#id take the sticker form as well

[scullys-scalpel]

I need these as coasters!

Good news everybody!

[beansprean]

If this doesn’t happen just go ahead and end the series

Pointing Guillermo sticker now avail on Redbubble for all your executive function needs!!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shoulders up of Guillermo with Nandor standing close behind him, the vague background of a mall beyond. Nandor leans in with an excited grin, twiddling his hands together, and asks "So, how are we going to be spending our leisure at the mall?" Guillermo, back to Nandor, breaks into a nervous sweat. 1b. Repeat. Guillermo turns back to Nandor and carefully replies "Well...I'm gonna go take care of some personal stuff-" Nandor frowns and interjects, "So I will come along!" Guillermo says "Um. No." 1c. Repeat. Guillermo turns back around and starts walking forward again, continuing, "You can hang out over here until I get back." Behind him, Nandor is pouting, clearly upset, a dark cloud forming behind his head.

2a. Close up of Nandor frowning on a dark background, looking to the ground. 2b. Repeat. Nandor flicks his eyes up as Guillermo says from offscreen "Right here, Master." 2c. Reverse shot, Guillermo small in the corner pointing to the area behind him, where there is a alamy stock photo of a carousel. 2d. Close up of Nandor on a sparkly background full of hearts, his eyes gone huge and shiny and sparkly with wonder as he stares at the carousel, one shaky hand reaching out as if to touch it. Behind him, the word "horsie" is repeated about 50 times. Nandor breathes out, "Guillermo...this little circle battle..." Guillermo corrects him, "It's called a carousel. You can ride it." Nandor lets out a delighted gasp at that. 2e. Wide shot of Nandor riding a gray horse on the carousel, clutching the pole with both hands and looking happier than we've ever seen him, eyes sparkling, glitter and hearts surrounding his head. Behind him on the other side of the small gate, Guillermo is smiling nervously and slowly backing away, saying "Okay, I'm going now...stay here, alright?" When Nandor ignores him, he continues, "Okay...bye..." /end ID

[punkeropercyjackson]

do you have any piper hcs? if so id love to hear about them (especially any including her and drew siblingisms) /nf ofc !!!

I got you!!!!

She isn't half cherokee,she's just cherokee.Aphrodite took the form of a woman of his tribe for Tristan but also half cherokee isn't even a thing because the culture sees multiracial people as simply 'cherokee' even if there's other races in there

She's a trans soft butch lesbian!I know Rick tried to write her as 'unlabeled' but lbr,he's just a lesbophobe as a bi woman she's 100% not into dudes.Her getting bullied by white cis femgirls was only made worse by her transition and thus she was traumatized out of femininity and her arc in Hoo is learning to be a proper tfem butch over a tomboy

She is also autistic and i love my autistic sister so much🩷

Also no weird ass light hair and eyes,her hair is black and glows a warm dark,dark,dark brown in sunlight and she has big brown eyes like a baby strawberry cow.She usually lets it hang loose but eventually she starts wearing braids again to signify character development

She's a huge Sanrio fan and makes custom merch of it.Her favorite is Hello Kitty and she's a he/him lesbian Daniel truther and Frank instantly agrees when she brings it up.Her dream date is a Sanrio Store spree(Onyx take notes)

I think she would use scene extensions/dye styles but not actually identify as scene,she gives more punk rock princess.She's Avril Lavigne but not a poser and she plays the drums and has an energy drinks chugging time record and Gir stickers Grandpa Tom gave her to try to be a cool granddad(it worked)

She really likes cheetos,especially hot cheetos!!And corn based foods as they take her back to good times!Nobody is allowed to joke on that second part though or Piper or Lex will deck them for being racist

Tim Drake kinnie and both proud and embarrassed of it(FR SHE IS SO TIM-CODED).Lex got her into Batfam!!

Casual gamer when it comes to consoles but hardcore into arcade games and her bowling skills go crazy

'This is a scar i got from a scorpion on a beach day when i was 5,the bite was NARLY and i cried all over the place but now i'm so proud of it because it makes me look all cool and rugged,and this scar is from when i saved Annabeth from a Hydra and she was so mad she finished the job for me,and this one's actually not a gunshot wound but a burn i ended up with when i went sick-o-her mode on Hera and this one-'

Takes Onyx on dates for fairy bread,stunts and yap.Also reminds him to wear protection gear /silly

Valentine's Day and Halloween are tied for her ultimate holiday

Local party thrower and instigator

Anarchist

Can't do a handstand and it brings her misery.Can't pronounce the word 'french' itself properly despite speaking it from birth and uses it to torment Percy

Speaking of which,Piper and Hazel AND Frank torment her together through their widely different french dialects

Does vine compilations

Her and the rest of the Aphrodite Cabin including Silena who survived the acid and came out with burn scar disabilities are basically 'The Elite' at camp but Lex teared down their walls through their friendship with Drew starting in TTC so by the time Piper arrives,they're chill with her habits and over their internalized misogyny.Cabin 10 is the number one spot you go to for love advice and the number two spot for trans healthcare(number one is Mr D. since....well yeah lmao)and her and Drew are basically messy autism vs neat autism but it's purely comical with no beef and they work things out

Heavy into sea junk thanks to her Aphrodite kid status but also from tagging along on Percy and Lex dates(she exaggeratedly wolfwhistled whenever she caught them kissing or even just being physically affectionate)

Sit on her lap wether platonically or romantic or a secret third thing,she loves it when people do that to her and will even do your hair and squish your stomach while you do

[odysseys-blood]

then, can you give us a list of games you recommend?

i sure can thank u for asking! i'll try to make it a bit more brief but under my top 4 i'll add a readmore with a longer list in case u wana read that and not the like. Odysseys Blood Introductory Game Pack.

so starting with the top picks:

1. The World Ends With You

i think a lot of people have a similar feeling about this game. you play as neku, recently deceased kid with no memories no friends and a whole lot of attitude and your main goal is to survive the reaper's game for 7 days to get a chance at living again. he trusts no one and believes in nothing but himself and being an extremely depressed middle schooler, i related to him but watching the way he changes over time and learns to open himself up. its kind of an eye-opener and i've seen the same though echoed through a lot of different people like me who wanted to really give up but this game does take you by the hand and oush you to try again. make connections. live and whileit may be a struggle its alright because you always have the option to keep going. also the ost is AMAZING and the art style is very unique and the story and characters captivate you so well. idk where id be without this game honestly. preferably if you do want to play its best to play the og on a ds (can be done w/ a hacked one) but if not its on switch and theres a sequel! which is ok but its not as great as original twewy

2. Tales of the Abyss

ToA (or tota as most ppl tag it but i stick with toa to match the tags for other tales games. which are also good esp vesperia i just wont add it to this list bc its already gonna be a long one). what stood out to me a lot with this game besides the main cast who i love to bits, is its theme on religion actually. when i first played toa i was still in the church and the main theme of religion in toa can be boiled down to devotion is all fine and good, but don't let it rule your life. the fate that is written out for you doesn't rule you, you make your own choices. even if they seem futile, you still don't have to take your fate sitting down you can kick and scream and fight as much as you want towards another path if that truly is what you desire. and that resonated with me heavily. this one's a little more crunchy looking from its age but i still really like the graphics (and i played on 3ds lol) and the environments in tales games are all so stellar its such a good game. and oh my GOD the party interactions. tales games usually do really good at having main casts that are "6-8 people who have no business being stuck together but they are anyways" and i think the part for this one will always be my favorite. also last little bit but theres so much about identity in toa as well and the way the main character, luke, is written with his own struggles about feeling like his own person has gripped me to this day. ive heard this one is hard to find a physical copy of but like. again shoot me a message if u have a hacked 3ds

3. AI: The Somnium Files

i've been here since day ONE (not exactly but theres a youtube page for one of the characters they were using to drop some info before the game released and i was watching while that was still going so. close enough). i am obsessed with aitsf. my icon is even the main character (edited a bit and w/ stickers). this game doesn't have combat like the first to and is strictly a visual novel and i adore the way it explores the central theme of love, especially familial love and its many shapes and forms and how sometimes even through blood it just doesnt. exist. but that doesnt mean you dont deserve love. someone will be there to give it to you and if not you take it however you can. this is much more apparent in the left half of the game which to this day has made the mizuki route my favorite. this one's eveywhere (playstation, steam, switch) and goes on sale frequently on steam for like $7. this one also has a sequel which is pretty good but again i think the original is much better

4. Heaven Will Be Mine

honestly with how many people i see daily gushing over poetry and writing im surprised more dont play hwbm. its a space mecha visual novel set in the aftermath of a war where earth sent children to go fight an existential threat which may not have even existed and now all of those kids are adults who have grown up without the shackles of society on the earth which js funny enough, finally calling for them to come back. the writing is beautiful and fun to pick apart and if you're a fan of prose i definitely think you should give this one a try. double of you're lgbt in any way this game is good for its writing about queerness especially if you're trans. please play hwbm. this one's on steam and doesnt have a sequel game but the devs, worst girl games, also made We Know The Devil which i like less than hwbm but its still pretty good! that ones got gay religious trauma

continuing is just a list of more i like in no specific order. some of these may be a bit cringey but i like fun

Witch's Heart

listen i know theres some strange bias some ppl have gainst rpgmaker pixel games but like. 1) odd but ok 2) witch's heart is such a beatiful story i need you to throw whatever biases you may have abt pixel games RIGHT NOW. my header text comes from this game. it means everything to me. do you have a wish you would kill for? does your wish mean more to you than another's? how much will you let your selfishness control you. for a game that looks so silly it made me cry a lot. this one's free on vgperson's translated game list and theres still MORE BEING MADE. SO MUCH GAME. FOR FREE. LOOK AT ME. ITS FREE. and heartwrenching.

