#monique's event days

[velvetcloxds]

if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

Enemies to lovers kinda thing where reader or spencer admits feelings accidentally, like a slip of tongue maybe.

I'LL KEEP YOU WARM | S.R.

word count: 1.6k (stop)

warnings: one-bed trope, fem!reader- also I didn't literally have them say ily but he does admit to not hating the reader and in fact caring for the reader which is basically ily in enemies to lovers

You had spent nearly an hour next to Spencer considering the very creative and unprofessional things you’d planned to text Penelope in the morning once you could charge your phone on the jet, all of which would surely be forgotten in the morning, but it was a very good distraction from your current situation. You and Penelope had a general disagreement about the status of your relationship with Spencer Reid, your partner for the last few months. You were sure without a single doubt that he absolutely hated you, Penelope believed that what felt like hate was really pent-up tension that needed to be released- by putting the two of you together in one room with only one bed, she had clearly decided it was time for the tension to be released.

You were lucky the case had taken so much out of the team, neither of you thinking too much of the little double bed you were stuck in, just skipping through the shower and crawling under the questionable sheets. Spencer was asleep by the time you got into bed, and you were quite grateful he didn’t have to witness the sight of you shivering in the skimpy Bambi pajamas that should’ve been thrown away ages ago. How were you to know on the night you’d be there it would all of a sudden be cold? Basically, the sleeping arrangement wasn’t all that encouraging to sleep, you were cold, in the bed with someone you found alarmingly attractive that just so happened to hate you, and being in said bed with him meant you had to leave your comfort stuffed animal in your go bag.

You were careful when you rolled over, knowing you’d be much closer to Spencer than you should be, balled up still, holding an extra pillow against your chest and the neon sign just across the street made for good lighting in the supposed to be dark room. He was much prettier like this, you decided, quiet and unconscious, perfect to look at without being met with some dismissing comment or gesture that you’d replay for the rest of the day. Like this you could appreciate the little dimple that dipped right beside his lips even when he wasn’t smiling, or the little beauty marks you wouldn’t see if you weren’t looking for them, or the fact that his hair smelled like pomegranate- you were always sure it was something fruity, never sure which fruit but now you knew, you’d think about him every time you smelled pomegranate.

Your head dipped further into the pillow when he moved, sighed as if something interesting was happening in his head even asleep, of course it would, his hair fell over his eyes, and you had to clutch the pillow tighter to stop yourself from reaching forward and moving the hair away from distorting your view. You wondered as you wondered before what had made him so very set in his distain for you, you’d been very encouraging of all his quirks and habits, in fact you thought they accommodated your own surprisingly well. Yet he’s been acting a proper nightmare since Hotch reassigned the two of you to the same car, as if all of a sudden, your very existence was a thorn in his side and you wished you could remove yourself for his sake but Hotch was adamantly against the paperwork of it all.

“Why do you hate me, Spencer Reid?” you sighed, the question too quiet for even you to hear but you had to put it out there for even a second, shifting into the little cocoon you’d created by tucking the blanket under your bum and around your feet, but you were interrupted. Spencer was still moving, another sigh, much less dreamy this time as he tried to tug on the blanket, probably just as cold as you were, one more tug and you realized he was trying to pull it away from where it was tucked under you, his eyes opened with a disgruntled question.

“Y/n?” it sounded like a mixture of surprise and realization, like he’d somehow forgotten you were there in the first place, or like he’d assumed you’d find some other sleeping arrangements after your shower- you’d tried, Emily wasn’t fond of sharing or rather wasn’t fond of kicking you off the bed through the night and JJ was stuck in a single bed, not like you’d ask Derek or Hotch though the thought had definitely crossed your mind.

“Sorry,” you whispered almost on instinct, moving forward completely accidentally and his tired gaze focussed instantly. “Sorry,” you whispered again, and when you allowed him to take more of the blanket his hand brushed over your shoulder. The shiver it created was both due to the sudden touch and the sudden warmth. “Sorry,” you tried to move back, save him from the cold of your skin.

“You’re freezing,” he noted, and you wanted to explain yourself, apologetic even for your own disdain of the weather but he didn’t give you much time, gently stealing the pillow from your grip and chucking it across the room, silencing your indistinct questions by pulling you against him. “I was waiting for you to get out of the shower and I must've fallen asleep," he explained, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself when he gently guided your head to rest against his chest, on his pillow, in fact, you were sure this was some sleep-deprived hallucination that you’d have to scorn yourself for conjuring. “I assumed that you hadn’t packed for the cold even though I always tell you to.”

“It was supposed to be sunny,” you argued, and he scoffed a soft sound, you felt it against your ear, and you didn’t know what to do about that either. He dragged a finger up your arm, flicked the frilly pink sleeve of your shirt, and shook his head, you felt that too. In fact, you could feel him breathing, could feel his pulse right through his long-sleeved shirt.

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” he fought, and you had to see him, couldn’t let him scorn you with your face buried between his pecks, so you tilted your head back, trying to ignore that it forced your bodies to shift closer somehow.

“And you know more than the weathermen now?” he shrugged, and the roll of your eyes was the closest you’d ever come to taking him on for his attitude towards you, it was also his signal that you were done so he tightened his hold, fighting a smirk when you didn’t fight him. He was warm, impossibly warm considering the room, you wished you could steal every ounce of warmth right from him, and the hand that slid up his arm under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist had a mind of its own and you’d be embarrassed were you not so desperate. “Sorry,” you realized but he stopped you before you could pull away, fingers circling your arm to keep you still.

“Stop apologizing,” his tone was odd, you couldn’t read it, you could rarely read him to begin with but enough to know just how far to stay away from him that day, but this was new, rushed, forced, like he didn’t think it through which isn’t a characteristic the man holds. “I don’t mind, I don’t want you to be cold,” he explained and he made it sound just as logical as one of the little facts he’d share with the team, as if cuddling someone you disliked was entirely logical as well.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not? Why would I want you to be cold?” why on earth was that such a silly thing to expect of him, you shrugged, you didn’t know what to say, like you’d ever for a second considered that the man cared enough to even think about what you feel let alone care about how you feel. “I don’t want you to be cold,” he was softer when he repeated it and the grip he had turned to something so soft there wasn’t even a word for it, like he’d realized what he was doing and in a second it became less about keeping you warm and more just about keeping you in his arms. “I care about you, why wouldn’t I care about you being cold,” Your thumb brushed up and down his skin, too comfortable.

“You care about me?”  he’d never admit to anyone, let alone himself how much it pained him to hear the surprise in your voice, the genuine disbelieve you’d feel towards such a simple statement, such an obvious declaration, you were his partner, his teammate, his friend, his- well you were someone he cared about, and he’d made a proper mess of things if you thought otherwise.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t hate you,” you bit your lip, of course he’d heard that, even in his sleep he’s a proper pain in the behind, hear all, know all. “It’s late,” he decided even though he had no clue of what the time was, he just couldn’t talk about this anymore. “We’ve had a long day, you should get some sleep.”

“Spencer." Why you wanted to explain yourself you didn’t know, it’s not like he hadn’t given you copious amounts of evidence proving he disliked you, so why would he expect you'd thought he felt anything else. “I’m sorry,” he scoffed, squeezing you lightly.

“Stop apologizing to me,” his chin rested on the top of your head, the most foreign feeling yet it came so naturally to him, just like leaning into him felt natural to you, like your bodies knew what to do when your minds didn’t. “Get some sleep,” he relished in the feeling of you melting into him, like he was giving you permission to do so. “I’ll keep you warm,” and he did, even when he’d convinced himself to fall asleep, he was sure to keep an arm around you in whatever position you’d shifted to, to keep you warm, only to keep you warm- even when the sun came up, even when the cold fled the room. In the morning he’d wonder when the cold had fled from his heart.  

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

James shivers automatically. It's exactly like how it was back the first time someone used him as a magic space battery. Because the "magic" of him was more about what he'd brushed up against in space, while he felt the change, it felt more odd than draining, being pulled from around him, a change he could feel but couldn't describe if he wanted to. He found himself tensing up all the same.

Cora resists a whine, burrowing into Ciri just slightly at the feeling and trying to breathe through, holding onto her for dear life as much as she can, still gripping her brother's hand.

Cal shudders, shaking his head. Oh, he hated that. That... that felt wrong, so completely odd, but... looking at everyone else, he doesn't feel the same exhaustion the rest of them do, and he has to wonder--

I don't like it either, little rat. Don't do something like this again. A simple warning. He should have known she'd have some connection to him through the deal. He doesn't answer her.

