#the practice now is to use hand sanitizer to get the oils off before touching something)

[salomeapologist]

bestie tell me about the right way to hold a glass of wine

thank you for asking!!

first pic: how to hold a glass for red wine or blood. you just hold the glass.

second pic: how to hold a glass for white wine or rosé. you hold the stem so that the heat from your hand doesnt warm up the wine.

you want white wines to stay cold from the fridge. it doesnt matter if red wine heats up a bit, and blood is already warm.

the glass lestat is drinking blood from could be one you hold by the stem if someone has put champagne or a cold cocktail in. hannibal and will seem to do the opposite of what they should, despite their characters seeming like people who should know better. it’s like when aziraphale puts gloves on to handle the nice and accurate prophesies: it’s a choice made by people who know a bit about the subject, but not everything

[publiccollectors]

From the discussion “Towards A Self Sustaining Publishing Model” hosted by Printed Matter.

Some things I have learned in over 30 years of publishing since my teenage days as a zine maker, administrating my project Public Collectors, and from working in the group Temporary Services and our publishing imprint Half Letter Press.

I have just ten minutes to speak. If only one or two things that I share are useful, that’s plenty! It took me decades to understand some of this stuff.

Use every exhibition invitation with a budget to print something. Use the whole budget to print something. Make something in a large enough print run so that you have something to give away and surplus that you can sell. Your publication can be a folded sheet of paper, a booklet, a newspaper, a poster, a book, or anything in between.

Be able to print at least something at home. Buy a cheap laser printer or inkjet printer, find a used copy machine, buy a RISO or some other duplicator, carve something into a potato or a piece of foam and print it. Being able to do at least some of the printing and production at home—even if it’s on a tiny scale—will compel you to print things that you might have convinced yourself not to send out or bring to a professional printer. Hopefully the ability to print impulsively and compulsively will result in good work. Figure out how to keep making things on every scale. Look for cheap used printing equipment on Craigslist. Team up with friends and buy equipment together that you can share. Start a printing collective in your basement.

Ideally your publication should cost 1/5th or 1/6th of the retail price to make. If you sell a $10.00 publication through a store, you are probably only going to make $6.00 or less after the store takes its cut. So ideally your $10.00 book costs $2.00 or less to make. Don’t aim to just break even. Aim to make a profit so you can keep making more publications and pay for your life. Publishing will probably never be your sole income but don’t lose money on purpose. Make things that are priced fairly and look like they justify what they cost to buy. The fact that you didn’t find a more affordable way to print something is not an excuse to sell something that feels cheap and shitty for a ridiculous sum of money. Good cheap printing is easier to find than ever before. Do your homework.

Figure out the cheapest and least wasteful ways to do everything. Ask other publishers where they get their work printed. Look for local printers so you can avoid shipping fees. Ask local printers if you can pay in cash for a discount. Ask printers if there is a cheaper way to do what you want to do by adjusting the size of your paper or the paper stock or some other small shift in form. If you print things yourself, buy the paper that is on sale. Design a publication around the paper that you found for cheap. Discount warehouses sometimes have good paper. Even dollar stores sometimes have good paper. I’ve even bought paper at flea markets. Costco sells an 800 sheet ream of 24 lb paper for $6.99. I use it all the time. It rules. I also recommend getting your jugs of organic olive oil there, but you can’t print with that.

Free printing is good printing. If you have access to free printing, use it. Free printing is like free food at art openings and conference receptions. It is one of those pleasures in life that never gets old. Come up with an idea that is based around the aesthetics of whatever free printing you have access to and make the publication that way. Eat the cheese and bread. Drink the wine. Make the copies at work.

Buy bulk shipping mailers on eBay. Find bubble wrap and other packing materials in the trash. Look out for neighbors who just bought new furniture—it’s usually wrapped in miles of packing material you can use for shipping books. Boycott terrible right wing fuckers like ULINE. Seriously, they give money to everyone horrible. Trump? Check. Ted Cruz? Check. Scott Walker? Check. ROY FUCKING MOORE? CHECK FUCKING CHECK! Tear up their catalogs and use them as packing material to protect your books. Make publications that have a consistent size so you can purchase cardboard mailers in bulk and get a discount on them. Buy packing tape in bulk. Buy everything in bulk. You can store your extra reams of paper under your bed or on top of your kitchen cabinets if necessary. Be like a wacko survivalist prepper, but for office supplies. Go to estate sales and look for the home office in the house. Buy the dead person’s extra tape and staples and rulers and scissors. I’ve been using some random dead person’s staples for years because I bought their staple hoard. Staples aren’t like meat and milk. They don’t expire.

I’m against competition. Try to avoid competing with other artists for resources. If you don’t truly need the money, don’t ask for it. Artists should have a section on their CV where they list grants they could have easily gotten but didn’t apply for because they are privileged enough that they don’t need the money as much as someone else. I almost never apply for anything but the one thing I do apply for and get every year is a part-time faculty development grant from Columbia College Chicago where I teach. It pays adjuncts up to $2,500 a year to fund their projects and seems to be completely non-competitive. My union negotiated to get us more money. I have used that grant to make over a dozen publications. The value of the publications I make and sell with each grant is about three or four times the value of the grant itself. Some years I make more from the grant than I do from the limited number of classes I teach. But I don’t depend on this grant to be a publisher and I’d still be able to make things without it.

Make things in different price ranges so everyone can afford your work, but also so that you can sustain your practice. Make a publication that costs $2.00, that costs $6.00, that costs $20.00, and make something special for the fancy ass institutional libraries that have a lot of money to spare and can buy something that costs $300.00. Likewise, make things in all different size print runs. Is there something you can print 1,000 of that you can keep selling and giving away for years, to enjoy that quantity discount that comes with offset printing a large number of publications?

Collaborate with people and pay them with publications (if they are cool with that) that they can sell on their own. Sometimes this ends up being better pay and more useful than an honorarium, and it helps justify a larger print run. But see what they need—don’t assume. Barter with other publishers and sell each other’s work and let each other keep the money. This helps with distribution. Sometimes it’s easier to sell their work than it is to sell your own. Help others expand the audience for their publications.

Fund your publishing practice by asking your friends who teach to invite you to talk to their college classes about your work. Use those guest speaker fees to print something. I sometimes tell people on social media: If three or four people will invite me to speak to their class, it could fund the entire next issue of X booklet series that you like so much. This has often worked. Also, sometimes their students end up ordering publications. Sometimes lectures about publications generate more income than the publications themselves.

Have an emailing list and write newsletters to announce new publications. Stay in touch with people who like what you do. Expect to spend a ton of time corresponding with people. Have some cheap things and cool ephemera on hand that you can send people for free when they mail order your publications. Reward people who support you directly with something nice that they didn’t expect. People like handwritten notes. It’s okay if they are very short but sign the packing slip and at least write “Thank you!”

Above all, know that publishing is a life journey and not a get rich quick scheme, or even a make very much money scheme. Enjoy the experience of meeting and working with others, trade your publications with other publishers and build up an amazing library of small press, hard to find artist books. Get vaccinated and travel and sleep on each other’s couches. Be generous with your time, knowledge, resources, and work. Tell Jeff Bezos to fuck off by never selling anything you make through Amazon. Find the bookstores that you love and work with them forever. It’s nicer to have deeper relationships with fewer bookstores than surface level interactions with dozens of shops run by people you don’t know.

Think about your publishing family. Bookstore people are your family. People that organize book fairs and zine fests are your publishing family. Other publishers are your family. People who follow your work for years on end are your family. Printers and binderies are your family. The postal workers that know you by name and that you know by name are your family. The person who doesn’t care if you make the free copies at work is your family. Over thirty years later, I’m still in contact with people I exchanged zines with through the mail when I was a teenager. In some cases I still haven’t met them in person. It’s fine! They are my family. Your students are your family—particularly once they graduate or drop out, as long as they continue making books and zines. Your family is your family, particularly if they value and support your publishing practice. And for this reason, this talk is dedicated to my late father Bruce Fischer, who let me use the company copier and postage meter when I was in high school, and to my mom who sat on the floor with me and helped me hand collate and staple my zines.