To The Moon/Finding Paradise/ Impostor Factory

this description is short but similarly a pixel game like the previous rec. its more understandably heavy considering you play as eva and neil who fulfill the wishes of the dying in their dreams. its sad. i cried. i cry a lot dont i? these r on steam

Just Shapes and Beats

a rhythm game this time! it's got a cute little story mode but it is just a dubstep rhythm bullet hell i like playing. did you know i was a dubstep fan in middle school well now you do and im sad skrillex is mid now. its on steam and switch. not a good pick however if you are sensitive to flashing lights or have epilepsy im sorry. i believe there are safe modes but i havent tested them myself to see how well they work

Paranormasight

paranormasight is a horror visual novel illustrated by gen kobayashi who, if you can tell from the linework on the sprites and in the portraits and what have you, illustrated for twewy. i'll be real i was ready to screan and cry 30 minutes in but its not actually that scary im just a wimp. this one could be seen in a similar vein with witch's heart in the idea of: what would you do to fulfill your greatest wish. how many people would you kill. because you will be killing. on steam and switch.

Bustafellows

for being an otome bustafellows rly got me. while being an otome it is still plenty silly but heavy with fun characters. also i think this is the first time ive really liked an otome mc they tend to be very waify and kinda annoyingly written tbh but teuta is a VERY fun character and not at all a stand in for a self insert. or at least she isnt good at being a self insert which is fine to me because i love a main character that has their own personality. a guy dies like 10 minutes in. this ones on steam

Mamiya

i seem to like a lot of visual novel games with time loops and dead main characters and this is another one. very dark but i love it to bits. also this one requires a warning list i haven't seen anywhere but i made one myself here. its on steam

IVE RUN OUT OF PICTURES. SO I CANT ADD ANYMORE BUT QUICK LIST YOU'LL HAVE TO LOOK UP MORE OR JUST ASK ME ABT ANY OF THESE:

Lethal League Blaze

Hatoful Boyfriend

Fallen Hero: Rebirth (and its sequel Retribution)

Code Vein

shout out also to What in Hell is Bad. not for kids at all this one is explicitly 18+ but for being a goofy eroge otome it has. gripped my by the nuts and it has not let go. ive only been playing like a month help.

[oonajaeadira]

15 questions to get to know me!

Thank you for tagging me, dearests @something-tofightfor and @songsformonkeys!!!

1. are you named after anyone?

No. Unless you count my middle name. My paternal grandmother had two middle names and my sister and I got one each.

2. when was the last time you cried?

About a month ago in a psychopomp lecture during a guided meditation. When guided to talk to an ancestor, my Auntie B came up and it was waterworks. She's a good one, my Auntie.

3. do you have kids?

Nope. I've known from an early age that I would be a child-free lady.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yes. It's usually in the form of tough love when my SO or my artists need to be given a little correction but also need to take it with a spoonful of playfulness.

5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their aesthetic. I acknowledge my initial learned prejudices about them and wait for the delightful moment when they prove my societally-engineered expectations wrong. (The N and J are strong in this INFJ. And then my F/T toggle kicks in real hard.)

6. what’s your eye colour?

I just put gray on my ID, but they're blue-grey on the rims and green-grey inside? And they're more blue or green or grey depending on reflection from what the sky is doing and what I'm wearing so...?

7. scary movies or happy endings?

Both. I am obviously a sucker for a soft, happy ending. But I love love love horror films to the point where most of them do not scare me anymore. But when I do find one that gives me the tingles, I will love it forever.

8. any special talents?

I have a lot of special skills that I've honed, but inherent talents? (Where skills = learned and practiced acts and talents = just good at it from the get go.) I guess the biggest one is being able to pick up an instrument for the first time and play a song on it by ear. I guess also I'm pretty empathic. Oh! And I'm very very good at always choosing the slowest line in the supermarket; I don't even have to try!

9. where were you born?

In Minnesota, but not in Minneapolis. I was born in the city I was raised in and then escaped to my college town and then escaped the country altogether for a little while before coming back to Minnesota.

10: what are your hobbies?

Writing Pedro fic, reading Pedro fic. Reading in general. Video games, embroidery/cross stitch, collecting tarot decks and stickers. dinking around with musical instruments and trolling Etsy/Ebay/Craigslist for new ones. Online shopping's a big one. Puzzles--logic puzzles, sudoku, word puzzles. Thrifting for wardrobe and art purposes. Making weird shit out of thrifted junk. Board and card games.

11. have you any pets?

Right now, we just have the one dog and we're on senior care with her. She's a black lab mix that we took in from a neglectful family member when she was 12, riddled with tapeworm, heartworm, and tooth problems (all of which we fixed). Thinking we could give her some pretty happy golden years, I was like, sure. I can put up with this very stupid, very neurotic dog for a couple of years if it means she gets to go down happy and warm.

Well, it may be too happy and too warm in our house, because she's 19.5 and the welcome was worn out years ago. Girl just keeps on ticking. She needs help getting up half the time and her back legs don't work very well so she needs to be lifted to go outside (both doors require stairs which she can't do anymore). She has accidents in the house not just daily, but multiple times a day and we just keep dog pads down in the bedroom and my hands just constantly smell of bleach now. She's mostly deaf and fairly blind and is, without hyperbole, the dumbest dog I've ever known or owned in my life. But that also makes her constantly hilarious. And very happy despite her struggles....we often say in this house that "she's just too happy to live and too dumb to die."

I wish I could say that I loved her, and in a way I do. But while she's very sweet and very friendly, she's not interested in the exchange of affection or in any way that "shows she knows what you're feeling" kind of pet, so we've never really bonded. Even after all these years, she feels more like a guest than family. She just exists to be a benevolent force of fur, odors, and amusement in our house for now. And we just try to keep her as comfortable as possible for as long as we can.

12: what sports do you play/have you played?

When I was young, my folks tried to get me into softball and skiing, but I always shied from the ball and never wanted to ski too fast because I didn't want to get hurt. I was on the swim and gymnastics teams in junior high and did pretty well there, but was only really doing it to stay close to my grade school bestie. I couldn't keep up with her and found the performing arts instead. So now, nothing.

13: how tall are you?

5′5″

14. favourite subject in school?

I actually really loved biology and chemistry. And anything where I got to use my hands like art, home ec, woodshop. I excelled in English and music, but I think I really enjoyed my science classes more.

15. dream job?

I have my dream job! I help new artists produce their work and experienced artists challenge themselves! AND I'M GOOD AT IT.

But if I didn't have this job? I'd probably love to be a PA to someone artistic and kind. I know somebody that used to be Neil Gaiman's PA and that sounded like the best thing ever.

tagging: @unbound-space-trash @lowlights @nicolethered @beecastle

[smartertoday]

Let’s have a non-partisan conversation about voting rules.

I posit, that the only legitimate goal of voting rules is maximizing the participation of eligible voters in every election.

I posit, further, that there are only three intellectually valid requirements for voting: age, citizenship, and residency.

Age is a legitimate requirement because we are talking about making grown up decisions about our lives and our futures. These decisions should be made only by people who are experienced and mature enough emotionally and intellectually to be able to do so well. We know the brain’s centers for logic, empathy, and risk assessment are not fully developed until the mid 20’s. We have settled on a different age — 18 years — because that is the age one is subject to conscription into the military and, as the old bumper stickers used to say, “if you’re old enough to die for your country you’re old enough to vote.” It seems there is some logic to that approach, until you realize that the reason we conscript 18 year olds is because they are not fully formed and will obey orders to take a hill and kill its current occupants with less hesitation. They have a sense of invincibility and immortality that enables them to take greater risks and a lack of empathy that allows them to devalue the life of people who are “other.”

