars in his eyes.

You’re hit with such a fierce wave of love it shocks you from the inside out. Punching into your ribs and mangling and mashing your heart and lungs together with something that burns all mean like static. Words trip off your tongue like a smudge of sugar. You feel drunk on them; fever and maddening realisation in a shockwave.

You put your hand over his. Ice cold and shifting crunch on the bag.

“Eddie, you’re free tonight right?”

“Well the beauty pageant will have to take a hike with these shiners.” He plays. Tilts his head.

“What would you say if I asked you to spend the night?” You check.

His brain seems to crunch and churn through the cogs to answer.

“The night?” His eyebrows almost swoop up and disappear into his bangs.

“Not sure your mom would be too wild about that.” He says.

“She’s in San Francisco. Short haul. Not back til Monday.”

“Oh.” Eddie nods. And then it hits him.

“O h.”

You keep eye contact and smile. “I'm game. What’s say you, Munson?”

“Holy shit. Pencils.” He wets his lips. Grinning.

~

T A G S darlings

@ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @greenishghostey @svenyves @sammararave @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831

@hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos

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[etraytin]

Postcards From the Dusty Mountains

Took the kiddo out yesterday with me when I went a-volunteering because he is getting very tired of not having anything to do. You know it's getting bad when a guy misses school and is tired of being on his computer all day. I'm not being sarcastic either, I'm deeply sympathetic to his plight and I wish he could get back to school and the friends he was making and the brand-new boyfriend he's been taking those first cautious romantic steps with. He already had to live through COVID homeschooling for two years, and now this. Ugh. I have heard rumors that they are hoping to open the schools back up on October 21, which means two more weeks closed, but it could be worse. So many places still don't even have power, much less water.

Anyway, I took him with me and we went down to a food distribution in Swannanoa. They got hit very very hard, and we spent a couple hours helping a Chick-Fil-A volunteer team from Atlanta hand out hot chicken sandwiches and bottled water. In normal days I don't have much to do with Chick-Fil-A because I don't like their politics, but when the matter at hand is giving hot food to people who've lost their homes, you put the politics aside. I just wish the rest of the country was able to do the same, because I am extraordinarily tired of people thinking of North Carolina as a "battleground state" when the battle we are fighting right now is to keep people alive as the weather starts to turn cold and the water lines stay broken.

Today was busy because I actually managed to keep a doctor's appointment I have been waiting a month for, which was quite a pleasant surprise! The doctor's office is in Hendersonville, so the fact that they were open for business and that I was able to get there are both things that I might have doubted a week ago. I also had an appointment with a local HVAC outfit about getting a whole-house standby generator installed so that next time we have a power outage, we can at least power the fridges, the well pump, the dehumidifiers and my CPAP, with maybe some left over for laptop charging. The price he quoted me for everything except the propane tank and line was $11,000, which was not exactly unexpected but still a big ol' yikes. The good news is, his company bought several of the right size generators before the storm so they would have an inventory, so I could theoretically have a generator before winter really sets in. Highly tempting.

In the afternoon, kiddo and I went out to do more helping. If nothing else has become more apparent over this week, it's that we were and continue to be so, so lucky. Of all the teachers at my husband's school, we are the _only_ family who are still in our own home with all our utilities back up. We are the only members of our extended family in the area who have power. We are part of a tiny fraction of households in the region who have potable water coming from our taps. Given all of that, we decided that we were going to take my final paycheck from canvassing and put it into a community that was not lucky at all. Our Lowes got restocked big time this week, so I was able to go in and get a propane tank, a gas can, a huge box of contractor bags, a straight rake, a shovel, and a gas-powered chainsaw with two cans of fuel for it. We also raided our own house and took our own three shovels and straight rake, our garden cart, some very cute hiking boots I bought but hadn't worn yet, eight packs of bath wipes and two of our cell phone power banks and drove the whole thing down to Black Mountain.

Black Mountain is very close to Swannanoa and was also hit extremely hard by the storm. We didn't go around touristing, but even on the main roads we took we could see devastation everywhere. Everywhere the water touched was drenched in toxic mud, which has dried over the past two weeks into an awful choking dust that covers everything. It blows on the wind and rises with every passing car. As we drove I took the opportunity to explain how the search and rescue paint marking system works to Kiddo, because their bright green graffiti was on all the half-destroyed houses we were passing.

There's an outdoor music venue in Black Mountain called Silverados that has been turned into a massive distribution center. Hot meals were being passed out in the front, while the rear was a busy hive of organizing and distributing supplies. We went there and dropped off all our items, where they were carted away into an absolutely teeming hub of supplies and volunteers. We asked if they needed any more help today, but they definitely had enough willing hands. I think my dad will laugh because I finally did get the chainsaw he talked me out of, but then gave it away before it even left the box.

With a little time on our hands, we went back up north and visited our favorite grocery store, the one that sells lightly-expired canned and boxed food at greatly reduced prices. We were very happy to see that they'd come through the storm unscathed except for a lack of internet, and stocked up on more of the seemingly endless supply of Old El Paso meal kits that they sell two for a dollar. Cheaper than buying tortillas and taco seasoning, lol! We also visited the local record store, which opened for regular business hours despite the circumstances as well, and bought a couple of records because we want them to stay in business even though times are tough. It was, overall, an extremely successful outing.

Sometimes the world here in our house feels tantalizingly close to normal, an endless weekend where we are just waiting to go back to school and work. But just driving into town and seeing all the places closed for lack of water is enough to destroy that bubble, and driving thirty minutes in any direction is like stepping into a different world. Marshall, Spruce Pine, Swannanoa, Black Mountain, the River Arts District. Dozens more places that I have not seen and probably couldn't even get to if I tried. I'm very afraid for what is about to happen in Florida, for their sake and for ours. Appalachia has a long history of being forgotten about when bad things are happening. I really hope it doesn't go that way again.

[thefisherqueen]

I came across the surname Baskerville in a text completely unrelated to Sherlock Holmes (in a book about wild camping), and it's gives some really interesting insight into the history and present state of UK inherited titles and landownership so thought I would share!

'William the Conqueror invaded England in 1066 and then made himself king. It was like any other invasion of conquest, in any other time or realm. King Harold the Second was dead. Long live the King. Life goes on. But there was a difference. New laws saw all of the land seized by the Crown - a relatively unique development in the history of conquest. Sasxon barons were replaced by the Norman lords and their allies. The Domesday Book - the most definitive land registery document every devised - was produced on William's orders in 1086 to identify the new owners and their land holding and what they might owe, in tax, favour and loyalty, to the king: the sovereign Landlord.