That’s what I’ve got for now. Stay in touch and with luck, and enough vaccines and masks and hand sanitizer, maybe I’ll see you at a book fair. – Marc Fischer • Thank you to Be Oakley of GenderFail for the invitation to present, to the other presenters Vivian Sming, Yuri Ogita, and Devin Troy Strother, and to the wonderful people at Printed Matter for hosting this! You should be able to find the video archived on Printed Matter’s YouTube Channel.  Presented on April 2, 2021

[painted-crow]

What does a rapid fire Bird Secondary look like ?

Me!

I've talked about this a bit before, but I don’t like detailed plans, like step by step "here's what I'm gonna do." There are circumstances when I'll plan, but rather limited ones:

For fun. Maybe I'm interested in something but can't do the actual activity, so I plan it out instead. This plan might serve as a reference later, but I'm just as likely to discard it because I don't feel like using it or I have a better idea.

As a crutch. If I'm really inertia-struck with anxiety or executive dysfunction, making a plan or even just a list can be a hack to get out of it, but again, I'm likely to abandon it halfway through if I start feeling better.

"Formal" experimentation. I don't do this a whole lot, and usually I do this kind of thing in my head... but sometimes you gotta actually think the details through and write them down in advance.

But it's not how I like to work. To me, plans feel brittle and restrictive and usually boring. I lean towards other tactics:

Clever repurposing of something I learned/collected, or of resources that happen to be around me

Use of a tool I picked up thinking "this'll be handy at some point"

Bringing up weird knowledge I acquired At Some Point, possibly by accident, for fun, or while working on something else

Bringing up general skills I learned on purpose

Learning skills on the fly because the situation needs them; I prefer to know what I'm doing better than this, but reasonably speedy autodidacticism is one of my most prized skills and it's not a bad fallback.

(El Goonish Shive)

"Moooom! Paint is identifying with a mad scientist character again!"

Basically, I pull from my collection of existing skills, tools, knowledge, and current available resources to craft a solution on the fly, after getting close enough to the situation to get a good look at the problem.

This makes me feel very clever, it works really well, and I love doing it. Favorite way to do stuff, hands down.

Trouble can be, if people don't recognize how much prep work goes into these "instant" solutions, they're inclined not to believe they're real and will actually work. And I don't like pulling the "actually I studied this for six months" card because it feels like bragging :/ plus, for all the different things I can say that about, it stops sounding believable.

Truth is, I have almost no attention span for television (I'm aware this is weird but don't have an explanation for it), I hyperfocus easily, and I choose hobbies with lots of moving parts.

Like aquascaping. Do you know how many different bottles of chemicals you need to get the water chemistry right so the aquatic plants will grow? For me it was five, but a lot of people I knew online had waaay more (and fancy CO2 systems) because they kept demanding plants. If you kept the right balance of fish and plants, you ended up with this little ecosystem in a box. Like a tiny slice of a river! I was pretty good at it.

I still don't know how I got from "let's try making California rolls" to "afraid to run out of good mirin," but somehow I ended up really into cooking Japanese food and it's a permanent influence on my pantry and basically anything I cook now.

I do know how I ended up with so many oil painting mediums and solvents and so many paint colors that I have to have a list on my phone now to keep track of which ones I have in stock, though. Also did you know that acrylic paints also have mediums you can add and they make using acrylics SO MUCH EASIER? because I do and it seems like nobody else does and that's sad.

I also binge read nonfiction, especially when I'm depressed. It gives me something to focus on and feels vaguely productive even when I don't have the energy to do more.

Does this all sound like a lot of work? It's really just some of the stuff I do for kicks. We haven't touched on the novels I've written, the coding languages I know, the gardens I've kept, the professional design software on my computer (which I built myself from parts), the knitting and the baking and the graphic design and the candle making and the martial arts and the French language stuff from back in high school that I still kinda remember.

OH and then you have the weird stuff I carry around. *empties purse* here we have a multitool, lockpicks, a can of WD-40, some yarn or string, bandaids, a styptic pen, hand sanitizer, hairbands, screws I don't want to lose bc they belong to my couch, glasses cleaning wipes, a metal pen with a point that can break a car window, a bunch of fast food napkins, mini bottles of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, earbuds, comb, random lanyard, and four mini rubber ducks; all of these make sense to me don't ask why my purse is heavy

Plus all the ebooks loaded onto my phone, which I carry everywhere! And I have even more in my Humble Bundle library.

I list all these off to make a point: Birds' resource libraries can be HUGE. I don't know where mine exists on the hugeness spectrum, but I'm only 23, and older Birds' libraries are probably even bigger.

So yeah, as odd and niche as my interests can be, I have a LOT of them, and I can just go into situations without a plan because between all the skills I've learned and the books I've read and reread and the resources I carry everywhere and the hoard of supplies at home and the Bird masks and the Badger mirroring and THEN the ability to learn what I need on the fly if all else fails--

I don't need a plan.

I don't want a plan.

I'm more powerful without it.

I can react and pull from anything I've ever done or used or read. I can build things on the fly. Doesn't matter if I need to help cater an event or build a website or just prop open a heavy door--I'll have something relevant, or I'll figure it out.

There are situations where I won't be as capable, of course. For example, I know very little about cars, or writing music, or roller skating, or amino acid protein chains. But that's okay, because there are other people who specialize in those things, and I'll almost certainly come out of the situation having learned something and added to my library.

(Except the roller skating thing. I'm kind of phobic about skating of any kind. Cool when other people do it, but I get *eurgh* sliding in socks on linoleum.)

How do I end this... oh!

The fancy word for the act of making up a solution to a problem on the spot, using whatever materials and resources you have on hand, is bricolage, and one who practices it is a bricoleur. I learned that from a LiveJournal blog about writing that I used to read when I was 12, and I still remember it for some reason, which is very on brand of me.

[sierrabinondo]

2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could. 

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration. 

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid. 

then... the following week came. 

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of. 

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah. 

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.” 

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.  

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic. 

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried. 

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal. 

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.  

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs. 

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH.  i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am 

-watching so. much. anime. 

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals 

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green 

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

[settersprouts]

꠵ look at me : chapter nine ꠵

ギフト。

tw : this chapter contains mentions of n//dles, so if that makes you uncomfortable please don't read this chapter ! i want 2 make sure yer all happy nd safe, so if this will affect you at any cost pls just skip over that part, ill mark when it starts and when it stops :)

also : the parts about n//dles are untagged. i don't tag anything in my stories, but i do put little warnings about things that should b tagged. so, read at your own risk.

Iwaizumi awoke to light brown tufts of hair tickling his nose.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes and lifting his head, so he wouldn't sneeze from the tickling sensation. Oikawa was currently laying on his chest, mouth shut in a thin line, his limbs dangling over the ace in a comforting way. It was like he was hugging a life-sized teddy bear. It was comfortable, and safe, within the setter's warm embrace.

Hajime looked around the room, and spotted Matsukawa and Hanamaki leaning on the wall, Makki's head on the other's shoulder as they both snored soundly. The futon Oikawa had brought out for them lay abandoned on the floor, stripped of the blankets that now lay on their laps. How the wall was more comfortable than a memory foam futon- Iwaizumi may never know.

The boy laying on his chest stirred slightly, and he leaned up on his elbows, looking down at Iwaizumi. "Oh, morning, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi smiled. "Morning, Crappykawa. How'd you sleep?"

Oikawa stifled a yawn, trying not to fall asleep to his friend's soothing voice. It was like a lullaby. "Great. You?"

"Terrific." Iwaizumi sat up as Oikawa rolled off him, stretching and yawning.

"Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom again?"

"Nah. Go for it. We have school today, so hurry up, alright?'

The setter smiled at him, brown eyes twinkling in the reflection of the sun's rays. "Alright." He nodded, skipping to his backpack to grab his uniform. "Make sure you wake Mattsun and Makki up, okay?"

Iwaizumi hummed in reply and started to stand up as Oikawa gathered his things and headed to the bathroom. Toorū shut the door behind him, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soak his skin and pool at his feet. Grabbing the soap bar, he lathered himself with the suds, then rinsed it all off with cold water to wake himself up fully.

Oikawa turned off the shower, grabbing a towel and drying himself off before he stepped out of the tub. He sighed, looking into the mirror of Iwaizumi's bathroom. With the door locked, he felt comfortable enough to let the towel fall to his feet, standing completely bare in the middle of the tiled floor, looking at his reflection. Most of his bruises were entirely healed up, thanks to the oil Iwaizumi had rubbed onto his skin. He tenderly touched each and every one of the marks, sending shocks of light pain flowing through his nerves. He sighed in relief- thank god for that oil. If it weren't for it, his bruises would hurt much more.

━━━━━━»» TW START ««━━━━━━

The setter prodded at a deep cut in the soft skin of his abdomen. The skin around it was irritated and red, the color stippling like paint drops on a piece of paper. Oikawa winced as he trailed his fingers along the cut, rinsing his hand as he saw blood coating his fingertips. He pulled out the first-aid kit Iwaizumi had left in the bathroom a couple days before, sorting through the items until he found a needle and thread. He peeled open a packet of sanitizing wipes and wiped down the needle and the area around the cut, wincing again.

Oikawa started to sew the wound up, carefully weaving the thin piece of metal in and out of his skin. He focused all of his attention onto his task, ignoring the commotion Matsukawa and Hanamaki were making outside of the bathroom. He finished looping the thread, and tied a knot at the end, pulling the whole thing tight.

━━━━━━»»TW END ««━━━━━━

Deciding to test out his handiwork, he lifted his arms up over his head and stretched, letting out a big yawn. The stitches moved along with his skin, but it didn't appear to be loose, and no blood emerged from the wound. Trusting that the stitches wouldn't break, he put his dress shirt and cream-colored vest on, praying that the stitches wouldn't come loose during school and that he wouldn't bleed all over his uniform. After he put those on, Oikawa grabbed his toothbrush and put a fat glob of paste on it, sticking it under the sink for a second, then plopping it into his mouth.

"Ah, morning, Oikawa." Hanamaki had said when the captain popped back out of the bathroom. "You okay? You were in there for a while."

Oikawa nodded. "Yeah, just dressing my wounds and stuff." He didn't feel the need to lie to Hanamaki. After all, he practically knew everything now, so what was the point?

"Can I see them?"

"Sure." Oikawa lifted his shirt to reveal the bruises and the cut he had just recently sewed up, letting Makki come close and prod at his wounds. "Ah! That tickles, Makki."

Hanamaki stood up straight after a couple of seconds, tugging at Oikawa's shirt so he would let it down. Fixing Oikawa's appearance a little, he smiled. "They look a lot better. Did you sew that cut up yourself?"

Oikawa hummed in response. "Yeah. That's why I was in the bathroom. Wasn't too hard."

"Dang. I probably would have made the cut worse if I tried something like that." Hanamaki muttered, emitting a laugh out of his beloved captain. The two of them walked out of Iwaizumi's bedroom, and were greeted to the sight of Matsukawa putting Iwa in a headlock, the ace writhing around in his grip like a fish. Oikawa let out another laugh, covering his mouth in the process.

Iwa smiled fondly at his best friend, earning another harsh smack to the back of his head as Mattsun continued to torture him. Hanamaki glanced over at Oikawa, who was struggling to breathe through each laughing fit, and sighed. Breaking both Iwaizumi and Mattsun up, he gripped both of their shoulders harshly. “Oikawa just took care of his cuts, and you think it’s a great idea to make him laugh?”

The two boys sighed. “Sorry, Makki.”

Makki hummed in response, walking over to Oikawa and handing him a milk bread bun. The setter’s eyes twinkled in excitement, like a puppy waiting for his owner to give him a treat. He took it gingerly, sinking his teeth into the soft bread. The flavor exploded across his tongue, and he would have made a sound of delight if his mouth wasn’t completely stuffed.

The trio stifled a laugh at their captain as he held the bun up to the ceiling, like a peace offering to the gods. It got worse once he started singing “Ah Savania” from the Lion King.

Stuffing his mouth with the rest of the milk bread, he grinned at his friends for a second, then stopped as he realized something. Pressing his hands together and closing his eyes, he muttered a faint “itadakimasu,” making his teammates laugh again.

“Alright,” Oikawa said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “let’s go! Coach will get mad at me if we’re late~”

Mattsun snickered, grabbing his bag as well. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Oikawa bounded out of the house, turning around and locking the door as the rest of his friends filed out. After jiggling the doorknob slightly to check if it was locked as a precaution, he padded over to the three that stood patiently on the front steps, waiting for him.

“So,” Makki started, as they walked alongside each other on the sidewalk, “has your mom tried contacting you after you left?”

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa made extreme gestures behind Oikawa’s head, signaling Makki to stop. However, the wing-spiker didn’t pay notice to them, wanting to know what was truly going on.

Oikawa nodded, to everyone’s surprise. “Yeah. She’s texted me a bunch, it’s getting kind of annoying,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Pulling out his phone, he tapped his screen a couple of times, showing Makki the conversation with his mother. “See?”

“Outrageous.” Matsukawa sighed, catching a leaf midair, as he, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki read the texts on Oikawa's phone. "The audacity this woman has."

So, that's what's going on. Iwaizumi thought. He had remembered a faint buzzing noise going on last night when they were all sleeping, and Oikawa waking up and almost chucking his phone across the room once he figured out the source of the noises. Oikawa-san never quits, does she? She’s just like her son, in a way.

Oikawa let out a small sigh, stuffing his phone back in his pocket once he was sure his friends had skimmed through the recent texts. Running a slightly shaky hand through his hair, he turned to them with a smile on his face. A fake one at that, Iwaizumi noted. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm starting to really hate her. I know she's my mom and all, and she gave birth to me and raised me and stuff, but.."

"You can hate her if you want. You're not obligated to love her, especially after what she and your father did to you." Matsukawa patted Oikawa on the back, smiling at his captain. "So just hang tight, yeah?"

“..Yeah."

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

“O-Oikawa-san!” Kindaichi cried, engulfing the setter into a big hug. Oikawa winced slightly, as the pressure irritated his wounds, but let himself fall victim to Kindaichi’s arms.

Patting the first-year’s hair, he gave his underclassman a small, genuine smile, getting him all flustered. “Why, hello there, Kindaichi-chan. Good morning to you, too!”

Kindaichi looked up at him, the blush in his cheeks going down slightly. “M-Matsukawa-san and Hanamaki-san both said you were sick and injured! We were all worried about you, Oikawa-san!” He gestured behind him, and Oikawa’s eyes darted around the first-year to see the rest of his teammates holding small little gifts for him, worry dotting their faces. Except for Kyōtani, who stood there with his resting bitch face, hands behind his back.

Oikawa looked back at his fellow third-years, making eye contact with Hanamaki, who just shrugged, a smug grin on his face. He felt his eyes getting teary, so he rubbed at them fiercely, a concerned Kindaichi stressing over him.

Putting on another genuine smile, he looked up, beaming at his team. “Arigato, aishiteru.”

Filled to the brim with emotion, the rest of his team rushed forward, joining the hug. Oikawa let out a laugh, tears rolling down his face. Even Kyōtani joined the hug, smiling. Iwaizumi had to rub his eyes to be sure he saw that correctly.

