#spent an hour ripping my hair out making this graph

[astrobei]

me when i actually have to apply stuff i learned from my college degree at the job i got specifically so that i could apply stuff i learned from my college degree: 😨

[wandsandwheezes]

Cyber Sex | F.W

WARNINGS // 1.4k // SMUT 18+, Sexting, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Husband!Fred, Oral (female receiving), it’s lowkey breeding kink if you take it that way<3

Summary // Fred has his wife wait patiently for him at home while he sits in a meeting, she’s a little too desperate to wait for him.

A/N // another one for my softies, i love me domestic Fred rn so enjoy luvs xxxxxx

The chime of his phone went off again, vibrating against the desk. He'd been in this conference call for an hour now and he was bored out of his skull as people continued to drone on about costings, graphs and figures. He only had maybe another 10 minutes to sit and listen to another investor talk about the future of products and what he wants out of the business before He and George had their presentation of the new line of products ready to go into testing. 

He picked up his phone, breath hitching in his throat at the stream of messages he read, all from his wife. 

>> tell me you'll be home soon Freddie x

>> I'm desperate for you

>> wearing your favourite colour, baby 

>> (1) Attachment

>> nothing feels as good as you do

>> my fingers don't stretch me out like your cock does 

>> (1) Attachment

>> I'm waiting for you, Freddie

>> so wet for you 

The man tried to stop himself from groaning before putting himself on mute on the call, quickly dialling your number. When you pick up on the other end, he's met with the faint hums of your sultry moans, making him twitch in his trousers at the thought of you spread open on your shared bed while you touched yourself. 

"Such a naughty girl, you are, Princess." He growled down the phone as he palmed himself under the table to the sounds of your broken whines and elongated moans. His thoughts were racing at the thought of you this morning, waking you with his tongue before he left for work. 

"Tongue not enough for my needy baby? Tell me what you want, use your words for me, my good girl." You whimper as you feel yourself clenching around your fingers to the sound of his voice alone, phone resting on your chest as you listen to him, already desperate to beg him for anything and everything. 

"I want you to come home and fill me up, baby, I wanna feel full with your cock." He tried not to show the exasperation on his face at the thought of his girl trying desperately to get his whole length sheathed inside of her tight cunt as well as the whimpering moans you made whenever he hit the back of you, sending you into a begging mess. 

"My tight little princess thinks she can take all of me tonight then, hm?" You moaned loudly as you hit your sensitive clit, imagining your husband pounding deep into you later, being able to feel him in your belly as he fucked you. You needed him home soon, home to fulfil all of your desperate, needy thoughts of filling you up completely. 

"I'll take that as a yes then, Love. That dirty little mouth of yours can't respond?" You whimpered as his tone grew darker, Fred liked to hear you using your words, he only ever wanted you to be silent when you couldn't possibly fathom any other sound but a moan, only then would he not make you use your words. 

"mm sorry Freddie, come home soon, please." you had flipped yourself over, hips rutting against a pillow in desperate need of some friction, mind wandering as you pretended it was your husband's hips or thigh your clit was brushing up against. 

"I'll be an hour, Princess, think you can hold on for me?" Your hips sped up their pace, the sound of the bed creaking rang through the phone, making Fred grow harder if that was even possible. His hand was attempting to relieve some tension, but every touch made him ache for you more. 

"I'm waiting, Freddie." you moaned as your breath hitched, heart beating faster as you imagined his hips coming up to meet yours in rhythmic thrusts, skin slapping echoing all round the room. 

"That's my Girl, you better still be wearing that red set when I get home." He groaned shifting in his seat as the tip of his cock pressed painfully against the restrictions of his trousers. 

Fred spent the next hour, pretending not to think of his wife splayed out desperately for him at home as he took the investors through their new line. He was lucky George had chosen to do most of the talking, especially when it came to figures and end results. The only image on his mind however, was the way your eyes rolled back and how your blissful fucked-out face made him hard as ever. 

The second he was through the door he was ready to devour you, exchanging no words before he was finding his place between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side and lapping at your soaking cunt, humming against you in satisfaction. The moans you let out as he attached his lips to your sensitive clit, made him only up the pace more, sucking the bud between his lips, not stopping until you were practically pushing his face away from the intense sensations.

"Hi baby, is my princess nice and ready for me?" You were nodding so quickly, hands desperate to find his sides and pull him up to kiss your lips, not caring if you could taste yourself on his tongue. Fred however was in a more paced mood, treating every second as its own as his hands brushed up your thighs, over hour hips till they were resting on your waist, giving you a possessive squeeze. 

“All mine.” he mumbled slowly as he pressed kisses up your stomach to between the valley of your breasts, your hands found comfort in raking through his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingertips, your desperation for him unmoved as your deep breaths began to shallow when his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Please, Freddie” he smirked at the pleading tone that fell from your lips; he knew he had you putty in his hands. He took your hand in his, thumb brushing softly over your knuckles as he brought your hand up to press a kiss to your fingers, then your palm, your thumb and finally your wrist. His fingertips then ghosted slowly up your arm until it reached your shoulder, sending goose bumps all over your skin. His finger hooked underneath the strap of your bra before running it down to where the strap met the cup, gently feeling the lace material between his pointer finger and thumb.

“Patience, my love… I want to feel every part of you.” Fred’s favourite sound was the way you whimpered needily at his touch, he loved - craved even, the way you melted into him, letting him take you to heaven and back with every intimate moment. Even though he’d felt and devoured every inch of your body a hundred times before, nothing could make him grow tired of feeling your skin against his. 

You watched patiently as he stripped himself of his clothing letting his tie fall from his neck to a pile against your stomach as he worked on unbuckling his belt, finding relief as soon as his aching cock was finally set free from the confines of his trousers, using his hand to stroke himself as he lined himself up, ready to give in to your begging. 

Fred wasted no time in seething as much of himself inside you as you could take in this position, his hips moving in slow gentle thrusts. Your hand gripped onto his shoulder, begging him for more - he knew you could take all of him, but he wanted to be a tease much to your annoyance. You tried to buck your hips up at a pace to meet his, attempting to pull him in deeper. 

The way your eyes were squeezed together, moaning out his name like a perfect melody, gave him the push to hook your legs over his shoulders, thrusting his full length inside you until he had bottomed out. His hands reached up to lace between yours as you squealed at the sensation of him stretching you to your capacity as the head of his cock continued to hit your back wall. You swore you could feel him in your stomach as he fucked you with all the passion he could muster, groaning and growling so deeply that it pushed you over the edge, squeezing around him as you came. 

“Good girl, taking me so deep… so fucking tight when you cum.” His thumbs rubbed circles into your hips as your legs shook, continuing to thrust slowly through your orgasm, feeling himself grow close as you squeezed around him.

“Think you can handle another, my love? I’m not quite done with you yet.” You nodded eagerly, letting your legs slip off his shoulders so that you could finally lean up to kiss him, revelling in the sweetness of his kiss. 

TAGLIST // @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​  @gcdric​​ @theweasleysredhair​​ @whiz-bangs78​​ @vogueweasley​ @minty-malfoy​​ @vivianweasley​​​ @feetoffthetablee​​ @thisismynerdyself​​ @witch-and-a-half​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @rip-us​ @hopemalfoyweasley​ @pigwidgexn​  @pansydaisy​

[husbandograveyard]

Hey there! I've been waiting for a while for your requests to be open and I just realized I didn't even think of a request for your reopening thing cause I was distracted by your other posts (Some of the best works of art, my friend). Could I request headcanons of Eustass and Zoro trying to help their s/o who's preg with their kid? I feel like these two would be the most confused, meaning the most entertaining to watch them figure things out along the way

Hi anon! Thank you for your kind words!! I definitely agree that these two would be amongst the most chaotic ones to become a dad! I hope you enjoy these!

Reacting to Pregnancy HC - Kid, Zoro 

warning for pregnancy, and things that come along with that. Slight angst sprinkled in, overall happy. 

Kid 

Kid did not see this coming. Well, he’s not stupid, he obviously knows where children come from. But he did not expect for it to happen to him. He’s never even thought about having children, and he still feels way too young for it. 

He doesn’t want a kid. And that’s his very first reaction. It scares you a little, because well, you were terrified to tell him in the first place, and him going from complete silence to a fit of anger of how you (and he) could be so stupid to let that happen, was enough to make you feel downright miserable. 

It's Killer that is there to comfort you first, promising he'll kick some sense into his captain, reassuring you it was just a knee jerk reaction. Kid doesn't know fear and reacts to it with anger. 

It takes him a good few days to come around though. Days that he's locked himself in his workplace, only coming out for food and bark orders. He won't even come sleep in the bed you share. It feels empty and you feel terrible. You spend most of those first days crying. 

When he finally comes around, it's not with an apology, that's not his style. He just kind of barges into the room, where you are lying on the bed, overthinking your whole situation for the umptieth time.

"What do you need me to do?" 

It's blunt, it's short. No hello's, no apologies. But still, a rare vulnerable moment in which he admits he has no idea what to do and asks for guidance. 

You explain that it's gonna be nothing much the first few months, you are lucky enough to not experience any morning sickness, and the other pains and discomforts are things that are nothing compared to what you've already gone through being a pirate.

First weeks are spent teaching Kid what is going to happen with some books you stole from the library the first next island you dock on. Kid is positively grossed out by all the graphs of how your organs are going to have to make way and how your skin is gonna stretch. He is very vocal about it, but not necessarily disrespectful, and he does stick around for it all, many times wondering out loud why the hell people go through that whole ordeal just to have a mini-them. Disgusting. 

As you start showing more, he gets noticeably more protective of you. He was already possessive and protective, but it's reached a whole new level now and he's not even denying it. Actively telling people to back off, having you in his sights 24/7, nearly almost touching you in some way or another. 

When your due date is nearing, he’s completely abandoned plans to set course to an island with good doctors, like hell he’s gonna let you go into labor on the ship. 

He’s insanely nervous. Besides you and Killer, no one has to ask him anything or bother him in any way, he’ll rip their heads off if they even remark something about his current state of mind. 

When it’s happening, he’s not sure whether he wants to run away, be there, punch a wall, murder a civilian, or just hold you close so you could stop screaming because you seem to be in so much pain. (And well, he’s seen the pictures in the books you ‘borrowed’, he’d be in pain too)

When the baby is there, he’s completely silent. A rare sight to have Eustass Kid completely speechless and dumbfounded as he holds the tiniest, most vulnerable creature he’s ever met right there in his arms and makes up his mind. He’ll protect them with his life.  

Zoro 

You know he is completely shocked by the news when he doesn’t say a thing, just walks away and straight up goes to Sanji for advice. 

You’re not really upset by the response, but not really sure what to think either. You give him the time and space necessary to work through it but it is needless to say that within a matter of hours, the whole crew knows about it.

Which is not a bad thing, they’re insanely supportive, and all work together to stomp some sense into your green-haired boyfriend, who was never not a speech waterfall to begin with, but has now been completely silent after the initial confusion and going straight to Sanji about it. 

When the initial shock wears off, panic sets in. He is completely helpless. Wants to spend time with you, all the time, asking you all the questions. What is he supposed to do? How can he help? Can you walk? Are you in pain? Do you need more food? 

He’s a bit of a mess and you need to calm him down a little. You explain whatever you know, and whatever you don’t know, are things that chopper can help explain. 

For some reason, it helps Zoro a lot to just listen to you and Chopper explain what to do, and he does not remember everything, but he will surely do his best. He wasn’t prepared, but he’s not gonna deny responsibility and will definitely do his best up to catch up to all the information as fast as possible.  

He starts to treat you as if you were made from glass. Literally carrying you around everywhere, even if you insist you can perfectly walk by yourself. 

He doesn’t allow you to go out without supervision, preferably his supervision. 

Oh, and he’s bothering Sanji all the time to ensure you have whatever food or drinks you need to ensure you’re happy and healthy. Luckily Sanji is more than happy to provide for you, but there are a couple of arguments about Zoro bossing him around.