Landownership had worked broadly in the same way ever since our ancestors abandoned the nomadic life, and took up the shovel and plough about 10.000 BC. What the Normans changed in Britain was the communal right of access over the land. That system of non-communal access is still very much in force today amoung the modern-day descendents of the Normans. Which is why William's 1086 census - the Domesday Book (and its modern version, the Land Registry) - remains so important. It serves as a legal document that established ownership by the legal holder of the title.

My research into where I could roll out a sleeping bag today meant looking at landownership. I discovered that very little had changed sinde the Norman invasion. Just 0,6 per cent of the population still owns 50 per cent of the British land, and most of this elite are the descendants of the 11th-century Norman aristocracy.

A report - "Who owns Britain?' - by Country Life magazine in 2010 was said to be the most detailed survey of its kind in over 100 years. The research claimed that just 1200 aristocrats and their families own 20 million of Britain's 60 million acres of land. The top private landowner in Europe was the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, who owned 240.000 acres in England and Scotland. Research by the London School of Economics in 2013 claimed that the Normans who conquered England - with surnames Baskerville, Darcy, Mandeville and Montgomery - still dominate the student rolls for Oxford and Cambridge universities, still make up a large proportion of the elite that holds the prime positions in professions such as medicine, law and politics. They also control a good number of the political agencies, public bodies and charitable organisations that oversee rules regulating land management and access.

But 1066 was about more than Saxon lords losing their holdings. It was how it affected the peasants that mattered most. The common rights over common lands like Sherwood Forest and the Kentish Weald were gone. Those rights included the right to roam over woodlands, marshes, moors and coasts of many common areas; to graze animals, collect wood for fuel, tools and buildings, to eat fruits, to collect water from rivers and streams, to catch fish and generally to do all the things that made it possible to live off the land."

From: Wild camping. Exploring and sleeping in the wilds of the UK and Ireland, by Stephen Neale, page 29

I've been to the UK several times for hiking trips, and I remember being puzzled by the system of access to nature at first. It is quite bewildering to be just walking on a perfecty good path, only to suddenly find it fenced off, with aggressive signs warning walkers to KEEP OUT!!! Why are hikers treated with so much suspicion even in areas famous for its good hiking? And what do you mean by Right of Way? How come there's major roads and motor cross terrains within a national park? (turns out they are largely privately owned). Myself, I've never been shy to climb the occasional wall or fence, and pitch my tent somewhere even on private lands. I consider it my own gentle way of resisting the very idea of private property, which creates so much inequality. I've never yet faced any trouble for it, by the way. Turns out land owners have little desire to actually hike on their lands, especially in rain or cold or darkness, and the people who work for them are usually not payed enough to care about a lonely hiker who is causing no disturbance or damage whatsoever xD

[lostsneeze]

Allergic To Love

It’s the hot new dating show fueled entirely by an obscure kink millennial post-irony and brand sponsors! A group of unrealistically attractive contestants, each allergic to absolutely everything, are brought to a luxurious mansion to court the host. A challenging game will face them each day, and during each night the host will award them a ragweed flower one at a time (which they’ll be expected to accept with a flirty, sensual sniff of course). Anyone who doesn’t receive a flower at the end of the day is eliminated, while the final contestant chosen will be starting their hopefully happy relationship together....and also receive a multi-year acting contract as the spokesperson for the sponsoring allergy medication.

Who will be the winner, and who will just be ✧˚₊Allergic to Love₊˚✧?

Day 1: Decorum and Originality

All the contestants settle in during the day and make a plan for the evening: a fancy formal dinner with every contestant (and the host) wearing a bucketload of sponsored perfume, where no tissues are allowed. Whoever makes the worst first impression (or just keeps their composure the worst) risks an early elimination!

Day 2: Kindness and Care

In support of an animal rescue organization, the whole day is spent with some new four-legged guests. In a surprise twist, nobody is eliminated this round, and instead the ragweed is given to whichever animal got along with everyone the best, adopting them into the house for the rest of the show! If anyone was particularly friendly with the winner, they might find they’ve got a new furry friend tagging along with them in future episodes.

Day 3: Diligence and Courtesy

Today is a field trip to a decrepit run-down house that hasn’t been cleaned in years. Contestants are broken into teams and assigned a half to dust and straighten, but given a very limited supply of tissues and effective cleaning tools. Whichever team cleans their side the best in the time limit spends the evening with the host, and in another surprise twist the team that does the worst will be anonymously voting on one of their own for elimination (unless they all agree not to). Hopefully everybody was civil about sharing those supplies!

Day 4: Allure and Determination

It’s another field trip; a hike up during a day forecast for insane pollen highs. Everyone will be carrying a bouquet to the end of the trail to present to the host, who will be walking up with the group but only return with whoever’s flowers are in the best shape. They’d better be conscientious of how much room they use in their backpacks for rations and spare tissues if they want to win that spot…although they could always just carry their bouquets in hand.

Day 5: Boldness and Persistence

After several days of hard work, it’s time for a more relaxing day at the house. To “help” contestants relax, the house has been absolutely littered with top brand scented candles. The lounge, where the host is, has the most, but each contestant can spend up to a full hour there at any time…if they can stand it that long, that is!

Day 6: Patience and Humility

The final field trip before the grand finale. This time contestants and the host will be performing chores at a farm, and only allowed one handkerchief each. Whoever has the cleanest handkerchief at the end gets to have dinner alone with the host. After their poor red noses have already endured so much this week, will anyone be able to completely resist the comfort of imported silk sitting in their pocket to guard against elimination?

Day 7: Love

In the final day, the host is brought to the center of an enormous garden maze blooming with flowers and given a bouquet of ragweed to present to their desired date. But the host will have to find them first: each remaining contestant is waiting at a different exit to the maze wearing a crown of flowers (and nothing else!), so the host will have to recognize the sneezes of their love and navigate to them by sound alone! To make matters more confusing, the eliminated contestants are brought back to wait in the dead ends of the maze. Who will end up with the prize, and will it be who the host was after?

[multiplicationdivision]

Nuclear Fission

Clint stood nervously by the door of Dr. Carlson. His nerves were fueled by a combination of anxiety and excitement as he waited, fiddling with the paper in his hand. A basic report he’d bunched up for delivery to the man, the perfect excuse to get to ask his big question.