Sooner than later, the team unstuck themselves from Oikawa’s body, giving the setter some room to wipe away his tears, and to properly thank his underclassmen. He patted Kindaichi’s head again, swiped away the tears pooling at the corners of Yahaba’s eyes, and gave Watari a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Kunimi nudged at Oikawa’s side, and the latter obliged, slinging an arm around his teammate. “Seriously, you guys don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you.”

Kyōtani muttered something, under his breath, turning away from the group to glare at a suddenly very attractive volleyball lying on the court line. Yahaba sighed, stalking over to the angry teen and mumbling something to him. Kyōtani’s shoulders relaxed as Yahaba ran his hand along the blades, and they struck a short, curt conversation, resulting in them both turning towards Oikawa.

“Kyōtani has something to ask you.” Yahaba said, smiling at his upperclassman. Oikawa nodded, turning to face the grim expression Mad Dog-Chan wore.

“Do you..” The spiker paused, his eyebrows furrowing even more as he struggled to get the words out. It wasn’t like he had trouble speaking, it was just he had trouble speaking to Toorū Oikawa. The setter terrified him sometimes. “Do you.. want to tell us what happened? We’ve been worried. And.. And we don’t know what’s going on.”

Yahaba patted Kyōtani on the back, looking up at Oikawa for an answer. Toorū opened his mouth slightly, paused, and closed it. He lifted his shirt over his face, silently weeping into the bright blue fabric. Nodding furiously, he picked his head up, a stupid silly grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

And he told his team. Everything. He thought he should at least contribute to their wishes, regarding the fact that he ignored everyone’s texts after they lost against Karasuno. Emotion fluttered through his team’s faces like a tidal wave- angry, sad, glad, then angry again. At the end of it all, Oikawa’s whole body trembled, and he shivered. Is it just me, or did it just drop like, 20° degrees in here?

Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. Hell yeah, they were proud of Oikawa for manning up and telling the rest of the team everything, but at the same time, he was sugarcoating it. And even telling the story while skipping out on all the gruesome details seemed to do a toll on the team, so they decided to let it slide for now.

Matsukawa snapped out of the trance first, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay. Not like he’d ever admit it, though. The blocker crept up behind Oikawa, patting his back and sitting down next to him. “Good job, Oika.” Oikawa turned to him, giving the latter a small smile in thanks.

“Wait, Oikawa-san.. Did you parents really..?” Kunimi shivered, hoping it wasn’t true. His face fell when Oikawa nodded, confirming his suspicions. “O-oh my god.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if anything I said disturbed you. It’s just how everything went,” Oikawa admitted. “Now, let’s all stop being sad and sappy, I want to see all the little get-well-soon gifts you all brought!”

A cheer erupted from the lungs of the team, and they placed all the packages and bags in a little pile in front of Oikawa, scooting closer to see his reaction once he opened the presents.

Oikawa giggled. “Ooh, I feel like it’s my birthday. It’s not often when my team treats me with cute little presents~!” He grabbed a present with pastel-peach color wrapping on it, which earned a little squawk from Kyōtani. Oikawa smirked. Ah, so this is his. The setter peeled back the tape made to keep the wrapping paper together, not wanting to ruin the beautiful handiwork, and pulled out a little Amazon box.

Digging through the confetti that was hastily stuffed in the cardboard, he pulled out a white knee brace, identical to the one he had on now. Kyōtani cleared his throat. “Uh, I noticed.. that your knee brace was getting old, so I bought you a new one. It’s.. It’s kind of.. basic, but I thought you would like it.”

Grinning, Oikawa ripped off his old brace, took off his shoe, and carefully fitted the new brace to accommodate his knee, flexing the muscle a little bit and smiling at his teammate. “Thank you, Mad Dog-Chan. This is really thoughtful.” He said, earning a grunt in response. Clapping his hands together, he grinned. “Alright, next gift!”

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

Oikawa really was spoiled. So far, he had gotten a star-sign book from Kindaichi, gift-cards for his favorite café from Yahaba, a build-it-yourself gaming-setup from Kunimi, who had actually admitted to stealing his mom’s credit card to afford it and snuck it in school, and the knee brace from Kyōtani. The only gifts he had left were from Mattsun, Makki, and Iwa-Chan, and part of him wasn’t really eager to open the first two’s gifts.

But, oh well, right?

He sighed, tearing through the wrapping this time, getting yet another Amazon box with a large smiley face drawn on the top in sharpie. Matsukawa snickered at the sight, so it just had to be his.

Oikawa took the little knife he was using to open the other presents and gently sliced the clear packaging tape, lifting the flaps and sighing once he saw what was inside. He pulled out a spray bottle of.. fake spray tan?

That was the breaking straw for Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They burst out laughing, holding their stomachs and hitting their knees. Oikawa deadpanned, glaring at the two boys. “What made you think this was a nice gift for your dear Oikawa-san?”

They shivered at their captain’s tone, but still kept the goofy grins on their faces. “Well, remember that time we went to the beach, and you, like, burnt to a crisp?”

“That was one time!” Oikawa stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I forgot sunscreen, and Iwa-Chan’s such a brute, he used his bottle all up!” Of course, that had only made the two laugh even harder. He sighed, nudging the second present closer to him. Based off the rough packaging, it had to be Iwaizumi’s handiwork. The wrapper paper was a teal color, with a white ribbon, the same colors as Seijoh’s uniforms.

He untied the ribbon, unfolded the paper and was finally greeted with a box that wasn’t from Amazon. It was kind of like those decorative cake boxes, with the lid unsealed so you could lift it up and look at the yummy dessert inside. Oikawa lifted the flap and let out a tiny gasp. There were a bunch of little trinkets inside- little bead bracelets, a mini time-capsule kit, ramune soda, a CD, new cologne, and a bunch of other things.

Excitement taking over his body, Oikawa took out each of the items and set them next to each other. He was smiling so much, his face hurt. “Iwa-Chan, these are so cute!”

Iwaizumi sputtered, pink dust painting his cheeks. “What makes you think that’s mine?”

“Only you would be so thoughtful and get me these things, Iwa~!” Oikawa sang, giving Iwaizumi a little thumbs-up. “Thank you!”

“Just try the stuff out! Or not, I don’t care either way,” the ace replied, crossing his arms over his chest to calm his racing heart down. How that would have helped it, Iwaizumi had no idea.

Oikawa smiled in response, opening up the crate of ramune and handing a bottle to each of his teammates. “Alright, drink up! We have a little feast ahead of us!”

“Arigato!”

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

“So, how’d you like the presents we got you?” Hanamaki asked. The rest of the team had already left the gym, and the four third-years were left to pack up everything in the oversized bags Matsukawa had brought along.

Oikawa grinned. “They were amazing! Did you all really plan this for me?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, figured you needed a little pick-me-up. You haven’t been smiling recently, ever since we lost to Karasuno, so we decided to bring back that stupid smile of yours.”

“Aw, Iwa-Chan’s so thoughtful!” The setter giggled, flinging a hand to his mouth once he let out a little snort. He frowned at the noise that came from his throat, shaking his head slightly.

If anyone noticed that little movement, they said nothing.

A little tsk came from Iwaizumi’s direction. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and help us clean, so we can go home.”

“Got it, Iwa-Chan.”

Once everything was tidy and clean, the four of them walked out of the gym, stepping out into the sunset. The colors were vibrant and colorful- orange, purples, pinks and blues spliced together.

Makki threw his hands up in the air and stretched, a loopy smile on his face. “Ah. Now we can get home and relax.”

“Yeah. About time, too.” Mattsun stifled a yawn, slinging his arm around Oikawa. The latter flinched slightly at the touch- he had bruises all along his shoulders too- but the tingling pain went away after a couple of seconds. “Ready to go home, Oika?”

He nodded. “Yep~! I can’t wait to eat something, I’m starving.”

“You literally just ate.”

“That didn’t count!”