Brandon watches his sisters anxiously, glancing at Ciri with obvious distrust. When she points out the crack, he steps over to them to make sure they were okay and ready to do this.

Ciri ignores the growing exhaustion as she begins to feel the magic following through the people on either side of her. It's not near the deep and bottomless well that was Meredith's curse, but it should be enough. It has to be enough. She begins to pull from all of them, beginning to weave their magic back into the earth. There isn't a spell for this, just pure instinct, mending the cracks she caused, trying to right her own wrongs.

The drain is felt immediately. Atlas barely manages to keep himself standing, his magic gone in what seems like an instant. The witches hold on a little longer, but soon their noses start to bleed, one by one as the magic begins to take its toll. The Hopes hold on the longest, feeding as much as they can into her spell, but even they feel the drain on their bodies, on their souls, as their magic seeps from them to her.

Yarrow isn't sure what it is exactly that he feels. An exhaustion, a hunger. He thinks he would be in pain if he could feel it, but for now, he just feels wrong.

The cracks around them begin to shudder and close, stitching themselves back together. It's slow and grueling work to close the other ones, further away, slowly working at putting everyone and everything back in its place. She can only do so much with the magic she has, but she does her best to fix the destruction and bring everyone home.

Soon, all that's left is one singular crack, right in front of them. Ciri shudders and pants, clearly exhausted and barely holding on. But still, she turns towards the S'chn L'vorr clan with a weak smile. "That should bring you all home."

[fafnir19]

Sword Borthers

Louis sat at his desk, with piles of papers and screens surrounding him like a fortress of monotony. The office was as lively as a retirement home, and the only entertainment Louis had was peering out the window at the obnoxious frat boys from the nearby university.

Their booming laughter and cocky swagger grated on his last nerve, but a small part of him couldn't help but envy their carefree existence. With his 35-years Louis was trapped in a dead-end office job, the only splash of color was Monique, a stunning 29-year-old colleague who had unknowingly stolen Louis's heart. Unfortunately, his crippling shyness transformed him into the office's resident hermit crab, too timid to approach her with anything more than a weak smile during their coffee breaks.

One day, after a successful business deal, the entire office headed to the city's party district. Louis usually preferred quieter events, but the atmosphere was infectious, and Monique was there too. The presence of the obnoxious frat jocks didn't bother him much at the time. As the drinks flowed, Monique approached Louis, and he could hardly believe his luck. The night escalated quickly, and Louis found himself entangled in a passionate affair with Monique.

Buoyed by the night with Monique, Louis decided to take up some exercise. While showering at the gym, the frat jocks, just finished with their weightlifting, joined him.

Trevor, the frat president, approached Louis and mentioned that he had heard about Louis and Monique's tryst, adding that she had been quite, ahem, aroused. Anger surged through Louis at Trevor's disrespect, but Trevor continued, revealing that he had also slept with Monique just before Louis did, referring to her as a 'naughty little minx.' The rage within Louis grew, but Trevor slyly suggested that if they crossed their cocks now, they would officially become 'sword brothers' and have no need for animosity. Finding Trevor's dialogue incredibly crude, Louis was about to protest, but before he could retaliate, Trevor did the unthinkable. He forcefully pushed Louis against the shower wall, their manhoods—er, swords—crossing paths in a test of manliness.

In that moment, a surge of energy coursed through Louis, and the world began to spin. When Louis regained his senses, he was transformed. He looked 19 years old and had a toned, athletic body.

Both he and Trevor were at a loss for words. One of the other frat jocks suddenly shouted, "Brother over lover!" and they all cheered, exchanging high-fives. For Trevor, the situation was clear – Louis was now his little 'sword brother.' He grinned at Louis, eager to play the role of mentor, saying that he had always wanted a younger brother and that he would teach Louis everything he needed to know. Louis protested, reminding Trevor he was more than ten years older than him, but Trevor just grinned back, saying that Louis didn't look older anymore. In the locker room, Louis's wallet accidentally fell out of his locker, and his ID card slipped free. Both Louis and Trevor looked up simultaneously, and while Louis froze in shock, Trevor's grin widened. The ID card displayed Louis's transformed appearance, along with a revised birthdate — he was now 19 years old, three years younger than Trevor.

Trevor refused to see Louis as anything other than his little 'bro.' The other frat jocks immediately dressed Louis in a tracksuit and whisked him away to the frat house, determined to figure out what had happened.

They discovered that if Louis climaxed within the next 24 hours, his transformation would become permanent. And if the frat jocks were the ones to bring him to climax, not only would he remain transformed, but he would become a pledge as well. Trevor demanded that Louis surrender and climax, but Louis refused to comply. Trever was not willing to give up his new little brother. So, Trevor and some of the frat jocks grabbed Louis and Trevor started to pleasure him.

Trevor whispered seductively in Louis ear: "Just cum and become a pledge. I will mold you and you will be like me in no time." Louis tried to fight it; to be like Trevor was the last thing he wanted in the world. However, Trevor proceeded to pleasure Louis masterly and he felt that Louis was near to climax. Trevor shouted at Louis:" Shoot your load in my hand and become my willing pledge!" Louis couldn't resist anymore and came. 

Now a pledge, Louis found himself living the college experience he had once longed for.

Trevor treated him as a little brother, and though Louis initially resisted, he soon realized that this was his second chance in life. When Louis donned the first time the official frat suit he got to his surprise a boner.

Trevor smirked and said:" Perfect, your sword is already loyal to the frat and your mind will follow soon." And Trevor was right, soon Louis was looking up to Trevor and he wanted to be like him.

As Trevor completed his studies and moved out of the frat house, Louis was his perfect successor – an incredibly handsome, athletic, and desirable individual with brains and good grades - and a sex machine. Trevor was proud of his little sword-bro!

[rubykgrant]

I had a dream that there was this sequel series to Kim Possible, her and Ron were grown up and married with kids, they had twins (since it runs in Kim's family) a boy and a girl (I don't remember what their first names were, but a running joke was one of them hyphened their last name as Stoppable-Possible, while the other did Possible-Stoppable. it was just kind of a funny bit they did, but it also helped them be put in different classes at school since S-P and P-S were sorted differently). For a while, Kim and Ron have both been staying home more to be with the kids, but they're 15 now, so the parents are stepping back into going on missions again. On one big mission, something very strange happens, and Kim goes missing...

At first, Ron is trying to run down a lot of leads with help from Wade and Monique, looking into old villains as possible culprits, but they're mostly retired now or don't fit the crime. The only people Ron can't locate are Drakken and Shego... but they were more or less reformed anyway. Ron finally realizes his kids need him to be there, so he agrees to let the GJ group keep looking for Kim. Meanwhile, the kids have been trying to look for clues on their own. They don't find their mother, but they meet another kid named Miki; a punk hacker who has been able to get into computer files even Wade doesn't know about. It points to something being shifty at GJ, so the kids don't want to tell the adults yet, in case it might hurt their mom.

Ron sort of double-downs on being an over-protective dad, he gets a job at their school as a teacher (he's certainly qualified for it, and with Mr. Barkin now as the principal, it makes for a lot of funny interactions). Miki doesn't go to their school, but meets with the twins a lot to try and figure out this weird mystery. They insist they can at least trust their dad, but Miki doesn't want to chance it... after all, they've been technically doing "illegal" stuff, and they don't want to get in trouble. Another villain, somebody new, targets Miki, trying to first bribe then threaten them into helping with some big crime event. Miki contacts the twins for help, and they have to choose between trying to rescue Miki on their own, or telling their dad what has been happening...

The twins go on a big rescue mission, and really show who's kids they are, but being inexperienced, they get caught. That's when it is revealed they DID tell their dad, they just came in first as the distraction, and now Ron saves the day! Once it all settles down, he assures Miki he won't get the kid in trouble for what has been going on. Miki admits, it isn't just the hacking they're worried about; they ran away from home, and don't want to get sent back. It wasn't a very safe situation. Ron asks where Miki has been staying, and finds out the kid has been homeless for 2 years. Ron promises to give the kid a safe place until they figure out what to do, and so- Miki moves in with Ron and the twins!

That was kinda just the two-parter opening for the series; Kim is missing, Ron is trying to find her AND take care of their twins. The twins are starting to follow in their parent's foot-steps a little, but need more practice. The character Miki is a little mysterious, but close friends with the twins, and helps them figure out some of the shady things going on regarding Kim's disappearance. A few of the classic villains are still causing trouble, but most of them are chill or even willing to help the kids. A lot of new villains show up. Besides Kim, Shego and Drakken are also missing, and it become clear that these events are probably related. So the drama, and what-not

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Theatre actor x gn! Technical team! reader

GOD I MISS WRITING Also, I'm going to put names now. It's going to be confusing if I only used pronouns (just for me though, dunno 'bout yall!) Yandere! artist name: Arlen Yandere! dragon name: Vincent TW: Your usual yandere stuff, suggestive tones.