Jackie was out for the week, which meant that Clint was left alone for once. A student assistant running all laborious operations in the lab, without his pesky supervisor to overthink everything. Jackie wouldn’t have let Clint do this, not under his careful watch. Clint would’ve just been pushing random objects through the device and gathering the products, ticking off checks on the data sheets and jotting down mundane observations.

Jackie was a fool for thinking Clint wouldn’t do this. Clint had been quite explicit in why he wanted to do the research that they did. Hell, he’d been hired because of those motivations. Dr. Carlson had said Clint had the crazy to do this research, that Clint was an ideal candidate. Jackie had remained vigilant in “protecting” him still, sweet but annoying with his lab safety.

Clint was nervous but confident in what the Doctor would say. He’d even dressed up for the occasion, although it would likely be impossible to tell. New cargo pants, new hiking boots, new long-sleeve. Everything new, even down to his fresh haircut. Clint was ready for today.

He’d knocked minutes ago but that was just how things were for Carlson. Always lost in his thoughts, that man. Never missed a thing but sometimes he took a bit to answer something like a knocked door. It came eventually with a strained “Come in” and the door gently swaying open with a loud creak.

Carlson was a beautiful man, somewhere in his sixties with warm dark skin. His face lit up with a shock of a white beard, finely shaved and sharp as a knife. He was dressed classily, in a brown suit and well-worn work boots. Muscular enough for the suit to be tight in all the right places.

It all served to contrast with the crazed dilation of his eyes, bright blue staring right in Clint’s. It was matched with an equally gleeful smile, although it was slightly tight from exertion. Dr. Carlson was currently wrestling a large squid back into his salt water tank, pressing its twsisting tentacles back into place amongst the anemone.

“Hello Clint!” the man’s happy and high voice sounded as the squid finally relented, squirming back under its hide in the corner. “You know how miniature krakens can be, so curious and violent” he said as he clipped the flimsy aquarium ceiling back down into place.

Miniature krakens did not exist. Not in most places.

“Hi Dr. Carlson, just wanted to check in today. Have the daily report for you, everything’s nominal. Zero molecular corruption with fission as usual” he drolled out, on the same script he did most days. Today was different though.

“Perfect!” Carlson exclaimed, happily tearing through the report. Writing down what looked like notes, but were in fact likely just happy faces and stars. Carlson could read these in his sleep, but always failed to contain his excitement. He quite literally tore off the last page in a flurry, it flopping down behind him.

His wild eyes once more fixated on Clint, intense and interested. “Great job keeping up with all this work Clint, considering the Jackie is out. Has he been doing well in his search?”

“Yup, sent a text yesterday. Says the haunted mansion was a success, chock full of ghost particles”

“Excellent! Always good to see Jackie making strides in his research. He should be making his way back in a few days. California is quite a long drive.”

Carlson’s eyes stared through Clint and sweat prickled his back. He needed to ask his question, but it was hard to voice it. Carlson was who he wanted to be when he finally got his PHD, all deranged and confident.

The doctor saved him from his misery.

“Anything you need Clint, considering that Jackie is gone?” he said, voice thick with an invitation. Clint would almost be tricked into believing it to be a flirtation had he not been around the man enough. Jackie called it his trouble voice, saturated with the eternal scientific question of “can we?” rather than “should we”. It made Clint smile in viscous return, his own crazy resonating alongside his mentors.

“I figured it was time for a different sort of testing on the machine now. It’s been cleared for all materials, biological and in-organic. Perfect fission is consistent and errors are in the zero. Safety has been completely assured with animal testing, specimens have been unaffected and thrive.” He rattled off, vomiting out the script he’d repeated in his head for the last two months.

“So much testing performed with completely perfect results, I know. The only barrier left had been Jackie, unfortunately” the doctor hummed. “He is an excellent PHD candidate, but he is too anxious. Won’t let us do the most fun parts of science. The dangerous and exciting bits. I’m sure you know what I mean”

Clint nodded and hoped with all his heart.

Carslon raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Like I’m gonna stop you from doing what you want. I’d be a hypocrite to stop a prospective scientist from sciencing their little heart out. I approve of this new line of testing, although I must supervise for fun”

“Fuck yeah!” Clint said, unable to stop himself. He couldn’t help himself. Four months of work all leading up to this point. Four months of work to succeed in the greatest dare he’d ever received.

“Fuck yeah.” The doctor repeated with a grin, getting up and heading to the door.

Clint was already sprinting down the hall.

——————————————————————————

Jackie knew he fucked up before he even opened the door. He’d been rightly distracted by his own needs. One simply can’t refuse capturing the consolidated theme park spirits of Disney world to use in hard science. Its completely irrefusable.

He still cringed as he heard the moans from inside the lab. Clearly Clint’s, but echoed a few times. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

They were a lab specializing in the splitting of matter. Not the weak sauce splitting of atoms, the kind that was always liable to explode and reduce everything in a mile to cinders. They dealt in the proper splitting of the atom, a complete mitosis resulting in two daughter atoms. Both completely and perfectly identical to the original. Revolutionary work, defying the previous laws of physics with the creation of new matter.

Dr. Carlson often said that Oppenheimer could suck his dick. They held the real science of nuclear physics in this lab, so far from the low tech shit the rest of the world was dealing out.

Clint had been their first student in years. They weren’t a very exciting lab, consisting of only Jackie and Carlson. Compared to the size of the genetics lab headed by Dr. North down in Wester Hall, they were an insect. Why play with particle physics in the Carlson lab when you could study how to rewrite an entire genetic code at the North lab. It’s just what most STEM kids did at Melton Valley community college. That or animal and cryptid sciences. People went wild for Moth Man these days.

Clint had been a nightmare from the jump. He was insane from the moment he started talking in his interview and Jackie’s blood pressure had immediately shot up. The kid shared the same mad science as the twisted heart of Dr. Carlson and they were an unhealthy pair in running the lab into their shared insanity. They got along like a house of fire and Jackie was frantic in putting out the inferno they often literally produced.

Clint was working for them on a dare. He’d been honest about that and it had been why Dr. Carlson had hired him. His old frat mates had supposedly challenged him to be his own frat after a party. Clint had specified that they were still his buddies, no bad blood. Frat row had just had an empty house that no one wanted. A perfect cursed beauty, but MVC had never gotten enough students to fill all its housing.

He’d stated with conviction that they were going to help him fill it. They were a matter duplication lab and Jackie understood well the implication. Dr. Carlson had been out of his wits excited for such a ridiculous motivation. In his words, “It was a mark of genius to break physics on a dare”.