The two went on and bickered, Iwaizumi and Makki at their heels. Hanamaki glanced at his teammate and nudged his side. “Hey, Iwaizumi.”

“Hm?”

Makki looked at Oikawa, worry etching his facial features. His eyes glossed over a little, and he turned back to Iwaizumi. “You think he’ll be okay?”

Iwaizumi let out a shaky sigh, glancing at the back of the man in question. He was laughing at something Mattsun had said, a hand over his mouth, eyes closed. It was a beautiful sight, it was like he didn’t have a care in the world, and he was just living in the now. “Yeah. He’ll be okay.” Turning back to Hanamaki, he nodded in reassurance. “He’s our captain. The strongest one out of all of us. Why wouldn’t he be?”

The corners of Makki’s lips turned upwards slightly, like he was trying to smile, but didn’t want to contribute to the urge. “Yeah. He’ll be okay.” He repeated, wiping at his eyes. “He’ll be okay.”

“Hey!” The two snapped up at the sudden break in the comfortable silence they had formed and met Oikawa’s eyes. “We’re going to the park, is that okay?”

They nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Oikawa grinned, slowing down a few steps and shoving at Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Alright, race you!”

Before Iwaizumi even had the chance to react, he was already bolting away, his laughter a song flowing through the air. Matsukawa followed him, his voice mixing with Oikawa’s like in a duet. Hanamaki and Iwaizumi turned to each other, all the worries they had before wiped clean out of their heads.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

[marsupials-of-mars]

Night Terrors

Part three of my Dreams/Nightmares series (Dreams came first, then Nightmares, now this much later), because once Remus was revealed it was clear he should have totally been nightmares instead of Virgil but I worked him in anyway!

Contrary to Roman and Virgils nights with Thomas, Remus generally didn't talk much. Suprising really, considering his personality, but the videos they watched together had some auditory stimulus that he didn't dare interrupt. So he just enjoyed himself, lending his presence. He loved his Thomas nights, a full night to be good and nasty and Remus it up, loosen up after a long day, for Thomas to tire himself out for a good nights rest. A night all to himself and Thomas, what could be more fun?

But as all good things must come to an end, so too did his contributions. Thomas was tired, and that meant off went the explicit content, onto it's charger, and under the pillow. Remus whined. Sleep. What was it good for anyway? Just to waste time. He sank back into Thomas's subconscious and sulked over to the basement door. He yanked it open and practically oozed down the staircase. He didn't want to sleep that night. Sleep was boring, he wasn't even tired! He wasn't...

His eyes lit up at the realization. When a side wasn't tired it meant... Remus scrambled back up the stairs on all fours, bursting out the stairwell and into the hallway. And now that he was facing the right direction, it was clear as day. A black and hot pink door. Remus squealed.

Aint no rest for the wicked.

He skipped down the hall, overwhelmed with excitement. He didn't care much for the guy really, but he sure loved the work. He popped his knuckles, dagger-like claws bursting from his fingertips. He would have toyed with his coworker a bit but he didn't feel like wasting any time that night. He gouged his claws into the wood of the door, dragging them down its length with a terrible, grating noise.

"UP AND AT EM BEAUTYSLEEP, WAKEY WAKEY!" He pressed his ear to the door. Silence... but he could smell the fear.

"Okay, rude, I was willing to be polite but here goes." He sent his tentacles about the doorframe, their boneless, mucus-soaked nature letting them slip through the cracks and around the door in its entirety, effortlessly ripping it off its hinges. "See!? See what I gotta do when you bully me?" He waved the door around above his head before chucking it aside and retracting his slimy extremities back into his person. He locked eyes with a face of absolute horror and disgust, apparent even through the sunglasses. "Well I won't hold it too much against you Remy... after all, we're still NAME TWINS!" He finished in a singsong voice and fell into his host's arms.

"EW!" Remy gasped. He dropped him and quickly retreated backward until he was pressed against a wall. "Bitch, you will not TOUCH me, you will not SPEAK to me! WHY do I still not get some warning when one of you are coming?!" He hovered his contaminated arms far away from the rest of his body.

"Hey, I warned you! Warned you not to piss me off!" Remus giggled from his spot on the floor. "Cmon, you love me!"

"I don't! I really don't, I'd appreciate if you jumped in a lake! It'd at least be some sort of bath, you heathen." He sneered and whipped out a portable hand sanitizer. He started slathering his forearms extremely thoroughly.

"Aww, 'heathen'? You flatter me..." Remus brought his hands to his face as he blushed a warm shade of puke green.

"Whatever. WHATEVER. Get the job done and get OUT." Remy massaged his temples. He seemed to be going out of his way not to look in Remus's direction. It filled Remus's stomach with delighted butterflies. Maybe moths... mosquitoes? Mosquitoes sounded right.

"But REM!" Remus whined. "Last time Virgil was in here he left all pretty with face paint and claws-"

"Makeup and acrylics. Because we had a bonding moment. Acrylics are EARNED." He took a sip of his coffee. With a second thought he mumbled around the straw: "And don't call me Rem."

"Pleeease? Please with something hairy on top? I'll make it worth your while..." He bit his lip and winked. Remy nearly spit up his coffee.

"You need to CHILL."

"But I CAN'T! The only thing that could ever quell my madness is claws and facepaint! But alas..." Remus sighed dramatically and brought the back of his hand to his forehead. "You couldn't possibly provide such things..." He opened one eye and grinned when Remy groaned.

"Fine. FINE. But we're watching what I want." He grudgingly dragged his feet over to a cabinet by the TV and pulled out a makeup bag and a bin of nail supplies. "Wasting my best stuff on you..." He mumbled to himself at a volume that made it difficult for Remus to believe that he wasn't supposed to hear. Remus squealed and leapt onto the couch, giddy to be included, even more giddy that it was a grudging inclusion.

He was suddenly hit in the face with a container of wet wipes.

"I'm not touching your hands until you get that grime off, I'm not catching any diseases tonight." Remy pulled out a binder from a bin under the coffee table. The wipes quickly turned various shades of brown as Remus scrubbed his hands, but his attention was elsewhere, peering over Remy's shoulder.

"Whatcha got?"

Remy placed the binder gingerly on his lap. "Ideas."

As soon as Remus got a good look at it, he recognized his brother's calligraphy. He scrunched his nose. "So you and the Quest for Camel-snot are real besties aren'tcha?"

He knew that Roman had work with Remy too, but in the moment it kinda stung. He got the lights, did he really need the extras too? But Remus didn't really want Sleep, not his type. So it was fine, right?

"My closest girlfriend, bitch numero uno. He's a genius, really. Full binders of inspiration for every one of you." He flipped through the binder, double tabs color coordinated to each side, nails and makeup. Profiles and front views of each side's face in Roman's swoopy, perfect art style, graphite with oil pastel for color. Remus craned his neck to see.

"You're at the back. He has a lot of ideas for you, he talks about them a lot. Never gets around to drawing them up though, pretty sure it's personal. Gets uncomfortable drawing your face."

Remus ignored that last piece of commentary.

"Don't care, show me what he DID put in there! Probably awful, I could do better..."

Remy flipped to the green-tabbed page. There were three pages in the Remus section, contrasted against the five or more for every other side. But Remus wasn't focused on that. He was focused on the drawing: The palette was dark but bold, dark greens, black, metalics and greys. The look was extremely busy with intense, full mascara, black lipstick dusted with metallic green, tentacles curling from the eye flaring in the direction of the lashes and writhing down the side of the face. He was even crazy enough to scatter black rhinestones and silver glitter about, seemingly at random but somehow in just the right places. Remus stared at the drawing in awe. It entirely fit his aesthetic, minus the grime. The drawing still didn't quite look like him, though, and it broke Remus out of his trance to laugh out loud as he realized why. Roman had deliberately refused to draw in the mustache.

"What?" Remy squinted at him.

