#maybe i should make an actual post about this but WHATEVER

[jmtorres]

i just saw a post about how we just have to "live with" covid and wanting more protections from our government is unreasonable because we'll never wipe it out, it jumps species and is in all sorts of animal populations (like, true ok) so why even try to

and apparently the argument was aimed at people (who I haven't seen in the wild) who are arguing we should still be in lockdown. and i have mixed feelings about the idea of extended lockdown or attenuating isolations; but my main feeling at this point is not that the government should keep us apart but that the government should be trying to make it safer for us to be together

things the government could/should be doing about covid:

we know that ventilation/air movement helps a shitton. we should be incentivizing upgrades to ventilation systems in all public buildings with shit like rebates or tax deductions, while phasing in eventual legal requirements. (and uh. it has occurred to me that the US might actually be doing this sideways by there's currently this decade enormous tax incentives in re energy efficient upgrades for slowing climate change and you know. energy efficient hvac does tend to improve ventilation. extra point to biden here.)

mandatory paid sick leave so workers aren't under social or economic pressure to work when sick

passing out RT-LAMP tests like metrix that actually work instead of the rapid antigen tests that have become less and less reliable as the virus mutates

i don't know how you'd write this law but like 95% or more of computer-based work can be done remotely and companies should not be allowed to force people to return to the office. I know there's people who want to be back in person and I'm not saying they should be forced to stay home but ffs I know of at least two people CLOSE to me who worked remotely before the pandemic and at some point their workplaces tried to tell them they weren't allowed to do that anymore despite the pre-existing contracts. stop canceling remote work for people that want, need, or prefer it.

for that matter, every college lecture that was an online class during covid should still be offered as an online class, there is no reason to force students into auditoriums in person. you got the communications infrastructure up and running, why are you tearing it down. give people the OPTION. it increases accessibility for everyone!

covid vaccine immunity lasts about four months. this should be well-publicized and everyone should be able to re-up for free every four months. "every year, like the flu vaccine" is demonstrably not often enough. actually "for free" isn't good enough start handing out $10 gift cards you will be shocked at how many people who are resistant to the idea of vaccines will fold for $10 a shot

are there already laws on the books about masks in medical settings that some medical professionals are blatantly ignoring because they forgot what best practices were before the plague and they're 'tired of masking'? if not, pass laws. if so, fucking enforce them

oh another incentives for upgrades phasing into legal requirements thing: brass doorknobs and railings over stainless steel or whatever. microbes do not survive on brass surfaces

i mean. i know this one sounds too extreme to a lot of people but. UBI.

most if not all of these measures will prevent or ameliorate other pandemics of different diseases that may arise in the future. and just. generally improve our health and quality of life for other reasons.

I haven't felt safe to go to a concert since 2020. Maybe if I knew a venue was legally required to have ventilation to a certain standard and that none of the ticket takers and ushers were on the job sick to avoid risking loss of paycheck or job, and knew a larger percentage of the crowd had up to date vaccinations--maybe if any or all that, I might ever feel comfortable going to a show again.

wouldn't it be nice if those of us who have been disabled, by covid or other conditions, had accessible remote options but also occasionally felt safe enough to interact with and participate in wider society?

one of the arguments on the post I saw was how isolation was massively psychologically damaging and various strata of society were affected in all sorts of ways, from undersocialized kids to increased depression in--well across the board, I think. and here's the thing: WE KNOW. PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC HEALTH CONDITIONS, LONG COVID OR OTHERWISE, KNOW ISOLATION SUCKS REAL BAD. because we, both for our own health and due to disability ostracism, are still isolating and isolated more than most.

what are you as individuals or societies, what are our governments, doing to help make it safe and accessible to rejoin you????

[bigfatbimbo]

Hey there! @hazbinhotelmollykisser here yet again, with the promised bill rambles :)

Forgive me if the following words sound like nonsense, I'm trying lol

SO. I'll be covering the bill with a more powerful reader and sub bill because your works have changed my brain chemistry, masochist bill because I'M GOING INSANE AN I NEED TO BE SEDATED, and bill with a reader that likes to tease him (with a more powerful reader version and a just a human version) because I need to study his reactions to teasing like I'm Stanford studying like... Science + math = triangles or something.

・Bill x More powerful reader

So I actually made an entire oc for this literally as soon as I finished reading the og post, which I will refrain on ranting abt, but the idea of a reader that's more powerful than bill is fascinating to me.

Because like, he's bill so he's obviously gonna try to get under your skin, but imagine a reader that sees his attempts to annoy them and just... Like laughs? A reader that finds his attempts almost endearing? Reverting whatever bill did back to before with just a snap and maybe a passing comment about his mischief.

It would drive him mad I think, he'd be rlly annoyed and pissy about it.

Or alternatively, a reader that does get angry when he tries to annoy them, (a loud and aggressive angry or a quiet festering angry both yielding different reactions from bill) and Bill takes it as motivation to keep annoying you (and it's definitely only because he thinks it's funny and totally definitely no other reason).

(Holy shit this is already getting long)

・Sub!Bill

So obviously a brat right? Like very obviously? We all agree on that.

And this next bit will probably just be regurgitating your points because I can't stop having the same opinions as you,

I personally need to see any + every version of bill cipher getting taken down a peg. Like I need to just. Ruin his life a little. Like I need to cause him mental peril and make it up to him (but actually it's only for me) by making him beg for what he wants and not giving him anything unless he asks out loud because "well I'm not a mind reader" (more powerful reader probably IS but shhhh..)