Clint was a sweet kid nonetheless. Always on time and always ready to work hard, whether it be on engineering or carrying things to and fro. Even surprised Jackie on his birthday, despite how Jackie had been stalling on human testing for so long. Jackie was just terrified of another crazy in the lab.

Hearing at least three identical voices exerting themselves past the door, he kicked himself for not having been there to at least pump the breaks a bit on the kid’s intentions.

He tried to keep it in his mind that he was supportive as he opened the door.

As expected, Dr. Carlson was typing away at his computer, completely ignoring the tangle of limbs next to him. He had his ear buds in and his phone screen clearly depicted the latest season of “Ice Road Truckers”. His data sheet was a mess of binary and random words, flowing across his screen in a constant pour.’

Clint meanwhile was the pile of bodies on the floor. The possibly contaminated floor. Jackie had thought he’d taught the idiot better.

There were four of him, pushing and repositioning themselves. Two were mostly clothed, their shirts pulled off or their pants pulled down enough for their cocks to dangle out. Two were entirely naked except for their shoes, one of them giving oral to the other. The one giving was also receiving, another Clint stroking his cock as another Clint in turn stroked his. A loop of sex, duplicates mumbling half pleas of “more” and “please”.

They were almost too far gone to notice Jackie make his way up to them, displeased expression apparent. He’d caught Clint masturbating before, but that was fine as long as the guy was careful. Jackie couldn’t care less, breaks were breaks. These dipshits could get glass in their buttholes or something though. Lab floors were gross.

“Boys” he interrupted. He heard the Clint sucking cock choke on it in surprise. Those with free mouths gawked at him, color flowing into their cheeks.

“I got permission” one of them said.

“Yeah, Dr. Carlson shot the neutrino himself. Felt surprisingly good, you’d be surprised”

“Don’t sweat it Jackie”

“Yeak don’t worry”

The little troupe of twenty-three-year-olds were all rushing to getting their pants up enough to cover their cum soaked briefs. The two naked Clints quietly bickered over a single set of clothes. Jackie could guess that one Clint had been thoroughly undressed before a duplication. One of those Clints appeared to give up, letting himself be the single with his dick out as the others became a little matched set. They each put on their innocent little face, squeezed against each other. Jackie didn’t fall for it.

“Get the fuck off the floor boys, you know better” he grumbled, moving past his student assistants to settle a jar in front of the Doctor. It glowed slightly, tiny bright dusty shapes swirling inside it. The action seemed to break Carlson out of his trucker trance, his excited smile directed straight at Jackie. The teeth were blindingly bright.

“You got your dreaming ghosts I see” the Doc exclaimed, shaking the jar and agitating the souls inside. “These will be perfect for your intangibility particle exercise!”

“Didn’t stop Clint, I see” he said, dead inside.

“Why would I” the doctor muttered as he inspected the jar. He moved to type the word “Spooky” onto the binary code before tossing the jar back into Jackie’s waiting hands. “You should make sure to centrifuge out the fanatic spirits, their slimy ideals get stuck in the purification analyzer.”

“Yeah sure….” Jackie sighed, watching the man press play on the video of the trucker reality show and reenter his trance of the data sheet. That left Jackie to the Clints.

They were messing with each other, having transitioned from fucking to a light rough housing. Bickering comfortably like old friends, each Clint unabashedly clicking into place in the company of their doubles. They each kept a constant contact with at least one of their doubles, seemingly on the edge of falling back into their orgy. Jackie had to deal with this mess of new student assistants another time. It was 7 PM on a Friday.

“Ok boys, I’m tired I just drove twelve hours to get here. I don’t understand why you shits are even here this late, the floor is a wild place to fuck. Go home please”, he said, rubbing his eyes. Not even his favorite podcasts could make that long in his truck bearable.

The naked Clint made to argue, but another quickly shut him up with a tug on his dick. That now dominant Clint spoke up, keeping the other quiet with an absentminded stroking. “Yeah yeah, lab safety and shit. Pretty uncomfortable here on the floor so I get it, all cold and dusty and covered in chemicals.”

“Yeah, we’ll head home, should be nicer” another spoke up.

“I didn’t get to finish though” the naked one whined.

“We’ll finish you up in the car bud” one of the clothed Clints promised.

“Yeah bud” another reassured, hooking his arm around the naked one with a grin.

“Boys I love this new development in our lives, but I just need you to leave the lab” Jackie said in his best boss voice. “Ya’ll can’t fuck here, its nasty. Being naked is against PPE rules, you could get a shard of glass up your butthole. I really shouldn’t have to explain this.”

Jackie watched the four boys roll their eyes as they lifted each other up, mumbling about how Jackie probably masturbates to the safety protocol. Clint had made that joke before, but Jackie just took it as a point of pride. He was, for instance, the only one in the room who hadn’t had a mutagenic parasite rearrange his bones. Lab safety in a place like this paid off.

The naked Clint stole a lab coat to cover up his glory as the others exited, one up front heartily claiming that he was driving and that the others could deal with their naked self. Technically taking a potentially contaminated lab coat out of lab was also against the protocol, but Jackie wasn’t going to argue against his student assistant avoiding flashing their janitor Carol on the way to Clint’s Nissan. Carol was too nice and had already seen too much eldritch garbage. Clint’s surprisingly large dick was too much on top of that for the poor forty-year-old.

“Bye Jackie” four identical voices harmonized; a sound Jackie would need to get used to. Jackie mustered a “Bye boys” before the lab door slammed close. The dear old Doctor even muttered a goodbye through his haze, but about twenty second too late.

Jackie glanced over at the machine that had done this, the obelisk of a matter duplicator taking up the lab space in the back. Pure white and still beeping and booping with system reports, its door still releasing a little bit of steam from multiple successful doublings. Surrounded on all sides by various duplicated objects, from pairs of Clint’s sneakers to two identical parakeets that just sort of lived there now.

Jackie couldn’t lie that it was at least a little bit inviting, in the way that the call of the void always was a tad tempting. He could imagine himself being lured into it after the Clints inevitably ran him ragged, two Jackies (or more) to take on the world. It was a ridiculous thought, no matter how insidiously interesting.

Jackie walked out the door before his tired brain could betray his sanity, leaving Carlson to his work. He wasn’t sure if the man slept, although he wasn’t really sure if the man was even human. He was inhumanly driven by a single-minded stupid goal. Just like Clint and just like Jackie.