The actor lived for most of his life being praised for his talents. He's a talented man who can act, sing, and dance. He can memorize scripts as easy as breathing. He yearns for the spotlight, for the attention. He wants everyone's eyes on him.

Ignatius always heard of how stereotypical he was as a theatre kid, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to relish in the praises that was given to him as he entertained them with his genius. At first, he didn't care on who gives him attention. As long as he gets it, he's good. It was like his food and water, his sustenance, his reason to live. After all, being ignored by his parents all his life was enough of a reason to find attention from other people, right?

But his life shifted once he met you.

You're from the IT department in your University, then heard that the Theatre troupe needed a technical team asap. So you, with your friends, decided to apply for the job since it's extra credits and there's actually money from it. You're not one for theatrics, so plays didn't really interest you. You prefer movies really.

So because of this, you didn't give Ignatius the attention he wanted.

At first, Ignatius was okay with this. I mean, there's tons of people who can give him what he wants. He has a lot of loving and adoring fans after all.

But he's so bothered by the fact that you clapped a decibel or two lower than others, cheered softer than the others, and your eyes didn't shine with absolute adoration.

It was eating him alive.

Why was he so bothered by it? He wants to lash out at you, to shake your shoulders and to take you to the optometrist to get your eyes checked. Why weren't you cheering for him?!

You did, you absolutely did. But it's not enough for him. It's never enough.

Lights blinding, music so profound as it pounded away at his ears. Then with an inhale of oxygen, he started to sing. Ignatius' voice reverberated around the stage and into the audiences' heart as he sang a ballad disguised as a lament. His character was singing of a life could have been outside of his boring life before he died, about a life where he was Monique Gibeau, a hooker with heart of black charcoal. Ignatius embodied the character so well that people felt sentimental about their own lives of what could have been. He was that good of an actor. Yet, Ignatius' eyes only zeroed on you as you made sure that the instrumental didn't go wrong, or the spotlight remained on him, or that the lights didn't suddenly go off.

He wanted your gaze on his body as he danced on stage seductively, acting like a lustful hooker who always have something eventful happening in their life. No, in that moment, he is one, and he's craving one person and one person only, like how he craves opium.

Yet that person won't give him the time of the day, and the thought made him shiver. In excitement? Anger? Who knows what's going on his mind as he swayed his hips and his singing voice hit a note he usually finds difficult, with ease. And then, your eyes met him.

He shivered once more, biting back a moan as he finished his piece. Everyone erupted in great applause, including you. Yet, still, a decibel or two lower.

When did Ignatius get this needy? He doesn't want your attention, he needs it. Desperately.

And as he let the pleasure of having your attention on him sink in, he swore he'll do anything to get you to cheer for him, and only him.

I'm gonna do this right Show you I'm not moving

Your legs desperately pushed itself beyond its capabilities as you ran away. Your sweat marring your face as your heart pumped frantically. Your heartbeat overwhelmed you, but despite that, you can hear Ignatius' sweet voice sing a song from a recent role he got.

Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow Oh, I'm gonna love you so

Your loud breaths that your lungs produced from gulping air that it desperately needs echoed through the theatre hall. Your back was wet from sweat, and your front was wet with tears as you held back hiccups. You couldn't tell where Ignatius is at all. But your senses drank the affectionate words Ignatius is singing. It's supposed to be sweet, until you remembered how he killed half of the theatre troupe and landed half on the hospital from food poisoning.

It was a humble pie, deep dish even. To celebrate the new play they adapted. But they don't know he put an ungodly amount of Thallium in it. You didn't get to eat at all since you reasoned you were allergic to the pie. Of course Ignatius knew this. How could he not?

He needed to know who he was dealing with, of course. Whose attention he was desperate for.

You'll learn what I already know I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

He didn't like it when you didn't praise him, or didn't fawn over him like others. He absolutely hated it when you're so amicable towards others. So he had to do whatever it takes to solo your attention. He was so desperate for it.

When did his desperation turned to love? Even if you ask Ignatius, he won't know the answer at all. When was the line blurred? He also doesn't know. Not like you can answer him when he's desperately chasing you with chloroform and rope in his hands.

You slumped down in the Technical booth up top the theatre. The key to the door was clutched tightly in your hand. Grazing the palm and cutting it. The blood trickled down to your arm, making a faded red stream as your other hand covered your trembling mouth.

You can try, oh, but I I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

You suddenly got aware of how much of a bad idea it was to be locked up here in the booth. You have no exit, just the stairs that you swore creaked in all its metal glory. As if heavy footsteps stomped on it. He was close.

The door rattled for a bit, before it was kicked open. You screamed in terror as Ignatius obsessed eyes landed on yours. He grinned widely as he stalked towards you.

You cannot escape.

I can try, but I I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

Just give him the attention he desperately needs.

You don't have a choice.

[bird-likes-to-fandom]

@june-doe-event day 30: Free Day

Welcome to my hc that Monique was originally a barbie Noel owned (passed down by his mom) that lived out the most twisted storylines in his childhood mind. Inspired by the barbies/outfits under the cut:

p.s. it's still june in my time rn!! It is currently 11:20 pm

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

The Retreat Pt. II

Part 2: The Morning After

It picks up quickly from now on, so get ready...

The first light of dawn filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the room and rousing Monique from a fitful and restless sleep. For a long moment, she lay still, feeling disoriented and confused, as fragments of the night before came flooding back into her consciousness. The shadowy figure she had glimpsed at the window, coupled with the eerie, unsettling silence that had pervaded the room, seemed almost like a bad dream in the gentle, reassuring light of the morning. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, and attempted to piece together the events that had transpired. The calm of the new day felt at odds with the haunting images that replayed in her mind, making her question the reality of what she had experienced.

Monique rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly. Was it real, or was it just her imagination playing tricks on her? She glanced at the window, half-expecting to see some evidence of the night’s disturbance, but everything looked normal. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted up from downstairs. Ashleigh, ever the early riser, was already up and about. Monique stretched, feeling the muscle tension from a night of restless sleep. She debated mentioning what she’d seen to Ashleigh as she went downstairs.

Would she think I was overreacting? Or worse, would she insist we leave, cutting short the retreat we both need?

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Ashleigh chirped, far too chipper for this hour. She was already dressed in her hiking gear, her dark hair in a neat ponytail.

“Ready for our morning hike?”

Monique yawned, reaching for the mug of coffee Ashleigh offered. “Give me a few minutes to wake up and change.”

Monique studied her friend’s face as she sipped her coffee, looking for any sign that Ashleigh might have experienced something similar during the night. But Ashleigh seemed utterly at ease, chattering about the trail she’d picked out for their morning hike.

“Are you okay, Mo?” Ashleigh asked, noticing Monique’s distraction.

“You look as if you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m fine. Just took a while to get used to the new surroundings, I guess.” Monique hesitated, then forced a smile.

Ashleigh nodded sympathetically. “I get it. The first night in a new place can be tough,”

“But hey, that’s what our morning hike is for—fresh air and exercise to shake off the cobwebs!”

As they prepared for their hike, Monique glanced out the windows more often than necessary, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. The forest looked peaceful in the morning light, with rays of sunshine piercing through the canopy and casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Birds chirped, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Despite the serene setting, she couldn’t shake the unease that had settled over her. It was as if an invisible weight pressed down on her shoulders, making her hyper-aware of every sound and movement. She kept telling herself it was just nerves, but the feeling persisted, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

They set out on the trail, the cool morning air invigorating after the stuffiness of the cabin. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a gentle glow over the landscape and making the dewdrops on the leaves glisten like tiny jewels. Ashleigh led the way, confidently consulting the trail map she’d downloaded to her phone. She paused occasionally to check their progress and ensure they followed the correct path, her keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any landmarks mentioned on the map. The surrounding forest was alive with the chirping of birds and the rustling of small animals in the underbrush, adding to the sense of adventure that filled the air.

“Isn’t it great to be out in nature like this?” Ashleigh said, breathing deeply. “No traffic, noise pollution, just us and the great outdoors.”