I want him to cry and beg (as do most people who read your blog honestly)

・masochist bill

Thinking about the way that bill literally talks about going out of his way to inflict pain onto the bodies he "possesses" (? Idk if that's the word I should use) made me think. Like too much thinking too many thoughts, to the point that I at multiple points almost wrote a small drabble in my notes app about it. (I would've if I could think of any words to write down when I need them 😭)

But like he's definitely some kind masochist right?

I can't think of any scenarios for human reader he made a deal with and bill for this category but imagine with me pls, a HUMAN reader, that he made a deal with (is actively trying to manipulate), causing him PAIN somehow (directly or indirectly), and he... DOSENT MIND? because 1. He's gonna have a mental breakdown because of it probably, and 2. He dosent JUST not mind. It's like EXCITING but not normal exciting.

So basically he'd be freaking out.

And with a reader that's more powerful than him? I think it'd be clear as day. Going hand in hand with the angry reader that's more powerful than him thing above, he would absolutely get off on annoying them until they snap at him (specifically the snap at him part). And when reader notices, they're obviously gonna make fun of him because hes being pathetic lol.

I think I have run out of masochist bill words now so onto the next topic.

・tease reader (human) x bill

My main reason for bringing this up is I love the idea of the powerful bill cipher being.. Well, flustered.

Like maybe when it's triangle form bill its easier to hide for him but if it were human bill reader would be able to tell almost instantly probably.

And more opportunities to make fun of bill for being a pathetic little creature are always good :)

・tease reader (more powerful) x bill

OOWOWHEOEJEIEBSJBSISNDH I love this idea so so SO SO SOSOSOSO MUCH!!!3&:28&:9.

SO MANY MORE OPPORTUNITIES TO TEASE AND NOT GET KILLED :)

Like imagine with me, your teasing bill and he gets all "upset" and probably threatens you, you don't gotta back off, you infact can tease him even more for thinking that he can threaten you. Shheheheheheheh.

I think that's all my words, I seem to have run out.

I hope that big lump of nothing text (800-ish words 😰) was enough to make up for my sudden dissapearence after promising to talk about bill TWO WEEKS AGO

Forgive my probably dogshit spelling and grammar pls

and hope you have a good day/night/whatever!

IUAHAHSHSHSHSHHSHDHSHAHS I LOVE THINGS LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX!!!!! Because it’s like wow, you did all the work for me! 😊

Ugh, this is so good tho. I always love to hear your thoughts, you are one of my FAV anons!!!!!

[twsted-idiot]

yall. @/dannysdreamgirl / @/studyandtamper (on discord) is a fucking proshipper and actually disgusting!! (I'm not blaming whoever invited her, because I'd assume whoever didn't know about this, just wanted to make this known ^_^)

Runs a mdni blog, that's fine, but then you join a server with SEVERAL minors?? Yes, most of us are 16-17 but are still legally minors, so that's irrelevant.

These are all from intros in the server from MINORS

Technically, nothing actually wrong with that..but it's still extremely fucking weird, yeah??

Then there's also this shit... about Nancy SAing Johnny and now it affected him or whatever. That's fucking disgusting, biologically her kid or not, and not something she would do.

That alone is genuinely gross and sickening, and then there's the repeatedly interacting with a KNOWN proshipper in the fandom.

They're deactivated because they actually got called out on their shit, as they should because that's nasty. Blood related or not, the family, shocker I know, SEES each other as FAMILY n guess what, incest isn't a normal thing. It's not cute, or funny, you're gross and actually need help.

"Proshipping's a coping mechanism" it shouldn't be. Yeah, cope with whatever however you see fit for yourself, no one can stop you, but this isn't a coping mechanism, you're just using it as an excuse to be fucking vile. Posting that publicly makes younger people think it's okay as well, and the cycle continues. "Fiction doesn't affect reality" except when it does, your brain can become conditioned to think something's okay when it's very clearly NOT.

This shit?? Why. Genuinely why?? Maybe let's not push our GROSS fetishes onto characters, especially not PUBLICLY.

There's other things too, I'm not going to continue to go through that disgusting blog to find it all though.. because then we'd be here forever.

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Sips with Stardom

Jenn Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N's morning is stirred when Jenna arrives before opening hours. She finds herself sipping coffee and sharing stories with the star again. Between bodyguards, family, and an unexpected promise, Y/N's day becomes more than just her regular routine—a start to a little more, one sip at a time.