Jackie liked to judge those two for being crazy but he was just as mad. Hell, he’d ridden a Disney ride for four hours straight collecting the souls from the ashes of crazy fans spread in it. He was creating equations that would bend science so he could get off too. He was amongst his people.

At least he was subtle about it.

[queerbrownvegan]

Desert Ecology Field Trip With Mojave Desert Land Trust

Join us for a day-long field trip to Mojave Desert with Mojave Desert Land Trust!

We’re thrilled to invite you to a day-long field trip celebrating the launch of our episode from the web series Teaching Climate Together—all about the incredible desert ecology of the Mojave! We’ll be partnering with the Mojave Desert Land Trust (MDLT) for an unforgettable experience. We'll be meeting at their headquarters.

🚍 What’s the Plan?

We’ll kick things off with a bus pick-up from Los Angeles Union Station East and take a scenic ride out to the stunning Mojave Desert. On this adventure, you’ll dive deep into desert ecology, guided by experts who are as passionate about conservation as you are.

🌿 What Can You Expect?

Guided Tours: Explore the MDLT’s seed bank and native plant garden, and hit the trails with biologists to discover the endangered wildlife that calls this desert home.

Snacks & Drinks: We’ll keep you fueled with delicious snacks and drinks throughout the day, plus a light lunch. Feel free to bring your own lunch and a reusable water bottle to stay hydrated!

New Friends: This is the perfect opportunity to connect with fellow climate enthusiasts and conservation experts. Make meaningful connections while learning about the urgent need to protect California’s desert ecosystem.

✨ A Sneak Peek at the Agenda:

7:30 AM: Bus Pick-Up at Los Angeles Union Station

8:00 AM: Depart for the Mojave Desert

10:00 AM: Arrive at MDLT / Overview

11:00 AM: Hike Begins

1:00-2:00 PM: Lunch & Mingle

2:00-4:00 PM: Seed Lab Tour, Botanical Garden, and In-Field Tours

4:00-6:00 PM: Head back to LA Union Station

📸 Capture the Moment:

We’ll have photographers and videographers on-site to document our journey! If you prefer not to be photographed, just let them know when you arrive.

❗ Important Notes:

A waiver form must be signed before boarding the bus—no exceptions!

Spots are limited, so grab your ticket now to secure your place on this adventure!

No refunds if you miss the bus and if you purchase a ticket there are no refunds.

Don’t miss out on this incredible opportunity to learn, explore, and connect. Get your ticket today, and let’s make some memories together! 🌍💚

Questions?

Email us at queerbrownvegan@gmail.com or go to www.queerbrownvegan.com

About Our Co-Hosts:

Mojave Desert Land Trust

The Mojave Desert Land Trust has cultivated a multi-faceted conservation strategy that uses land acquisition, restoration, stewardship, plant cultivation, and education to ensure the long-term preservation of the California desert. Our service area spans nearly 26 million acres - the Colorado Desert and the entire California portion of the Mojave Desert. Since our founding in 2006, MDLT has protected approximately 120,000 acres of ecologically significant land and grown over 120,000 native plants for restoration and community use.

Queer Brown Vegan, Isaias Hernandez

Isaias Hernandez is an Environmentalist & Storyteller under the moniker QueerBrownVegan, an independent media platform that deconstructs climate information and makes it accessible to people. He earned his B.S. in Environmental Science from UC Berkeley and has been reaching millions of people yearly with his free, open-access environmental educational content. QBV offers a series of events that explores topics around ecology, art, and outdoor recreational events.

Questions?

Email us at queerbrownvegan@gmail.com or go to www.queerbrownvegan.com

[holidayvisa]

14 February 2024

14 February 2024 - I got up for a video call interview for a job back in the US. The interview did NOT go well. I felt like I was rambling, and there was a moment where I thought, "am I still talking? What am I even saying right now?" It was not ideal. After the interview, I made some breakfast and packed up my gear. Elise had invited me to be a volunteer park ranger today with her and her summer intern mentee. Elise picked me up around 9 am, and Arnie and Uncle Mitch were hanging out in the front yard, and they were excited to meet Elise. I quickly introduced them to Elise, and then I hopped in Elise's car, and we headed to Pararaha (South of Piha). We met up with Josh (the summer intern), and we drove in two 4WD vehicles out to Karekare Beach, at the end of the Pararaha trail. We drove across the river, and out onto the black sand beach.

As Elise drove, she drifted in the sand around corners. I screamed with joy! We drove along the beach, with huge waves forming pipelines that would eventually crash in a big splash of whitewater and boils and foam.

As we drove, I looked out West over the ocean and South across the huge black sand beach and East towards the jungle and the Waitakere Mountain Range. It was surreal. We arrived at the bottom of the Pararaha Trail and parked both 4WD vehicles there. We loaded all the dry clothes into Josh's vehicle (which was staying at this spot at the bottom of the Pararaha Trail). We put all the gear for the day and lunches in Elise's vehicle, and Elise hopped in the back; she told Josh to drive (since it was his last day), and she told me to sit in the front seat (so I could enjoy the ride). Josh drove us to the top of the Pararaha Trail. We parked a vehicle there and got ready for our mission: baiting the poison traps. I put on a high-vis orange vest that said "PARK RANGER." We grabbed our gear and started hiking around 11 am. As we hiked down the trail, every time that we saw a pink marker on the trail, we looked around for the traps. We opened up the trap, pulled the old contents out and threw them into a garbage bag, and filled the trap with new poison bait. We did this for probably ten different traps, and each trap took probably under one minute. When we got to the confluence of Pararaha and Blue Canyon, we put on our wetsuits.

---side mission---

After we finished the side mission, we continued down the Pararaha Trail, which followed the river. Some of the trail was just off to the side of the river, but most of the trail was creek-walking through the river. As we walked down the river, there were several waterfalls, Some of the waterfalls were not very steep, and we were able to carefully hike down or scramble down the waterfall. Some of the waterfalls had big pools at the bottom, and we'd jump down the waterfalls into the deep pools at the bottom of the waterfalls (one person would down climb carrying the poison bag so that it didn't get wet).