Monique nodded, trying to share her friend’s enthusiasm. But as they ventured deeper into the forest, she couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched. Every rustle in the underbrush, every snapping twig made her jump. The atmosphere grew heavier, and an uneasy silence fell between them. Monique’s eyes darted around, scanning the dense foliage for any sign of movement. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the forest seemed, its shadows lengthening and merging into a dark, impenetrable wall. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself it was just her imagination, but the sensation of being watched intensified. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she found it harder and harder to keep pace with Ashleigh, who seemed oblivious to the growing tension.

“Ash, do you feel that?” Monique finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Feel what?” Ashleigh replied, turning to look at her friend with a puzzled expression.

“Like… like we’re not alone out here,” Monique said, glancing nervously around them.

Ashleigh laughed, though it sounded forced. “It’s just the forest, Mo. It’s full of animals. You’re probably just hearing them.”

Monique nodded, trying to convince herself that Ashleigh was right. But as they continued, the feeling of being watched never left her, and every step deeper into the forest felt like a step closer to something unknown and terrifying.

About an hour into their hike, they paused to rest by a small stream. As Ashleigh refilled their water bottles, Monique’s gaze was drawn to something odd on the other side of the stream.

“Ash,” she said slowly, “what does that look like to you?”

Ashleigh followed her gaze, squinting. “Huh. It looks like… some structure. Maybe an old hunting blind or something?”

But Monique’s blood ran cold as she realized what she was seeing. It was a crude shelter, hastily constructed from branches and leaves, barely offering any protection against the elements. The structure seemed fragile, as if it could collapse at any moment. The branches were interwoven haphazardly, and the leaves used as a makeshift roof were already wilting, giving the shelter a neglected, almost sinister appearance. It was clear that whoever built it did so rushing, with little care for stability or safety.

Hanging from one of the nearby trees, swaying slightly in the breeze, was what looked disturbingly like a string of bones. The bones were bleached white, varying in size and shape, and rattled softly, creating an eerie sound that sent shivers down her spine. Some bones were small, possibly from animals, but others looked human, their shapes unmistakable. They were strung together with what appeared to be ligament or some other organic material, adding to the gruesome display. The sight was both dreadful and mystifying, raising more questions than answers.

Monique’s mind raced as she tried to process the scene before her. Who could have built this shelter, and why? The presence of the bones suggested something far more sinister than just a temporary refuge. She felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach as she considered the possibility that whoever had constructed this shelter might still be lurking nearby, watching them. The thought sent a chill down her spine, making her hyper-aware of every sound and movement in the surrounding forest.

The forest, which had seemed so peaceful and inviting moments before, now felt oppressive and menacing. Every rustle of leaves and every twig snap seemed amplified, adding to her growing sense of unease. She glanced at Ashleigh, who was also staring at the shelter with wide eyes, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by a look of shock and fear. The transformation in Ashleigh’s demeanor mirrored Monique’s rising anxiety, confirming that the danger was real and immediate.

“Maybe we should head back,” Monique suggested, her voice trembling as she tried to keep her fear in check. The idea of staying longer in the shelter’s vicinity filled her with dread. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, that unseen eyes were tracking their every move.

Ashleigh looked at her, concern evident in her eyes. “Mo, what’s going on? You’ve been on edge all morning,” she said, her voice a mix of worry and confusion. Her concern only heightened Monique’s sense of urgency, making her realize that she couldn’t keep her fears to herself any longer.

Monique took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. “Last night, I… I thought I saw someone outside the cabin. A figure, looking in through the window,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The admission made her feel vulnerable, but she knew it was necessary.

Ashleigh’s eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” she asked, her voice rising slightly in alarm. The question hung in the air, adding to the tension between them.

“I wasn’t sure if it was real,” Monique said, her voice shaking. “I thought maybe I was just imagining things. But now, with that shelter…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The unspoken words hung heavily between them, adding to the sense of impending danger.

Ashleigh glanced back at the crude structure, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by caution. “Okay, let’s head back. We’ll figure this out,” she said firmly, taking charge of the situation. Her decisiveness was a small comfort to Monique, who felt relieved to leave the sinister scene behind.

As they turned to retrace their steps, a twig snapped in the forest behind them. Both women froze, exchanging alarmed looks. Then, without a word, they began to hurry back down the trail; the peaceful morning hike suddenly transformed into a tense retreat. The urgency of their movements reflected their growing fear, turning their idyllic outing into a race against an unseen threat.

The forest that had seemed so welcoming now felt oppressive, its shadows deep and menacing. Monique was confident that somewhere in those shadows, someone—or something—was watching their every move. The sense of being hunted, of being prey in a predator’s domain, was overwhelming. Each step they took seemed to echo with the possibility of danger, heightening their sense of vulnerability.

Their idyllic retreat had taken an ominous turn, and Monique couldn’t shake the feeling that the actual test of their survival was only just beginning. The realization that they might not be alone, that they could be in real danger cast a dark shadow over the entire experience. The sense of foreboding was palpable, making every moment feel like a struggle against an invisible foe.

“Maybe we should head back,” Monique suggested, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ashleigh looked at her, concern evident in her eyes. “Mo, what’s going on? You’ve been on edge all morning.”

Monique took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. “Last night, I… I thought I saw someone outside the cabin. A figure, looking in through the window.”

Ashleigh’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was real,” Monique admitted. “I thought maybe I was just imagining things. But now, with that shelter…”

Ashleigh glanced back at the crude structure, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by caution. “Okay, let’s head back. We’ll figure this out.”

As they turned to retrace their steps, a twig snapped in the forest behind them. Both women froze, exchanging alarmed looks. Then, without a word, they began to hurry back down the trail; the peaceful morning hike suddenly transformed into a tense retreat.

The forest that had seemed so welcoming now felt oppressive, its shadows deep and menacing. Monique was confident that somewhere in those shadows, someone—or something—was watching their every move.

Their idyllic retreat had taken an ominous turn, and Monique couldn’t shake the feeling that the actual test of their survival was only just beginning.

After their unsettling hike, Monique and Ashleigh returned to the cabin, locking the door behind them. The peaceful morning had turned tense, and both women were on edge.

“Okay,” Ashleigh said, catching her breath. “Let’s think this through. We must call someone, maybe the local ranger station or the police.”

Monique nodded, already pulling out her phone. She frowned at the screen. “No service. You?”

Ashleigh checked her phone, shaking her head. “Nothing. I thought we’d at least have emergency coverage out here.”

They moved around the cabin, holding their phones up, searching for even a single signal bar. Just as they were about to give up, a shrill ring pierced the silence, making both women jump.

“What is that?” Ashleigh whispered, her eyes wide.

Monique scanned the room, gazing at an old rotary phone tucked in a corner. “A landline? I didn’t even notice that before.”

They exchanged a nervous glance before Monique slowly approached the phone. With a shaky hand, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

At first, there was only static. Then, faintly, she heard a voice. “Mo? Can you hear me?”

“Marcus?” Monique’s voice was a mix of relief and confusion. “How did you-”

The line crackled, cutting off her words. Marcus’s voice came through in broken fragments. “Mo… worried… everything okay? Trying to reach you…”

“Marcus, we need help. There’s someone-”

The call dropped abruptly, leaving Monique holding the silent receiver, her heart pounding.

“What did he say?” Ashleigh asked, her face pale.

“Not much. The connection was terrible. But he said he’s been trying to reach us and that he’s worried.”

Ashleigh frowned. “Worried? Why would he be worried? We’ve only been gone a day.”

Before Monique could respond, both of their phones suddenly buzzed. They exchanged startled glances before looking at their screens.

“I’ve got service!” Ashleigh exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and confusion.

Monique nodded, seeing the signal bars on her phone. “Me too. And… numerous texts from Marcus?”

They huddled together on the couch, scrolling through the incoming messages:

Marcus [12:15 PM]: Mo, Ash, are you guys okay? I have been trying to reach you. Marcus [12:16 PM]: There’s something you need to see. Sending links. Marcus [12:17 PM]: [Link] “Three Hikers Vanish Without a Trace in the Blue Ridge Mountains” Marcus [12:17 PM]: [Link] “Missing Persons Cases Spike in Remote Mountain Area” Marcus [12:18 PM]: [Link] “Local Authorities Baffled by String of Disappearances” Marcus [12:19 PM]: Please tell me you’re not in that area??? I am trying to remember if Ash mentioned Blue Ridge or a blue fridge for the wedding gift registry. Call me.

Monique’s hands shook as she tapped on the first link. The article loaded slowly, but the headline was clear: “Three Hikers Vanish Without a Trace in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

“Ash,” Monique whispered, her voice trembling.

“This is from last week. It’s in this exact area!”