Word Count: 2.9k

As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of Chinese takeout filled the air. The sounds of laughter and clatter of utensils echoed from the kitchen. Kicking off my shoes and slipping into my slippers, I sighed in relief. Home. Before I could take another step, Mr. Noodles—my black-and-white tuxedo cat, complete with his signature black bowtie—greeted me by weaving between my legs, purring loudly. "Hey, Noodles," I chuckled, bending down to scratch his chin. He meowed once, flicking his tail, and followed me into the kitchen. Marcus and Caleb sat at the table, surrounded by various takeout containers. Marcus dug into his lo mein while Caleb balanced his fork in one hand and scrolled through his phone with the other. "Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!" Marcus called out, waving his fork in the air dramatically. "Yeah, too high on your horse to join your big brothers for dinner? Caleb chimed in without even glancing up from his phone. I rolled my eyes and dropped my bag onto the floor, giving Mr. Noodles a final pat before sitting down at the table. "Whatever you say, peasants, you wouldn't believe the day I had." Marcus raised an eyebrow, grinning. "What happened? Did Tom Cruise stop by to argue with his reflection again?" Caleb snicker. "Or did Chris Hemsworth come in to try and order his post-workout protein shake?" 'Ok. So maybe I don't only keep celebrity conversations with just Wilma.' "No, I still don't know what kind of gym rat demands a coffee shop to make a protein shake," I said, grabbing some fried rice. "But actually, it was Meryl Streep. She and her manager walked in, supposedly for a meeting. And they broke into a feud over whether or not she should be having hot chocolate and a donut." Both of them looked at each other, chuckling. Marcus leaned back in his chair to scratch Mr. Noodles under him. "Meryl Streep, defending her sugar right? You go, girl!" I grinned, stuffing a dumpling in my mouth. "Yeah, his face when she chewed him out was priceless." Caleb's full attention is on me now. "What about Will Ferrell? Did he drop by and give any hints about his upcoming movie?" I shook my head. "No Will Ferrell today. But Liam Neeson came in, ordered tea and a jelly donut, and then tripped on his way out. Spilled tea all over the place." Marcus and Caleb both froze mid-bite before bursting into laughter. Marcus set his fork down, "Let me guess, he threatened the floor after that one, right?" Caleb swallowed his food, "I can just imagine him giving his famous death stare. What did you do?" "I gave him another one, free of charge," I shrugged. "The man looked so heartbroken. I couldn't let him walk out like that." They laughed again, shaking their heads in disbelief. Marcus wiped his mouth, "Man, only in your line of work do we find out Meryl Streep and Liam Neeson are out here having bad days like the rest of us."

We kept eating, trading stories about our day. Marcus talked about a guy at the gym who almost dropped a barbell trying to impress some girl. At the same time, Caleb vented about the latest office drama. While leaning over to offer the piece of chicken on my fork to Mr.Noodles, without even thinking, I casually mentioned, "Oh yeah, Jenna Ortega came in today." Marcus froze, his fork nearly dropping, while Caleb slowly lowered his phone. Both of them stared at me in studded silence. "Wait...what?" Caleb asked, voice rising. "The Jenna Ortega?" It took me a second to realize what I had just said, and I immediately felt my face heat up. Damn. "Uhh...yeah. She was just, you know, having coffee." Marcus leaned over the table, grin growing wider. "Are you seriously telling me you met Jenna Ortega and didn't freak out? Come on, you've been obsessed since she made it big on Wednesday." "I wasn't obsessed!" I protested, feeling my cheeks grow even hotter. "And it wasn't a big deal. She's just a regular person." Caleb raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Did you...like talk to her?" I groaned, running a hand through my hair and throwing my head back. "Yeah, we talked a little. She was reading a book I loved, so we ended up geeking out about the author. She already read it, too, just revisiting it." Marcus' grin grew, looking smug. "You geeked out about a book...with her? And you're sitting here acting like it's no big deal?" I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "She's just another customer like anyone else, guys," Caleb smirked. "Uh-huh, sure. Except you're blushing right now." I could feel the heat creeping back into my face. "Am not." Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Our lil sis rubbing elbows with big stars. Be careful if she wants to meet us, we're totally gonna embarrass you." I groaned, covering my face. "Shut Up, Please!"

After dinner, I headed upstairs. Changing into a pair of comfy sweats and a loose T-shirt. Noodles, ever my loyal shadow, hopped onto the bed and curled into a little ball beside me as soon as I laid down. He purred, vibrating through the blankets. I grabbed my phone and, doomed scrolled through Instagram and TikTok. But no matter what I did, my mind drifted back to Jenna. The way she was there—from anxious to completely calm in the café. It was hard to match that with the version of her I'd seen on the screen. And the fact that we actually talked? That was still sinking in. Then there was the blush. That small, subtle blush when she realized she was the last one left in the café caught me off guard. Jenna Ortega, the same Jenna who played the confident, intense character on screen, blushing because she'd lost track of time in a quiet little coffee shop? It made her seem so much more...cute. I immediately slapped my face. 'No, no, not what I meant. I meant human.'" When I looked over, Noodles' eyes were wide, and his tail flickering. I must have startled him with that slap. After a moment of us watching each other, Clearly unimpressed, he huffed and circled a few times, kneading the blankets before settling back down. "Sorry Noodles...What do you think? I murmured, my fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes behind his ears. "Do you think I made a fool of myself?" He responded with a soft purr, utterly unbothered by my internal crisis. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, my mind replaying every detail of the evening: the way Jenna smiled when I brought her the donut, her casual posture as we talked about horror novels, and, of course, the way she blushed. It was as if, for a moment, she wasn't Jenna Ortega, the actress. She was just...Jenna. A regular person who got lost in a book, just like me. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. "I'll probably never see her again, right?" I muttered to myself. Noodles meowed softly in response, unbothered by my troubles. But a small part of me couldn't help but hope that maybe she'd come back. Noodles stretched, yawned, and moved closer, curling up beside me. I smiled at his contentment, but my mind was still swirling with thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder if this was it or if I'd get the chance to talk to her again. Maybe she'd come back. With her lingering in my mind, I eventually drifted off to sleep, contemplating the unexpected conversation that had turned my usual day at work into something unforgettable.