"He's so petty!" Remus conjured a pencil and scratched on some glorious facial hair in some frustratingly wobbly lines compared to Roman's. "There! There's my guy!" Remy grabbed the binder and clapped it shut.

"Ugh, you ruined it!" He opened the page back up and pouted.

"It's better now! Whatever, just fuck me up!" He sat up and closed his eyes, ready for beautification. He felt a wet wipe instead, though it wasn't like he was caught of gaurd by a sudden cold dampness to the face. "What are you doing?"

"You're so oily, if I tried to apply anything it'd roll right off like water on duck feathers. You owe an apology to your pores hun... and a shower."

"Nah I'd rather you keep with the wiping. Feels nice and sensual." He felt the scrubbing grow more hesitant and heard a quiet but exasperated sigh.

"Tell you what, if you can keep your feral little mouth shut for the next ten minutes I'll let you at the expired wine. It's real vinegary."

"Ooh!" Remus mimed zipping his lips and flicking away the key. Remy seemed suprised that his deal worked.

They sat in relative silence for a while, save for Remy's instructions for Remus to tilt his head one way or another, and the scrapes and clinks of makeup containers on the coffee table.

"Aaand...done!" Remy sat back and surveyed his work. Remus blinked.

"Wait I can't... I can't see..." His eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to look at his own face. Remy rolled his eyes.

"Cut it out, I've got a mirro-" Before he could reach under the coffee table, Remus had already plunged his fingers into his own eye sockets and torn his eyes from their nerves.

"HOLY SHIT-" Remy threw up in his mouth but managed to hold it back. Remus turned his eyes to look back at his face.

"Ooo well done! Though the eyes are a little smudged."

"Because you just mutilated your mascara with your fat knuckles you ANIMAL!" Remy grabbed Remus's wrist and pushed it back toward his face. "Back! Back in!"

Remus groaned and popped his eyes back in. He blinked rapidly as they resituated their orientation in his skull.

"I didn't even bleed, cmon, I'm being respectful of your work."

"Whatever, just sit still..." Remy pinned his shoulder to the couch and kept his legs down with a knee. He blended out some smudged eye shadow and reapplied the mascara. "There." He fell back onto the couch and massaged his eyes. "Now grab us some wine so I can make it through the rest of the night. Right of the fridge, top shelf."

Remus hopped up from the couch and twirled over to the cabinet. He found the bottle that had clearly been re-corked among the vast array and popped it open with his teeth. He waved it under his nose. Vinegar. He called over his shoulder; "You said I could have all the expired stuff?!"

"What else would I do with it? Grab me something."

Remus re-corked the bottle. He grabbed another bottle of red and a single wine glass and ran back to the couch. He cannonballed into the cushions with enough force to make Remy yelp and send out his arms to stabilize himself.

"Claws now!" He clapped his hands. Remy held up a finger.

"Just a sec, hon." He opened the fresh bottle and filled his glass. And kept filling. And kept filling. He tipped the bottle back just as he reached the brim. He took the glass gracefully and downed it in a single tilt. He let out a sigh of relief. "Mkay. Claws."

The next two hours were occupied with messy, drunk acrylic construction, trash reality TV, and half coherent conversations about either the meaning of life or over which two patent moms would get in a fistfight first based on their initial introductions. Remus could half remember Remy crying at some point over how bad the nails looked and how he was losing his gift, and another point where he ranted about how the other nail techs of the world better "step the fuck up or drop dead" at his sheer talent.

Remus began to come to, though barely. He pawed at Remy's shoulder. "Rem, Remmington, up up up! Got night terrors to make!"

Remy rolled over. His lips were smudged with black and metallic green. Remus didn't say anything, though silently cursed himself for having blacked out through that part.

"Hm? Nah bitch, you're on your own. Scary shit, not my cup of tea."

"You've got the assets!" Remus snorted at the word. "Yknow, the characters and stuff."

Remy groaned for a long time. "Fiiine." He rolled off the couch and followed Remus to the recording room. Remus attempted a cartwheel but fell over halfway through. He made it into the room at least. Remy snorted.

"GIRL! You're WORTHLESS!" He pulled a giggling Remus to his feet.

"Yeah..." Remus bounced from foot to foot. "Gimme!"

"Hold on a sec!" Remy yanked open a file cabinet and pulled out a handful of folders. "First choice..." He hiccuped. "Classic spiders."

"Cmon Rem, what kind of creativity would I be to keep using spiders every time?"

Remy thought. "A bad one?"

"Correct!" He reached into the folder and pulled out a spider. With a tap of his fingers he multiplied them into the thousands. "Next!"

Remy pulled out the next. "Sharks."

"Nah, that's just a sharp fish. Something GROSS, something WEIRD. Next!"

"Ummm...Thomas saw a dead mouse the other day. Part of it's belly smushed open."

"ZOMBIE! RATS!" Remus grabbed the mouse and threw it on the ground, instantly multiplying it into a writhing pile of the living dead, which quickly dispersed through the blackness, some eating spiders and the others being eaten by spiders. It was quite the beautiful display of the circle of life, but Remus wasn't thinking about that as much as he was thinking about how awesomely disgusting it was.

"MORE! Characters!"

"Mom! Fitness trainer! Mark from Rent! Moana!" Remy read off folder titles.

"All of them! To be CONSUMED BY THE ZOMBIE RATS!!!" He dumped the folders into the swarm of arachnid and gorey fur. Remy began to squint and avert his eyes. No matter how drunk, there was only so much he could take. "Last part! Setting!"

"We've got... woods behind our old elementary school, the underworld from the first Percy Jackson movie, and the church basement!"

"When presented with some form of hell, hell it is!" Remus grabbed the underworld folder and opened it to surround them with sweet sweet fire and the wails of the damned.

"Okay! Let's go!" He grabbed Remy's shoulder. He rewound the terror and hit play from the beginning before pulling Remy out the door. He slammed it behind them. Remy, who was just coming to, winced.

"You know you could have made the whole thing while it was paused?"

"What's the fun in that?"

Remy huffed. "Well, we're done. You can finally get out of my room.

"Do you really WANT me to though...?" Remus wiggled his eyebrows and nudged Remy with his elbow.

"Yeah. I REALLY want you to."

Remus gasped in offense. "Fine. Be that way. I had fun."

Remy rolled his eyes. "Well once I got drunk you weren't as bad. Take that as you will."

"I'll internalize that as a confession of your deep sexual attraction to me."

"Please don't."

"Too late!"

Remy grabbed Remus's shoulder and spun him towards the door.

"Just get out."

Remus snorted and made his way to the door. He stopped and turned back. "You might want to get your door fixed by the way. I don't want to alarm you," He put his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered. "But I think some idiot broke it."

Remy gestured for him to shoo. "Yeah. I'll look into it."

Remus grinned. He looked down at his acrylics for nearly the first time. They were wobbly and awful and sharp, like twisted daggers. Not what the sketchbook recommended, but better than Roman could have come up with anyway. He looked back up at Remy.

"Great. Bye name twin!"

"Good riddance."

[phalloid-assassinator-blog]

15 Things You Need To Know About How To Remove Moles Today

Why a mole may quirk to be removed

Moles are common skin growths. You probably have furthermore more one just approximately your tilt and body. Most people have 10 to 40 moles somewhere something in imitation of their skin.Click Here for  How To Remove Moles

Most moles are harmless and nothing to be anxious up very about. You dont compulsion to surgically surgically remove a mole unless it bothers you. But if you dont considering the exaggeration it affects your space, or if its getting motivated from rubbing adjacent-door to your clothes, removing the mole is an option.

The moles you absolutely dependence to regard as creature removing are ones that have misused. Any differences in a moles color, size, or disquiet could be a rebuke sign of skin cancer. See a dermatologist for a checkup.