Citizenship and residency are legitimate and related in purpose. Both are an attempt to limit voting to those who are full members of our polity, individuals with a stake in the game. It’s the opposite of “taxation without representation.”The idea is that only people who must live under the consequences of enacted policies and who pay the taxes to fund them should be eligible to vote on deciding the policies and imposing the taxes. In some circumstances, especially at the local level, being a current resident may be more important than being a citizen; hence states could make a legitimate decision to allow non-citizen residents to vote in local elections on local policies if that is the consensus of their polity.

In this sense, having a valid state issued ID is not a separate eligibility requirement, but merely a procedure for establishing age, residence, and citizenship, the actual criteria.

These rules of procedure, should be judged and applied only in the context of satisfying the fundamental rules of eligibility within the overall goal of maximizing participation for those who are eligible.

For, example, requiring a complete and accurate return address on a mail-in ballot and attestation by an independent person that the named person completed, signed, and returned the ballot is not itself a separate requirement for eligibility to vote, but a way of establishing a legitimate requirement of eligibility to vote, and therefore should be adopted, interpreted, and enforced only in a way that promotes the over arching goal of maximizing participation. Thus, no one should be excluded from voting because the verification form has a place to print a zip code that was left blank or that was completed incorrectly. It is physical residency, not knowledge of zip codes that makes one eligible, and elevating form over substance functions to exclude eligible voters, not promote full participation, and should not be allowed to act as the arbitrator of participation.

Do you agree? Your comments and counter arguments are invited so that we can all become smarter today than we were yesterday.

[calciseptinefic]

then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 6 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

.

← previous: Part 5

.

The emergency room receptionist is an older Filipina woman with long dark hair, a petite frame, and a kind face. Her hospital issued ID reads 'Angela' and she has an LGBTQ+ sticker on her laminated access badge. She listens to Peter as he rambles, calmly nodding along as he explains that he needs to see Dr. Christine Palmer, please, it's important and it will only take a minute, before she holds out a clipboard and a cheap pen.

"Oh, I'm not—" Peter begins.

"Dr. Palmer is not available for walk-ins," Angela says, shutting Peter down in a single sentence. "But if you will please fill out that form and return it to me, the next available physician will be able to treat you with equal care."

Somehow, the clipboard and pen are in Peter's hands, and he looks down at them. Looks at Wade, doe eyes wide. Looks at Angela, in her hot pink scrubs, and says almost dumbly, "But I'm not sick."

"We do encourage you to be truthful when describing your symptoms, as it can help you receive timely and accurate healthcare," Angela says. Her dark eyes slide from Peter to Wade, flicking up and down his body as though she has x-ray vision. Then she turns back to Peter and continues with, "Of course, if the issue is more... delicate in nature, you can leave that section of the form blank and discuss it with your doctor when they see you."

Confused, Peter also glances at Wade—as though trying to see what Angela saw—before parroting, "Delicate?"

"Sexual," she clarifies, the picture of professionalism. Again she looks at Wade, though this time, her gaze clearly lingers on Wade's crotch longer than his face or any other body part. "Bedroom accidents do happen, from time to time. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Angela might as well have called Peter an over-enthusiastic cockslut who hurt himself because he couldn't handle Wade's magnum dong. A bark of laughter escapes Wade before he can smother it, loud and inappropriate. More tries to follow but he pushes it down—yet even then, his shoulders shake with his barely contained mirth.

Next to Wade, Peter's face turns pink, a flush that builds to red underneath his freckles. He looks at Wade helplessly, before stammering, "It's not—he's not my—oh god—" Peter glances upwards as though the words he's looking for are printed on the ceiling. "I'm not hurt or anything, I just need to see Dr. Palmer regarding a personal matter—I mean, not personal personal but like, personal for her—"

Both of Angela's eyebrows skyrocket to her hairline.

"That's not what I mean either!" Peter shrills. He brings the clipboard up to his face to hide his cherry red complexion from her. "And Jesus, Wade, stop smirking! This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny," Wade admits gleefully. His cheeks hurt with how hard he's smiling, especially the cheek bisected by his scar, where the skin is less flexible. "Ah, come on Petey, don't be like that. You just need some price-gouged Johnson & Johnson pharmaceuticals after gouging yourself on my johnson—"

Still holding the clipboard up, one cheek smashed against the unfilled paperwork, Peter jabs the capped end of the pen into Wade's side. Hard. Wade grunts, but it does little to erase his shit-eating grin.

Worth it, he thinks.

"I'm going to carve your guts out with this pen," Peter hisses. "And when your entrails are out-trails, then at least we can write something down on the form!"

"Violence is not permitted within the hospital," Angela informs Peter.

"I'm not—!" Peter starts, before abruptly cutting himself off. He takes a moment to inhale deeply, hold it, then exhale. He removes the pen from Wade's side, handing both it and the clipboard back to Angela.

"Look," Peter says, lowering his voice so he sounds more serious. "I'm not here because I have a medical emergency. I'm not sick and I'm not hurt. I just need to ask Dr. Palmer a few simple questions about a mutual acquaintance. She's the only person who might know where he is, and I really need to find him as soon as possible."

Angela tilts her head to the side, her long, dark braid slipping over one shoulder. She seems like the kind of person who can tell when she's being lied to or played—a good quality for a person working in the emergency room at a New York hospital—and it's obvious she's using her Bullshit-o-Meter on Peter. It does not take her long to decide that Peter is being sincere and, when she realizes he's genuine, she lowers her guard enough to let real empathy shine through.

"I understand," she tells Peter, pulling the clipboard and pen back into her station. "But it's against policy to allow patients or other members of the public to see hospital staff without prior authorization or a scheduled visit. It's a safety issue. So unfortunately, there is nothing I can do besides help you set up a future appointment, or tell you to send an email to Dr. Palmer through the hospital's directory."

Peter chews his bottom lip as he weighs his options. Wade knows from his hospital experiences that an email will be faster than scheduling an appointment—a matter of days instead of weeks or months—but he also knows that sometimes it's best to ask questions face-to-face. Emails can't deliver the nuance of expression or tone. They're inorganic and clunky. If Dr. Palmer wants or needs to hide something about Strange, she'll be able to do it better through the computer. On the other hand, making an appointment means time. And as Peter said before, he doesn't know why he's here or if he's in danger. It's better to be cautious, to get answers as quickly and quietly as possible. Having to wait makes Wade uneasy.

"Is she working today?" Wade asks Angela. "Or is it against policy to disclose that too?"

Angela raises one eyebrow as though to say 'What do you think?'.

"Right," Wade says, a plan solidifying in his head. "Well, Angie, I forgot that I'm ridiculously allergic to bureaucracy, and I think all this policy talk has made me break out with life-threatening hives. So if you give me that form and that pen, I'll fill it out, and we'll be out of your hair. Deal?"

Thankfully, Angela does not deny his request. She simply gives him the clipboard and the pen, and instructs them to return the form once it has been filled out in full. Wade sighs and resigns himself to the boredom of paperwork.

"So?" Peter asks quietly as they sit down in the old chairs cluttered around the waiting area, the blue seat cushion thin and frayed. "What's your plan?"

"My plan is to fill this out, return it, and see a medical professional about the fake heart attack symptoms I've developed in the past ten seconds." Wade puts his pen to paper. "What do you like better: Aaron Applebaum or Barry Barrington?"

"Wade."

Wade gives Aaron Applebaum the fake birthday of June 9th, 1969, and tells, "The doors are locked."

"Doors?"

"Just past the reception desk," Wade answers, scribbling down a random address in the Upper East Side, the swanky location deeply incongruent with Aaron Applebaum's lack of health insurance. "It leads to the rest of the hospital on this level and can only be opened by personnel, so we're not getting through there without stealing an access card or causing a scene. I mean, normally I would love to run distraction, but our main goal is to be quick and quiet, right?"

"Right," Peter says as he watches Wade put down signs that are related to having a heart attack and answer in the affirmative to every 'DO YOU HAVE [SYMPTOM]: YES [ X ] or NO [ ]'.

"We could try going to another level of the hospital, which would probably be less monitored, and use the stairs to come back down. But that's risky too because we might run into the same locked door problem. Also, those wards aren't as busy, so chances are someone will realize that we're somewhere where we shouldn't be and our cover will be busted." Wade finishes the form and jerks his hand across the signature line, getting at least two vaguely shaped As in there for authenticity. "An email will take days and an appointment weeks. So, in order to see Dr. Palmer sometime this century, I need to fill out this form, return it to Stonewall Jackson over there, and wait fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?" Peter releases an exaggerated groan and slumps deeper into his chair. "Oh god, that's so long. What if I die of boredom before then?"