The next morning came far too quickly. My alarm blared, and I groaned, rolling over to smack the snooze button. Mr Noodles, the early riser, pounced on my chest and meowed directly in my face until I finally gave in. "Alright, I'm up," I muttered, pushing him off and dragging myself out of bed. After a quick shower, I threw on some clothes and grabbed my bag, ready to head back to The Daily Grind. As I patted Mr. Noodle's head one more time before slipping out the door. I headed out the door, keys in hand, and my phone buzzed as I locked up. I answered. "Hey, Y/N! You're going to have to open up today," she said, practically out of breath like she was jogging. "The twins are dragging their feet and won't put their shoes on! She yelled that last part as I pulled out of my parking spot. "Mama couldn't take them, so I got stuck on babysitter duty again. I'll be in later." I chuckled, imagining the chaos on her end. "No worries, Captain, I can hold down the fort until you come." "Thanks! Oh, and by the way..." Wilma's tone shifted to something more playful. "How did things go with Prima last night?" I paused for a moment, feeling my face heat up. Of course, Wilma was going to ask. I couldn't avoid it, but...did I really have to tell her everything? I could already picture the girl tackling me if she had to find out on her own fruition. "Y/N? You still there?" Wilma prompted, clearly sensing my hesitation. I sighed, knowing there was no way out. "It was fine. We just talked a bit more," I started, trying to keep my voice casual. "Mhm, sure," Wilma replied, egging me on. "And?" I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth creep up my neck. "Jenna...actually walked me to my car," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "And then she teased me, said I had somehow 'charmed' her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She flashed that smile—half playful, half serious—like she knew she was messing with me. Honestly, it was impossible not to blush." "Wait, hold up, She walked you to your car?" Wilma interrupted, her voice dripping with amusement. I could practically see her grinning on the other side of the phone. "And what smile? You've already memorized her smile, huh?" I groaned, blushing. "It wasn't like that, Wilma. She was just being...friendly." Wilma laughed. "Friendly? Please. You're a natural-born flirt, and you don't even realize it. And with "that" smile? She was totally into i—" "I wasn't flirting!" I protested; the thought of Jenna's smirk made me doubt my words. "She was just messing with me." "Oh sure, because it's so easy to charm someone with those smooth barista skills," Wilma teased. "You better brace yourself when she comes back. You're in trouble, Y/N." "Yeah," I admitted, resting my head on the steering wheel. "And then her bodyguards showed up out of nowhere and scared the life out of me." Wilma's laughter echoed through the phone. "Bodyguards? Of course. This keeps getting better by the second! What else? I know there's more." I sighed, already resigned to the teasing. "She made me promise that the next time she comes by, I'd share some of the stories about some bodyguards at the café." There was a beat of silence, and then, as expected, her laughter doubled. "Y/N, you've got her hooked! Wild café stories? She's definitely coming back now. Congrats—you've got yourself a celebrity lover. You're basically famous." "Wilma, seriously," I groaned. "Please don't blow this out of proportion." "Oh, honey, it's already out of proportion," her voice full of playful mischief. "You've charmed Jenna Ortega, and now she's coming back for more. I can already see it—this is how it all starts." I rolled my eyes, fully aware of how this conversation would go. "You're impossible." Wilma snickered. "Well, look at you—handling business like a pro. Don't let the fame go to your head, mascot. Remember to stay humble when you're hanging out with Hollywood Royalty." "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, though I couldn't suppress the small laugh. "I'll try not to let it change me."

"Alright, gotta get these monsters buckled and shipped off to school. Don't have too much fun without me!" "Sure, I'll try not to, and hopefully, I'll survive the first horde," I said, grinning as I hung up the phone. As I pocketed my phone, I shook my head, a smile lingering on my lips. I was starting to get used to the teasing. I grabbed my bag and headed inside. The sun crept up, casting soft light through the windows as I unlocked the door. Stepping inside, I could still feel the leftover warmth from yesterday. The café was quiet and still, just how I liked it before the rush. I went to the back, checked in, and threw my stuff into my locker before heading to the employee area. I slipped into my all-black barista uniform—simple black pants and a fitted black shirt before getting my apron from the hook by the door. The apron was the only pop of color, a warm brown that stood out against the dark. As I tied it around my waist, I fell into work mode. First things first: the plants. I grabbed the watering can we kept under the counter, filled it up halfway, and made my way around, giving each hanging plant a good drink. The soft trickle of water and the rustle of leaves was strangely calming, making the café feel like it was waking up, too. I always made sure to take extra care of the plants; Wilma was obsessed with them. Her grandmother had a green thumb, and she followed suit. So she'd notice if even one leaf looked droopy. Next up, I headed to the kitchen to bake the day's pastries. The scent of flour and sugar greeted me as I pulled out the ingredients. I started with the croissants, carefully rolling the dough before placing them on the baking tray.