You might be tempted to cut off moles at habitat because of the convenience and cost. Before you attempt to snip off your mole back scissors or smear a propos a collective-bought mole cream, habit in upon to learn the risks practicing.

Are there in force ways to surgically remove moles at domicile?

A number of websites meet the expense of get-it-yourself tips for removing a mole at dwelling. These methods arent proven to touch ahead, and some may be dangerous. You should chat to your doctor approximately your options in the by now you attempt any flaming remedies for mole removal.

Some of these unproven methods tote occurring:

alight the mole off considering apple cider vinegar

taping garlic to the mole to crack it afterward to from the inside

applying iodine to the mole to kill the cells inside

caustic off the mole gone scissors or a razor blade

Other settle remedies that sworn proclamation to remove moles include applying:

a merger of baking soda and castor oil

banana peel

frankincense oil

tea tree oil

hydrogen peroxide

aloe vera

flaxseed oil

Pharmacies and online stores plus sell mole removal creams. To use these creams, you first scratch off the peak share of the mole. Then you daub the cream into the mole. The products allegation that within a day after applying the cream, a scab will form. When the scab falls off, the mole will go past it.

Safer alternatives

A safer habit to conceal moles if youin the region of self-live approximately them is to cover them subsequent to makeup. If you have a hair growing out of a mole, its safe for you to clip the hair or pluck it.

Why Mole removal is harmful

Home mole removal methods sound beautiful user-available and convenient. You might be tempted to attempt one of these techniques to avoid a visit to your dermatologists office. Yet theres no evidence that home treatments for mole removal perform, and some of them could be dangerous.

A few studies have reported upon side effects from mole removal creams handy at drugstores and online stores. These creams can cause thick scars to form in the place of the mole.

Removing moles by pointed them off gone a shining direct as well as than scissors or a razor blade carries risks, too. Cutting off any addition increases your risk of infection, especially if the tool you use isnt properly sanitized. You can in addition to create a remaining scar where the mole once was.

Another risk of removing a mole yourself is that you cant declaration if a mole is cancerous. A mole could be melanoma. If you dont have a dermatologist test the mole and it is cancerous, it could encroachment throughout your body and become computer graphics-threatening.

When to see a doctor

See a dermatologist if you sorrowful to remove a mole that bothers you. And enormously see a doctor if the mole has tainted, which could be a sign of cancer. The doctor can make a get your hands on of concord of a biopsy  removing a little fragment of the mole to test knocked out a microscope to appearance if its cancerous.

Dermatologists use two commentator and nimble methods for removing moles.

With surgical excision, the doctor numbs the place on the subject of the mole and after that cuts out every one mole. Then the doctor stitches or sutures the wound closed.

With a surgical shave, the doctor numbs the area around the mole and uses a blade to shave off the mole. You wont dependence stitches or sutures bearing in mind this method.

With either method, the doctor will test your mole for cancer.

The bottom pedigree

If you have a mole that isnt changing and doesnt quarrel you, the best business to do is to depart it alone. But if you dont as soon as the quirk the mole affects your heavens or if your clothes are exasperating it, see a dermatologist to remove it safely.

Definitely see a dermatologist if the mole has distorted color, size, or shape, or if it scabs greater than. These could be signs of melanoma, the deadliest user-clear of skin cancer. Getting the mole checked out and removed could save your energy.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 16

Part 15   Masterlist

Word Count: 3328

minor swearing as usual

    Driving through Toronto is frustrating, traffic sucks - especially if you're exhausted and your annoying little brother keeps flipping through radio stations and singing along horribly when he finds something but changing it right after.

Speaking of changing stations as he's hand inches towards the knob again I swat his hand away with force, he gets the message and silently sits in his seat.

"Party girls don't get hurt..."

I don't have to see Ricky's face to know he's smirking, slowly he reaches the hand to the knob to turn up the SIA song but I beat him to it with volume control on the stirring wheel.

"IM GONNA SWIIING FROM THE CHANDELIER!!!!!!!!" I belt out the familiar lyrics with a huge grin despite the exhaustion weighing on my shoulders, at this moment I am carefree singing horribly as I drive my brother to his lacrosse practice, He's lucky the Arena is 5 minutes away from my apartment or he'd be shit out of luck.

I am way out of breath by the time the song finishes. I am in fits of laughter and so it Ricky, my core just gets more and more sore with every laugh.

"Oh, my....My abs....they hurt" I wheezed leaning my head on the wheel as I stop in front of the lacrosse arena, Ricky's still incomplete fits his head leaning against the window, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tries to catch his breath but going into fresh hysterics every time.

"Okay...get out of my car before you make me suffocate because I can-I can't breathe," I laugh out some more before finally getting some control, resting my hands on my clenched belly, taking deep calming breaths.

"Okay, okay I am going but I have a question," He's tone gets serious at the end making my brows furrow, slightly worried at what is next to come out of his mouth.

"So... My birthday is coming up and I was hoping I could have a party........at your place?" Ricky's puppy dog eyes have always been a weakness those big baby blues can make anyone weak. Right now that is what I am facing, the infamous begging face that Ricky only pulls when he really wants something.

"Did you ask Dad or your mom already?" I quizzed not really want my place to be overrun by Rick and his buddies. Ricky's shoulder slump and he don't look me in the eye, I raised my brow at him.

"..no..."

We lock in a staring contest, my face 'are you kidding me' Ricky's eyes are pleading. My eyes narrow at him.

"Why my place?" I whined pouting.

"Uhm Have you see the view? also, your place is fucking amazing!" He grins sensing he's winning the battle but I am not giving up that hard.

"I hate you" I started as his face morphs into sheer happiness making my heart swell, happy people are the best.

"You clean everything whether it's you personally or someone else, as long I am not doing it. Something goes missing you're replacing it, same goes for if anything breaks. The last call is 3 am everyone out by 4 and we'll discuss a date when I am not this exhausted and if I say it's over you bet your little ass IT IS OVER," I raised a brow challenging him to disagree with anything i just said. Ricky instantly jerked up and hit his head on the roof in excitement before literally tumbling out my car and onto the sidewalk before getting up and jumping up.

"AH! Yes, okay we'll talk when you're no longer a zombie," Ricky was all smiles as we said our goodbyes as he got his gear from my truck and into the facilities where some of his teammates met and him. By the cheers, I am guessing he told them that I said Yes- with conditions. I honk and wave before leaving for my apartment where I have food to make and a bed to sleep in.

Pissed is an understatement.

I was livid.

Mitchell Marner the little shit that he is is eating the food that he watched me meal prep last Sunday, and he is well aware that the food he is eating is the last of my prep for this week.

He sat at the barstool at the counter looking like a deer caught in headlights, a guilty look in his eyes as the empty container lay on the surface before him before he pushes it towards an unsuspecting William who is eating a salad.

"Nope, this is your problem," the words slightly muffled by the salad he's shoveling into his mouth as he pushes the container back to him shaking his head.

Taking a deep- a very deep breathe, I lock my eyes with Mitchells scared ones. Emotionless I approach the man-child.

"I am going to shower because I have had a long day, I would love to of been able to eat relaxed for the rest of the night. Having worked out this morning, gone to work and more training after. Thinking 'Oh I have food ready at home' otherwise I wouldn't have gone to training but now here's how we're gonna do this, so I don't murder you. The only reason you're still breathing is that I have burned all the energy in my body and I can't replenish unless I have the specific amount of protein, calories, and carbs." My face and voice level and calm, making Mitch squirm as William watches with wide eyes.

"You are going to go get me food, and it's going to match my nutation plan, reasonable if I say so myself," I held back a smile as Mitch's shoulder slump in relief when he learns that he gets to live for another day, only because all of Toronto would kill me.

After giving Mitch earful of the exact grams and ml of what needs to be in my food and what food I do or do not like. Like a little puppy with, his tail between his legs he retreats out of the apartment collect his jacket and keys.