Wade stands up and digs his phone out of his pocket. Unlocks it. Finds a game for Peter to play and hands it over.

"Fruit Ninja? Really?" Peter says, even as he takes the phone from Wade's hands. "Your millennial is showing."

"At least Angela doesn't think I got my fruit ninja'd so hard I had to go the ER, unlike some people—"

Peter tries to kick Wade in the back of the thighs but Wade dodges, laughing, and goes to return the form to Angela. She skims it with a frown yet says nothing, which Wade chalks up to Peter’s general goodness and believability, because Wade certainly isn’t winning any Boy Scout badges. She simply tells him that someone will be with him as soon as possible, and to please wait.

And for seventeen minutes, that's what Wade and Peter do. Well, Peter plays Fruit Ninja while Wade watches, offering unhelpful pointers, and they snipe at each other good-naturedly as Peter attempts to beat Wade's high score. He gets close several times. Wade is almost grateful when a nurse emerges from the back and calls for Mr. Applebaum; Wade works hard for his high scores, often spending hours of stake-outs messing around on his phone. The fact that Peter almost usurped him from his throne of mini-games has him sweating.

"I'm sorry," the nurse tells Peter when both he and Wade approach him. "Only family is allowed in with the patient. If you would like to wait here—"

"I'm his husband," Peter interrupts, holding up his left hand while simultaneously sliding the other to the small of Wade's back. The touch is practiced, as though it's been done a hundred thousand times, and Wade tries not to tense at how nice it feels. Not sexual but easy. Easy like the way Peter says husband…

You're reaching again, Wade's brain scoffs. He just said it because he needs to go back with you. Husband is easier to believe than brothers, considering your ugly mug. No way you could be related.

The nurse frowns down at the form Wade filled out and says, "There's no emergency contact."

Innocently, Peter asks, "Did we need to fill that out even though I'm with him?"

"We can add it later," the nurse says. "But in the future, remember that it's good to put it down. It's good to have for our records."

The nurse leads them past the locked doors, down a hallway, and brings them into a small room with a medical bed and various equipment. The walls and ceiling are beige and boring and deeply reminiscent of the walls and ceiling of the hospital where Wade did most of his chemo. His stomach twists with nausea and his mouth floods with saliva, a Pavlovian response, and he swallows a few times to smother the sick feeling. His face must give away his discomfort because Peter notices and frowns.

"Okay?" Peter whispers. He steps into Wade's space once again and his hand curls around Wade's side. Wade cannot help but angle into it; he's always been a tactile person, and the unquestioning way Peter touches him provides a disproportionate amount of comfort.

"You know me, baby boy," Wade whispers back. "I'm always okay."

"That's why I'm worried," Peter murmurs.

The nurse directs Wade to sit on the examination table and—despite the absolute nonsense that was Wade's form—the nurse barely bats an eye as he asks Wade relevant questions and runs basic tests. Peter hovers the entire time, less than an arm's length away, the very image of anxious husband.

"Well, everything sounds okay and your vitals are fine, but we'll do an EKG just to make sure," the nurse explains. He grabs a hospital gown from out of one of the cabinets and hands it to Wade. "If you'll put this on, I'll be back in a few minutes."

When the nurse leaves, Wade takes off his baseball cap and jacket, hoodie and shirt. The air is cold against his skin and he hisses at the prickle over his naked skin. The chill isn't as bad as the hospital gown, though; the smell of bleach sunk into the cotton drags him viscerally back to his cancer treatments, where he would sit in a chair and get pumped full of drugs that brought his body to the brink of failure. He can feel his hands shake, a fine tremble, and he clenches them into fists to stop it.

"Okay, no," Peter says firmly as Wade sits down on the examination table and takes a deep, fortifying breath. "I'm calling it."

Wade looks up from his lap and at Peter, who's frown has deepened even more. Wade forces a smile to counteract it and says, "Calling it? Whaddya mean by that, Petey Pie?"

"You're not okay," Peter answers, unmoved by Wade's brittle attempt at levity. "You're as white as a sheet and look like you're about to throw up. I know you said you don't like hospitals but this is more than 'not liking', Wade. This is—"

"And you can call me Buttercup, because I can suck it up," Wade snaps back. "You need to find Strange and the best way to do that is to talk to Palmer. This is the fastest way—"

"So?" Peter interrupts. "The cost isn't worth it."

Wade snorts. "What cost?"

"Your well-being, Wade." Peter scrubs the back of his hand over his mouth, as though he could wipe away a bad taste that's built up. "Goddamnit, stop being a self-sacrificing idiot and put your clothes back on. We're getting out of here. Now. We'll find another way." Then, under his breath, Peter mutters, "Every fucking universe. Christ."

It isn't that Wade isn't tempted. He's always disliked hospitals—ever since he was little and he watched his mom wither to nothing in a sad, sterile room—and he hasn't been back in the three years since he was declared cancer free. He didn't know it would trigger him so badly; normally, he's pretty good at avoiding the shit that messes with his head, but this time, he just didn't know.

He just... didn't know.

"No," Wade croaks, shaking his head slowly. "We're already here. We just have to find Palmer—"

"Wade—"

"Don't fucking 'Wade' me, Peter. Listen." Wade glares at the man with spider-adjacent super powers who broke into his apartment, who might be from a different universe or might be a mentally cracked genetic experiment on the run from the military. "We know fuck all about what's going on. You don't know why you're here and you don't know if you're in danger. And yeah, I'm not gonna lie—I don't like being here. But we need answers, and this is the fastest way to get them, so I'm going to sit here and get the fucking EKG, and you are going to go find Palmer and ask your questions. Okay?"

The last word is a soft plea rather than a request because they both know that if Peter wanted to, he could merely haul Wade over his shoulder and carry him out. Problem is, they both also know that Wade's right. The more they know—and the quicker they know it—the safer they are.

"Fine," Peter concedes after a stretch of tense silence, uncrossing his arms and letting his shoulders slump. "But only because I know how stubborn you are."

"Pot," Wade says, pointing at Peter. Then, pointing at himself, "Kettle."

A soft rap of knuckles on the doorframe refocuses their attention, and a woman with auburn hair twisted into a low bun enters. She says, "Sorry to interrupt," as she steps into the room. "My name is Christine. I'll be taking over for your EKG. You're in today because of unexpected chest pain?"

Christine. Wade sits up straighter and trades a look with Peter. What are the odds that the person that they need to talk to ends up being the person that just walks into the room? Such a coincidence is either their first stroke of good luck or a sign that something is about to go very badly. Wade hadn't thought about it before, but what if Palmer somehow recognizes Peter? What if the reason Peter knows her is because she was involved in whatever gave him superpowers? What if they've walked into a trap? If anything happens, Wade only has his knife in his boot, and that might not be enough to get them out of the hospital safely.

Once again, Peter brings Wade out from the spiral of his thoughts with a gentle touch. He places his palm on Wade's naked back where the hospital gown parts, a gesture that radiates warmth and reassurance.

"Are you Dr. Palmer?" Peter asks.

Christine tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she searches Peter's face, trying to place him. There is no hint of recognition. A good sign, Wade thinks as she answers with a hint of caution, "Yes, I am."

"We haven't met," Peter assures her. "I've just heard about you from Stephen."

It is not at all what Christine was expecting. Her mouth twists; she shifts her weight; her nicely shaped eyebrows pull together, baffled.

"Stephen Strange," Peter clarifies.

"I know who my ex-fiancé is," Christine says sharply. "It's just... how do you know him?"

"We're colleagues. Were. Sorry. Were colleagues," Peter tells her. She hears the truth in it as clearly as Wade does but—without the context that Wade has—it makes little sense. Strange had been a surgeon before he disappeared, a speciality that takes years to obtain, and Peter looks like he just graduated high school. Peter seems to realize the oddness of it only seconds after he says it, and tries to hastily amend, "Not in a co-worker sense! I'm not a doctor. Yet. I mean, I'm working on my Ph.D., not an M.D. and—"

"Colleague in the sense of mutual membership to an organization," Wade supplies.

"Yes." Peter snaps his fingers. "That."

Christine's expression morphs into disbelief and she crosses her arms across her chest. "What organization?"

Peter opens his mouth; hesitates for a split second as he realizes that he can't give the honest answer; and closes his mouth. Looks at Wade as though Wade can think of another half-truth, as though his obvious hesitation hasn't run this conversation straight into a dead end. How Peter has made it this far in life being such a terrible liar is beyond Wade.