While they baked, I started on the rest of today's menu items. If a customer wanted anything else, we'd bake it fresh for them. Next, the muffins were mixed with batter and folded in fresh blueberries. The lemon scones were last—I zested the lemons, mixed the dough, and shaped them perfectly before sliding them into the oven. As they finished in the oven, the warm, sweet smells began to fill the café, and I could already imagine the regulars lining up for their favorites. Once they were done, I arranged the croissants, muffins, and scones, which were still hot, and I knew they'd be the first to go as soon as we opened the doors. I also double-checked the coffee machines, making sure they were clean and ready to brew all day long. Once the plants were watered and pastries set, I headed to the front window to hang up a new poster advertising an upcoming poetry night we were hosting. Wilma printed and designed it with bold artistic letters and a little sketch of a coffee cup next to it. I used a bit of tape to secure the edges, securing it to the front window and centered for everyone to see. As I finished up, I wiped down the tables and chairs, making sure everything was spotless. The last thing I needed was someone complaining about a sticky spot on a table or chair. I rearranged the cushions, giving the booths that extra welcoming touch. Everything was in place by the time I was done, and The Daily Grind was ready to go. The café had this lived-in feel that always made me smile. It was the kind of space that felt like a warm hug—for anyone who needed it. I poured the fresh streaming brew into a mug, fixing it up just how I liked it, feeling the warmth spreading through my hands. As I leaned against the counter, taking that first comforting sip, a familiar figure appeared outside, her bodyguards in tow. I wasn't even officially open yet, but when Jenna Ortega knocks, who am I to not answer? I walked over to unlock the door, letting her and the guards in. Jenna wasn't in her usual hoodie this time. Today, she wore a stylish see-through white tee paired with a pair of plaid pants with high heels. Looking casual but chic. "You look nice," I said, feeling the comment slip out naturally. Jenna smiled warmly. "Thanks. She added, "I have an early interview for an upcoming film...and then some other boring meetings," her tone was slightly sarcastic. I gave her a teasing look. "Boring? Sounds like you've got a rough life," I joked, rolling my eyes playfully. Jenna chuckles lightly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, it's tough being me," she shot back. I shrugged, "Well, technically, we're not open yet, but I've already got everything set up, so if you want, I can get you and your crew settled in." Jenna exchanged a quick look with her bodyguards, who nodded back at her. "Thanks, that would be great." I turned to the guards, who had positioned themselves quietly near the entrance. "So, what can I get you guys?" The taller two, who had a more serious demeanor, spoke first. "I'll take a hot coffee. Black, with two pumps of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon." The second guard, who seemed more talkative, said with a small smile, "Tea, please. With milk and one sugar. I'm more of a tea guy myself." I nodded and then looked back at Jenna, expecting her to give her order, but I beat her. "Iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream, right?" Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Not bad. I guess I'm predictable." Jenna leaned her back on the counter as I got to work preparing the drinks, glancing toward the front. "What's that about?" she asked, pointing to the poster I hung earlier. "Oh, that? We run an event for people to come to enjoy poetry or music with their coffee. It's pretty laid-back. Kind of a 'grab the mic if you feel like it' vibe." Jenna nodded, looking at it. "Noted," was all she said softly. "Here's your drinks," I called. Each drink lined up. I handed the bodyguards their drinks, and they settled into the bar area by the cash register while Jenna and I sat at one of the tables, far enough away to talk privately.

"Sorry to inconvenience you again." Jenna replied, smiling briefly before glancing out the window, her fingers tracing the rim of her drink, a little distracted. "You look like you're lost," I teased. "Something on your mind?" Jenna blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and giving me a small smile." Just thinking about the day ahead. Meetings, interviews...nothing too exciting." She glanced at me, smile falling slightly. "But I guess everyone has their own version of busy, right?" I nodded. "Yeah, but at least your 'busy' involves making movies. Not a bad gig." Jenna chuckled softly, "True, but you'd be surprised how much of it is just waiting around, talking about things you've already said a thousand times. It's not all glamorous." I tilted my head slightly, "I can imagine. It's like running a coffee shop. People think it's just pouring drinks and chatting with customers, but there is a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff no one sees." She looked up around me, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "Yeah? Like what?" I shrugged. "You know, making sure machines are maintained, cleaned, and functional, keeping the inventory stocked, baking pastries fresh every day, And don't even get me started with dealing with the occasional difficult customer, celebrity or not." She laughed, her smile returning tenfold. "I guess we both deal with our fair share of drama, huh?" I grinned, nodding. "Exactly. but hey, at least you get to wear cool outfits. All I get is this apron." She glanced at my apron. "Well...it suits you. And besides, I'm sure you could pull off one or two if you tried." My blush crept up, but I sipped from my cup to cover it. Jenna gave me a playful smile, taking a sip of her own. "So," Jenna began, "Where's Wilma this morning? I feel like I'm missing the other half of this Daily Grind dynamic duo." "She had to drop off her siblings at school," I explained, getting comfortable. "We've been best friends since preschool. Never really been apart, even traveled across the country to open this place together." Jenna's curiosity grew. "That's amazing. No wonder you guys make a great team; you're like a hive mind." I nodded, laughing at the thought. "As terrifying as that is, we do make a great team. Wilma's practically family. We've seen each other through school and jobs. It's been an adventure." Jenna's gaze softened as she asked, "And your real family? Are they around?" I shifted slightly, setting my drink down. "My older brothers, Marcus and Caleb, live here in California with me. We share an apartment together. But the rest of my family, my parents and younger sister, are back in New York." Her eyes lit up. "Wait, you've got a younger sister too? Same here—she can be such a pain, always finding ways to bug me, but that's little sisters for, right?" Jenna chuckled softly, a mix of affection and exaggeration in her voice. "She keeps me on my toes." I chuckled, adding, "Tell me about it. Sometimes, it's a lot of deciding whether to ship her off or not, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. And then, of course, there's Mr. Noodles." Jenna's brow furrowed in confusion, gnawing at her straw. "Mr. Noodles?" I smiled, nodding. My tuxedo cat. He's the real boss of the house." Jenna gasped loudly, startling her guards. "I need to see pictures. Now." I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the dozens of photos I had of Mr. Noodles, and handed it over. Jenna's face lit up with a huge smile as she swiped through the photos. "He's adorable! Look at this gentleman; his tie is too cute! How can you ever leave him to go to work?" I shrugged, shaking my head. "It's tough, but he's got work too. He's a professional napper around the clock, so he manages without me." Jenna handed the phone back, shaking her head in return. But my brain froze; her fingers brushed against mine for a brief moment. It quite literally—shocked me. "Thanks," she said, her hand lingering just a second longer than I expected before she pulled away. "No problem," I replied, trying to calm my racing heart.