Chopper helps you prepare and whenever you are scared about the whole ordeal, the whole crew is there to comfort you. 

The closer you get to the due date, the more nervous Zoro becomes. He misses training sessions, barely leaves your side, and even the slightest groan or grimace from you he asks if it’s gonna happen. 

If you weren’t feeling so uncomfortable, you’d think it is absolutely hilarious. 

You try to distract him thinking about names together, fantasizing about what it would be like to raise a kid, focussing on the positives, but gently preparing him for the negatives too. 

When the moment is finally there, there is absolute chaos, but strangely enough, Zoro himself is extremely calm. As if he’s preparing for the hardest battle of his life. 

He’s incredibly calm and reassuring and it helps everything to go that more smoothly

The moment the baby is there, he has to go for a little walk before reuniting with the two of you - thank god he stays on the Sunny for that so you don’t have to go look for him after said walk - 

His eyes are a little red when he returns, but you’re too tired to even make a remark on it You’re happy he is there.

[hournites]

The Bet 

Flirty!Beth & Oblivious!Rick For @canary-warrior​

~.~ 

Beth folds the paper she’s holding onto in half, then again, biting her lip to conceal her smile as she sneaks up on Rick half dozing off on the couch. The Pit Stop is still open, Pat was making conversation with one of his customers downstairs, but up in the loft it’s quiet, and the curtain over the only window is pulled over. Rick must’ve crashed here after his weekend shift helping Pat with keeping up the shop.  She leans over from behind, peering at his face and resists the urge of messing up his hair just for the kick of it. 

“Sleepy?” 

Rick blinks and makes some noise between a groan and a yawn. He pulls himself up from his sunken position and shoots her a boyish smile, rubbing one of his fists over his eye. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” Beth’s fingers are still fidgeting around the paper. She may have spent several hours hunting the deep and confusing academic side of the internet for what she was looking for. “I have a little something for you.” 

Either this is going to work or this is going to work. She woke up early this morning strategizing, planning her delivery and predicting his reaction. So far she hopes she didn’t miscalculate. 

“What?” 

Beth waves the white mysterious square above his head. “Only the world’s most difficult chemistry problem. Bet you can’t do it.” 

“What?!” Rick shoots up. “Give me that!” 

And just like that, she has his interest. 

Beth spins on her heel, whisking it away as he reached up to grab it. Rick twists around, leaning on his arm as he watched her hide it behind her back. 

“Wait,” she says. “What do I get first?” 

“What do you get what?” 

“What do I get when you can’t solve it?” She keeps her tone light, pretends like her heart isn’t beating faster in her chest. Doesn’t allow her voice to make any falter as she suggests, “Dinner?” 

Rick lets out an indignant scoff. “What makes you so sure I can’t?” 

She dangles it in front of him, watching gleefully as his eyes got big and round. What a gigantic geek. All she had to do was promise the challenge of some chemistry equations and she got him all fired up right out of a nap? “Prove me wrong then.” 

“Fine! It’s on.” He takes the paper and unfolds it, flapping his other hand at her to help get him extra scrap paper as he searches the pockets of his worn jacket for his leaky pen he kept wrapped in a paper towel. Beth made the mistake of asking him about that once when she offered to buy him a new one. Turns out it used to be his dad’s good fountain pen, left abandoned in his study for Rick to find, and spend years chewing the cover on. He doesn’t mind the ink. 

Beth reaches into her bag, five steps ahead of him, taking out the graph paper he’s going to need. He looks up at her, momentarily surprised. Then not.

His eyes scan the numbers and letters and equations on the page, and he’s already mumbling out some type of gibberish Beth doesn’t even want to try following. 

Ten minutes turn into fifteen, then twenty, and Beth unabashedly stares at Rick. He’s still on the couch, with littered graph paper all around him. 

“Damn it,” he says after realizing something’s not right. Beth is aching to ask just how far along he got, but doesn’t want to ruin this competitive fueled frenetic energy she could live off of just by observing.

“Stuck?” she singsongs. Sitting on the coffee table, she keeps ripping out sheets of graph paper when he sticks a hand out for one. 

“Nooooo,” he lies. 

“It’s okay if you can’t figure it out, Rick. It’s okay.” 

“No, I can do it,” he answers stubbornly. He’s rattling off theoretics, and she knows it’s just for him to make sense of the problem as he goes through it. 

Beth interrupts, touching his jittery knee. “Well, if you do, then I will take you out for coffee.” She holds her breath, wondering if that will tear his gaze from his calculations for a second long enough to see her be serious. 

Instead, he’s batting her prodding hand away with his pen, playful and distracted. “You’re on.” 

Beth sighs after a few more minutes go by. Maybe this isn’t the best way to get his attention. “Can I at least sit on the couch?” she asks. “I’m feeling tired.” 

That snaps Rick right out of work. His face clouds over guiltily, realizing he completely littered the couch with his equations and other dead ends. “Yeah, shit.” He brushes the balls of paper he deemed too ridiculous to be worth keeping. “Yeah, Beth of course.” 

She plops herself, on the couch, and goes as far as placing her head in his lap. It’s self-indulgent, Beth is well aware, but she’s been overtly flirting with Rick for almost three months now to his complete and utter oblivion. At this point, Beth will take what she can get from him. 

He’s slowing down as Beth shifts, realizing one of his balled up works is poking at her back. She pulls it out, opening it up and smoothes the crinkles and wrinkles and creases. Her brows pull together, reading his handwriting. She knew Rick was very smart with Chemistry, but this is next level. It looks like something right out of Einstein’s journal. It really does.

“Wow,” she murmurs, more to herself than meant for him to hear. “Okay, genius.” 

“Those are all of my mistakes,” he points out. 

Beth tilts her head up at him and licks her lips. “You make good mistakes then.” 

He chuckles, and their eyes meet. Beth wants nothing more than to reach up in the short space between them to kiss him. 

She pulls her gaze away, not wanting him to see her get flushed so up close. She takes a breath, and fiddles with the rainbow pendant of her necklace instead. Of course, sometimes Beth wants to quit playing these games with him and just up and tell him she likes him. Really, really likes him. But a part of her worries he knows she’s flirting and is ignoring her because he doesn’t feel the same. A bigger part wants the satisfaction of seeing the realization dawn on his face. The realization that he’s wanted. Hopefully, the happiness that maybe his own feelings are returned? 

That’s likely wishful thinking.

 “So,” he says casually, “How long does it usually take the experts to finish questions like these?” 

“Chuck says six weeks.” 

“What?!?” 

Beth lets out a laugh. “Yeah, you might as well throw in the towel--I was thinking dinner at--” 

“Beth I’m like--halfway done.” 

It’s her turn to startle. She nearly loses her balance completely and tumbles over the side of the couch. “What?!?” 

The entire plan was to get him to give up so she’d get a dinner date out of it. Rick wasn’t actually supposed to be almost finished in a fraction of the time--what? 

“You’re a literal prodigy” she blurts out. Beth can’t even conceal her googly eyes. 

And yet, she can hear-- suspiciously in Chuck’s voice--

A chemistry mastermind, yes, but can’t see it between two people if he tried. 

Rick seems suddenly embarrassed. “Well…” 

Beth gets up and holds out a hand. “Come on, Mr. Prodigy-Man. How about pizza?” 

“I thought you said dinner is for when I give up. I didn’t give up, Beth.” 

He lets her pull him away from the couch anyway.  

“This can be our pre-dinner dinner. You can always get back to it later.” 

“Pre-dinner dinner?” he teases. 

Her hand is on her hip. “I said what I said.” 

Rick gives her another sideglance. “You are really fiesty today, you know that?” 

Beth does her best not to look too pleased. “Is that a problem?” 

“No.” He sticks his hands into his pockets, shooting her another glance. “It’s fun. I like this side of you.” 

Beth is pretty sure that sentence will make her week. 

They pass by Pat downstairs as they head out of the Pit Stop. He takes one good look at them and rolls his eyes. Beth shrugs discreetly. No, nothing has changed. Yes, she’s still pining. No, Rick hasn’t stopped being blind to it. Yes, Beth still wants him anyway. No, she can’t explain it. Beth wraps her arm around his as they get to the sidewalk. 

“I like you,” she blurts out randomly. Although to her, it is so not random. Beth did not mean to say it like that. She honestly did not. But it was kinda on a repetitive chant in the back of her mind, beside her homework and JSA puzzle pieces she still feels the need to prod over

Rick smiles. “Yeah, I like you too.” 

She can tell by the way he says it as they walk up to the diner that he still has totally no idea. 

“Actually--” 

He turns, arching an eyebrow and Beth loses her nerve. 

“Never mind.” She heaves another longing sigh, pushing on the glass and plasters on a smile. “Pepperoni?” 

One of these days he’ll get it. 

[hoodoo12]

Familial Ties (And How to Break Them) 1/?

Based on a rp that the witty and talented @turtlepated and I did over several months.  NSFW, Beetlejuice/OC f!character, actual plot, world building, Latin, other demons, violence, smut.  Enjoy!  ~

Pate sighed, shifting the heavy sealed plastic box in her arms as she padded down the dimly lit hallway. It was long after closing time at the archives, but her boss had wheedled her into staying late to assess some new arrivals. She shouldered open the swinging door into a restoration office, depositing her load on a sterile work bench and gathering up supplies: pen and notebook, cotton gloves to protect the delicate velum pages, the assorted cleaning tools, and laying them neatly at her station before opening the box. Inside were half a dozen leather bound volumes, purchased by her boss on a recent trip to Europe. She lifted them out one by one and looked them over, judging that most were in decent enough shape to be worth salvaging.

One, she noted with a puzzled frown, appeared to be in the worst condition of the lot. And strangest of all, there was a thick metal clasp complete with an ancient padlock holding the book shut.

She set the padlocked tome aside and quickly made notations and catalogued the other books, banal volumes of religious writings for the most part, and in good enough shape not to require much attention from her. Finally she was left with only the poorly locked book, taking it gently in her gloved hands and turning it around to get a better look. From what she could tell at a cursory inspection of the cracked and worm-eaten spine, it appeared to be a collection of astronomical dissertations.

She tried the lock, tugging on it as sharply as she dared with the state of the book.

⁂

Out of the ether, a deep thrumming startled him. It was almost too faint to be felt at first, but it grew in intensity.

"There's something I never expected to feel again," Beetlejuice thought, shaking his head of the literal cobwebs.

⁂

The rusty lock refused to give, and Pate gave it one more frustrated rattle against the metal loop. She had just decided to simply discard the thing into the shelf of other moldering texts when, with no warning, the centuries-old binding ripped free and the entire block slid right out of the leather coverings. Heart leaping into her throat, Pate just managed to catch it before it hit the ground, cradling the bundle of loose leaves against her chest as she set the now empty cover back on the bench.

"Shit, Paul's gonna kill me," she grumbled.

⁂

A minor jolt went through him, like someone had run their warm, living fingers down his spine. It was just a fleeting touch, but he grinned.

⁂

Sighing harshly, Pate lay the block on the table and examined the most recent damage with a twinge of guilt. The backing and both end papers had completely torn away from the block, still hanging on the cover. She frowned at the exposed title page, wrinkled by long-dried water, the ink faded and difficult to make out. It took a few minutes to discern the title stamped into the parchment, but as best as she could tell the book was entitled "Ens entium collectio infernalia". Since her forte was restoring old books and not reading or translating them, she turned to Google.

"Being a collection of entities most infernal," she read aloud from her phone screen. But wasn't this a book about astronomy?  

Frowning in thought, Pate pulled the text block closer and began leafing through the pages. They came away stiff, some sticking together after who knew how much time spent with the book tightly shut and locked. She carefully separated pages from one another, eyes roving writing that she could not read. Instead of star charts or graphs, there were woodcut illustrations of monstrous creatures, hand-drawn sigils in iron gall ink that had browned with age.