Wade shrugs and says to Peter, "Might as well just ask, baby boy."

"Ask me what?"

For a moment, all Peter does is dig his teeth into his bottom lip and twist his wedding ring around, searching for the right thing to say. If he says too much, Christine will think Peter's crazy and call hospital security to escort them to the loony bin. If he says too little, Christine will say nothing and tell them to leave. Wade can tell she's one of those stubbornly loyal types; she won't say anything about Strange if Peter isn't convincing enough.

"It's complicated," Peter finally says, taking his hat off his head and raking one hand through his flattened curls. It makes it easy for Christine to see his big brown eyes and his conflicted expression. Wade would be impressed by the sincerity, if he thought Peter were acting; instead, Wade feels fond, knowing that Peter's tactic is barely a tactic at all. "I need to find Stephen, and I can't really tell you why because I may or may not be in trouble. And if there is trouble, the less you know, the better."

"And Stephen wouldn't be?" Christine snaps.

"If it's the kind of trouble I think it is, then he's already involved," Peter says. "Please. I just need to know where he went after his accident and if you've been in contact recently."

Christine stares at Peter for a while, her face inscrutable, before saying, "I think he's still in Kathmandu."

Wade's been to Kathmandu. For two days. He spent most of it on a rooftop across the street from a rundown hotel where his target was holed up, sweating his balls off as he laid on his stomach and stared at the man's saggy ass through a sniper scope. Wade only shot him when the prostitute he was with left and, after, bought some water buffalo skewers from the vendor down the block.

"At the Kamar-Taj?" Peter asks.

"I can't remember the name of his monastery, but I don't think that's it. Started with a 'puh'." Christine's eyes briefly unfocus as she stares into the middle distance. "I looked it up online after he sent back the watch I gave him for one of our anniversaries. Red columns. Gold roof." She snorts. "It was a very nice building for Buddhists who were supposed to give up all worldly attachments and belongings, but I suppose finding enlightenment was better than the financial ruin he had driven himself into."

"So you're not in contact?" asks Wade.

"No," Christine replies flatly. "I haven't heard from him in over three years."

Wade can hear the bitterness in her voice. He doesn't blame her. If he and Vanessa had been engaged, and she broke it off to permanently move to the other side of the world to become a monk, Wade might take it a little personally too.

"And before that," Peter asks. "Did he say anything about... magic? Or mystical arts, or the Sorcerer Supreme?"

"I only got a few letters after he disappeared. Mostly, they were apologies studded with his burgeoning spiritual philosophies and how peaceful he found meditation. I mean, all religion sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo when you're an atheist, but nothing struck me as overtly occult or sketchy."

Christine doesn't sound as though she's trying to hide anything, and nothing about her demeanor suggests otherwise. What little she can tell them is all there is to tell. Wade watches the way Peter's shoulders slump and knows that—short of buying a couple of tickets to Nepal—this lead has led them nowhere.

"So he's not in trouble?" Christine asks as Peter tugs his baseball cap back on.

"From what you've told me, no."

"And you're not going to tell me anything else about what's going on?"

"It's... probably safest if you know as little as possible."

"What about your husband?" she continues, motioning to Wade, who is still perched on the examination table with the hospital gown on. "I don't suppose he's actually sick?"

"Peak physical condition, ma'am," Wade chirps. It feels nice to have a stranger think that Wade, with his deforming scar and grab-bag of mental health issues, could land someone like Peter. "I would say sorry for the false pretense—and the false identity—but I take my baby boy's safety very seriously, and that includes not leaving a paper trail. You understand."

"Falsifying hospital records is a felony," Christine tells him.

"Eh. Wouldn't be my first."

It's a little bit of a surprise when Christine laughs, but Wade supposes that trauma surgeons who work in the emergency room of a New York City hospital might need a darker sense of humor than most. Either that or a really strong liver.

"God, what a weird day," she murmurs to herself. Then, more loudly, "Alright, well. As fun as this has been, I am actually very busy and need to get back to work. So. I am going to leave this room for a few minutes and, when I get back, I firmly suggest that you are not here. There's a stairwell at the end of this hall, on the left side, with an exit further down that doesn't have an alarm attached. It will spit you out into the back alley. Just be careful exiting—lots of staff take cigarette breaks out there."

"Oh." Peter blinks at her swift instructions. "Umm, thank you? You didn't need to—"

"Of course I did," Christine answers. "I'm a doctor. I help people, even the ones who bring up old exes, ask cryptic questions, and are potentially involved in a murderous magical cult."

And with one last pointed look at them both she turns on her heel and leaves, taking Aaron Applebaum's nonsense form with her.

"Fuck, that was cool," Wade says as he hops off the examination table and peels the hospital gown off his torso. Peter takes the gown and folds it, the adorable nerd, while Wade hastily puts his clothes back on.

Once his hat has been firmly wedged back on his head, Wade takes point and Peter falls naturally behind him, as though they've done it a thousand times before. They move together silently—seamlessly—down the empty hallway and into the stairwell, where the exit Christine told them about is a hundred feet beyond them. Wade opens it slowly, sticking his head out and checking for other people wedged in the alley between the hospital and the neighboring parking garage.

There's no one.

Wade lets Peter out into the alley and gently closes the door. Then he's off again, heading towards the street, where pedestrians are walking and cars are clogging the narrow road. He can feel Peter's presence close at his back as he heads north on Amsterdam for several blocks, then east back towards Central Park. He's not counting on the small spaces to hide them now; he's counting on the increasing mass of people to disguise them as he steers them towards more popular areas. Wade only stops after half an hour of street-crossing and double-backing.

"See anyone?" Peter asks as Wade stops them on a random street corner, stepping from the flow of foot traffic. He leans his back against the brick of a random building, the scratch of fired clay imperceptible through his layers.

"No," Wade answers. "Not that I expected us to be chased by orderlies or anything, but..."

"Better safe than sorry," Peter finishes. There's no judgment in his tone and he doesn't make comments about Wade being paranoid. He makes it sound normal, as though shaking a tail were routine behavior.

Maybe it is, for a superhero, Wade thinks.

Sighing, Peter joins him, leaning against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. His eyelashes are long and black, touching the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks tired, Wade thinks. Not tired in the sense that he didn't get enough sleep the night before—which he probably did not, considering they were up past four—but tired in a way that's bone deep.

"You know, I was really hoping that it would be easy," Peter says softly. "That I would find Strange without any problems and that he would just poof me back to my universe. But here—in this reality—he might just be a Buddhist monk, with no magic whatsoever. Problem is, I have absolutely no idea who might be the Sorcerer Supreme. Worse, I keep wondering if I've been transported to a reality where there is no Sorcerer Supreme. That's just Parker luck, I guess."

"Parker luck?" Wade asks, still staring at Peter's face. He doesn't like the little frown that's formed on his mouth and between his thick eyebrows, but he's still much nicer to look at than any person passing them.

"Kinda like Murphy's Law meets bad luck, and with the lovely side effect of constantly making my life harder than it needs to be," Peter explains.

"Nah, that can't be it."

"And how is that?"

"Well, for one, Angie didn't call hospital security on us when there were obvious shenanigans afoot. Two, Palmer was the one who came in to treat Mr. Applebaum's myocardial infarction and, three, she was way nicer to us than most people would have been. I count all of those as wins."

"That was definitely all your doing, not mine." Peter opens his eyes and tilts his head up to Wade. "Also, you're forgetting a huge piece of evidence that also counts in your favor."

"And what is that?"

"You," Peter says simply.

It has been roughly twelve hours since Peter came into Wade's life and, in that time, Wade has been drawn to Peter in deep and terrifying ways that he can barely articulate. The draw is physical, emotional, mental; Peter pulls Wade closer with every moment and Wade lets it happen happily. Sure, Wade tries to remind himself that there are variables he has to consider—namely, the wife and the whole mysterious background—but if he's being honest, those reminders are cursory at best and, right now, after Peter's devastated him with a single syllable, he isn't thinking about either.

He's thinking about kissing Peter.

He's thinking about reaching up and curling a hand around Peter's cheek to bring him closer.

He's thinking about tracing the swell of Peter's bottom lip—abused so often by Peter's own teeth—and biting it himself, so the sting will make Peter gasp and arch into him, mouth parting, letting Wade push his tongue inside, letting Wade taste him—

A stranger knocks into Wade's shoulder and forces Wade to take a step back away from Peter. He blinks. He had pushed off the wall and gotten into Peter’s space without conscious thought, and his hand, which was halfway to Peter's jaw, now hovers in the air without purpose. It takes effort to let it fall back to his side and let it hang, empty.