The canyon got less and less steep, and some point, we were running down the low-grade waterfalls! We stopped for a few minutes to eat our lunches, and we continued hiking out. We got out of the river and onto the hike out trail that leads to Karekare Beach. On this hike out, we refilled a few more poison bait traps. We arrived at the end of the trail and hiked out onto Karekare Beach to our 4WD vehicle around 3 pm. We hopped in, and Josh drove us through the black sand, drifting and fish-tailing, back to the river, across the river, and onto the road. We drove back to the top of Pararaha Trail where the other vehicle was parked. We said goodbye to Josh, and Elise and I drove back to the Park Ranger Depot. Elise dropped me off in Henderson.

Back at the Good Vibes Flat Tribe house in Henderson, Jimmy had brought home Maori raw fish and fry bread, and we had a family dinner with all four of us: Jimmy, Arnie, Taylor, and me.

I'm grateful for Jimmy; he had me fill up Elise's tank with a jerry can of diesel fuel he had before Elise and I left for our mission this morning. I'm grateful to Elise; she thought of me and invited me to join in as a volunteer park ranger! I'm grateful to have spent the whole day with Elise at Pararaha, hiking through beautiful places, seeing gorgeous waterfalls, jumping into bright blue pools. I'm grateful for Jimmy for hosting a family dinner tonight and bringing the flatmates together.

[lucysweatslove]

(Tw ED related stuff under the readmore, this time talking about purging too)

(Don’t worry I’m safe/fine and didn’t engage in any disordered behavior)

So y’all know how I went on a hike yesterday and saw beautiful foresty sights?

Well idk how many calories I actually burned because fuck that, but I was out for a while, about 2.5 hours of actual moving but that involves very slow going on snowy patches. I spent maybe half an hour total with taking pics or stopping for a snack midway, some of that time getting low underneath trees to get closer to the creek (which was very active!).

Anyway, I was SUPER HUNGRY yesterday which is totally fine because 2.5 hours of activity requires fuel.

But today I’ve been having like a really hard time feeling full and satisfied, which is probably also related to hiking. Doubly annoying is that my body doesn’t want protein. Like I had a protein heavy breakfast but needed to pair it with potatoes (which, like carrots, are absolutely not a vegetable 😉) and toast because alone the idea of eggs and a vegan sausage like. I felt nauseated thinking about it.

Now I believe my body is trying to replenish its glycogen and is like “feed me carbs so I can continue to take you on hikes through knee deep snow!” which is fine but I don’t make carb heavy meals. Like they just aren’t in my repertoire of things to cook. And the few I do make that are carb heavy are also still protein heavy- like a turkey bagel sandwich is carb heavy because carbs in bagel, but I also put goat cheese (maybe with avo) and deli turkey on it and have vegetables and dip which I like with yogurt. Even my pasta is more protein heavy because I use lentil pasta (I honestly love the taste). Anyway most of the meals I know how to make and can do without much executive planning will have 25-35g protein in it.

And my body today is just not wanting it. I try, and the moment meat is being cooked, or cooked meat is being prepared, or I even smell the yogurt or milk, I literally feel so sick.

I could just eat carby things alone but something about it ALSO felt wrong- like just a bagel? Boring. Bagel with jam? Also boring. Also, snacky. I couldn’t bring myself to actually make a meal- even like, cutting up fruit I just couldn’t do. It didn’t make any sense to me. So after breakfast I finished an older protein bar I had forgotten about from last week, and then just didn’t eat.

Husband made (quite large) garlic knots tonight to use up old pizza dough. THIS smelled divine. I ate one- still hungry. Second- still hungry. Third- why tf am I still hungry? He only made 6, 3 for me and 3 for him, so I couldn’t have another one. So I was rummaging through the cabinets and remembered all the candy and treats we got on Sunday. I still had some of those, so I finished off the licorice and hello panda cookies (maybe 1-1.5 “recommended servings” left for each), have a couple pieces of fruit mochi, even have some coffee candies and a lychee gummy because they sounded super good. I was sipping water throughout too, as I do throughout the day.

But nope, still hungry. And now I’m craving something salty. Like great I satisfied my need for carbs, but my body is still hungry and is now wanting salt. So I have a couple handfuls of cashews. Keep in mind this is all spread out around 3.5 hours. It’s not all at once. I’m giving myself time to eat, to get it in my body, have my hormones adjust to the new fuel, etc.

Finally, after the cashews, I feel ACTUALLY satisfied and full. Not sick full but like, appropriate full. The full that means I won’t be hungry at an inappropriate time but I’m not over full. No more cravings. Like “move on with your life” full.

But what does my brain decide to do with this? It’s like I’m 19 or 20 again and my brain is saying “nope we can’t feel full, hunger is good, get rid of it.” (Note: I primarily exercise purged, so this little voice isn’t just like throw it up or abuse laxatives, which I also have done, but also “count up all the calories, try to estimate, and then go to the gym and burn it all off, you haven’t gone since Tuesday!”)

It’s just this small little instinctual urge which is likely coming up because stress and new scholastic endeavors and being forced to have people perceive me. Just got me in that old headspace again because of situational similarities.

Also: the fact that it was cashews that did it at the very end is killing me. Like not even after the mochi or the lychee gummy. Something with micronutrients and very very much needed salt because I DO get dizzy without it. Something traditionally considered “healthy.” THAT is what turned ED brain on. It’s literally about how full or empty I feel and how many calories I believe I’ve eaten vs burned in a day. Doesn’t matter where it’s from. Oats or chocolate or molasses or fucking carrots or nuts.

I’m just annoyed that even this far into/past recovery, my brain still goes back ten years when my body literally just feels NORMAL. Ten years into recovery and my brain is STILL triggered sometimes just by *actually feeling fully and completely satisfied.*

Anyway: I’m totally safe, not going to do anything, it was just like this little whisper of old times which I can easily tell to stfu now, but these moments are so rare I forget they exist and when they come back, it’s just a reminder that I will likely always have them trying to peak through stressful times.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Petrobras fuel prices increase moves inflation further from target

Brazil’s state-controlled oil company Petrobras announced yesterday an increase in fuel prices. As of today, the price of gasoline and diesel at refineries has risen by 16.27 percent (BRL 0.41 per liter) and 25.82 percent (BRL 0.78 per liter), respectively. Market analysts believe that this price hike will have a significant impact on the 2023 inflation target and are already revising their projections.

This was the first price increase announced by the company since the implementation of its new pricing policy. Previously, Petrobras had linked its fuel prices to fluctuations in the international market.

This increase had been expected by the market, as the company’s current prices remain disconnected from international market rates. In addition, under the leadership of CEO Jean Paul Prates, appointed by President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, the company announced a reduction in dividends to investors.