Ashleigh leaned in, her face pale as she skimmed the article. “Oh my god. It says they were staying in a remote cabin. Mo, we need to-”

Her words were cut off as both their phones suddenly lost signal again, screens returning to “No Service.”

They stared at each other, the implications of what they’d just read sinking in. The peaceful retreat they’d imagined had just become a potential nightmare.

“We need to leave. Now,” Monique said, her voice firm despite her fear.

Ashleigh nodded, already standing up. “I’ll grab our bags. You check if the car-”

A loud crash from outside made them both jump. It sounded like breaking glass coming from the back of the cabin.

“What was that?” Ashleigh whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

Monique grabbed Ashleigh’s hand, her mind racing with possibilities, none good. The idyllic forest retreat had suddenly become a trap, and they were caught right in the middle of it.

Monique’s mind raced as she assessed their options. “We can’t go out the back,” she whispered urgently. “We can go out the front door. Stay low, stay quiet.”

Ashleigh nodded, her face pale but determined. They crouched low, moving silently towards the front of the cabin. Monique’s hand was on the doorknob when another crash echoed from the kitchen, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

They froze, exchanging terrified glances. Whoever was out there was inside now.

Monique pointed to a window near the door. Ashleigh understood immediately. They’d have to risk it.

With practiced silence born from years of sneaking out as teenagers, they eased the window open. Monique went first, landing softly on the porch. She turned to help Ashleigh, both straining their ears for any sound of approach.

As Ashleigh’s feet touched the porch, a floorboard creaked inside the cabin. Close. Too close.

They bolted, abandoning stealth for speed. The forest swallowed them, branches whipping at their faces as they ran. Behind them, angry shouts erupted from the cabin.

“The car,” Ashleigh gasped between breaths. “We need to circle back.”

Monique nodded, veering left. They’d put some distance between themselves and their pursuers, but heavy footsteps still crashed through the underbrush behind them.

As they neared the clearing where they’d parked, Monique spotted movement ahead. She grabbed Ashleigh, pulling her behind a large oak.

Two figures emerged from the trees, heading towards the cabin. Monique caught glimpses of unkempt beards and tattered clothing in the dappled forest light.

“There’s more of them,” she whispered to Ashleigh. “We can’t make it to the car.”

Ashleigh’s eyes darted around, then lit up. She pointed to a dense thicket nearby. “There. We can hide, wait them out.”

They crept towards the thicket, every snapping twig sounding like a gunshot in the tense silence. Just as they reached the edge of the dense foliage, a shout went up behind them.

“There! By the big oak!”

Monique shoved Ashleigh into the thicket. “Go! I’ll lead them off!”

Before Ashleigh could protest, Monique ran, deliberately making noise to draw attention. She heard pursuit behind her, but also Ashleigh’s muffled movement in the opposite direction. Good. At least one of them might make it.

Monique ducked and weaved through the trees, her lungs burning. She thought she might lose them when something heavy struck her from behind.

The world exploded into stars, then darkness.

When Monique came to, her head throbbed painfully, each pulse echoing through her skull like a drumbeat. She squinted against the dim light filtering through the cabin’s grimy windows, her vision swimming and blurring. As she tried to move, she felt the rough, coarse bite of ropes digging into her wrists and ankles, the fibers scraping her skin raw. The binding was tight, almost cutting off her circulation, and she could feel the numbness beginning to creep up her extremities.

The room spun unsteadily as she attempted to focus, her eyes darting around to make sense of her surroundings. The cabin’s wooden walls, which had seemed rustic and charming before, now felt like the walls of a prison, closing in on her. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and mold, mingling with a faint, metallic tang that she realized with a jolt was blood.

Panic surged through her, making her heart race and her breath come in shallow, rapid gasps. She strained against her bonds, the ropes biting more deeply into her flesh with every futile effort. The coarse texture scraped her skin raw, adding to the sting of her growing desperation. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, a frantic rhythm that only heightened her sense of terror.

The cabin was eerily silent, the only sounds being the creaking of the old wooden floorboards and the distant rustling of leaves outside. The silence was oppressive, pressing down on her like a physical weight. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she fought to remain calm.

Monique’s mouth was dry, her throat parched and scratchy. She tried to swallow, but it felt like sandpaper against her raw throat. She licked her cracked lips, tasting the salty tang of her sweat. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, and every breath she took seemed to catch in her chest.

She glanced around the room, her eyes darting to the shadows lurking in the corners. Every shifting shadow seemed malevolent as if hiding some unseen threat. The dim light cast eerie patterns on the walls, making the room even more claustrophobic. She strained her ears, listening for any sign of movement, any indication that she wasn’t alone. But the silence persisted, deepening her sense of isolation and fear.

A sudden, sharp pain in her head made her wince, and she realized that there was a sticky, wet sensation on the back of her scalp. She twisted her neck, trying to see without moving too much, and felt the rough texture of dried blood matting her hair. The coppery smell of it made her stomach churn.

Desperation clawed at her as she tried to recall what had happened. The last thing she remembered was running through the forest, her ragged breathing, and the thudding of footsteps behind her. She had tried to lead their pursuers away from Ashleigh, but then… nothing. Darkness. And now, this.

Her mind raced with questions and fears. Where was Ashleigh? Had she managed to escape? Or was she somewhere nearby, facing a similar fate? The uncertainty gnawed at her, adding to her rising panic.

Monique took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had to think and find a way out of this. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. As she scanned the room again, she saw a glint of metal on a nearby table. A knife. It was just unreachable, tantalizingly close, yet frustratingly distant.

She shifted, testing her bonds, and felt a sharp pain in her wrists as the ropes began to cut deeper. She bit her lip, suppressing a cry of pain, and forced herself to focus. She had to stay calm and find a way to reach that knife. It was her only hope.

Summoning every ounce of strength and determination, Monique began to inch towards the table, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Each movement sent jolts of pain through her body, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on. She could sense the rough wood of the floor rubbing against her skin, intensifying her agony, yet she remained determined to persevere.

The knife gleamed in the dim light, a beacon of hope in the oppressive gloom. Monique’s fingers reached for it, trembling. Just a little closer. She could do this. She had to do this.

As her fingers brushed against the cold metal, a surge of relief and determination washed over her. She gripped the knife, her hands shaking, and began seeing through the ropes. The process was slow and agonizing, each stroke of the blade sending fresh waves of pain through her raw skin. But she didn’t stop, didn’t let herself think about the pain. She focused on the task, fueled by the desperate need to survive.

Finally, with a final, determined cut, the ropes gave way. Monique gasped in relief, her hands trembling as she freed herself. She rubbed her wrists, trying to restore some feeling to her numb fingers, and glanced around the room, her mind racing with plans and possibilities. She had to find Ashleigh and get out of this nightmare. And she had to do it fast before their captors realized she was free.

With a newfound sense of determination, Monique stood up, her legs unsteady but her resolve unwavering. She was bruised, battered, and terrified, but she was not defeated—not yet. She was going to find a way out of this—for herself and for her sister.

The cabin seemed to close in on her, the shadows deepening as she took her tentative steps toward the door. The oppressive silence pressed down on her, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task. She would survive this—she had to—and nothing would stop her.

“Ash?” she said in a low voice.

Now springing up with whatever adrenaline she had left, she had left, “Ashleigh?! Are you here!?”

No answer. The cabin remained silent except for the creak of aging wood.

Monique's heart sank deeper and deeper as her vision got clearer. Her shoulders were pressed heavily by the weight of solitude in the room. There was no sign of Ashleigh anywhere; she was utterly alone. Ashleigh’s absence hit her like a tidal wave and left her feeling lost and abandoned, a feeling she thought she’d never have to experience in her lifetime twice.

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[blackgirlcinephiles]

I feel like we have a very distorted understanding of how much of Black entertainment media is centered around struggle.

It always annoys me to hear other Black folk say,

“I’m tired of all these slave films, I’m tired of all these movies about ‘The Struggle’.”

Because in reality, if you take some time and do a quick survey, there really aren’t very many movies about slavery and “the struggle”. There’s even fewer that are historically accurate and handle these topics well.

Like within the grand scope of Black entertainment media (media made by Black people about Black people), non-slave and non-struggle films far outnumber movies about slavery and racial discrimination.

I think with the onset of the Black Lives Matter movement, we saw a number of films emerge that told stories of police brutality, slavery, and other incidents of racial terror on the Black community. But I feel like people forget to put that era into context and don’t realize that that period was the first time we were seeing serious efforts to tell those stories on screen in a dramatized format. Those films brought attention and publicity to events and issues that white media would have us forget. And is desperately trying to have us forget, as evidenced by the current histeria around Critical Race Theory.