"Wade?" Peter says gently.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Wade turns away from Peter, pretending to peer down the street when he's actually more focused on not looking at Peter's face. His voice is low. Gruff. He clears his throat and tries to sound more like himself. "It's just been kind of a long day already. Whaddya say we find some place around here that sells street tacos and churros? We can walk around the park a bit and think of our next move?"

"Sounds good to me," Peter agrees easily enough, either ignorant to or ignoring Wade's sudden weirdness. "I always think better on a full stomach."

And, Wade thinks, if I’m shoveling tacos into my mouth, then I can't kiss you. A win-win situation for everybody.

.

next → : Part 7

.

[posictively-objectum]

Hii hope you dont mind the question, im wondering what conceptum or non physical thing relationships look like? Im questioning if i have a platonic crush on clouds and im wondering what some form of relationship would look like and getting to know them and stuff. I know its different for everyone id just like some guideance.

I apologize for the late response! We were dealing with some personal stuff, but we're finally back on tumblr! ^^

As you mentioned, this is a journey of discovery for oneself, but I can offer some advice from personal experiences! Off the top of my Mod Cabs probably has the most conceptum-leaning romances? He has a whole thing with polygons and retrocore as a whole. Any sort of old media or even modern retro-themes ARG type stuff catches his fancy.

Whenever he sees these sorts of things he gets all lovey and romantic. shows his appreciation on his sideblog, viewing media with these sorts of things, or even just offering his thoughts. For him loving something so abstract is a sort of blessing, because he gets many sources for which he can express his admiration, as well as joy in how those things are becoming more popular again!

So I suppose a good place to start is to build a sideblog to put images you find to take of cloud formations you see or enjoy. If you are creative, maybe paint some! Something I personally love to do is keep a scrapbook journal of the things I love! Paste in photos I find or little cutouts of doodles and write about how I feel about them. Add stickers and whatever personal touches I can think of!

Hope this helps, and I would love to hear about how your journey develops ^^

[toasty-owoasty]

Trick or treat! gimme all drawings

all as in 5 drawings? you got it boss!!! with all the IDs and explanations though this is prolly gonna get a little long, so past the first one I think I'm gonna put the rest under a read more. you got a REALLY good spread tho

art 218!

[id: a simple pencil drawing of a girl. her hair is split down the middle, with the left side in a floating ponytail and the right side down, showing it as unkempt. she wears a black face mask with teeth printed on it, as well as a cropped tank top under a leather jacket with spiked shoulders /end]

this is art from late 2020 of an old oc of mine, shūki! she was originally a my hero academia oc I'm not gonna lie, but she (and the rest of the ones my friends and I made) have grown and changed since then. I still think about her sometimes

art 389!

[id: a waist-up traditional sketch of a different girl. her skin has the appearance of a ball of yarn. her irises look like buttons, and she's looking up and left. she has chunkier yarn for hair, which forms heart shaped bangs as well as a high, side ponytail that falls to about her mid-chest. she's wearing an undetailed turtleneck sweater with a heart shaped cutout on the chest. /end]

this one says it's from 2022 but I don't trust it. anyways, here's another mha oc, ito button! she is made of yarn!!! (also her and shūki are girlfriends hehehe) I love ito I think about her all the time

art 418

[id: a drawing made in tabletop simulator using the pen tool. the drawing starts with an image of the moon, that we turned into a goofy cat girl. she has big circular glasses, a somewhat concerned/ditzy expression, and strange markings on her cheeks. she wears a tank top, shorts, and knee high socks, as well as a gold chain /end id]

this one is actually not all me! I only did the stuff in blue (y'know. most of it). I suppose I got bored during a game of betrayal at the house on the hill and started turning the moon into a catgirl, then the people I was playing with started joining in, lol. she's super cute though, I can admit that much.

art 200

[id: a very quick, simple, messy doodle of a Homestuck fantroll. he has fangs, short hair, and asymmetrical horns. the one on his right goes straight up, then splits into a Y shape. the one on his left goes up, then turns to go down diagonally /end]

ah yes, right smack dab in the middle of all these quick sketches I did, you will find restaurantstuck characters. restaurantstuck is a Homestuck au focused around trollified versions of restaurants, made by me and a few friends from an old discord server. shown here is subway yurway, predictably the troll version of the sandwich place subway. this doodle really does him no justice though.

and finally, art 414

[id: a pencil drawing done on the back of a laptop case. it shows the shoulders-up of an individual drawn exclusively with straight lines. they have short, shaggy hair, and sticker-like marks on their face in different polygonal shapes. their expression is somewhat intense, with angry eyebrows and a mouth opened in a toothy smirk. their eyes are formed of concentric shapes, starting in the middle where the pupil would be with triangles, and adding one side as they progress towards the edges of the eye /end]

so the reason this one is on a computer case is because I did this after finishing a standardized test where I wouldn't've been able to take any paper drawings I had done with me. I wanted to challenge myself to make a character using only straight lines, and this guy is what I ended up with! I think he's pretty neat. anyways I hope you enjoy your candy!

[postmoderntongues]

You said you consider yourself an autoandropile, are you an autopaedophile as well? I don't think autopaedophile is immoral BTW I think you are allowed to have fantasies about your own body that don't reflect a desire to harm others.

I do not in any way get aroused by memories of my childhood abuse but one of the ways I cope with it is the idea that it made me "special" or more "hardcore" than people who were not abused in that way as children, if that makes sense.

Im not turned on by the thoughts but I do take some pride in the label of being a survivor because I was not broken by what was done to me and in a fucked up way in makes me unique (even though CSA is so common that it actually doesn't).

I fixate on the subject a bit in my art but that it because art is how I cope with and understand things that my brain has a hard time with.

I have a not of complex feelings not only about the rapes I endured as a FtM teen but about the COCSA I experienced as a child because none of it was forceful or violent in nature, a lot of it could have been written off as innocent experimentation or playing doctor if it weren't for the age gap between me and the assailant and these boys treated me well and called me their girlfriend (and in one case he was physically in Jr high but mentally we were very much peers and he acted out on me because he had a teenager's sex drive and a child's mind and it was never violent it was always "loving" id even go as far as to say he tried to be "romantic" about it, when I think of him I dont think of him as my abuser I think of him as my first love, as opposed to my other abusers who straight up bribed me for sexual favors with things like candy and stickers and the incidents were a lot more transactional or just physically overpowered me and acted like it was a form of tickling).

COCSA can be very confusing because you don't know how much the other kid understood. Were they just innocent children acting out something they'd been exposed to? Could they have known they were abusing me if I never showed distress? Was the much older boy so disabled that he didn't understand that he was doing anything wrong? DID he do anything wrong if he never needed to use force or pressure and I was always a willing participant?

Even the man who filmed CSAM of me and my soulmate, I remember what I remember with horror but at the time it was exciting. I was excited to show off how mature I was and how much I knew and the man abusing us never used force or acted like anything other than that he was showing us a fun thing that mature people did and we were smart and mature enough to be involved. Even after he died the activity between me and my soulmate continued until we found out what "gay" was and that it wasn't allowed in our church so we stopped around mid 3rd grade.

It took me a long time to accept that I was a sexually abused child, for a long time saw my self as a sexually ACTIVE child and assumed my experiences with sex were pretty universal. I didn't really realize until around college when I told a "funny" story of me and the older disabled boy almost having intercourse but being interrupted and had never even considered how bad it was until I was met with horror.

But no, I would not consider myself an autopedophile, I do not get any sexual gratification from memories of my abuse or from my status as a survivor. I actually get very upset when I think about what was done to me. I cope through trauma art, so i do use it as inspiration for my artwork, but I do not eroticize it in any way and would be very upset/violated if somebody told me they had an erotic reaction to me writing about the abuse I was subjected to.

[beansprean]

Commissioned for @kristylime 's CUTEASS fic “A Prescription for Love”!!! This is a snippet from chapter 4! ;)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Full body of Guillermo, dressed in a pink tee shirt, grey sweatpants, and socks, sitting up on his bed with one arm propped behind him and the other petting a gray kitten named Beaker who is happily arching and rubbing into the attention. A window nearby shows a gray sky outside, and his laptop is open in front of him on the bedspread, covered in various vampire and pride related stickers. Guillermo looks sadly down at the cat and sighs, saying, "I just wish I had some kind of sign..." 1b. Close up of Guillermo with a tear forming in his eye, glancing over as his phone, sitting on the bed nearby, begins to ding with multiple incoming texts. His phone has a black case with a rainbow bat pattern. 1c. Shoulders up of Guillermo sitting up and holding his phone with his right hand, his left taking a moment to rub the tear from his eye. The phone continues to ding with more texts. 1d. Repeat. Guillermo opens his eyes to look down curiously at the phone, swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it as it dings twice more.