"What the hell...?" Pate murmured to herself, flipping the block closed and reaching for the empty boards that once held it all together.

Something caught her eye on the back cover, where the pastedown ripped harshly when the block detached from the spine. There appeared to be another page tucked under the end paper.

Peeling away the pastedown, Pate took hold of the folded corner of parchment and gently tugged it free, not wanting to risk ripping it before she got a look at it. It was folded several times over, so she pushed the text block and cover across the workbench to have room to lay it down and open it out. Going slowly, the parchment crinkling like dead leaves each time she touched it, Pate carefully unfolded the bit of parchment to reveal a page. It looked different to the simple black and white woodblock illustrations in the book; this was in color, and appeared to have been rendered by hand. It depicted a male figure dressed in a strange black and white striped tunic and leggings. On his face was a devilish grin, a peculiar pointed tongue protruding from between his leering lips. The unkempt hair on his head had been colored green, and he appeared to be holding some sort of bizarre black and white snake with two heads? Pate's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to inspect it, though it was hardly the strangest medieval illumination she'd ever seen. Next to the grinning, green haired person in his striped garments were a few lines of slightly smeared text.

⁂

Beetlejuice shivered. That was closer. That was closer.

⁂

Pate squinted harder at the splotchy lines of ink, trying to make sense of it or at least figure out what language it was written in. One thing she was certain of: this page had been torn from a completely different book that the one she found it in. It was much older, smaller than the pages of the rest of the text block. And why had someone gone to the trouble of hiding it? Whoever had written... whatever was written next to the strange illumination had very shaky handwriting, which didn't make it any easier to decipher.

"Bhet el.... What's that last thing there?" She thumbed through the internet browser on her phone, comparing text to find a match. "Bhet, el, juz? Is that it?"

⁂

"Oh, shit," he groaned. This was happening? Out of nowhere, this was happening?!

⁂

Sitting back in her chair, Pate took the torn-out page and held it at arms' length, pondering the three peculiar syllables and wondering why they sounded familiar.

"Bhet el juz…." she murmured. It does sound different, taking a shorter pause between. It was on the tip of her tongue, teasing at the outermost edge of recognition.

⁂

 Oh fuck

Electricity flooded him, making him jitter. It had to be a joke, couldn't be true; he rocked on the balls of his feet, which helped release some nervous energy and also shifted his involuntarily hard-on to a more comfortable position behind his fly.

⁂

Sighing tiredly, Pate laid the page back on the workbench and looked at the time on her phone. Had she really spent an hour and a half picking apart the enigma of the locked book? And what had she really learned? Snorting softly through her nose, Pate wheeled the chair forward to prop her elbows atop the bench, resting her chin in her hand and regarding the striped tongue snaking out of the figure's mouth.

"Bheteljuz, what's your deal, huh?" she asked no one.

At least the dirt on his pants would hide the wet spot if he came right here and now. Like a grappling hook had been driven into his gut, he was pulled through the ether to whomever called him.

When he landed, bent knees and feeling better than he'd had in forever, he threw his arms out and shouted, "Suus 'showtime!"

There was a breather here, of course, surrounded by dusty books.

"Quis es?" he asked excitedly, eager to meet this woman who so thoughtfully released him. "Gratias tibi! Gratias tibi tam! Fortuna, suus 'sit bonum, de iterum.Quis es tibi nomen?"

Pate frowned at a sudden, short lived gust of wind that ruffled the torn out page and whipped loose tendrils of hair around her face, but before she had time to wonder at it a sudden voice made her yelp and spin in her chair so fast that she nearly tipped right over.

Standing before her was quite possibly the strangest looking person she'd ever seen:  a man dressed in a rather shabby and grimy looking black-and-white-striped suit, a tangled rat's nest of verdant green hair on his head and a broad, toothy grin on his face. She blinked stupidly, sure that she must be seeing things.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, pausing to clear her throat when the question came out a tad squeaky. "How'd you get in here?"

Beetlejuice shook his head.

"ENGLISH," he crowed, like he'd solved a mystery. "I saw the books and thought some goddamn alchemist had called me up again, but the fluorescent lights should've given it away."

He took a parody breath, like this air was fresh and clean, and gave his best grin to the breather. The one that he hoped didn't look too much like he wanted to take a bite out of someone.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

Completely taken aback, Pate answered without even thinking,

"My name . . .? I'm Pate, but . . . who--?"

She cut herself off, answering her own question even as she asked it, glancing from the illumination on the orphaned page to the man standing before her and making the connection.

"This is . . . is this you?" she asked, holding it up to show him.

He grabbed it out of her hand for a closer look, breaking into a wider grin.

"Oh yeah, baby, that's me! Good thing someone beautiful and smart called me up! So. What's your pleasure? Who do I have to kill?"

Pate's eyebrows shot up, her mouth falling open.

"Kill?" she squeaked. "No! Nobody! What? Called you? How?"

Questions spun through her mind too fast for her tongue to keep up and she leaned against the bench, tenting her fingers together and pressing them to her face as she breathed deeply.

"Ooookay, this is obviously some sort of . . . stress-induced hallucination."

His brow wrinkled.

"Nobody ever wants me to kill anybody," he groused. "Hey. Hey. Pate? Sweetie, you don't look so good. Almost as pale as me! Why don'tcha sit down, m'kay? Don't need a smart one like you falling over and injuring that big brain of yours."

He stepped up to take her elbow, and really fought down the urge to give her a peek at his brain and its resident maggots, to demonstrate the worst that could happen.

Pate peeked out from behind her hands enough to see him take a step closer, one hand extending towards her in an admittedly non-threatening way but she couldn't contain the tiny frightened gasp that escaped her as she backed a step away, bumping into her chair and sending it skittering across the linoleum floor.

"That's . . . ahem . . . i's fine, I'm fine," she said, making an effort to keep her voice conversationally polite even while her mind was screaming, overwrought and uncomprehending of what was happening. "Now you said I called you? How, exactly?"

Beetlejuice frowned. "Come on, beaut. I said you were smart! You picked up my flyer. Where was it?" He spied the destroyed book and picked some of it up. "Oh! Ens entium collectio infernalia". Good old Deitrich Fuchs. Herr Fucks had to hide this book so the church didn't know it was about demons."

He chuckled. "Herr Fuchs," he repeated, like a 12-year-old boy. Then he shook himself and got back to the question at hand.

"You read my flyer--such a sweet voice, like a nightingale!--and here I am, the Netherworld's leading, and only, bio-exorcist, at your service. Don't confuse me for a genie, though. Those guys think they're so great, what with that fucking Disney movie making them out to be fun and funky playmates, but a couple of things. One, they stink. Cooped up in a lamp? Come one. Two. They're cranky assholes, because you guessed it: they're stuck in lamps. Three? They can't show you the same kind of good time that I can, baby. If you catch my drift. And I think you do."

He clicked his tongue and winked.

"So if I'm not killing anyone, is that what you're after? I can most certainly accommodate you there too. There's usually this other guy that gets called more than me, but you've obviously got better taste calling me instead."

There was definitely a tension headache working its way into her temples as Pate blinked dumbly at the onslaught of words, only half of which her brain managed to process and understand. His flyer? Had he hidden the page in the book himself? But if that were the case . . . Like a lightbulb switching on, it suddenly clicked. That word! Bhetlejuz! She couldn't explain how, not even to herself, but somehow or another saying it out loud had brought him here! But from where?

Before a new flood of questions had time to wash over her, his innuendo filtered into her consciousness and she stiffened, mortified to feel warmth in her face that she hoped the overhead fluorescence would bleach out before he noticed. Clearing her throat, she made a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to a more . . .  professional topic.

"Wait, are you saying you actually knew the author? But that would make you . . . " She did the math in her head, guestimating the age of the tome itself. "Almost five hundred years old?"

He didn't miss the color that rose in her cheeks.

"Now you're looking a little flushed, sugar," he remarked, and sidled closer again, even though she'd rebuffed him before. His voice dropped. "It looks good on you. I'd be interested in seeing if that pretty blush shows up anywhere else . . ."

He cleared his throat and twisted his hips just a tad; it'd been a while since he'd been near, well, anyone, and having a raging boner wouldn't endear him to her! She didn't look like she'd appreciate a femur as a joke at the moment, either. He switched topics, for her sake.

"Let's table that and revisit it later, okay? Your question about Herr . . . Fuchs? Christ that guy should've changed his name. Nice guy. Nervous. Well, he would've been tortured and probably drawn and quartered, so I guess he had reason to me. But yeah! Well, I'm more like six hundred-ish, but what's a century or two?"

Her blush only deepened when he called her out because of course he'd noticed.... She tensed at the close proximity and the blatant flirting, but she still had questions.

"This book," she said, turning to the side to heft the flayed text block into her hands. "Did you say it was about demons? How did Fuchs know about them?"

Pate ignored the snicker at the author's name. "Did you help him write it?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her now, replacing the fear and the uncertainty of this whole strange turn of events.

"How the Fuchs indeed," he chortled. Her query sobered him up a little bit, however. "I'm not at huge liberty to divulge past summoner's requests. Well, mainly I don't want to. I will say that now that I think about it, Fuchs might have earned that surname fair and square. Foolin' around with a demon--even one as handsome as myself--would also earn you a stake in the middle of a bonfire, if you know what I mean."

Despite herself, Pate couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of a demon abiding by a client confidentiality clause. This whole ordeal was simply too surreal, part of her still wondered if she wasn't dreaming.

"I suppose that's understandable," she conceded.

The sound of voices filtering down the hall interrupted her chain of thought. Someone was coming! But who'd be here at this time of night? Pate fumbled for her phone and checked the time.

"Holy shit! It's almost 7! The first shift is coming in!" She turned, looking from the dismantled tome to the demon leaning against the work bench.

"Oh . . . were you doing something naughty down here you don't want them to find?" Beetlejuice asked. Then something occurred to him. "Wait! It's me, isn't it!"

"Well, not to be blunt, but yes! Can you... I dunno, hide or something?" she asked, scooping up the flier and the sad remnants of the demon bestiary.

"Why would I want to hide this prime specimen of demonhood?" he retorted, offended. Seeing the panic on her face, however, he downgraded his response. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, sugar. I can be discreet."

Pate rolled her eyes at his bravado, sliding the text block carefully back into its cover and stashing the whole thing in her bag. It was unlikely to be missed, but it wasn't something she wanted to leave lying around. And, if she were honest with herself, she was fascinated by it and unable to resist the temptation of taking it home for a closer look.

Bheteljuz, which she assumed now must be his name, was nowhere in sight when she next looked but she got the distinct impression that he hadn't gone far.

The first shift crew came in then, surprised to see her still in the office but not enough to raise alarm bells. Gripping the strap of her shoulder bag protectively in both hands, Pate did her best to play it cool and bid them all goodnight, exiting the parking lot with a stolen 15th century book of demonology and an invisible demon? ghost? man? at her heels.

 tbc

[bittysvalentines]

Zoo Date

From: @eatallofthepumpkinthings

To: @secretgeniusshittyknight

Content: Ransom/Holster, established relationship, canon compliant

“Good afternoon”

“Hello there young man. How many?”

“Two, please” he responded. He glanced over at Ransom who was vibrating out of his skin. His eyes were huge, his lips pursed in concentration, and his back stretched to try and get a peek past the gates. He'd spent a month creating and refining a spreadsheet that “perfectly maximizes our animal exploration time.” Their itinerary he now clutched in his large hands. Holster couldn't help but smile at his boyfriend's excitement.

“That'll be 35.95” He handed the woman his credit card and turned towards Ransom again. When Holster had suggested this a month ago, it was before a bombardment of new customer meetings, budget realignments, new team member onboardings, and all manner of project delays and hiccups. He couldn't wait to get in the gates and put the month behind him. He smiled again as Ransom saddled up beside him.

The admissions lady passed Holster back his card and a receipt which he signed. She slid him two maps. Before he could grab them, Ransom had snatched one away and was ripping it open.