Films like Fruitvale Station, Detroit, The Hate U Give, shows like Underground, Roots were firsts in a lot of ways. They brought attention to individuals and parts of history seldom talked about. And despite being well intentioned, there are serious critiques to be made about a few of these projects (THUG I’m side-eyeing YOU!)

And I can understand as Black people we don’t want to be re-traumatized with dramatic retellings of a reality we are already intimately and painfully familiar with (these films are for non-Black people more than anyone else). But I want us to place our anger in the right direction. There are too many times where the “I’m tired of slave stories” ends up blowing back harder on Black creatives than anyone else.

In my opinion, there isn’t any over abundance of struggle narratives in Black entertainment media. It’s that struggle narratives end up being more highly profiled by broader white media (read: all dominant media outlets and institutions).

Dominant white media institutions only uplift Black stories that either teach them something about racism or reinforce negative racial stereotypes. Slave films sweep awards seasons. Denzel got nominated for Malcolm X, but he won for playing a corrupt cop in Training Day. Monique gave us years of laughs as she portrayed a playful, and fun loving relationship with her daughter on The Parkers (a role she could’ve easily won an Emmy for), but her Oscar came for playing a toxic and abusive mother in Precious.

If there’s something to be upset about it, it’s that. Its that Black film and television isn’t valued by dominant media when it portrays our simple everyday humanity. They need to see us suffering the terrors of racial capitalism in order to feel and sympathize with our cause and even self flaggelate.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Gregg Gonsalves

Why are places like Stanford and Johns Hopkins hosting gatherings of well-known coronavirus cranks?

Today, Stanford University is holding an all-day gathering on the Covid pandemic, with its new president making opening remarks. It’s the second such meeting at a prestigious university in recent months, after Johns Hopkins hosted a “symposium on health policy” in September. They may seem fine on the surface, but both events should be a source of embarrassment for the institutions involved. (I have a personal stake in the former gathering: I’m spending my time this fall at Stanford with a group of wonderful, truly talented researchers, who I hope do not get sprayed with the stink of this misbegotten affair.)

While the organization and funding for these two meetings isn’t explicitly linked, the cast of characters at both are eerily similar. They each feature a collection of well-known Covid contrarians: those who, in the early days of the pandemic thought we should “let ’er rip” and get as many people infected as possible, with a performative nod to protecting the vulnerable; suggested that vaccine and mask mandates were somehow akin to Nazi totalitarianism; told us not to worry about variants (“variants, schmariants,” as one of them remarked months before Delta and Omicron blasted their way through the US); and said we’d have herd immunity by April 2021.

If you want just one piece of evidence about the kind of cranks we’re talking about, consider this: A late addition to the Stanford meeting is a senior editor of the Epoch Times, a far-right publication that not only dabbles in Covid conspiracies but is a frequent purveyor of climate change denialism.

While the organizers have tried to add a few reasonable voices to the meeting, it doesn’t change the overall thrust of these gatherings. As former Texas governor Ann Richards said, “You can put lipstick and earrings on a hog and call it Monique, but it’s still a pig.”

Health reporters like Michael Hiltzik at the Los Angeles Times blew the whistle on the Stanford conference in mid-September, and others who have focused on debunking the pseudoscience of this crew have written about the meetings on both coasts. The faculty at both institutions who are pushed for and are behind these convocations have defended them on the grounds of academic freedom—a defense that, in our current era of freakouts over “cancel culture,” neither Stanford or Hopkins would have had an easy time overcoming. Chalk one up to the contrarians for putting these schools in an impossible situation—though that still does not explain why Stanford’s president feels the need to personally show up today.

The architects of these meetings come with bags and bags of right-wing funding, some of it laundered through think tanks and other institutions. They have met with Trump officials in the White House and guided Florida Governor Ron DeSantis on Covid-19 policy. Some of them even got a shout-out from Bret Stephens at The New York Times last week.

They whine on and on about how terribly they’ve been treated, but, far from being persecuted, they are celebrated on the right, even if the mainstream members of their professions have, time and time again, considered their ideas and roundly rejected them on their merits.

My question is: Why host these meetings now and in these venues?

Some have suggested this is about “auditioning” for the next Trump administration as much as it is trying to rewrite the history of the pandemic. Both are in part probably true. But if you zoom out and think about these meetings in the context of the right’s war on higher education, I believe the purpose becomes clearer.

These Covid contrarians—who have found little support for their views among their peers—have decided that the science has been turned into “a dogmatic tool of oppression” for rejecting them. In their minds they are Galileos against the church, and now they are tilting their fury against the institutions themselves. This tack is of course reminiscent of the right’s attacks on the universities as bastions of woke, left-wing ideology, which either need to be reformed (by hiring more conservative faculty) or gutted and rebuilt to their liking (e.g., New College of Florida).

In this light, these two meetings are about establishing a beachhead—building credibility in what many of the organizers would consider the liberal bastions of academia. If you cannot convince your colleagues of the worth of your arguments, then you can cry out that you’re being discriminated against for simply having “differing views.” But things don’t work like that in science: we don’t teach intelligent design alongside evolution, or alternative theories of the cause of AIDS. Supporters of those discredited ideas would say we need to “teach the controversy” and not be dogmatic, but there is no controversy to be had: the preponderance of the evidence supports evolution and HIV as the cause of AIDS. Similarly, many of the Covid contrarians’ favorite claims have withered in the sunlight of scientific scrutiny.

But just as the Federalist Society has established influence over law schools and the judiciary, the Covid contrarians and their supporters would like to do the same for medicine and public health, by mainstreaming their views—both in academic settings and then in public policy—by sheer brute force. They won’t give up, and they have the money and resources to continue their campaigns. Should former president Trump regain the White House, their fortunes will rise and these threats to academic integrity, and to the public health itself (through adoption of their views in practice) will go into overdrive.

And for anyone who thinks this is all academic, in mid-September, the surgeon general of Florida recommended against the use of mRNA Covid vaccines, just as we’re heading into respiratory virus season, endangering the lives of the residents of the state with quackery and pseudoscience. Of course, it’s the same Covid contrarians who have organized these meetings, who have been advising the DeSantis administration for several years now on pandemic policy. Shame on them.

[samanthahirr]

MI6's Biggest Swimwear-Embarrassment Headcanons

Whilst on holiday in Turks and Caicos in her early 20s, Eve Moneypenny snorkeled over a section of shallow coral reef and got her bikini bottoms caught…and tugged clean off! She panicked, instinctively dove after the sinking scrap of pink fabric, and inhaled a couple lungs' worth of seawater through her snorkel. Her girlfriends came to her aid and kept her afloat, and after she’d stopped choking and realized her bottoms weren’t coming back, they fetched her a towel so she could exit the ocean with her dignity (mostly) intact.

Gareth Mallory’s mum kept an embarrassing photo of him (aged 3, standing starkers in a kiddie pool with arm floaties and a big grin) that she showed to everyone for the first 30 years of his life. Every girlfriend or mate he ever brought round his mum’s, every neighbor and vicar…Mallory bore the doting humiliations with begrudged grace. But the day Mallory decided to enter politics, he removed the photo from her scrapbook and burned it.

For his first male honey-pot mission, James Bond overcompensated by buying the tiniest thong he could find (string-ties over his hips!)…and the mark he was trying to seduce mocked him for it. So Bond removed the thong and went au naturel. The man promptly stopped laughing, and the seduction worked out just fine…but Bond still remembers that laughter and will never wear a thong again.

For his honeymoon, Bill Tanner took his bride to Jamaica, their luggage packed with travel-themed gifts from their friends and family. Tanner thought of his brother-in-law as a staid, sober fellow, until he unpacked the new set of swim trunks the man had gifted him and discovered they were actually a gag gift (SpongeBob Square Pants themed!). Tanner refused to put them on, and wouldn’t even let his wife hold them up against his hips, and he paid out the nose for a replacement pair of trunks at the resort’s gift shop. 

When Felix Leiter was in college, his fraternity teamed up with a sorority to hold a car wash to raise money for their Homecoming Weekend party. They all stripped down to bathing suits for the event, but Felix was the only member of his fraternity brave enough to accept the sorority’s dare and wear a women’s bikini top. His brothers teased him for three years over it, but freshman Felix’s bravery scored him a date to the Homecoming Dance with the sorority president Monique—the most beautiful woman on campus, and a senior to boot!—so he had no regrets about the decision.