2a. A series of texts from human Nandor appear on the left with reactions from Guillermo on the right. His message reads: "Hi, Guillermo. I hope you had a nice time today. I had a really great time at brunch and showing you the farm. And I’m glad you got to meet Dr. Baron and Dr. Sirus. And all my animals. I think Rajah misses his pal, Beaker, though. He seems a bit glum this evening. I must confess that I’m still on Cloud 9… from the kiss. Though I am looking forward to Taco Tuesday. Unless you’d consider seeing me tomorrow? Maybe just some takeout from my parents’ restaurant at your place? LMK." This is followed by a text with a photo of a blue merle Australian Shepherd named Rajah laying on a large plaid doggy bed with his head on his paws, looking up at the camera with big sparkly sad blue eyes. On the right, a close up of Guillermo huffing out a small laugh through his nose as he reads, looking fond. 2b. Repeat. Nandor sends another photo of himself, half in frame, wearing a flannel shirt over a black tee and his hair in a loose braid grinning and holding a strip of bacon out between his teeth. Rajah appears from the other side and excitedly chomps down on the other end of the bacon strip. Nandor writes, "I have determined how to chase his blues away at least temporarily. BACONNNNN!!!!!" On the right, Guillermo's smile grows helplessly, looking more amused and more fond by the moment. 2c. Repeat. Nandor sends another photo, clearly taken moments after the previous one, showing himself snorting with laughter as Rajah licks all over his face. He writes, "How is Beaker doing?" and then "Sorry for all the text messages. I just realized this might be creepy." On the right, Guillermo finally dissolves into laughter, tipping his phone as if to cover his mouth.

3a. A text reply from Guillermo that reads "Not creepy at all. Beaker is settling in well. He seems to like me, air conditioning, and/or movies. He’s nice to cuddle with and talk to. Thank you again. I was also thinking about our kiss. That it was a long time coming and that I’d like you to kiss me more, if you’d like that. Tomorrow, I work until 7PM, but I would love for you to come over for dinner. Persian Delight would be wonderful, but I would like to cook for you at some point, too. 7:30PM tomorrow?" Nandor immediately replies "Sure, it's a date," with a winking kiss emoji. 3b. Close up on Guillermo's eyes shining with excitement above blushing cheeks as Nandor's last text echoes in pink around him. 3c. Full body of Guillermo, sun shining on him from behind as the sun pours through the window, grinning happily as he holds Beaker up to his cheek with one hand and holds his phone out with the other to take a selfie. He says, "I guess as far as signs go, it doesn’t get a lot clearer than that." Beaker mews in reply. /end ID

[stickercanada]

What Makes Holographic Stickers Such an Attractive Option

Whether it be gold or jewels, history has shown that humans have always been attracted to objects that shine. An article published by Fast Company suggests that there is an evolutionary theory behind our innate love of things that sparkle. Despite the passing of centuries, humans still continue to be attracted to things that shine. Of course, this includes something called holography.

Invented and developed in the 1940s, holography makes use of hologram technology, a 3D, projected image of someone or something. People quickly took to this new form of technology and applied it in several different forms. You may recognize these being used in things like Pokemon or Magic: the Gathering trading card game. But the thing we’re going to be talking about today is custom-made holographic stickers.

In this blog, we’ll explore what makes these stickers such an attractive option for both business and personal use.

A Luxurious Look and Quality

The sheen and multifaceted colour effect give holographic decals an innate sense of luxury and quality. Even simple-looking designs and images take on a look of sophistication when rendered in that holographic look. This association of luxury translates positively into any brand or product that the design is applied to. You can upgrade how your logo looks by turning it into a beautiful piece that suggests elite craftsmanship and attention to detail.

When it comes to the products that you can place these stickers on, your options aren’t limited. For example, you can use them as helmet stickers. These not only look good but have a practical purpose as well. The reflective nature of these products makes them easy to spot at night. That is only one of the many valuable applications of these items. So not only do you have something that looks luxurious, but it’s helpful in your everyday life as well.

Security Features

As we’ve mentioned before, holographic stickers aren’t only used for aesthetic reasons. There are practical purposes as well. Many businesses make use of this material to make sure that their products are safe and secure. This measure is taken to prevent others from creating counterfeits and knockoffs. Take caps made by New Era, for example. They have memorable holo branding that lets the customers know that they are purchasing a genuine product.

A unique material, holographic technology, is also used in employees' IDs for more robust security in the office. With complex patterns and optical effects, it’ll be much more difficult for others to come into the office without any authentication. The security measures that these holo techs provide give businesses an advantage other than looking good. Don’t hesitate to make use of these to boost your defences.

High-Potential for Personalisation

People love to customize and personalize their own belongings. Of course, this includes the stickers that they use. Aside from the fun designs that these stickers can take the form of, they can come in different shapes and sizes as well. Personalizing these decals can perfectly match any form of branding, art, message, and other purpose you may need it for. Customers will love the various options that you give to them.

If you are still looking for a design that you like, we recommend that you check out online guides beforehand. This will allow you to find exciting design ideas and strategies that you can use to improve your ability to draw in new customers or attention from others. The potential of these products is practically endless, giving you the perfect opportunity to test things out and see how they go.

Final Thoughts

And those are the main reasons why holo stickers are such an attractive option. They can help further grow your business or straight up make your things look incredible. Whether you are using these, you’ll be able to build something great off them. Don’t hesitate to try out different ideas and approaches in order to find the best fit for your cause. We’re sure that these won’t disappoint you.

[caranox]

The Thirteenth Key Cover Reveal

Cara Nox's debut book features a queer cast of new adult characters grappling with an uncertain future after discovering they're all running from death. To top it all off, the supposed "chosen one" at the helm is far more interested in using her position to potentially exact revenge on those who've stolen everything from her.

Summary

The chaotic crew of heisting misfits in Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows meets the familiar yet fantastical, modern landscape found in Robert Jackson Bennett's City of Stairs.

“The thirteen emblems given to the original rulers weren’t just symbols. They’re keys to the Vault—one that no one’s ever opened.”

Noa has lived her life as an unsuspecting, ID-burning, face in the crowd that disposes of “problems” for her miscellaneous, secretive employers. So, when Noa’s surrogate father—a Seer—hands her a long-lost emblem, telling her with his dying breath that it's her responsibility to reignite magic, she laughs at the idea that the fate of their world rests on the shoulders of a killer. Instead, she uses his words and the key he gave her as an excuse to go on one final suicide mission to seek out the power supposedly waiting for her to annihilate his murderer.

Prince Glacier Caelius has lived his life trapped inside a gilded cage, pushed down by the ever-present threat of death as the bastard son of Amarais’s late king. But when the rebels attack during a nationalist party, Glacier’s rescued by none other than Noa and her merry band of thieves, who are scrambling to salvage a failed attempt at stealing his country’s emblem: the Soul of Amarais. When the dust settles, he’s the only person left alive to unlock the palace vault and give the Soul to Noa in exchange for saving his life.

Well, once they’re able to formulate a plan to take the palace back.

Struggling with their tentative, newfound freedom, Noa and Glacier must learn to work together to survive the urban landscape of Avaria’s greatest cities fortified by technology in the wake of dwindling magic. The goal: steal as many keys as they can before their pasts catch up. But the further they go, the more they realize that something worse may be lurking on the horizon, and they may very well be the only ones able to stop it.

Dive into this new adult futuristic fantasy on March 21st, 2023!

You can also read the first three chapters when you sign up for my monthly author newsletter!

Launch Campaign

Preorders and book purchases from now through April 21st, 2023 are eligible for launch goodies (a signed bookplate, a bookmark, and a sticker featuring the Soul of Amarais artwork on the cover) when proof of purchase is submitted via the campaign form linked below!

[tonyhightower]

PARIS, FRIDAY: Somebody Please Remove These Cutleries From My Knees

Alright, after this I'll write something other than my personal kvetches, but today is not that day. (If you want to skip my personal health story, go to Part 2.)

PART 1 (CW: My Innards)

Things are possibly looking up.

Yesterday, I managed to get an appointment with a knee specialist who spoke English. Unlike the last guy, I was able to talk with him -- English was clearly not his first language, but his English was definitely better than my French, so we were good, and he was a guy in his 40s who played squash, and he said had the same problem I did at one point.

It's not a ligament problem after all; he thinks it might be the meniscus, folded over on itself inside my kneecap. That's apparently a thing. It certainly would explain the pain.