“Excited, aren't we?” the lady asked. Holster chuckled.

She began to speak again but startled a bit at Ransom's boisterous “Woo hoos” He had grabbed Holster's hand and was tugging him towards the gate.

“Well before you guys head in there, do you have any questions?”

“No I think we have everything covered. Thanks!” He let Ransom tug him about a foot.

“Have fun and welcome to Franklin Park Zoo.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Whats up next babe?” The first section they had gone through was the “Serengeti Crossing” where they had spotted porcupines, zebras, ostriches, and warthogs. They'd just finished the “Kalahari Kingdom” section where they got to see some lounging lions and a tiger that was bathing its cubs.

They had stopped to read every info graph and inscription by each animal, plus Ransom had shared some pretty sweet, and sometimes, sick facts about each animal they saw. Holster was endeared to Ransom when he realized that his partner had spent extra time on the zoo's website and online in general to learn facts about all the animals just to share with him. But he realized they were running about 15 minutes behind schedule and wasn't sure how Ransom would react once he realized.

Holster bit his tongue as he watched Ransom review the itinerary and then look at his watch.

“We are running behind, but that shouldn't matter much right? The plan was to be out of here before closing but if we stay til then... There wasn't something you needed to get home to do right?”

“No, nothing. I got my work done for the K&R project last night so I haven't anything to do tonight. Well except maybe you” He waggled his eyebrows at him.

Ransom laughed as color rose in his cheeks. “Well then...” he wiggled his eyebrows back at him. “Lets just stick to the plan of action, but not worry too much about the time.”

“Sounds good to me!” Ransom dropped Holster's hand and unfolded the map holding it against some siding.

“If we continue down this path, we should come to the Tropical Forest building. It's what's next on the list and it's inside so we can take a quick break to cool down and to reapply sunblock to your forehead.”

Holster guffawed “Its only been an hour and a half”

“Bro, and you're already lookin' like a lobster.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later they sat at an empty pavilion table near the “Things Wild” gift shop, taking massive bites out of Bitty's PB&J sandwiches they had packed. Holster was thanking his stars for the forethought to pack 4 sandwiches instead of just two, and he was already daydreaming about the crock pot pork they had waiting for them at home when he looked over at Ransom who was scrolling through the SMH group chat.

They had now gone through the Tropical Forest, “Bird's World”, and the “Outback Trail���; seen what felt like hundreds of different animals; and took what felt like a million different photos. When they finally sat down for their late lunch, Ransom sent some of their better photos to the group.

Tango: Can we get an ocelot for the Haus? Its so cute!

Chowder: I agree with Tango! :D

Ollie: I also agree on the condition that its Haus trained

Wicks: Did you know that ancient Australian war lords kept trained emus in their armies?

Ford: I'm not sure you guys are cut out for taking care of an animal

Tango: C'mon!

Chowder: Aww :'[

Ford: also Wicks that is like 100% false

Ollie: Nah its totally true

Ollie: do you think a monkey could hang from our lights?

Whiskey: you mean the chandelier in your room?

Chowder: totally! But monkey's aren't heavy. And look lemurs are tiny too. They could both probably hang from it

Wicks: Swawesome

Ollie: Swawsome

Ford: NO

Bitty: good lord thats a disaster waiting to happen

Bitty: yall couldn't handle a stuffed ocelot. Let alone a live animal

Tango: I could def take care of a stuffed ocelot. It doesn't even need to eat!

Chowder: Are we talking cute stuffed or weird on the wall stuffed?

Lards: Way to talk them down Bits

Jack: Thats a great shot of the flamingo. Its very difficult to get an action photo like that on a phone.

Bitty: #masternegotiator

Whiskey: That is a good shot of the flamingos guys

Nursey: yeah yeah great shots, haus pets, blah....but did none of you notice how that red kangaroo looks like Poindexter. Its like a spitting image

Dex: sdkj;fjkdsa;kdf Nurse!

Tango: Ears

Lards: EARS

Bitty: EA RS

Chowder: eARs

Shits: that Capybara is giving me good vibes guys

Shits: good vibes

“You forgot the best one babe,” Holster brushed his hands over Ransom's and then quickly grabbed his phone.

“Hey!” Ransom laughed, and so did Holster. “Which one are you sending?”

“The one with us and the hippo!”

They had just walked into the Tropical Forest building when they came face to face with a smiling hippo. A group of school children were on the opposite side of the tank and tapping on the glass. Before the children could run up to the other side of the tank, Ransom and Holster had slid their backs against the wall, locked lips, and snapped a selfie with the hippo. Holster had thought the hippo looked like it was blowing a kiss of his own, but Ransom had cheerily admonished him for anthropomorphizing the hippo. When they had gotten to the side of the tank where the children had vacated, they found a plaque informing them that the hippos name was “Fred”. Holster held back a smug face, but winked at Ransom and his scrunched up nose.

When he sent the picture to the group chat the response was near instantaneous.

Chowder: CUTE!

Tango: OMG so adorable

Wicks: Niceeeeeeeeee

Ollie: Nice!!!!!!!!!

Dex: Noiceeee

Nurse: Why does he look like a priest at your wedding?

Shits: Is that hippo ordained?

Jack: Congratulations!

Chowder: congrats!!!!!

Bitty: <3 <3 <3 oh im gonna cry

Lards: Can't believe you got hitched without us

Whiskey: Nice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before heading off to the last three sections of the park, Ransom guided him into the gift shop. He perused the shelves of books, knickknacks, and stuffed animals. He found a pink stuffed hippo and immediately grabbed it from the shelf. He snuck up behind Ransom and rubbed the hippos face against his cheek. “Mwuah”

Ransom jumped but turned and laughed at him. “Oh stop it you... you...”

“Me...”

“Cutie hippo butt face!”

“That was lame bro.” Ransom's cheeks colored more and Holster leaned over to give him a smacking wet kiss himself.

Ransom laughed and wiped his cheek. “So are we getting that?” he said pointing at the hippo.

“Hell yeah! See anything you like?”

Ransom gestured to the stuffed lemurs in front of him. “Look at this.” He grabbed the arms of the lemur that were clasped together and separated them. When he let go they snapped back together. “Magnetic”

“Oh man, the frogs are gonna love that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They made it through the rest of the zoo in an hour and a half. They saw goats, butterflies, prairie dogs, and even some cute fuzzy red pandas. Holster grinned as he thought about Ransom's face as one of the zookeepers brought over a llama for them to pet. When Ransom had stroked the llamas hair his eyes had lit up like stars and his shoulders had relaxed. It was one of the few moments all month where Holster had seen Ransom relax.

He looked over at Ransom now. Took in his drowsy form, cuddling his new stuffed hippo. His eyes drifted closed ever so slowly, and reopened even slower. He doubted that he would make it home before falling asleep. It had been a long exciting day and they were both exhausted. Holster gently took one of Ransom's hands and laced their fingers together. “You had fun babe?”

“Yeah. Can't wait to get home and cuddle though.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

Notes

Zoo website: https://www.zoonewengland.org/franklin-park-zoo/

Zoo map: https://www.zoonewengland.org/media/1517583/map-fzoo-winter-2018-hd.pdf

I implore you to look up images of and learn a little bit about all the animals mentioned! Red Pandas are my favorite.

[thedappleddragon]

ugh im big stupid and haven't been posting my shit here for a while. I've still been typing it out in my notes, I just havent transferred them onto here lol. im putting it all under the cut, don't worry

Today was pretty dang nice! I spent a little time outside because it was nice and warm out, I drew a little in my sketchbook and digitally rendered a picture of Anna’s new princess outfit, ran an errand with my mom to pick up a graphing calculator and a pack of soda, ate some Wendy’s, and did a lot of sewing for my dress! I joined the bodice lining and exterior, and did a little over half of the sewing for the skirt. I’m doing French seams so there’s no raw edges on the inside, so I still have to iron it and go over the second round of stitches. My machine malfunctioned for a moment with the thread tangling up in the lower bobbin thingy, so I left it alone for like an hour and it fixed itself lol. I’m very happy with how the bodice came out after clipping all the extra fabric in the corners and test fitting it. I think it’ll be great when it’s done!! Although I may or may not need to seam rip a little bit of the skirt to extend the zipper down so I can get it over my fuckin DUMPTRUCK when putting it on. Right now there’s enough stretch to put it on, but Idk how well that’ll stay after attaching the 2 pieces. Also it might end up making me look fat/preggo in the end with how the skirt lays lmao. I also did a really quick test fit with the sleeves, and I might actually like it better sleeveless? I’ll put one on anyway and go from there to see which I like better. HOORAY this dress has pockets!! But I may have put them a little low lol. I wanted to do a big dress debut at prom, but turns out graduates aren’t allowed due to covid restrictions :( so that really sucks. But we’re still gonna hang out a little bit beforehand, and I can still do a debut. I made a little bow out of some scrap dress fabric, which I want to put in my hair for pre-prom. I think I’ll braid my hair, maybe get some fake flowers from dollar tree and ribbon to add somehow, and put the ribbon either at the bottom or the top, wherever the hair tie eventually goes. I’m so exited to work on it more. I’m kinda running out of white thread tho so I’ll have to get more. Later in the evening i got hungry and made ramen while my dad and I watched a documentary on some of the horrible shit that went on all around the world during 2020, some of which I had forgotten about, some that was really surreal and out of a dystopian movie, and some stuff that was just upsetting to watch. It was still pretty good tho. I got work tomorrow and I’m really sleepy even tho it’s only 12:30 so I think I’m gonna grab a snack and go to sleep soon. Gnight mwah

Yesterday I worked and sewed until I ran out of thread and drew a little bit. Spent most of my shift watering flowers, then I went home and ate for a moment, then watered more and picked dead flowers and talked about avatar and other animated shows with the highschool girl I work with. Came home and hung out for a while, that evening made some good pasta. 

Today I justly hung out, then went with mom to pick up a bookshelf and went through strawtown which I thought was a very funny name for a town. There was a cute antique shop in there tho. On the way back we stopped in a sewing shop called Always in stitches. I expected it to be a very small shop, but it was SO much bigger than I thought it would be. They had tons of fabric and quilting supplies, and lots of old ladies working and talking. I picked up a cone of white thread and a fabric sample pack. Then I sewed my dress a little bit. I still have lots to do, and only like 2.5 days to do it. I’ll get there tho. All I have to do is add the skirt hem, add the pockets back in (I took them out so I could see them in normally), add sleeves and hem them, and add the zipper. And attach the skirt to the bodice. I think I’ll be able to do it. I had yogurt for the first time in forever today. Tbh I used just enough to hold together the strawberry and granola bits kgelgskgs. It was pretty good tho. I drew ELEVEN pages in my sketchbook, about 8 of them being a comic about the pony au of our royalty au. I could have done the comic with human characters but ponies are so much easier to draw aggsssdh. I spent 40 minutes typing out the dialogue and editing it on top of the rest of the comic so my friend could read it, but she still hasn’t read my text :( oh well that’s fine lol. The original plot was supposed to be Sam talking to an accidental illusion of me being mean about her blight, but then I accidentally made it something different. I might just draw the alternate ending instead. Update I just did

Yesterday I sewed and went to Menards to buy tile for moms bathroom.