[velvetcloxds]

for your blurb event, could you do one with dilf hotch where he wants to take the reader with him to jack's birthday party but when they get there hailey makes a scene about reader being there, maybe even about how young the reader is and she doesn't want reader to leave?

BIAS | A.H.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: probably not the most cannon portrayal of haley, age gap, lovesick aaron

You were sitting rather uncomfortably on the little wooden bench in front of Haley's place, Aaron had very pleadingly asked you to wait here while he and his ex-wife went to have a discussion in the kitchen, a discussion which wasn't at all as private as you were sure it should be, the whole of the party probably overhearing the pair shouting at each other- it was rather fitting, they had witnessed the spark of the fight, it was only fitting they were exposed the to rest of it. You wanted to interrupt them, wanted to tell them that it wasn't as big a problem as it turned into, you could easily leave, celebrate Jack's birthday when he was at Aaron's, and it would've been simple if that was the only problem.

However, the second Haley decided to take a shot at you and your relationship with Aaron, you knew that simple flew right out of the open door past you. It was hardly the first time your relationship had been brought into question, your age had been a regular point of conversation in the office on many occasions but never like that, never had someone taken it upon themselves to insult you in front of a living room full of people merely for being there in the first place. Though you expected as much, you were adamant about staying home from the very beginning because how could her reaction be anything other than negative- a stranger, half her age showing up at her home while clutching her ex-husband's arm, wanting to see her son- it was hardly a scene anyone would look forward to, but you didn't quite expect things to escalate that quickly.

You were lost in thought, not realizing the shouting had stopped until you looked up to find Aaron closing the front door, a deadly look in his eyes as he stared the wooden frame down, one hand adjusting his tie, the other clutching his car keys as he shook his head to himself.

"I'm sorry that took so long," he began and the instant shift in his eyes as he looked at you was enough to give anyone whiplash, his features relaxing slightly as he drew his gaze over your figure. You had Jack's gift resting on your lap, a book you'd seen at the little vintage bookstore you always stopped by on Saterdays, it was almost brand new, a story about an elephant solving crimes in the zoo, incredibly fitting to be read to him by his dad- you'd gone through great trouble to find wrapping paper with little zoo animals too just to make it extra special, which only upset him more to be fair.

"It's okay," you insisted, lifting your hand to show him the cake pop you'd been clutching onto since he left you. "One of the little monsters snuck me a treat," you explained and the smile on your lips was intoxicating, daring to completely calm him down as he nodded. "Those for me?" you breathed carefully, slowly, knowing that you weren't the person he was upset with, but he was upset all the same and even the second he took to calm himself down wouldn't change that. You pointed at the keys with a soft smile, hoping that the overall conclusion of their fight would be to send you home. He frowned, confused, clearly not on the same page as you. "I can take the car home and then I'll just pick you up when you're done," you clarified and felt awful silly when he shook his head at you, extremely unimpressed by your suggestion.

"What are you talking about?" he was walking towards you, reaching over to cup your cheek when he stopped in front of you, brows furrowed as your big eyes looked up at him, so soft, so sweet, it was utterly offensive that anyone could say a single negative thing about you, let alone in the way they did. "If we're going anywhere, we're going together," you were the one to frown, gently placing the cake-pop down next to you before your fingers sifted through his, still staying in place on your face as you shook your head right back at him.

"Aaron," you sighed and he was daring you to fight him on his very simple, very end-of-conversation solution, but you were never really all that good at doing what he said. "No way am I letting you miss your kid's birthday because of me."

"It's not because of you," he clarified and you weren't surprised when he nodded for you to move the gift to the bench beside you, not wasting a second before guiding you up to stand in front of him. "She's the one who decided to act like that, call you that," he scoffed, looking over your shoulder, the open curtain allowing him a full view of Jack playing pin the tail on the giraffe with his friends, the parents laughing along as the kids struggled.

The insult hit him harder than it hit you, you didn't care for it, obviously, but you loved Aaron and that meant that you had to get used to braving through whatever people threw at you- the prolonged stares from strangers in shopping malls, the whispers from other parents when you had to drop in to pick up Jack from school- you were used to it.

"Hey," you brought his attention back to you with delicate hands sliding over his chest, brown eyes falling to yours, not truly with you, far too stuck in his head, as always. "Now, you know I'm not her biggest fan, I'm very biased for that, but I do understand where she's coming from," you insisted and his brows furrowed, silently telling you to explain. "Jack is amazing, he's this pure little bundle of love and as much as you get to decide who gets to be in his life, so does she. She might've handled it wrong but I understand why she'd want this day with him, no me, but that doesn't mean no you," he knew you were right, knew that this wasn't a reaction of malice as much as uncertainty. "So, you're going to go in there and give that little munchkin his gift and make sure he has the best birthday ever," you paired your words with an encouraging smile, stealing his car keys from him.

"And what about you, I don't want to leave you all alone."

"Well, I'm going to go to your place, slip into your most comfortable shirt, rewatch pride and prejudice for the thousandth time, and order loads of takeout food with your card," he breathed a soft laugh, the rare kind he only saved for you, a sound so lovely it made you conspire about ways to get to hear it again.

"Don't forget dessert," he was melting, that tough exterior looking rather soft from your perspective, large hands circling your waist, squeezing lightly as he pulled you against him, never quite satisfied with the space between you. "I love you," he sighed, ever amused by the greedy way your hands moved against him, stilling on his neck as you stole a quick kiss, barely a peck from his lips. "I'm going to make this up to you," it was a silly promise, unnecessary in its nature since it was hardly his fault, as much as you wanted to be there for him and for Jack, you hope there'd be more birthdays you'd be present for in the future, more parties to attend, maybe even hold, one day couldn't wipe out the wish you had for a future with the both of them.

"You don't have to," you dismissed him, shrugging lightly, though you didn't fight the kiss he insisted on giving you, wiping away your smile, then another and another, making you giggle against his lips before he pulled back. "Though, I wouldn't say no to continuing this when you get home."

"I'll slip away early."

"Don't you dare! Want you to stay until bedtime, maybe read a few pages of his new book. Promise me that you'll do the voices too? You know he loves the voices."

"I'll do the voices," his answer wasn't good enough, the pout that danced on your mouth and the way your big eyes dared him to disobey your adorable demands. "Honey, I'll do the voices, promise."

"Good, and give him an extra forehead kiss from me, will you?" you were pulling away, and he very hesitantly let you, not before one more kiss, of course, hands brushing your waist as he released you. "Love you, " you smiled, blowing him a kiss, it was sickening, the pair of you, acting like two teenagers as you walked to his car, pausing to smile at him, watch him as he opened the door and you were lucky you did because when his little mini-me popped his head out to wave at you too, your heart all but ran away from you.

[willsperotruther]

post cyclone hcs for @june-doe-event day 15:

Ocean:

She gets nicer

She calls cps on her parents and Noel's mom adopts her

She starts having Penny give her twin braids every day

Quits all the other clubs she's in except art and choir

Gets really into water colors (she's pretty good)

Noel:

Joins drama club

Has to share his room with Ocean (bunk beds bc i love bunk beds)

He starts wearing skirts/dresses more

Starts posting his poems online

Starts writing a book about Monique

Mischa:

His adoptive parents start being nicer to him so he moves out of the basement

Starts making badegg merch

Goes to see Ricky's cats every day

Throws out relationship advice left and right

Starts a second youtube channel (his content is like a mix of benoftheweek and kurtis conner)

Ricky:

Lowkey develops a crush on Constance

Buys a pair of demonias

Teaches the choir sign language (Constance knew some before bc she wanted to learn to talk to him but wasn't very good at it)

Starts making his own comics

Wears body glitter, face glitter, glitter lipgloss, and glitter hairspray every day

Penny:

Still has the Jane doll and starts taking it everywhere

Starts cosplaying

Helps Mischa with some songs by playing her ukulele

Is the only member of the choir with a drivers license so she buys a minivan and has Ricky and Ocean paint it to look like the mystery machine

Adopts 3 dogs and 4 cats in the span of two weeks

Constance:

Becomes 10 times more unhinged then before

Mentions her little brother like twice every 30 minutes

Writes fanfics about her favorite characters in rtc aus and claims the cyclone was just some random thing she thought up

Plays the recorder for some of Mischa's songs

Is constantly baking and brings the choir food all the time

[lillazyboithings]

Day 24 - Production specific

Today...I drew my favorite production :) blue bridge! More specifically, I drew blue bridge Noel, I rarely see him on rtc Tumblr so why not draw him as Monique

And I also finally found my color pencils

@june-doe-event

[theretirementstory]

11/08/2024. Bonjour tout le monde, it’s 22c and we are due 33c today. I think I will be reading my book in a dark room, either that or I may just be 😴.