"I think I might be in love with Mr. Noodles more than anything else." she joked. I laughed as the door swung open, and Wilma burst in, a disheveled mess, panting like she had just run a marathon. "Sorry, sorry! I swear, herding those beasts into the car is like trying to wrangle lions." Jenna, her guards, and I all turned to look at Wilma, who attempted to play it cool, straightening up as she wiped her brow. "Don't mind me. I'll be in the back getting ready." But before disappearing, she shot me a cheeky smile and said, "Keep charming, mascot." I quickly drank from my empty mug, hoping the ground of the mug would swallow me whole. Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Mascot?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. I rubbed the back of my neck, "Yeah, it's just Wilma's nickname. She has called me since we opened the café, and she says I'm the face of the place." Jenna let out a laugh, "That's cute. It suits you," she teased, her smile growing. She added, "So, do I call you Mascot now, or is that just reserved by Wilma?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "More like trademarked; she's big on original nicknames but doesn't mind if they stick." "Alright, then, I'll have to go to the drawing board." She chuckled. Jenna's guards glanced at each other, then at the phone in front of them, before standing up. "Ma'am, we've got to head out. Your manager's been calling non-stop," one of them said, holding up Jenna's phone. It read 25 missed calls and 12 growing messages. She sighed, clearly not ready to leave, but she nodded. "Alright, guess I've got to go face the music." She stood up, and I offered to top off her coffee. "You've got a busy schedule. Want a refill to help get through it?" Jenna smiled gratefully. "That would be great, thanks." I quickly refilled her cup, handing it back to her as she pulled out some cash. I frowned, confused. "You don't have to—" She cut me off with a smirk. "I never paid for my drink the other day, and I'm covering today, too. Keep the change as a tip for the drink and for treating me like an actual person." She handed me the cash, along with a piece of paper. As Jenna and her guards left the café, the door softly closed behind them. I stare down at the money. Suddenly, I felt a pinch on my arm. "Ow!" I yelped, spinning around to see Wilma scolding me. "That was to snap you out of it. Also, for not charging your celebrity crush like a regular customer," she teased, hands on her hips. I shot her a look. "I was! I was just caught up in conversation. And besides, Jenna's a good tipper." Looking back at it, I realized the paper wasn't just her receipt—it had her Instagram handle scribbled at the bottom, along with a note that read, 'Thanks for the coffee and conversations again, Slick. You still owe me some more café stories.' I stood there, dumbfounded, as Wilma yelled back, "Come on, mascot, it's opening time before I take your tip!" Snapping back to reality, I shook my head and pocketed the receipt and money. "Alright, alright, I was just counting!"

[bluejackals]

post-chunkban pt2

continuation of this. word count 1202

notes: I think the european cathedrals inspired images and plagues in myhead

---

But where would that leave him? Alone on this cold cliff, purposeless again, without even the lump of hope sitting in his throat that Parrot meant it when he said he wanted Wifies as his best friend. Yes, Wifies might have Ken, and Ken is warm and wonderful and loyal down to the bone, but this is someone who doesn’t know what he is who says he wants him. This is Parrot, whose eyes are the sun, and Wifies can’t give that up. 

The strength—and perhaps also shame—of that revelation sinks him to his knees, right there on the rock. He looks up at Parrot, who is so bright it hurts Wifies’s eyes. 

For whatever reason, Wifies’s tear ducts have never been removed. Maybe it made the escape rooms feel more real to the viewers, if his eyes could water and he could cry. 

So he cries now—unwillingly, shamefully, truthfully. The tears scorch his face before being torn away by the wind. No, he’ll never be able to give the sun up. 

“I can’t,” he says. A confession to the figure staring down at him in all his shame. “I can’t.” 

Can’t tell him, can’t kill him. Would he be doing this if he knew?

“You have time.” The words sink into his veins. He shivers. Time, time, time. It feels like he’s always running out of it. 

He can’t be truthful with Parrot, but he can do this—make his way to him. Even if he has to crawl on his knees.

He manages to stand a few feet away from Parrot, ignoring any residual aches from the stone. It feels like layers of him slough off with the grit of the rocks as he does. Parrot’s eyes follow him the whole way.

Wifies takes the feather. 

It’s like flipping a lever. Parrot’s wings relax and he lets out a colossal breath and the morning light hits Wifies in thick, gauzy beams. Wifies has to blink a few more times, both to adjust his eyes and to clear away any residual from the crying. It helps to clear his head too. 

“Hey,” Parrot says. 

“Hey.” Thankfully, Wifies’s voice doesn’t crack. 

Parrot rolls his shoulders. “So. Um. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know that much about any of this. I don’t—I guess if you don’t mind explaining what that was?” Wifies is very curious. This is knowledge untouched by anything from his past; this is knowledge he can swallow whole. 

“Sure. Wanna sit?” 

When Wifies nods, Parrot rummages around in his inventory and pulls out two white carpets, setting them on the cliff and pinning them down with stray stones. Wifies takes the one further from the cliffsides. 

There’s a crunch as Parrot bites into an apple with a thoughtful expression on his face. He looks calmer—not forcibly calm like he’d been yesterday, not impassively calm like he’d been just now. Wifies realizes he also feels calmer. The churning in his stomach has reduced to lapping waves, barely present. 

“Mm. Okay. I—when I say I, I mean avians—shed feathers all the time. Those random feathers don’t really mean anything on their own.” 