Today was VERY productive, I feel like. I woke up and immediately took a shower and did laundry. I spent some one just sitting on my bed scrolling and researching while listening to medieval remixes of songs lol. At some point I went out to buy subway for everyone and stopped at dollar tree for nail polish and satin ribbon. I made the ribbon into a little choker and wanted to use it for the hem of the skirt, but I was too short. In total I spent HOURS hemming and pinning and seam ripping and ironing and sewing today, but it’s still not done. I gotta kick my ass into high gear if it’s gone be done by Sunday afternoon. I started sewing the bottom hem, but my machine has been doing this weird thing where the fabric scrunches up right past the sewing foot and leaves wrinkles and gathers so loose I can move it around with my hands easily. I think it’s just my tension being too tight or something, I adjusted it a bit and I’ll test it in the morning. I’m too tired and it’s too late at night to be doing that much sewing. I seam ripped the entire back skirt seam so I could extend the zipper a little further down, and I’ll sew it back up once the hem is done. After that all I need to donis connect the skirt to the bocice, fix the zipper, and hem the arm holes. I don’t want to use the sleeves I made because the edges don’t line up at all and I don’t think I would be able to lift my arms, the way it’s built. The nail polish I picked up works way better than I thought it would, leaving a pretty good metallic sheen after just one coat. Way better than I thought for a dollar. I helped mom lay down tile a little bit, ripping up one old tile and helping a bit at a time throughout the day. I kept asking if she wanted help with the actual tiling part but she said no. We also couldn’t get the fuckin box cutter I bought to work. It’s supposed to be easy to replace the blade, but we couldn’t figure it out lol. I’m falling asleep fun. Washed my face twice, trying to take good care of myself before prom so I look good in photos. Gotta wash hair tomorrow. Made hamburger meat

Spent all day sewing and listening to bardcore remixes. Dress is as done as I bother to make it rn

Tbh I was hoping for a little more for today. I’ve spent the last like week or longer working towards this, and going especially in depth the past 3 days. I got all silky smooth, worked for hours on my dress, thought about pretty much nothing except prom day. I was late because my dad had my neighbor come over to take pictures of me in my dress. I thought it was just going to be her holding my dad’s phone to get a picture of us together, but she brought her whole ass professional camera and spent several minutes taking pictures. Then I took the weirdest way possible to get to my friend’s house on accident because google maps said it was the fastest way to get there. But HEY when I did get there I enjoyed hanging out with my friends. We ate some dinner AND??? Sammie I’m sorry if you’re reading this but THE MASHED POTATOES?? WERE S O BLAND????? AFAJSTSTHJST ily but girl. Just a little salt could have gone a long way <3 the steak and especially the green bean casserole were good tho :) dinner was good with the sparkling juice and little desert. Overall everything was just very loud, but that’s to be expected when this is everyone’s first time seeing each other in a goddamn while: actually I think they’ve all seen each other at school without me but hey whatever. I think I fucked up my phone screen on accident by sitting on it while it was in my pocket with my keys, leaving a spiderweb crack in it. I checked and yeah it’s not just the screen protector :( eh I don’t care that much, It didn’t fuck up the lcd screen or anything. We went up to Sam’s room and hung out and talked while she did Liz’s makeup and took pictures, and I borrowed a little of her concealer before photos. There was a little photo shoot in their front yard, and looking at the photos I look a little fat in them but I LOVE all the photos taken in Sam’s room where we were all just hanging out. Idk why but whenever you have to do photos and they say to do a silly one, it never turns out good, but the fun ones you casually take always turn out way better. They’re more genuine :) but then it was time for everyone to go to prom and for me to go home 😔 we only hung out for like an hour and a half. I didn’t want to take off my dress, seeing as I put in so much effort to sew the whole dress and shave and look pretty, so I wore it around the house for a bit until I got tired and went to lay in bed. I watched the mitchels vs the machines, which is a fuckin DELIGHTFUL movie!! Everybody go watch it it’s so cute <3 I also played some Pokémon and watched a little YouTube in bed, but feeling unfulfilled and wanting to do something different, I just didn’t know what. So instead I started typing this up as my sister brought me a cupcake from prom :) I had a bite and put the rest in the fridge, since it was so big and in a plastic container. I texted a friend over Snapchat asking if they had fun at prom, and they said it was kinda ass. I tried relating and saying yeah all school dances are a little ass, and my friend group once had anti prom and played dnd instead, but they just said ‘that’s nice’ back and idk if that means they’re annoyed at me or they’re just tired and didn’t wanna text or what but :( idk. Either way it’s fine, right now all I care about is going to bed. Gnight I guess. Also I keep thinking about that textpost that’s like “diary of icarly” and she talks in these simple-ass sentences and now I feel self conscious about how I write these snafnfs. I already know I write like a child in these, but that’s just because I don’t wanna go through the effort of making this sound nice and professional every day lmao. So child writing it is. Also painted my nails really horribly and it took forever to clean up which made me late

Woke up, went to work, spent a little time stocking, watered indoor plants, then attempting to work the register, and organized plants the rest of the time. I stood behind one of my coworkers as she checked people out, kind of understanding what she was doing but not that much, and read the manual in down periods. She had me check out a couple people, and it was NERVE WRACKING AS HELL. Thankfully everyone was very nice, and my coworker stood by and helped, and right as I was getting my foothold, my boss called for me to work outside and bring in the new shipment of plants. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT WAS REALLY NICE?? I was actually able to help some people today!! :D I’m slowly getting better at my job which is nice :) originally I was only gonna work 4 hours, but there were more plants to get and I felt like I could keep going, so I ended up working 6 instead. Every time I come home from the end of my shift I feel bad for not working more and like I should have stayed longer. Tbh I think I could do it if I had a proper break! I’ve been doing 4 hour shifts with maybe a water break in the middle because i don’t know how to ask to go on break ;-; Ike my secondary boss in the garden center is super nice and approachable and friendly but the main boss is like. Terrifying. I never know when he’s joking or being serious and I don’t understand him and assffsfamms it SUCKS. But whatever, I went home and ate some Mac n cheese and laid in bed because my back hurt and played on my ds for the rest of the night. I tried a couple new games, none of which I spent very long on. I tried okami den where you’re the wolf puppy child of the precious games protagonist I think, and idk maybe I’ll give it a better try in the future, but I wasn’t feelin it. I spent like 30 minutes on a pro bass fishing simulator and couldn’t clear the first level because the fish wouldn’t get close enough to my boat lmao. Sonic and Mario at the Olympic Games was fun until I lost at table tennis to Mario. I’d play it again. But I have work again tomorrow so I gotta go to bed good night. Having to blast my fan and play drawfee on my phone to drown out moms tv again >:(

Ate a pbj for breakfast? Went to work, moved plants around, took my lunch break, went to subway with an expired coupon, ate at home and times it perfectly so I could watch one section of the new drawfee episode, went back to work, made myself sad thinking about the god girl homunculus from fullmetal alchemist, picked dead flowers off the petunias, left a little early, hung out at home, left to go get mom’s medicine, found my dad at the store, followed him around and shopped for a bit, can home to unload everything, talked with him about buying one of the cars from him so it would be under mom’s insurance after the divorce, talked about being able to hang out at dads apparent after we help him move, ate some of the stuff we bought, and now I’m hanging out in bed again. I picked up my Pokémon black save and played a while today which was nice. I think I’m gonna work more in the next few days, be really busy with shit for like a week, and finally have a breather after the 15th. I really need to switch brain gears back into college stuff soon so I can sign up for orientation and figure out finances and shit, but for now it’s midnight and I don’t have to think about it lol

Today was pretty good, but also pretty boring. I played Pokémon all day since I didn’t have work, cooked some hamburger meat, and went on an errand for mom but got the wrong thing so I went out later to buy the right thing. I got spicy chicharrones instead of regular ones oops. On my drive back from getting the right thing, I rolled all my windows down and loved the feeling of driving around right after sunset when the weather was nice but cool, especially after standing in mom’s loud-ass room trying to ask about her bank card. I thought about going back out to aimlessly drive around the park and back, but instead hung out in my kitchen as my cat fell asleep on my lap. I think I’m gonna get paid tomorrow, so that’s exciting :D I probably made a solid couple hundred dollars if I had to guess. Idk what I’m getting paid per hour, but it’s probably ~$10 and I COULD go through my texts again to see how much I’ve worked, but I don’t really wanna lmao. I should just start putting that in my notes app instead...

Just had probably the most involved, longest dream ever?? It was a mix of infinity train and dangenrompa, we were mostly stuck inside my house, one boy left for years to search for supplies, I tried biking along a tail that disappeared into tree roots and a ditch with grass, cried because we had been in the same car for so long I was afraid they were gonna make us kill someone to get past, and at the end we escaped or something and had to fuck up security cameras and get past loopholes and lots of cereal boxes were involved? Idk there’s just so much I don’t remember. I wasn't sure if I had to go to work today, so I sent my boss a text and just kinda hung out. was making  hamburger meat for my mom when my boss called asking me to come in, so I took a shower and worked from 1-5. spent some time at the register, and got way better at checking stuff out :) I learned a couple things, and there was one old lady in particular who was very patient and nice to me while my coworker went to go find a smaller bag of birdseed. when it stopped being busy inside, I went ut to the garden center to help price plants and spent the rest of my shift out there. I got paid too! $9 an hour, 22 hours, $200 in total. hell yeah. not bad, although I literally have no frame of reference on if this Is good or not. after work I went home for a second, then got Hardee’s (or carls jr in the western states). I used a coupon for chicken tenders for me and my sister :) and while I was driving around today, I found myself wishing that everything in life could be as smooth and easy as driving my car through my neighborhood. and then I kinda laughed thinking about how I cried my first time driving on a major road asdjfasjdhf. but seriously I love driving my dad’s silver Volvo!! its so comfy with 4 wheel drive and good petal control, its like always driving on freshly paved roads <3 unfortunately that's the car my dad is taking when he moves into his apartment to use as his full time car instead of his shit-ass blue Volvo, and we’re gonna be stuck with the red Volvo with a really touchy gas pedal and slow break pedal. (idk if you've noticed but we really love old Volvos in this family. they’re all old and boxy as hell and I love em <3 ) then I played Pokemon black and beat the elite 4 and champion in one try with a lot of revives lmao. I was kinda underleveled, right at 48-50 range, same as them. I was angry about stuff and in pain earlier in the shower as I washed my hair, but I dont remember exactly what it was. now I have my soft Spotify playlist going so I can maybe go to sleep soon. oh wait I remember being angry that all I could thin about all day was work, even tho it only takes up a few hours of my day, and then I do nothing all day afterwards. idk it’s just weird.

[supernoondles]

2020

A lot happens in a year, even when nothing seems to happen at all.

There's nothing new my commentary about a global pandemic (and the particularly frustrating experience of living in America during it, even with all my privileges of continued employment, owning a car, rent stability, and living in the bay area) will bring to the reader, but I will underscore this: my feelings aren't that 2020 is any kind of exceptional year, but the point where, hopefully, we finally realize that economic/climate/racial injustice has been a terrible problem for a long time, and will continue to be unless we enact massive collective change. A vaccine is not going to make any of those issues disappear, and I worry the people in power (including myself) will return to their comfortable life styles as if the next decade won't be even worse.

Anyway, general DOOM aside (RIP man), here's my year in specific!

From looking through my photos: January was off to a great start. I celebrated the new year with dim sum with J/M/M, as per tradition, and went on a foggy hike through SF with my family that involved my dad and J getting hilariously lost. Soon after I went to Sonoma with J/M -- for all my years in the bay, I had never explored north of the Golden Gate that much -- which was a wonderful trip seeing J's hometown. I helped my lab demo research at the Exploratorium, started growing my own microgreens, and went on more (to become semi-regular and my only source of cardio through the pandemic) bike rides with my lab mates. I finally saw Hamilton (though feel a need to justify here how "cringey" I think LMM is). I went to Genesis, my first gaming-related convention, and it was a lot of fun despite seeing no women. I did so many things, was making progress on research (I think? I don't recall any breakdowns) and my mental health was generally good.