[The meniscus is a small film of tendon-like material in the knee that sits between the femur (the thigh bone) and the tibia & the fibula (the two shin bones). It's a pretty common issue, and it has nothing to do with running or anything.]

The good news is that it's a quick arthroscopic procedure (pro athletes get it all the time, and they're often ready to play again pretty quickly), and then about three weeks' recovery. I'm probably out for the Paris Half Marathon, but if recovery goes well, and I can train good, I still want to at least give the Paris (Full) Marathon in April a go. It won't be a PR attempt in any way, but dammit, I want to at least do the course.

So, he drew this up (the whole appointment took about 15 minutes), and I was able to get an X-ray appointment that afternoon, and I have an MRI this morning, all set up by myself, online. They literally said "Go find someone close to your apartment. Anyone will do."

The cost so far? (The American in me is fascinated by this. It’s okay, this chapter will be over soon.)

The all-but-useless GP consultation from last week: €25

The initial consultation: €120

The X-Ray: €0

The MRI: €600 (which, um, JEEZUS, but still, (a) that's still a tiny fraction of what it costs in the USA, (b) it's 100% covered & refundable, and (c) once I get a Carte Vitale, I never see these bills in the first place.

It is a torn meniscus. It's fixable. And decades of sticker shock isn't going to go away easily, but I'm starting to be optimistic.

I've shown no ID at any of these places (One place asked to see my passport, but that was only to make sure they spelled my name right on the form.) These charges are all fully reimbursable on our temporary health plan (~$100/month). Once we get our full Carte Vitale into the French Health Care system proper, we won't even see these charges at all.

OK, enough about my health problems. Kvetching about that crap is something old people do, and I'm intimately aware of that. I just always thought, as an American, that it was interesting how little literally everyone else in the world pays for their health care, and now that I have a chance to take advantage of that, I have to at least mention it.

* * * * *

PART 2 (CW: American Health Care System Rant)

I've spent my entire adult life not going to the doctor. Toughing it out. Walking it off. Riding it out. Dealing with pain.

Oh, you have a kidney problem? Have some soup. You broke a bone? Splint it up & lay off it for a few weeks. Slice your hand open with a dull knife? RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. Put a bread bag over it when you shower. Hope you didn't cut a ligament, or else congrats, those fingers don't move right no more!

Every (non-rich) American I know, even people with actual health insurance, has these stories. You know at the time how horrifying it is, but you also know that there's no other way to get through it. It's either work it out on your own, or you go into indentured servitude to some hospital's collections department for the rest of your life, simply because you couldn't scotch-tape a popsicle stick (or a pencil, or whatever item's at hand at the moment it happens) to your finger when you accidentally jammed it in a door somewhere.

It's fucking barbaric, and the mass delusion that it's just how things work in America is infuriating.

If I stayed in NYC with this knee thing, I'd have never gotten a diagnosis, certainly never gotten treatment, and I'd probably spend the rest of my life hobbling around, in pain. Certainly, as it turns out, I'd have never run again.

God, just typing that out makes me angry.

If you're going through something like this, I'm so, so sorry. The stories of people buying a plane ticket, dragging their broken bodies to some European country, getting themselves fixed, and then flying home, aren't silly ones. Not only do you actually get what's wrong with you fixed, and for a fraction of what an American hospital would charge you, you get a trip somewhere nice, or at least different.

If you're dealing with a thing, especially something you know is probably fixable, and you have that as an option, I'd honestly recommend it. If not Europe or Asia, then even Canada. You only get one body to go through this life. Do whatever you gotta do to fix it.

The American health care system should not be holding your own body hostage against you.

[askingkyborg]

HERE WE GO MOTHER FUCKERS! I was too lazy to draw so you get some writing instead.

okay, so , context for this thought is that in the kydron timeline, mudd and kyborg were at the library together when a squadrone exploded and killed kyborg, with mudd right there by his side- and meld manor watching, and i thought this would be a fun little idea. This is set in like, a hypothetical break space between bart and mudds arc- before they get on the jebediah.

Mudd has never been one for mornings. You'd think for someone who loves coffee and bird songs, id be his safe space, but alas, no. Kyborg was the unexpected early bird (yet somehow also a night owl- never sleeping until he was sure everyone else was. Mudd cant count the amount of times hes seen the wood elf crack open his door to see if hed fallen asleep.)of the group, and mudd was just about the textbook definition of an afternoon duck.

And concurrently, he tumbled out of bed, a scowl already itching to rest in his face. He gently went to pad across his room, scratching gumbos head before pulling his favourite cape- one of thick wooly moss- out of the dresser. With a gentle click he snapped it on, and let the comfortable weight sit over him. Then, he grabbed his dirt pouch, not bothering to tie it onto his belt loop because his next stop was to see duncan. He swung his door into a full arch, trudging his way through the concrete hallways and startling himself on the ramps down to the main level (they must not have spent enough time in HQ since Dr.ahems renovations- he can only really remember the stairs). Mudd distantly gazes over at gumgum and barts room, smiling at the kid like glow in the dark stickers over the spruce door. After a moment he reaches the main floor, and he's over come with the sent of warm coffee. Duncans chipper voice bleeds after. "Morning mudd! What'll it be?"

"Oh, the usual is fine." He gently nods, gazing to the kitchen. His stomach longed for a proper home cooked meal, but with the loom of travel dawning soon, his brain takes the helm and orders him to instead make something simple thats left overs can be formed into ration packs. A quick root around the pantry reveals a bag of freeze dried fruit leather, and he reaches for it.

"morning mudd."

A shriek almost bleats out of mudds mouth as he turns on his heel to be met with meld. Hugh manors daughter, friend of the infinights. "Oh, my.. you startled me, meld." He shifts from foot to foot- not ever one for small talk. "I don't think we've met"

"i'm sorry?" He cocks a brow at meld. The half elf flushes a bit, running her fingers through her thick black hair. "S-sorry. Allow me to.. rephrase. I never met you- like this- in my timeline at all. Your spirits seem higher here."

"is that so?" Mudds voice comes out a bit critical, but it cant be helped. He can hardly tell how he'd seem "higher in spirits" between his half dawned attire and a piece of fruit leather dangling from his mouth. Meld laughs. "I must sound nuts, don't i?"

"a little, if im honest with you?" He tries to give a friendly smirk as he drops some dirt into his coffee, seeing the dark brown powder over come by a gentle flood of warm coffee. It reminded him of some old flood he'd learned about in his royal studies. Some guy called noah with a boat after ande flooded faza..

"I guess i was just used to my mudd being a mopey sad sack"

"And why exactly was i like that?"

Meld purses her lips, brown eyes thoughtful and swirling, as if debating on what to say. She gently takes a seat at the dining room table, and mudd notices duncan listening in keenly. "well, i mean, you probably took the kydron situation the worst."

Mudd racks his brain, and remembers the conversation they'd all had before going into kyborgs mind. "Kyborg turning into a crazy lunatic android thing? Was i scared of him?"

"no, just.. you missed him." Mudd laughs a little. "Well, i know id miss him but, wouldn't gumgum-"

She shakes her head. "You missed him the most by a land slide- no competition."

mudd swallows, and his mouth tastes bitter, and not from the dirt. "Was it because-"

"you were there? In part." She takes a gentle drink of what looks to be tea. "You were in denial for a while. Tried to pry him away from the squadrone taking his body, and swore up and down he didnt die- that he looked like he was breathing but-"

"i was lyin' through mah' teeth?"

Meld nods sadly. Mudd gazes down into his cup of coffee, and sees his swirling brown reflection. Kyborg was his- their dumbass, but he didn't know how attached he was. He rubs his finger over the lip of his mug.

"did i cry?" He looks up to meet melds eyes. "When i saw him- ..saw kydron?"

meld gives a sad smile.

"I don't remember when you quit."

//nonask

AUAGH. REALLY ANGSTY MUDDBORG THOUGHTS SOON. YALL ARE SO UNSAFE.

[literalliterature]

Tried doodling a lad for @keplercryptids for the first time and had a blast. Mutuals take this as a warning that I cannot be trusted and may strike with art of your brain blorbos at any time (affectionate)

[ID: A drawing of Brontide from the waist up, shown from overhead. He is a slender air genasi with pale gray skin and puffy, cloud-like hair that is shaved on the sides. He wears yellow overalls with a couple of pin buttons on them, as well as large, hot pink, star-shaped hoop earrings. There are a few stickers on their face in the form of a lightning bolt, rainbow, and sparkle, and his sunglasses have pink and blue lenses in the shapes of clouds. He is looking up to face the viewer with a grin and a wink, lifting his glasses up to his forehead with one hand. The background is blue with a radiating pattern of white exclamation points resembling lightning bolts. End ID.]