To prove his point, Parrot rattles a wing. A lone piece of fluff falls out. “See? I obviously don’t moult all of them all at once, or else I’d look stupid and I wouldn’t be able to fly.” 

“Like an actual parrot,” Wifies observes. 

Parrot chuckles. “Yeah. But anyways, feathers that are freely given have significance. There’s a bunch of rituals with different meanings and stuff that are used when giving feathers. So ‘what just happened’ was one of those.”

“Which one?” The question tumbles out of Wifies’s mouth. He’s having fun learning this. Maybe too much fun. It feels like too much fun. “Sorry, I—”

“No, that’s a good question,” Parrot says. “You should get to know that.” He takes another bite out of his apple, throat bobbing when he swallows. “There’s not really a set name for it, I guess. I’ve been calling it the ‘Beginning’ ritual in my head. The feather given is one of the smaller ones because accepting it is accepting the beginning of something, whether that’s an alliance or a promise, and it’s done at dawn because that’s the beginning of a new day. It’s pretty self-explanatory. I’ve done it a few times.”

He tucks the finished apple core away. “I only use it for promises and relationships. There are other ways to make alliances that aren’t this serious.” A small smile. “I mean, you saw how dramatic that was, right? And I had to time it perfectly.” 

“But it was beautiful,” Wifies says. Beautiful and terrifying. 

“It’s meant to be, yeah,” Parrot murmurs. “But I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did. A lot.” He means it. Then his curiosity nudges him towards another question. “I feel like ‘Beginning’ implies a next part,” Wifies muses. “Are there related ones?”

“Yeah. There’s at least two more parts. The feathers given get bigger and bigger. People who get really serious will go up to a primary.” 

An unasked question materializes, hanging in the air between them. Will you? Will I?

Parrot’s headwings drift towards his face like free-floating curtains, then abruptly snap back. “I’ve…yeah. I’ve gone that far. I’d—I’d do it again.” He stares at Wifies. “If it felt right.”

Maybe that lightness Wifies felt after the ritual was the removal of Wifies’s ability to maintain a neutral resting face. He must’ve shown some kind of question in his expression. “That’s…thanks for the information.”

Wifies has a very, very good guess of just who has one of Parrot’s primaries. But it would be beyond rude to ask Parrot, so he thanks the heavens that he doesn’t have that loose of a tongue.

“Do you have any specific questions now?” Parrot asks. “Since you know some basic stuff.”

“Hmm. Actually, yeah. What’s the proper way to store this? Or wear it? I’ve seen people with earrings. Is that how it works?”

“It’s up to you,” Parrot says. “A lot of people just keep the first feather in a pocket somewhere on them so it travels with them through respawns. Turning the later feathers into jewelery is more common.” 

“I’ll stitch it into my jacket cuff, if that’s okay?” 

Parrot blinks, then smiles. “Yeah, that works. That’s a pretty innovative way of doing it too. Remember, it’s first and foremost supposed to be a gift to you, so you can do whatever.”

Right. The feather is Wifies’s. He doesn’t have that much to his name—a painful history, a prong of the trident he and Ken used in there, the clothes he wears. But now he has this as well. Something warm blooms in his chest. It’s his. Just like the trident fragment. And Ken might be happy to hear about it, because Ken always tells Wifies he should have more things. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Parrot.”

Parrot nods. “Thank you too, Wifies.”

Wifies blinks. “For what?”

“Being you.” 

It’s so—Parrot. It’s a little corny and honey-sweet and Wifies’s stomach does what can best be described as a floppy somersault. Parrot didn’t say “thank you for being Wifies." It makes all the difference.  

[wsdanon]

hello shotgunners fans take another little thing of some of them… (Felps and guaxi, but if you’d like to think about it the absence of Matt speaks volumes. or something…)

fic is based on a moment from the first clip in this little video I posted. Felps does actually die to the centipede a little after and then texts Guaxinim to ask for help retrieving his items

reblogs appreciated, hope you enjoy \o/!!

Felps wakes up in a bed. Which is already a red flag in of itself, but is quickly forgotten in favour of the fact he feels like shit. Cold burrows in his bones while heat lathers his skin, nausea broiling in his stomach with a pounding headache to top things off. 

There’s someone with him. Maybe. In this bed which is definitely not his bed because he doesn’t have a bed yet. 

A low light hovers on the other side of his eyelids—necessary for him to get any answers, but already irritating with the shield that closed eyes offers. 

He shifts, and groans. His body aches. More than aches. The person with him cups his face and gently taps next to his eyes—an obvious request that he doesn’t want to comply with, but probably should. 

He lets his eyes open a slit and sees Guaxinim’s face in front of him. That’s good. Someone familiar—someone he trusts with almost all the important things. 

Another tap to the side of his eyes makes him realise they’ve slipped shut again. He blinks rapidly—trying to keep them open—and Guaxi’s hand disappears from his face to take up his vision instead. 

“Felps—are you okay?” He signs. 

“No.” He groans out, not entirely sure where his hands are and not willing to risk shaking his head. 

“I found you passed out while mining.” Guaxi explains—too much information for right now, really. “You sent me your location asking for help, remember?”

“No.”

“I think you were poisoned.” 

And whatever else Guaxinim says, Felps misses, as—with another groan—his eyes slip shut again. 

Poison makes sense. He feels poisoned. He remembers something—big, and scary, and painful. It’s a little hazy. He was bitten? 

The blankets are too warm, Guaxinim is too warm… but at the same time Felps tries to burrow closer. Maybe if he overheats enough it’ll stop the shivering in his bones. 