The doing of things continued in February. After not going last year, I went to the Tet Festival in SJ (which was kind of sad). I joined a Chinese learning club and a crafts club and had a delicious omakase. N visited again, I went ice skating and tried to rescue a giant rat from string lights, and saw the Sonic movie in theaters (which would have been my last movie in theaters, sigh). After having a drink at Wursthall with T, I felt terrible (to the unaccustomed reader, not only do I Asian glow, my hands/feet itch whenever I drink and I feel like I want to die), and decided that was the last drink I'd ever have -- thanks to the pandemic that's stayed true. I went on a ski retreat with the lab that felt particularly special (and not just because I didn't have to pay). We (I, in convincing my mostly Asian office) wanted to make 元宵 on the eve of E's birthday, but it turns out that a bunch of CS PhD students really love singing karaoke for like 4 hours straight into the night, and at some point I was like, okay y'all, time to go to bed. So I hosted 元宵 making at my apartment the next weekend, and we watched another Bong Joon-Ho movie (The Host) to celebrate his Oscar win. Typing this out, it seems wild that this was even in this year. I also did sh*** for the first time, hallucinated white woman in the edges of my vision like a GAN, ate a lot of shaved parmesan from TJ, and let go of any stress I had about the UIST deadline to the abundance of nature and the world.

I break from the month-per-paragraph format now because we all know what happens next. M and I biked around campus to film a virtual tour for the newly virtual admit weekend. Being in Gates that Friday (three days before the bay area wide shelter-in-place order) was the last time I'd be on campus for a while. The next day I adopted 3 wonderful baby rats (my biggest brain move this whole year) and the day after that I moved home. I was counting down the days until Animal Crossing and then J and I were duplicating royal crowns in ACNH. At some point my hair got really bad. The months blurred together. Adjusting to WFH was extremely challenging for me, someone who had structured their whole life around the "I only do work in the office and I leave the office when I get hungry for dinner" logic. I would stop working at 6pm but spent the entire afternoon mentally prepping myself to do maybe 30 menial minutes of it. I binged AtLA. I gave up submitting to UIST. In May I hung out in the park with J, who came home from Seattle, which was the first time I saw anyone outside my family. Sometime in there I decided to become a Twitch streamer and had a brief revival as DJ Noon before I felt bad for roping my friends into listening to my music and ran out of interesting songs I wanted to play. In June I, like many others, took to the streets. For two weeks I donated $50 a day to a different organization. I couldn't get any work done at all and spent an entire advisor meeting sobbing so intensely that they felt bad and canceled it after 10 minutes. I emailed the university and got my housing back for the summer and I moved back to start my internship.

The internship was the break I needed -- working with W was a godsend compared to the struggle of my advisors. After reaching new lows at the start of the summer, my mental health was sloping positively again -- working on a new research project helped clear the emotional baggage of the last one. I was also getting more outdoor social interaction -- I went to Ocean Beach with M/D, Half Moon Bay with my family, and going on weekly bike rides with M. At the end of June, M, my roommate, her boyfriend M the clown (there are now 3 different Ms) and I waited for negative COVID results before going on a 2 day camping trip to Mt. Lassen, which felt completely surreal, and, at that time, completely necessary.

The summer dragged on and my mental health, at some point, began to slip. If I were to graph it it would probably look like the inverse of COVID cases in the US -- gradually decreasing, but with high variance from the day to day. I got an embroidery machine, I attended a workshop on docu-poetics with CPH that was so ripe with information my brain physically ached, I saw my lab mates again for the first time as we sat in a very, very wide circle to say goodbye to a post-doc who got a faculty job in Israel. Most weekends I drove to my parents' house and would take J on various hikes around East Bay so he could better appreciate his roots before he went off to Boston for college. He was taking the Switch with him, so in August I bought myself a new one and planned out my entire second ACNH town, which kept me busy for a while -- but surprisingly not as long as I thought, as with planning (and money from my old account) the whole project took I think less than 50 hours. The camping itch came back and the day before my birthday, which was also the day before J would leave for Boston, we went camping at a small state park in San Jose where he got heat stroke and we slept on top of fire ants. The entire experience reminded me how much I disliked camping -- but what else was there to do? I had a wonderful (and long, bless the folks who stayed) Zoom birthday party where I wore a mesh shirt I made and covered with worms on a string. The day after my birthday someone backed into my car, which, following the demands of a racist letter from the HOA, was parked in guest parking. (Ultimately this would be a blessing of insurance money, as the damage was mainly cosmetic and the person kindly left their contact information.) At this time I was also unironically watching ASMR videos to fall asleep, so I painted a two Bob Ross style paintings, one in my virtual art club, to pay homage.

Fire season this year was worse than it's ever been. Being trapped inside the house combined with my roommate moving out at the start of fall quarter and now living alone marked the second downward spiral of my mental health. The bad days were more frequent. I TA'd a game design course, my first time teaching at this university, where many students messaged me to complain that their 95s were not 100s. In the end the lowest grade in the class was an A- and 20% of the class got an A+. At some point I submitted a summer-long project I did with J and S to CHI; it is so much easier to produce work when I do not have to wrangle with M. (This paper gets accepted, but my silly grad student excitement is tampered both by general "why are we still trying to publish when society is crumbling" pandemic feelings and the fact that CHI will not be physically in Japan next year.) Maybe once a month I go birding. I feel increasingly as if there is nothing novel in my life; I am tired of it all and my body feels fatigued even though I don't do anything with my days. Some days it feels like if I don't touch someone I will explode. My use of recreational marijuana skyrockets. I start doing exercise videos semi-regularly with A. I briefly consider moving to Seattle with E, who is about to defend, before it's clear we have, as always, different boundaries and expectations. I look for places in Sunset/Richmond with M to little success.

In October I somehow pull it together and organize student volunteers for a 3 day conference that requires waking up before 5am every day. I do nothing the rest of the week. After we get flu shots and I let someone into my apartment for the first time since the pandemic started, I help E move up to Seattle. The trip is comfortable and we get to take care of each other; this fulfills a need in me. On Halloween J and I dance in a soccer field next to a combination anarchist recruitment center and homeless encampment -- now cleared by the cops -- and eat a mud pie that is too sweet. On my last day in WA I ask E if he would like to have sex, as friends, and he politely declines. I am pleased with how easily I emotionally accept this answer, how through time and therapy I've finally come to cherish our friendship without always looking for what could have been. I am extremely nervous on the flight home, and it's the first and only flight I will take during the pandemic, and the N-95 squishes my face so my head looks like a balloon, but I have the privilege of free 5 minute weekly tests through the university and I collect another negative result.

In November I fully embrace the hyperfixation lifestyle. My brain, always looking for novel stimuli, has given up on doing work entirely and instead thinks of Thanzag constantly. There is one day where I play Hades for 8 hours and I feel gross, as if I've completed my regression to my high school self. It takes 90 hours until I achieve all my goals, and with no more runs necessary to roll for RNG-based conversational triggers, I finally feel a sense of freedom. (My Switch tells me I have used it for 580+ hours this year, which is more than double last year.) The second SwSh DLC is a struggle for me to complete as I do not find catching legendaries enticing. J comes back early from university at my urging to avoid the travel surge, a week before Thanksgiving, and starts living with me. This helps a lot. My next hyperfixations come overlapping and staggered: I write 25k words of a second iteration of my 2015 NaNoWriMo with the protagonist I had developed in high school before I get bored with the story and realize I need yet another iteration; I buy a combination air fryer pressure cooker and ask my parents for a functional vacuum and bidet as early Christmas gifts and become obsessed with immaculate inside living spaces. This carries on to re-decorating my room at my parents' house, after installing a shelf in the closet and a curtain to close it off from the living room, and spending roughly 30 hours over December break organizing and cleaning their entire garage--they have not thrown out a single piece of paper or article of clothing since they set foot in this country over 20 years ago. My therapist quits the practice and my relationship with my advisors improve. I watch a few housewife vlogs and make my own. I have the revelation that doing research in a pandemic is basically just like any other creative project -- no one really cares that much if I get it done, it's just harder to do than, say, putting together a vlog in a few hours. This shift in mindset feels life changing to me, having before thought of research more as work, a taboo thing to pursue in a pandemic, and when W compliments me for the progress I've made in both the system and managing our meeting with M I do not know how to respond because no one has ever done that before. In the last two weeks of the year I start tracking my time. In our last session (that I almost sleep through), my therapist tells me that I seem stable to her and she is not worried about me. I believe her.

In 2020 I made a marked point to let everyone know that I didn't have goals. It felt lofty to have personal ambitions in the face of everything at a global scale. With this said I will now revisit the 2020 resolutions I wrote last year: (1) Intentionally seek out love: absolutely not, (2) Do enough work such that I don't feel guilty: also no, (3) sew one thing a month: no, but in the end I sewed 11 things total this year so I was close, (4) improve my Chinese: this was actually the only thing that did happen, and now my mom and I have better conversations because of it and I'm so thankful.

In 2021, however, I feel like I finally have it in me to have goals again. They are simple. (1) Get laid. (2) Submit the two research projects I've been doing forever. (3) Commit to writing down my thoughts that make me think, "Oh, that's interesting, I should write it down." Ideas are unfortunately such currency in what I do.

Last year I wrapped up this post with some candid, but embarrassing, optimism. I will offer no such high hopes for 2021, but I do ask the reader if they have noticed that I switched tenses from past to present halfway through this post. And that's 2021: an incidentally unintentional, but then consciously controllable, shift to the present.

[impalaanddemons]

Enterprise Crowd - Part 2

Summary: These are the adventures of Reader, a Lieutenant Commander assigned the Enterprises IT engineering team. Her biggest flaw? Her temper.

Wordcount: 1850

A/N: This week in “Enterprise Crowd”: Heads are butted. Curse words are said. Are they gonna kiss or murder each other? Bets are on. No sweet fluffy “Monty” in here, I’m sorry.

Warnings: F-Bombs, Cursing, general head butting and techno babble. People yelling at each other.

PART 1

„FUCK,“ every motion on the bridge came to a sudden halt at your loud exclamation. „Is everything alright down there?“ asked the voice of Captain Kirk himself, who turned his head and leaned over his seat at the same time. „Captain, Sir, yes.“ you crawled out from under a panel and ripped the cables attached to your PADD off at the same time, prompting another curse, although not as loud or rude as the one before. „I’m sorry, Sir. Telemetric System C is now rebooting, the quantum processor got a bit jiggled up.“ - „I suppose jiggling up is an occurrence Mr. Scott will want to hear about.“ Kirk said, half a smile on his face. You could see at least a dozen eyes switching back to their respective posts, although most of the other present crew members were still clinging to a mug of coffee. Coffee. Nice hot coffee.

Your PADD showed the rebooting sequence and you flicked through the logfile. „Yeah, all fine, Sir. Telemetric System C is online again.“, you stuffed your PADD into your backpack. Alpha hadn’t officially started yet, but you had received another call from the bridge and had spent a delightful hour scrambling behind a control panel, running diagnostics and murmuring to yourself until you had pinned down the problem and then cut your hand on a metal edge - which prompted the aforementioned curse. „Your hand is bleeding, Lieutenant Commander Y/L/N“, the captain nodded into your direction. „It’s just a scratch, Sir.“ you assured the Captain, who shot you a look that seemed rather unconvinced. „I’ll report back to Mr. Scott and take a detour to medbay afterwards.“ „How about you make that detour now, kid.“ a pair of heavy hands landed on your shoulders, the soft drawl of the Doctor himself behind you as he started to guide you to the door. The handsome devil was known for hunting down everyone on the ship if necessary, even the captain himself. „I appreciate the concern, Doctor McCoy, but I’ve got a really important meeting at start of Alpha and Mr. Scott will flay me alive if I don’t attend it.“ „I will have to have a serious word with Mr. Scott on your behalf then.��� „Please don’t.“ you said, practically flinching at the thought. He raised an eyebrow and, to Kirks visible amusement, led you right to medbay.