Analysts say these measures signal the company’s intention to prioritize investments and mitigate excessive fuel price volatility. As a result, the government wants the impact of gasoline and diesel prices on inflation to be less pronounced.

Continue reading.

[nammikisulora]

👀

This is an excerpt of a fic conceived as a co-writing project by @maurysiek. A crossover with Rachel L. Hughes' solo album Lolina, it's basically the Mechs retelling their funny death stories. Here's one:

“What about that time on the desert planet with the giant cactuses?” “What’s a cactus?” Lolina frowned. Her limited experience with the botany of, well, the entire universe sometimes led to confusing misunderstandings, and she wasn’t keen on repeating the mushroom incident. Fortunately, Brian just smiled gently at her. “It’s a collective name for a kind of spiky plant that grows all over the universe. I have a couple in another section of the garden, I can show you later.” “Oh, thank you.” She smiled back and turned towards Jonny, giving him an encouraging nod. He flashed his teeth at her before beginning the story. “Anyway, now that we all know what cactuses are, let me tell you about Tim’s very intimate – ow, don’t be so prickly about it, cactus cuddler – encounter with one! We’d gone planetside to check out a planet we happened upon, partly because we were bored, partly because it wouldn’t hurt to pick up some more fuel before our next long haul. Well, the planet as a whole turned out to be a bust, since we managed to land in the middle of the desert instead of close to any inhabited settlements, but it did have some spectacularly huge cactuses with spines about this long.” He held out his arm to demonstrate, and several crewmembers nodded in agreement. Lolina stared at him, trying to imagine plants like that. “While the rest of the crew went exploring to see if there was anything interesting nearby, Tim wanted to do some target practice with more space than aboard, and since the place felt a bit too hot and dusty to go hiking in, I joined him. “We had a pretty good time shooting cactuses, until Tim got a bit ambitious. He picked one particularly huge fucker and started to shoot off all its, uh, whatever they’re called, branch thingies, and then making fun patterns on the stem. You know how he gets when he’s really caught up in his shooting, gets all tunnel vision-y – hey, what is it with you and petty violence today, it’s a common expression! – so he didn’t notice that it was starting to creak quite a lot. However, being the fine arts connoisseur that I am, I didn’t want to interrupt his creative process, so I just hung back and watched, though I did shout when it started to topple. Unfortunately it was too late, and I got a frankly spectacular view of a tree sized cactus crashing down on top of our dear gunner. “He was squished nearly flat by it, and after I dragged his mangled corpse back to the Aurora, I spent the rest of the day helping him pick spines out of his mphmbmphhmf –!” Tim yanked his hand away with a yelp, a deep imprint of Jonny’s teeth at the base of his thumb. “No need to overshare”, he muttered, glaring at Jonny, who looked very pleased with himself. But did keep his mouth shut, despite Lolina’s giggle and Ashes’ snort of recollection.

Thank you, and a happy new year!

[lunchboxinc]

Stay Hydrated with The Best Quality of Drink Bottles NZ

These days, we move pretty fast in this world. We need the perfect equipment to help fuel and hydrate our bodies all through the day. Whether you are on the go, at work, or spend the entire day outdoors, our bottle and coffee mug selection will be available for you so that you can take another step in this direction toward a better living style.

Drink Bottles New Zealand: The Hydration Buddy

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Our range includes several styles and sizes, from compact, stealthily fitting in your bag, to larger sizes that are suitable for an entire day's adventure. You can also enjoy the insulated options with preserved temperature hours, if you are drinking cold water or warm tea.

Coffee Cups NZ: Eco-Friendly and Stylish

The upward growth curve of coffee culture in NZ also calls for the need for reusable cups. We specialize at Lunchbox Inc in those Coffee Cups NZ that make your experience of having daily coffee less damaging to the environment but do not compromise on making it convenient at all. Our range is available with a wide range of insulation, keeping your coffee hot and fresh for many hours yet easily portable for you to take on-the-go.

Whether you want to go for a simple design or bold, we have a wide range of options for you. Our coffee cups are created to last till all your busy days save you money and the environment too.

Sustainable Shop Today

At Lunchbox Inc, our Drink Bottles NZ and Coffee Cups NZ come with an eye to sustainability style. Shop with us today for the perfect drinking buddy for your daily hydration and coffee needs.

[starseedfxofficial]

Forex Markets Dance on Holiday Tightropes: Insights You Need The Tightrope Walk of the Forex Market: A News Breakdown Forex trading during the holidays feels like trying to bake a soufflé in a noisy kitchen—it’s all about delicate precision amidst chaos. With the DXY, EUR/USD, and JPY/USD leading the day, traders are dancing on razor-thin margins. Let’s uncover the hidden patterns and unexpected insights from today’s market news and what it means for your next big move. The DXY's Festive Flatline The DXY is stuck in a holiday slump, trading in a narrow range of 108.05–20. Think of it as a car idling in neutral—plenty of engine noise, but no forward motion. The Richmond Fed Index and upcoming US bond auctions might act as the much-needed gear shift. Until then, let’s enjoy the calm before the storm. Pro Insight: Holiday-thinned markets often give rise to erratic movements. Savvy traders prepare by setting tighter stops and watching out for sudden spikes fueled by low liquidity. EUR/USD – Sliding Under the Radar The euro dipped below the 1.04 mark today—just barely. Picture it as a gymnast wobbling on the balance beam but refusing to fall. Confined to a range of 1.0389–1.0410, it’s a waiting game for catalysts. Hidden Gem Strategy: The key to navigating tight ranges like this is breakout anticipation. Place bracket orders slightly outside the range for a quick reaction when the market finally decides to move. GBP/USD – The Sideways Samba Trading in a microscopic range of 1.2526–45, GBP/USD feels like that friend who RSVP’d "maybe" to your party—noncommittal. But broader weekly movement suggests 1.2526–1.2575 as the playground. Are the pound’s holiday blues temporary? Contrarian Perspective: Tight ranges are fertile ground for scalpers. Use oscillators like RSI on short timeframes to capitalize on micro-fluctuations. JPY and the Kato Effect The USD/JPY pair dipped below 157.00 thanks to jawboning from Japan’s Finance Minister Kato, only to bounce back like a rubber band. With PM Ishiba’s wage hike promises sparking little movement, traders are left guessing where the yen might head next. Advanced Insight: Jawboning-induced moves are often short-lived. Look for confirmation before entering trades based on political rhetoric. The Antipodean Drift AUD/USD and NZD/USD are treading water, unresponsive to RBA minutes. While the Reserve Bank expressed confidence in inflation control, hints of prolonged tightening didn’t budge the market. Pro Tip: When markets ignore news, it often means the information was priced in. Watch for surprises in upcoming data to create trading opportunities. Section 6: Emerging Market Drama – INR and CNY The RBI reportedly stepped in to limit the rupee’s fall, while the PBoC set the USD/CNY midpoint at 7.1876, defying expectations. These moves highlight central banks’ active roles in year-end market stabilization. Global Strategy: Keep an eye on central bank interventions—they’re like plot twists in a financial thriller, often catching traders off guard. Making the Most of the Holiday Lull Holiday markets might feel uneventful, but they’re ripe for strategy refinement. Use this time to test new methods, fine-tune your trading plan, and prepare for the post-holiday surge. Final Insight: Trading is like fishing—you can’t always catch the big ones, but staying patient and prepared ensures you’re ready when they bite. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article