He tries to protest as Guaxinim pulls him away and sits him up, but his limbs are heavier than he can work with, and Guaxi is easily strong enough to move his dead weight. It would almost be attractive if Felps’ skeleton wasn’t trying to shake itself to dust. 

Guaxinim says something and Felps can’t even attempt to lip read. He’s pretty sure Guaxi laughs, though. 

He’s propped up in a corner, Guaxi’s hands gently resting his head back against the walls. 

“You’re so out of it.” Guaxi signs, before signing a small laugh as well. Then he tucks the blanket around Felps again. “I asked Matt to find some milk, so I’m going to go get it from him, okay?”

Why can’t Matt just come here? He doesn’t want Guaxi to leave. And Matt’s warm. Matt’s so warm. Warm in Felps’ chest—with an uncomfortable itching accompanying it, sure, but that must be better than this. Matt could fix this, surely. 

“I didn’t want to leave you alone, you know?” Guaxi pauses his signing to briefly cup Felps’ cheeks and press a kiss to his forehead. “But Meiaum just got back, okay? He’ll keep an eye on you.”

And sure enough, Meiaum walks into his line of sight. Him and Guaxi talk for a moment, then Guaxinim leaves and Meiaum joins him on the bed. 

“Cold.” Felps murmurs out. 

Meiaum frowns, and leans closer. Asks him to repeat himself. 

“I’m cold.”

“Oh! Hm…” 

He looks around—presumably for another blanket—and, finding nothing, decides to tug Felps closer. 

He’s worse than Guaxinim at moving Felps—which is probably less about strength and more about not knowing how to move him—but eventually Felps is tucked against his side, his head resting on Meiaum’s shoulder. Meiaum pulls the blankets around himself as well to get them closer, then wraps an arm around Felps’ shoulders. 

It’s a little better. 

It’s better enough that Felps drifts back to sleep, at least.

When he’s woken up again, a glass of milk is shoved in his face. 

He blinks hazily at it. Not entirely sure what to do.

“Drink?” Guaxinim signs. 

And okay, sure, he can do that. 

The blanket is tugged down, which is not appreciated, but at least his hands are freed. And this time he even feels like he can move them. So, with shaky hands he takes the glass—although he can tell Guaxinim still has a hold of it. 

At the first sip he’s already feeling a little better. Which gives him the motivation to finish it. 

“Feeling better?” Guaxinim asks. 

Felps signs a yes. 

“Nice!” Guaxinim smiles—wide and pretty. “That should take care of the poison, at least. And I already bandaged your wounds, so don’t worry about all that, okay? Now you just need to rest up.”

“Okay.”

“Here. Let me help you lie down.”

Guaxinim waits a moment for him to protest, before doing just that. Meiaum—who was asleep? Maybe?—shifts to lie down behind him, while Guaxi cuddles up against his front. 

It’s a bit of a tight fit. At the moment, at least, Guaxinim’s bed is not really made for all that many people. But Felps is too worn out to worry about any discomfort. 

And it is kind of nice, anyway. Comforting. Scary cave creatures—a giant centipede, he can remember it a little better now—can’t hurt him while he’s tucked between these two. 

So, he takes Guaxi’s advice and lets himself drift off to sleep again. 

——

Hope you enjoyed \o/!! Matt is not allowed in their secret base yet sadly

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[saintaviator]

lineup fer an AU I've been slowly rotating in my head for a month or so.... sniles....

[BETTER LINEUP & FULL AU EXPLANATION HERE !!!!]

[pigeonclaw]

Idk man. Not a fan of the theory / headcanon about Moonpaw hearing the voice of the sibling she absorbed in utero. That gets a little too close to "fetuses have souls" for me to feel comfortable around and I seriously hope that's not what's gonna happen. Chimerism doesn't make you into two people. It's not conjoined twins. She's just one cat made with two sets of genes. We don't have to get too weird about how bodies just naturally turn out sometimes. Idk.

[kiok0r0]

im an artist i can literally just doodle everything and call it good as intended why am i trying to do high quality instagram worthy art? i just need to doodle silly skeletons and my sonas holding hands and kissing and my life would be normal and complete. the crops would be watered i can be less stressed about perfectionism and just go at my pace and draw to my content and—

[samarecharm]

A lack of a Hold-Up mechanic in strikers means that Zenkichi has never witnessed these kids corner and mug shadows for every little penny theyre worth. I think he would lose his mind. Hes trotting around the metaverse w teenagers that have too much experience holding shadows at gunpoint to get what they want. When did this become his life. Neko shogun throws out a snuff soul as an offering and Akira doesnt remove the gun from its face. ‘You can do better than that.’ What the hell do u mean??? Its a fucking cat! It throws another snuff soul on the ground in fear before Akira decides to finally lower the gun and let the cat run off. At least they arent killing the damn things w their backs turned.

[skrunksthatwunk]

this could be kuwameshi if you guys would like. take my hand and trust me

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[todayisafridaynight]

Why not combine them? You could post about MineDai eating pasta! Does Mine bulk with pasta? Does Daigo have a favorite pasta dish? Do they cook it together for a date night? Does Daigo even know how to boil water?? (Genuinely if you have any interest in posting about this please do, would read)

mine could, in fact, be the one who makes daigo pasta with a lil olive oil and salt and parmesan youre right ......

[numberoneanika]

Honestly the roleplay blogs are stronger than I am because if I saw a post where people were saying my blog was annoying and calling me corny I would jump in a large pit and rot away

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

hm

thinking of my blorbos but not in a "i love you you love me all is well" way but a "i love you hope you kill me" way lol