Although my garden has been neglected plants will still push through and flower. The hibiscus look beautiful and the Weigela shrub, which needs cutting back, is also flowering.

My hospital visit in Paris on Monday was quite eventful, I was told I needed just a platelet transfusion and was preparing myself to leave when the doctor came back, apologised and told me I needed haemoglobin too. Instead of leaving early it was another two hours for that transfusion. She also said I needed to go to Paris again on Thursday! Arriving home around 18:30 I then found I had left my phone charger! What a numpty! I rang up early the next morning to say I had left my charger and decided to ask about it on Thursday.

When I got up on Tuesday I was so pleased I had had the two transfusions as I was so full of energy, I stripped my bed, washed and ironed the bedding, went upstairs and cleaned my room and remade the bed. I made shopping lists for Anie and Monique and paid bills! My goodness that was a busy day for me!

So of course Wednesday I was not so energised, but I still managed to prepare for my trip to Paris. I think that three injections in one day is really too much for me. My abdomen and legs feel sore and the injections play havoc with my transit. Anie visited me around 5pm bringing with her the new lady who is going to do my cleaning. She said she would come on Friday so I was feeling rather happy.

The taxi arrived early on Thursday morning and I was at the hospital so early (which was nice), I asked about the charger and amazingly we were reunited. Today I did only need platelets although my blood pressure ended up being low and had to be taken a few times before it was deemed ok for me to go home. It was only 13:10 and after a visit to the pharmacy in town I was still home by 16:00. What a great surprise.

I had to buy a blood pressure monitor to take readings twice a day for the next 10 days. Next week I have two visits to the hospital in Troyes and am not back in Paris until the 19th of the month.

“The Photographer” has been back at work, after his holiday. He has his children this weekend and took them out for the day yesterday. They went to Beamish Open Air Museum, it’s lovely there, I took my boys a few times, the place is expanding all the time which is good as there is something new to see. It’s nice for them to go out and about while the weather is pleasant. My grandson has now got his passport so he can have a holiday abroad 😁.

“The Jetsetter” is busy working, saving the money for the next round of holidays I am sure. Although meals out, days at the races etc are being enjoyed and why not!

“The Trainee Solicitor” is moving up the workplace ladder. Showing what he is made of and what he has learned in the years he has studied. Yesterday was a first for him, he went to a prison for a visit (usually it’s the other way round for the inmates). Then he was eying up new clothes (no not striped prison clothes) and early evening a visit to the cinema. Wow that was a busy Saturday!

Yes “The Recovery Coordinator” also enjoyed the outing yesterday. The trip to the cinema had been to see a film she fancied. I know she is looking forward to her trip to France (they both are) I am hoping that the weather will be warm for them but not in the 30’s.

I am preparing food for these two people coming so that I don’t have to spend all my time in the kitchen. I made mincemeat tarts yesterday, that’s a dessert for myself and “The Recovery Coordinator”. I guess I will be making a chocolate cake for “The Trainee Solicitor” (it’s his favourite).

I need to arrange for the gardener to come and cut the hedges and the grass. I need to ring the plumber to come and repair the plunger on the upstairs washbasin as well as ring the roofer and find out when he will repair the flashing.

Now to the music part of the blog. The first song is “I Can Make You Feel Good” by Shalamar which was released in 1982.

The second song is “Amoureuse” by Kiki Dee this song was released in 1973 when I was younger than I care to remember 😂.

Now the sun is pouring through the windows in the lounge I think I will get ready for a little walk outside, then come back and bake the chocolate cake, make my sandwich for tomorrow and then take a few minutes to relax before I look for the next job.

Until the next time……..

[steddieyes]

Chapter Two of my Bryce fic: Another Chance To Fuck Up

(@Arlooh on ao3)

June 17th, i've worked so fucking hard to get back into this grey ass state and not even her bitche of a mom will let me talk. It's, not, FAIR. I only know that shes graduating because unique fucking monique and her excuse of a boyfriend have been yelling at each other outside the milkshake mania. I'm trying to sit at the fucking bus stop, not see a whore yell about how she gave her heart to him. Fuck that.

- 

Looking into the mirror of the thrift store changing room, he scans himself up and down, looking for any signs of "hey, I'm fucking poor, mind kicking my ass back to the penitentiary please?" as he forces himself to stand still and stop bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 He's fucking nervous. 

Wiping his hands down his jeans, giving himself a stern and harsh "whispered" talking to (he's been yelling into the mirror for 10 minutes, some employee as been asking him to leave for the better part of that, he won't) and fixing what makeup he has on, he turns and leaves the changing room. Giving a polite "Screw off, asshole!" and middle finger to the worker and swifly walking out without paying for a thing, only after sliding a sick pair of sunglasses off some dude waiting in line. 

-

But all that worry leads him to now, jumping a fence into the graduation event at 'Whatever the fuck' high school, so what if the entery was free, this is cool. 

The first thing he sees is probably the last person he wants to see, Tacky Tammy in the fucking flesh. And god, she looks worse than the last he seen her. That fucking bitch. 

Quickly avoiding that mess, he runs off to the right where he can hear people chatting, yelling, the typical American slang, and to behind the bleachers where he can finally fucking breath. He's only been up a few hours and yet it feels like hes been up for days, all the while having the energy to fight the thing people call god. "Where ever that old bastard is, he sure had a shit plan for me" he hisses as he lights up the last cigarette he's got, stole it from some homeless guy lastnight and yet it doesn’t make him feel any better about it. 

But blasting speakers, which are WAY to fucking loud mind you, go off right by my fucking ear "Five minutes till showtime everyone! I hope you've got your disposables ready! And no /flash/ please, thank you" God. Fucker sound like an asshole to be around, fucks he got to be so stern for. And why the fuck would someone flash the crowd at a high school. This isn't the big bang, we don't need to see that you bleached your ass, Marissa. But shit, 5 minites till showtime. And I was calling it that before grandpa over he did anyways..

He can barely see through the crowd of green gowns and capes to even see the stage from here, it takes him all of 5 minutes to climb out of the prison that is bleachers pressed to a wire fence. Good thing he's scrawny of else he wouldn’t have been able to get out in time to see the show that is Bryce Tankthrust. Fuck. To think that he ever hated her for what happened. All the hate he'd ever bared for Bryce washes away in a second at seeing her up on that stage, when did she straighten her hair? Whatever.

She looks fucking /good/, greens definitely my favorite coulor. Fuck, she can take green if it means he can see her like she is now. Even in a graduation gown. 

And for the first time in a long time, he smiles. Bobby smiles because fuck is he happy. He didn’t /mean/ to look like a smug bastard, even if he is. He's just happy. But nothing ever goes right for him does it. Bryce looked at him, right in the eye, could you belive that? But he just smiled back, but not when her prideful smile turned down and into shock. He hasn't seen that face since.. since he threw up all over her heart, the one that she took out for him to profess her love. Fuck. Shit, SHIT. 

He hasn't ran that fast in, ever. The second he seen Bryce drop, clutching where her heart is (right?) fuck, did he really do that much damage? He didn’t think it was /that/ bad, he just wanted to surprise Bryce after escaping and... he just ran through that crowd. Over the people who were starting to pile up on the stage, he didn’t give a /fuck/ if he got sent back now or to some place worse for doing what he did and all but growling for security to get off her, Bryce was fucking hurt and it was all his fault.

[kaleidoscopiccc]

june doe day 6 but i run out of motivation halfway through

aka au where nothings different other than how they reacted to living in uranium and who got beheaded

Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg/Jane Doe- the most forgettable girl in town

Girlie's parents didnt even realize she was dead. Her home life lead to her being very quiet around people and most people just knew her as "that one stoner couple's kid"

Noel Gruber- the angriest boy in town

Homeboy was so sick of being bullied for being gay that he decided to fight back. Was forced into the choir by Mischa because they needed a 5th member to compete. Still works at taco bell and still fantasizes about monique to escape his shitty life

Mischa Bachinski- the most successful boy in town

Decided to work towards getting really good grades so he could get a scholarship to a college in Ukraine to be with Talia after graduation.

Ricky Potts- the nicest boy in town

He knew he was gonna die young so he decided to make a positive impact on people while he was still alive. Joined the choir to help with tech stuff

Penny Lamb- the most imaginative girl in town

She created imaginary worlds with Ezra at the commune (the creativity gene runs in the Lamb family) and got into art at St cassian

Constance Blackwood- the most romantic girl in town

I dont rly have an explanation for this one

@june-doe-event