[masr356]

Business News Live Today December 18, 2024: UK inflation likely to rise amid hike in cigarette, petrol rates | masr356.com

Dec 18, 2024 11:11 AM IST Business News Live: Get real-time updates on the biggest news from the world of business, stock market and more. Latest news on December 18, 2024: A customer uses a fuel pump at BP Plc petrol station near Guildford, UK. (Bloomberg/File Photo) Business News LIVE Updates Today: Follow for stories on Bill Gates, Elon Musk, Mukesh Ambani, Gautam Adani as we bring you…

[jasonlindsey]

Jason Lindsey Is an Empathic, Determined Creator

by Heather Elder on Notes from a Rep's Journal 

A person’s life values, built through their journey on earth, change throughout their lifetime. Jason Lindsey had one particular experience that colored the way he views the world, more than anything else. We wanted to hear his story, what lead up to his vision for today and the future. Here is what he had to say.

Growing up in the Midwest, being raised and surrounded by factory workers, meant becoming part of a community that prides itself on getting dirty on purpose. Through them, I learned what it means to put in a full day’s work for a full day’s pay – that hard work is simply the price of entry. From these competent and dependable “salt of the earth” people also came the inherited ideals of the gritty, enterprising pioneers who came before us and the belief that decency and integrity are paramount and that strength of character comes from a deeper connection to the land.

As a teenager, I worked on a farm, engaging fully in the physicality of the land. Young and imaginative and always outdoors, I was armed with a do-it-yourself spirit when it came to solving problems on the fly, I loved the feeling of improv and the satisfaction that came with making something out of seemingly nothing. Resourcefulness and thinking outside the box grew to be second nature to me. I learned to see problems as questions. And questions as opportunities for creativity.

At the heart of this creativity were my mother and my grandmother. I cannot remember a time when they weren’t creating or crafting. They introduced me to all that is possible with oil paints, blank sheets of paper, and a glue gun, forever encouraging me to use my imagination further, be inspired by the nature around me, and explore new ways to express myself. In middle school, I tried a photography class, and from working in the darkroom, I found my salvation — the medium a perfect co-existence of science and art.

Through photography, I caught a glimpse of other ways of life. I saw people and ideas that revealed different perspectives on the ways of the world, ideas that challenged me – I was all in. Defying expectations, I went to college and majored in graphic design, all the while continuing to explore photography. After five years as a designer and art director, I took the leap to pursue photography full-time, my opportunity to craft the kinds of stories that preserved what I saw, narratives I believed would contribute to a deeper understanding of the world.

This passion for creativity and the belief in getting dirty for a purpose continues to fuel me. It is important through my projects to call attention to what I envision could get lost in our world. Be it the renewal of nature, or the preservation of land, a loved one, or even just a moment in time, each shoot, another opportunity to make the time to create, to preserve.

All the while aspiring to do whatever it takes to find something extraordinary in each moment, each shot. Be it drifting downriver in a dugout canoe or hiking 8-hours up a mountain with full shoot gear in The Amazon, for me the journey is just as important as the process.

Whether we are talking about nature or people, a person must leave their comfort zone and imagine through the eyes of another. Empathy is one of the greatest gifts that humans can give to each other — to slow down and step into another’s shoes, to feel what they feel. It is not always comfortable, but it is precisely because of that discomfort and being shaken out of familiar narratives that we learn and grow.

I’ve always thought that the more life experience you gain, the more empathy you will have. Though nothing could have prepared me for my newborn son’s first four month’s stay in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care or his 20 surgeries and six years of 120-hour a week home nursing. Not only was I forced to deal with my feelings but also to be fully present for those I love. It was necessary to develop trust and rapport with the army of caregivers who were there to help us. The doctors, nurses, therapists, medical, and health insurance providers were our champions and cheerleaders. Their philosophy to treat the patient and family made a huge difference in helping us heal – everyone’s compassion and empathy on full display every day. It was a growth experience that continues to help me in my professional and personal life.

Today it is my son who continues to teach me. As I watch him grow and interact with the world, he demonstrates children’s unapologetic interest in all things. My son’s wholesome approach and his never-ending questioning about the marvels of the world serve as my catalyst to tell the kinds of stories that move us to be more imaginative, more empathetic, more compassionate, and more generous. One must strive to make choices to ensure the things you love continue to thrive.

Each choice is a reminder of our ripple effect, an invitation to take full responsibility for our impact on the world. Our lives, our work, the health of our environment, and how we value it, all interdependent. And like those gritty and enterprising pioneers who came before me, I believe that no one is too small to make a difference in the world. My son is living proof of this.

These deeply held ideals are the driving force behind why my wife and I fulfilled a long-held ambition to purchase 20-acres of forest at the mouth of Jordan Creek. Ultimately, we raised money through print sales and worked with a non-profit to get a grant for the preserve to be transferred to a land trust for permanent protection.

We also challenged ourselves to explore new ways to green our studio. We weatherized, insulated, overhauled and installed. We paired geothermal with a rooftop solar system and are now 100 percent powered by clean energy. Nothing was exempt from examination to make our workspace one that’s not only good for the health of everyone who works or visits but also good for the planet. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. At the heart of it, I want the work I create to be a reflection of all that I hold most dear – my wife and son, the environment, the caregivers. For this, I will continue to dig and search and leave no stone unturned; to do whatever it takes to tell the kinds of stories that bring people deeper into something that will move them and inspire action. This, my ongoing ode to great design is my way to make something memorable and meaningful.

Follow Jason on Instagram for more honest stories, true emotions, and real moments.