When the Doctor finally released you after putting you in the dermal regenerator, of all things!, Alpha was well underway and you were skipping through Jefferies tubes to cut the way to Engineering as short as possible. You made a mental note to avoid bridge from now on. That place was definitely cursed and you now knew why security and engineering avoided that place. „Dammitdammitdammit“ you cursed as you slid down a tube, past an Ensign screaming from surprise and landing just a few meters from your Commanding Officers office with the hard ‚THUMP!‘ of heavy issue boots. You immediately picked up speed again and basically bolted through his office doors. Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had already lifted his head from some ‚damned paperwork‘ at the commotion outside and seemed fairly unsurprised to see you standing there, panting and sweaty and overall apologetic looking. His eyes flickered to your bandaged hand and a expression of concern crossed his face, but was replaced within seconds by a stern look. „Lieutenant Y/L/N, is there not only a micro climate, but also a different time zone where yer room is located?“ You pressed your lips together before you opened them up again to speak. Already you could feel your temper flare. „No, Mr. Scott, last time I checked Life Support Zone C was working fine.“ His right eyebrow lifted just the tiniest bit and you bit your tongue. „Yer late.“ he stated. „I noticed.“. Why. Why did your mouth had to have a life on it’s own in front of him. „I mean“, you added, concerned by the look on his face „I had a call to the Bridge, Sir, and my hand got hurt and Doctor McCoy insisted on me accompanying him to medbay.“ A moment of silence stretched between the two of you as he got up and folded his hands behind his back, taking a leisurely step in your direction. „I assume yer well?“ „Yes, Mr. Scott.“ „I’m sure I dinnae need to remind ya of yer behavior last night.“ „No, Mr. Scott“ you answered and took a deep breath. „I want ya to retrain those AIs, so that something like last night will not happen again.“ He could see the „But“ written on your face and in the way you clenched your teeth. „We cannae have something like tha’ happen again, Lieutenant.“ he stressed. You opened your mouth and the look in his eyes dared you to challenge him. The scotsman took another step closer and you could see how the light got caught in his dark brown hair, the angry line that furrowed his face now. „Sir“ „I hope that’s a „Yes, Sir“, lass.“ The beeping of your communicator broke the tense silence. „Am I allowed to get that, Mr. Scott?“ He gestured a yes with his hand and you flipped your communicator open with more force then necessary. It was Vance. „Yes … No …“ it was difficult discussing in a civil manner with Vance, while the fire in your superior officers eyes seemed to challenge you even now. „I’m at Mr. Scotts Office, Vance, I’ll come right away.“ Shutting your communicator you lifted your face to Montgomery Scott. „I have to assist my team, Sir, but I’ll get to your request right after that.“ „Ya can go, Lieutenant Y/L/N“ he stepped back, finally releasing the tension between the two of you. Without further ado you turned around and strode away.

„You know, most people on the crew that work with him simply refer to him as Scotty“, Vance said without looking up from the diagnostics output he was reading. „So?“ you shot back grumpily. The words in front of your eyes slid past you without making much sense. „I’m just saying that he values good work and if you retrain those networks he’ll forget what has happened.“ „You mean I should save my sorry ass by being a nice little engineer?“ Vance rolled his eyes at your remark and continued to scroll through the data on his PADD. He knew better then to argue with you at this point. You tried to focus on your work. Reconfiguring. Yeah. Great. That would take you at least until end of Beta, you would never leave those systems unattended during a retrain. Probably an all-nighter. „The bastard can kiss my - „ Vance never learned what part of you the Enterprises’ Chief Engineer could kiss, as T’Sai opened the door to your teams office with an accidental loud bang. „Well, I’m gonna bugger off. Got to retrain some networks.“ you muttered and got up. „Gonna see you in mess later on?“ „Fuck you, Vance.“

„Okay, now inject the learning variables for the last manual warp core overrides and let’s see how you get along with that madmans attitude.“ you mumbled to the machinery while working, slid the data-PADD into the computing unit in front of you, then leant back to watch the graphs on your PADD change and shift. The blueish tint of the Enterprises datacenter was calming, but the cool air made your fingers go numb. You’d normally work from a remote office, but today you valued the secluded place down in the Enterprises belly. While the system worked through the data you’d fed it, you took the bandage off - if only to save yourself the trouble to go and visit medbay again tomorrow. „Hah“, you muttered, typed something on your PADD and restarted the learning algorithm. „If it wasn’t, it has to be!“ you said in a mock accent and let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes at the same time. Maybe you could just take a nap, while this thing worked. Gamma had crept upon you two hours ago already and you knew the lights on the ship were slowly dimming down. „Mr. Scott really can-„ „Ach. I really hope I dinnae have to listen to the end of tha’ sentence, Lieutenant.“ Once again on this day you sprang to attention, nearly tripping over the cables around you. „At ease“ the scotsman said and eyed the room. You eased, but just a little. „How is the training going?“ „Good, Sir.“ „And yer not working remote because …?“ You were positively sure you’d murder that man at some point, if only for questioning seemingly everything you did. „I like being alone, Sir.“ you remarked. He grabbed the PADD and studied the output shown without answering to your scathing remark. „Looking good, probably ready by Alpha.“ You sucked in your upper lip and nodded along. „Ya dinnae need to sit by it’s side for the rest of the night, Lieutenant. Yer relieved until Alpha. Get some sleep.“ turning away from the PADD he saw you shrugging. „I’ll not leave the system unattended to while in this state.“ „It’s only training, the network is not even deployed, lass. If it fails during nightshift ya can get back to it tomorrow“ „Just leave it alone? Waste more time?“ you raised your shoulders and felt a deep furrow appearing on your brow. „It’s … not just any network, Sir. I’m sorry to say, Sir.“ you drew in a deep breath and pressed your lips onto each other once more. „That’s no true AI, Sir, it needs supervision. It’s … it’s …“ another deep breath: „It’s gonna be part of the Enterprises subconsciousness! If it has to feel the ships ailments for us, we have to care for it beforehand. And you want it to practically sense whatever thing you’re up to at any given moment - that takes time!“ you had not noticed how your voice had gotten gradually louder, practically yelling at him. Mr. Scotts face changed from bafflement, to a certain softness and settled on a cool expression afterwards. „Thank ya for explaining my ship to me.“, he said, voice chilly. Your mouth snapped shut. „I …“ he began and you could see behind the cool demeanor he was giving you, could see how he was trying to be the best superior he could be. „I see ya care deeply about the ship, lass. But yer gonna take care of ya self as much.“ he nodded to the bandage. The air felt even more cool against your burning face. „Sir?“ „Off ta quarters, Lieutenant. Continue tomorrow.“ „But that’s stupid! I NEED to attend to this. NOW!“ For a moment it seemed as if he wouldn’t say anything, but the outburst followed just a second later: 
„YER AFF YER HEID!“, he raised his voice, his jaws clenched in-between words, „IT’S AS IF YER TRYING TO ARGUE WI’ ME ON PURPOSE! THA’S THE MOST GLAIKIT THING I’VE HEARD TODAY!“

Silence fell between the two of you, both of you huffing and staring at each other. You ground your teeth. „I“, you began and it was now your turn to be baffled, staring at him open mouthed. „Out. Quarters.“ he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. You collected your things hastily - „Good Night, Sir.“ and brushed past him.

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[frogsandfries]

I'm getting pretty frustrated

Between having to try to share the bathroom with a fourth grader who acts like a high schooler, my package not coming and this wired money thing just being an utter failure. The bus is constantly late and it's a shock that I get to work on the right bus.

I'm standing within earshot of some high school girls talking about fighting. Why is this a thing...... A couple weeks ago, my friend's daughter was talking about fighting. She came up to me and said she would never wear her hair in a bun because it's easier to grab in a fight. I would rather wear my hair in a bun because a tight bun, like I usually wear, is too big to get a good rip-grip on, and too tight to get your fingers in like loose hair. We never did that shit in my high school anyway. Probably because we all had actual shit to do after school. I don't understand why you would want to do that, except literally the internet. But even then, I have too much empathy to cause someone else harm, even if that's what they're telling me to do. Also, I'm too busy to get arrested. I have a van to earn money to purchase, and I have a graphic novel to cross-stitch.

I'm also frustrated to need two hours between getting up and getting on the bus to get to work. Sure, I could probably drag out my embroidery but--surprise to no one--I'm having trouble adjusting. Probably because I spent my first week back to work fighting my body. I guess as long as I give right in to my evening naps, whenever I finally get home, I think I'll start feeling better. It's kind of like in Arizona, when I would go to sleep around midnight, get up at six to be at work by seven, get home around four, take a nap, sometimes till five or six, or eight or nine, really just depending on what I needed. Bonus fact, it takes me fifteen minutes to get to the stop to catch the first bus, and I spend around half an hour on the next bus, then I spend about ten minutes at work kind of dicking around and getting ready to get on the floor.

The air in Wisconsin gets harder to breathe the more humid it is and threw more physically active I am. I don't yawn constantly because I'm actually tired. I yawn because I'm simply not getting enough air in. I'm getting to a balance point where I'm about as tired as I was in Arizona, but I yawn far more here because I just cannot breathe.

I was just thinking, honestly, I could probably bring my tablet and work on patterns, instead of doing actual stitching. If I still have tons and tons of frames to stitch, and I haven't even lineworked a bunch of them, there's still an absolute mountain of work to be done. I could even make some graph paper booklets or tear pages out of my sketchbook and put them in my little pleather folio and at least rough out some lineworks. There's a ton of stuff I could be doing for this project instead of dicking around on the bus bitching.

Honestly, like I keep saying, it would probably be best to have a mountain of patterns ready and waiting for me when I return to finish my degree, so instead of having to juggle all of the stages of my project, I can mostly focus on the hard part: The actual stitching. If I was largely focused on stitching, I could probably stitch up about three patterns a month. Over ten months, that's about thirty patterns. I would say, realistically, I would prepare thirty-three and expect to stitch twenty-eight. But that's twenty-eight in addition to the eleven months I have until those ten months. I've only stitched five patterns since July, but I've also written like..... eight, ten patterns? I don't remember.

If I liked drawing enough, I could just spend one month drawing lineworks and probably have more than enough lineworks for the next year. I just want to feel like I'm making progress on this project. I want to feel like everything is working, because right now, certainly I'm putting forth the effort, but is it adding up to anything?

[jessicakehoe]

Ian Williams’s “I Want It All. I Want It Now.” Chapter 2: The Other Girl

Below you’ll find the second chapter of Ian Williams’s fictional story, “I Want It All. I Want It Now,” from our Summer 2019 issue. To read from the beginning, click here.

Interior

Two-Faced

You followed him to her house? Ella whispered.

I didn’t follow him. I saw him get on his bike and ride off. Somewhere.

Right, so how do you know he went to her house?

Granted. There were a few holes in my story.

My father entered. I abruptly changed the subject.

Regular volume. You’ve got enough makeup here for a year!

Working reception while he and his assistant were giving shots to kittens in the back, I ran my hand through her bag of cosmetics, picking out the new Soul on Fire palette from Watier x FASHION.

Oh, there’s more in the car. Ella put on her vocal fry voice. It was guaranteed to drive my father away like garlic on a vampire. I’m gonna turn you into a rocker chick. Like Kate Moss meets Courtney Love meets Pink meets Pink meets—

Do me now.

Duh. Listen to this girl. You can’t wear heroin chic to the office. That’s crazy talk.

My father left. We went back to whispering.

Where else would he go? I said.

I don’t know if he’s cheating or not. Ella smelled like Gucci Bloom. No, it was Paris-Riviera from Chanel. She continued, All’s I know is that he has a history.

She held a tube of dark lipstick to her nose, then mine.

You are not doing this to impress him? she asked.

Of course not.

Why are you, then?

My father came in. I raised the volume.

Your edges are on fleek. I touched Ella’s temples. Her father is from Barbados. You’re like Meghan Markle meets Rihanna meets Cardi B meets—

Stop it. You’re embarrassing me, Ella said, but she beckoned for more.

FKA Twigs meets Radhika Nair meets Amal Clooney. I made a big circle around her face with my open palm. You’re like the love child of all that fierceness.

My father shook his head and left. He called these “estrogen conversations.” But as far as I could tell, he and his girlfriend spent a lot of time talking about my 25-year-old uterus.

Ella and I went back to whispering.

I said, Even if he is cheating, I want him to uncheat.

You want him back.

Sort of.

My father called me from the other side of the door. Ella and I looked toward his voice.

You need to work—

I need to work on my feminism—I know, I know.

Photography by Agustin Fest/Eyeem

Hound

Grover was a 12-year-old basset hound with arthritis so severe his owners had to carry him everywhere, even around the house. That made him obese.

He lifted his eyes toward me. I brushed the top of his head. My father filled the syringe.

Grover, I said sweetly. I held a dog treat to his mouth.

As he was chewing, my father injected him. He tensed, then heaved a big floppy sigh, and I took him down to the freezer.

Road Trip

Right on schedule, a few days before the festival, Hudson informed me that we would not be driving together. He was going to ride with the band.

Do you even want me there? I asked.

Of course I want you there. But it’d be weird to have you in the van with the guys. He shook his head. That Yoko Ono vibe has killed many a band. We’ll hang out in Rock Creek.

I wanted (it all and I wanted it now) to cancel my trip, but that’s exactly what he wanted so he could be with his side piece. I didn’t want to be the dramatic, insecure girlfriend, but I couldn’t understand what was so bad about wanting to have a road trip with me instead of his friends. Given the same situation, I’d choose to be with him over 90—over 80, over 75—per cent of my friends. Male friendships mystified me. Guys would never wash each other’s hair. What did they talk about? Sick beats, squats, draft picks, girls they’d bang, bro, brah, bro. Hudson knew very little about the people he called his friends.

Hudson pulled me right to him, nose to nose.

Plus, Doug just broke up with his girlfriend. He’s pretty raw. He doesn’t need to see us all lovey-dovey.

Lovey-dovey. I was being manipulated. I knew it. We had not been lovey-dovey in a while. A few days before Christmas, we went shopping and he got down on one knee and proposed to me in H&M. I clapped my hand over my mouth. People clapped. We kissed theatrically. Then we kept doing it all evening. Knee, mouth, clap, kiss. Knee, mouth, clap, kiss. Exactly eight times across Vancouver, we did it. Now, he still smelled like Christmas—Santal 33. I would sometimes sneak a little from his bottle and put it on the bone of my wrist.

We need to catcall women freely, Hudson said.

I bet.

You could ride up with Ella. Bring Ella.

He liked seeing us together. Every time I told him that I had spent the night at Ella’s place, he went away to his fantasy place for a second, delaying his ability to respond, before coming back with, Oh yeah? or She good?

According to Google Maps, the festival was five hours, eight minutes from Vancouver. Ella and I took turns driving.

While I drove, she read to me from Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s new book, Fleishman Is in Trouble. While she drove, I read to her from the summer issue of FASHION. There was a story in there about a cheating boyfriend. We sang along to Kacey Musgraves  on Spotify and listened to some Caliphate podcasts. We posted selfies of our hair blowing. We took pee breaks and ate SunChips and grapes and, all glory to Alison Bechdel, we didn’t talk about men at all.

Photography by Michael Hauptman/Trunk Archive

Music Fest

Hudson’s band, The Mountains, was playing on the B-stage. The lead singer strutted onstage, ignoring the crowd; then Hudson clicked his drumsticks together four times and a wall of sound hit us. The world smelled like pine.

During the set, Ella and I leaned back on our elbows with our shirts tied in a knot around our midsection. Wearing beads. I wove a garland for her hair. She was surprised that I knew the name of the flowers—not a useful skill, I thought. I didn’t have the social justice, activist language that she did. She always knew the right side of an issue to be on, and I could front it, I could fake it, I could follow her lead.

Hudson was a good-looking man. Shaggy, long hair, sometimes partially tied up, shaved sides, a few strands falling into his face when he leaned over the drum set. Not quite the MacBook-wielding guy from Risk Management. Even then, Ella could see traces of a rock star. He sat with his legs open wide, a habit from playing drums, jeans ripped at the knees, thick thighs. He let her paint his nails one time. On the surface, Ella was testing his openness (he passed), but when I did it, I was really trying to make him less desirable to other women before a gig. He said he would let me paint his nails as long as he could choose the colour. He chose black. For another out-of-town gig, I put eyeliner and mascara on him and said he looked hot—bought him a black Queen T-shirt and silver metal chains. He went to the show like he was in a Good Charlotte cover band.

Apparently there was a famous person at the festival. Everyone was being polite-vigilant in case they happened to be talking to the famous person and didn’t know it. It’s Dolly, Ella said. Nicki’s doing folk music now, I said.

Hudson liked to introduce me as his girlfriend the model if he was talking to a guy or a woman he wasn’t interested in. If he was talking to another hot girl while I was around (always approach the hottest girl in the room first), he avoided an introduction and eventually said, simply, This is Odile.

After he came offstage, I went to see him. He was sweaty, crushing a bottle of water into his mouth. His shirt was stuffed into his back pocket. I could see the band of his underwear over his jeans—the belt I bought for him. There was a woman talking to him. Not Dolly from the grocery store, but she was exuding availability—slinky, gyrating ever so slightly to the music in the background.

The techie-cum-bouncer wouldn’t let me through.

He said, Expensive equipment, stuff gets stolen and turns up on Craigslist. We’re tight with security this year. I could tell him you’re looking for him. What’s your name?

He’s right there. I pointed. Hudson was walking away with the woman.

What’s your name?

He’s literally standing in front of us.

Rules are rules. What’s your name?

His girlfriend, I said.

The sound tech cleared his throat. He turned his attention to Ella. Have we met? Did we hook up last year?

Trust me, Ella said. You’d remember if we did.

He stepped toward her. I put a hand on his chest.

You shot your shot, bro. Security’s tight this year.

Glamour

There was an impromptu party that night. I showed up, took a puff of someone’s joint, danced for a bit, but I wasn’t feeling it. I hadn’t seen Hudson since the THOT.

I left Ella at the party and walked back to the car. I wanted to remove my makeup and go to sleep.

I checked my phone. No messages. I had a very early high school feeling. Abandonment meet FOMO.

I wasn’t always hot. I was cute as a kid, then pretty as a girl, then downgraded to OK in middle school, then fell off the attractive graph during the first part of high school. Never beautiful, never elegant. Then, in the summer between grades 10 and 11, I spiked from being OK to being hot. At the end of Grade 10, I was headline gossip because a boy who felt me up said my nipples were flat and weird like an amoeba. So that summer, as part of a revenge strategy, I gave myself a thorough beauty education with the same dedication I would give to a science fair project. I travelled around with my mom for Fashion Television, got fit, made skinny friends—Americans, Italians—posted envy on Facebook, filtered myself into oblivion. In September, I subbed for a model in a New York runway show. Later that month, I showed up for Grade 11 with long dirty-blond hair under a trucker hat—thigh gap, pronounced pelvic bones over my low-rise skinny jeans—and became unmistakably the hottest girl in Grade 11. The amoeboob scandal had messed me up until this year. I wish I could say that I came to love myself, that I had the confidence of Angelina Jolie, that I told Hudson and he kissed the amoebas. But no, I got the irregularities patched with a nipple tattoo in the same place where Ella got laser hair removal. Best money I ever spent. (Well, except for Jimmy Choos on sale in London.)

My phone vibrated.

Back in my car, I reclined the seat and tried to go to sleep. It was sweltering, but if I put the windows down, mosquitoes would come in. Mosquitoes or a killer.

I checked my phone again. One text.

Just the one text from Ella. That was all.

Late in the night, a man banged on my window. In that long, alarming second, I reached around myself for a weapon, tried to cover myself, felt around for my phone. I couldn’t see his face at first because he was shining a cellphone flashlight in my face. Odile, he said.

Hudson?

He knocked on the glass again. Opening the door was easier than lowering the window.

Why are you sleeping here? He was drunk. I have a bed for us back at artists’ hospitality.

He could have texted that easily. I didn’t know what to make of his thoughtlessness, but at least he had staggered through the night to find me. I didn’t want to sleep in the car, and I didn’t want to be with him. I didn’t want to be driving through the South on a tour bus with him and his band, but I didn’t want to be alone on a rainy night while he called me from a pay phone in Nashville either, even if he was calling to say I love you, darlin’. I want it all and I— You can’t always get what you wa-ant.

I should stay here, I said. In case Ella gets back.

Hudson turned the display of his phone toward me. It was 3:48.

Sorry to break it to you, but your girlfriend’s getting laid. He pulled me out of the car and locked the door with the remote. No girlfriend of mine is going to spend the night in a car in the middle of the forest.

Photography by TAPhotography

So he took me to a “teepee.” Inside, there were hay bales and guys passed out on sleeping bags. He pulled me down on his sleeping bag and curled up, pressed his toes up against my hips, exactly like the image of John Lennon and Yoko Ono on Rolling Stone. He wrapped his arm around my head. Then he baby talked me: You thought I was going to leave you all alone, such a silly, hiding from me, all night I’ve been going crazy, wondering, only the best for my girl.

He reached under my dress.

Too many people here, I said.

It’s OK. It’s all good. He rolled a leg on me. We can start an orgy.

He kissed me.

They’ll catch on.

He smelled boozy and weedy and sweaty—but also like his place, like the window was open and it was late fall and there were no other women in the world. And we didn’t need to check who liked our posts or followed us back, so long as we were peeling avocados together, flossing our bottom teeth together, squirting contact solution into our cases together. It’s not his kind of music, but one night he sang me an acoustic cover of Rihanna’s “Only Girl (in the World).” Slowly. Quietly. Switched up the lyrics into a promise.

Tonight, he was so drunk I could easily push him off. He was so drunk that he might have thought we had sex because he flopped onto his back contentedly and I could hear him breathing deeply within minutes. I looked at the top cone of the teepee. It looked like the inside of a breast.

Photography by Amanda Marsalis/Trunk Archive

What girl?

I woke up after Hudson. I saw him outside the flap of the teepee—in his cowboy boots, shirt off, little arch of back like Iggy Pop—talking to the vocalist from another band.

I crawled toward them. Vocals was in the middle of a story that involved donkey-punching an imaginary girl, and Hudson was karate-chopping the air like he was giving a massage.

When Hudson saw me, he stopped the conversation with a loud, There she is. He took me under one arm and kissed the top of my head. Lovey, meet dovey.

What’s going on? I asked.

Nothing.

But Vocals spilled: Some girl OD’d last night.

Wow. I yawned. Public relations nightmare, the M.B.A. in me said.

They looked at each other.

I didn’t think to ask who until that moment when I saw them exchange looks.

Wait, I said. Is it Ella?

I crawled back into the teepee for my phone.

They’re not saying who it is, Vocals said.

It’s not Ella, Hudson said.

I patted down the bags and blankets for my phone. No messages from her.

That tech guy, what’s his number?

They’ve got sausages at breakfast. Hudson tried to take the phone out of my hand. It’s not her, Odile. She’s probably back at your car.

She would’ve texted.

Maybe her battery died, he said.

Let’s go, I said.

He didn’t move.

Hudson!

A bandmate said, We’re meeting the others in 10 minutes, bro.

Why don’t you check the car? Hudson said. And I’ll go to the clinic, find out who it is.

Sure, I said. You’re totally gonna do that, Prince Charming.

Ella was not in, near or under the car.

I ran back toward the clinic, among raised roots and rocks. Through the trees, a female voice in the speakers, obscured by the weather, sang, “In the arms of the angels, far away from here.”

I found Ella on a cot in the medic cabin. Unattended. A single fan was blowing on her. The IV that should have been in her veins was lying on the floor next to a bedpan.

I got her into the back seat of my car, drove her to a proper emergency room, then all the way back to Vancouver, without sending or replying to Hudson’s texts.

Odile’s story isn’t over yet. Can her relationship with Hudson recover and how will Odile cope when work takes her to far-off places? See how it all pans out in Chapter Three and follow @the.real.odile on Instagram for real-time updates.

The post Ian Williams’s “I Want It All. I Want It Now.” Chapter 2: The Other Girl appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

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