"Thanks for not killing my boyfriend! I would of if I was you, No one touches my food," Steph said coming down the stairs, by her still wet hair she just out of the shower.

"Will, Honey you know you don't live here right?" Stephanie approached her fellow blonde with a teasing smile as she throws her arm around his shoulders giving him a side hug. A red tint started to spread across his cheeks as he's still eating. He takes moment to swollen the contents in his mouth before responding.

"That I am aware, but that brings up what I was meaning to ask Amelia this morning," He pauses and his face looking shyer than I have ever seen it. My brows furrow with concern, Steph face mirroring mine.

"Uhm.... well Can I stay in the guest room tonight?" His eyes big and sad.

I responded the same time as Steph.

"Of course,"

"Why?"

Steph's face morphs into one of confusion and suspicion as she steps away from the poor boy, as if William burned her, making William frown and making my heart ache.

Sad William is the worst and most terrible thing I have ever witnessed and if there's a way for him to not be sad, I'd most likely do. I am a pushover, especially when I am this tired.

"Awe Steph don't be mean to him," I whined as I brought Will into a hug squish him, resting my chin on his head. "How can you be mean to this face?" I squish his cheeks as he narrowed his eyes at me not impressed.

"Nylander you broke my roommate," Steph giggled as I rolled my eyes and playfully push him away but he in return almost fell off the stool.

"I am starting to think I should have just asked Marty," Will huffed regaining his position on the stool.

"Don't worry, William. Amelia is just in delirium right now from a lack of multiple things." Stephanie teased bringing me into an awkward side hug and it's my turn to glare. Gently pushing her off towards the couch where she dramatically threw herself over to watch TV.

"Whatever, Where you want to stay if up to you. I am going to have that shower now. Will, the room should be made already if not just bugged Steph," I smirked as Steph huffed from the couch but didn't protest.

  Collecting my gear that I dropped at the front door when I caught the food thief, I toss my nasty gym clothes into the wash and then poured some baby powder into my box gloves and my gym shoes to absorb the sweat and the odor. Empty the bag I take with me to the rink, my collection of oils, creams, and physio tapes tumble out onto the folding table before I rearrange the bottle back into place in my medicine cabinet where I keep all my first aid gear and massage oils.

 Grabbing my massage chair I bring it out of the laundry room and lay it against the wall before grabbing sanitizer spray to spray it down for tomorrow because Morgan will be over for his pre-game shoulder massage which has become a vital part of his routine or that's what he says at least.

Finally having everything set for the morning, I'm gassed. I yawn leaning against the door frame of the room watching Steph click through the movies on Netflix and William disagreeing with anything she suggests before she smacks him and chooses the notebook much to Williams dismay and whining.

"Have you even watched the Notebook?" Steph snapped at the hockey player who silently shook his head and both of us girls groaned.

Grabbing the box of tissues from the cabinet to myself I push myself off the doorframe and hand the box to Will who passes it to Steph but Steph hands them back before smirking.

"There for you, big boy," I clapped him on the back before head to my awaiting shower.

  I'm practically sleepwalking by the time my shower is done, the hot water relaxed me to the core. Mindlessly drying myself off, brushing my hair and going into my closet, I throw on a soft loose shirt and black shorts before yawning extra hard and walking to my bed throwing myself over to another side to Check my phone on the side table.

Somewhere between reading a text message from Ricky and my dad, I must have fallen asleep because I'm slowly blinking open my eyes when there's a soft knocking on my bedroom door.

"M'come in" I sit up in time to realize I never actually put on my shirt, quickly tossing the white fabric over my head as a blonde I head pokes in followed by the rest of his body, a shaker bottle in hand.

"I thought you might want a protein shake to tide you over until Mitch returns," William offers the bottle, shyly standing in the doorway. I wave him over eyeing the shake with heart eyes, I practically snatch it from him when he gets closer. Drinking about half in the first go earning a chuckle from Will.

"Mmm so goood, thank you Will," I tiredly beam at the blonde.

"It's no problem, I got bored with the movie and Steph was really into," Will casually shrugs his shoulders before flopping in my bed face first with a groan and a giggle from me.

"You good?" I poke his tense shoulder as he lets out a sigh and turns his head to face me exposing a frown.

"I'm scared," He confesses making my heart ache for him.

"Of tomorrow?" slightly shocked

"Yeah, just its scary if we don't win tomorrow we're so screwed, it's just some much easier for us tomorrow than have to win on Sunday and hope Tampa loses. The what if we don't win tomorrow or the next and Tampa wins. We're so potentially screwed but not it hurts my head," Will groans in the pillows before his shoulders slump and facing me again still sad.

My head hurts for him and all the leafs but the rookie's success brings this added pressure for them. Now that they've done big things, that's all people expect is great.

"Well, Willy you have to remember you're only human just like everyone else on the team and on the ice. You're also not alone out there, you guys have already proved yourself all you can do is play your damn heart out and if that's not enough- well fuck them. As long as you played your hardest screw everyone else," My voice firm and soft like I was with Auston earlier.

"You're also not the only one freaking the fuck out, Auston was hiding in a private therapy room and told him almost the same thing," I chuckle at the memory from earlier. William flips on his back staring up at the light gray ceiling before looking back at me with a soft smile making his feature look much younger.

"Amelia you're really good at this making people feel relax thing, Auston told me about his little meditation session but didn't tell me about his freak out," Will's lips quirk up into a smirk at the end earning him a glare.

"If you think you can chirp him for being a human being with emotions, I'll personally let the team know about your freak out, William Nylander." I threaten the smirk right off his face making him pout.

Before anything else could be said the door of my apartment is slammed open then closed with a yell from Mitch about my food and probably a grumble that only could be heard by Steph because of an auditable slap and a yelp from Mitch.

"He's whipped," William laughs.

"And you wouldn't be?" I tease giggling at Williams grumpy face.

"You know you're just as good at making people feel bad as you can good," William whines getting up from my bed before dragging me up too, grabbing the almost empty bottle of shake and finishing it off much to my protests.

"Hey!"

"Shouldn't have been mean," William taunted pushing me out of the room.

I near attacked Mitch for my food when I get to the living room, leaving the poor boy wide-eyed as I attack my steak, broccoli and salad the smell assaulting my nose and making my stomach roar in hunger so loud I was now the one left Wide-eyed as everyone laughed.

"Down girl," I muttered rubbing my tummy as I set my food on the dining table and plopping down into a chair ready to devour the delicious contents but stopping in my greedy quest id chew to thank Mitch even though he is his own reason for going out.

"Thank chew," My words muffled.

"No problem," Mitch smiles as he plops between the empty space between William and Steph throw his arm around his girlfriend.

"Better not be a problem YOU ate her food," Steph poked his chest with gusto before cuddling into it. shaking my head now over the little episode from earlier now that I am eating.

Food and showers work wonders.

Halfway through my food the familiar sound of hockey starts coming from the Tv meaning Mitch probably is watching gameplay, Williams confession earlier makes me stop mid-chew to look over to Will practically hiding in the couch now looking at the screen, making my heart ache. Looking at food then back at Will, I sigh before finishing my salad and closing the container before sticking it in the fridge with a longing stare.

"Hey, Uhm Amelia my shoulder is stiff do you have any of the shoulder cream?" Williams' voice breaks me from my staring contest with my food, startling me. Turning around and almost knocked into him he's so close.

"Jesus William, Yeah it's either in the cabinet or upstairs," I know it's down here but I think he just wants to not be watching hockey. Heading to the laundry room with William in tow, I pull him in and open the cabinet door open blocking off the view into the room.

"Actually need this," Holding the A535 in my hand "Or just don't wanna be here?" I said ridiculously gesturing around the apartment. Will's shoulders drop relief.

"Just don't wanna hockey, you know?" His expression pained and sad.

"Well, let's go upstairs and 'work on the shoulder' leave these love sickos alone," I teased closing the cabinet, nudging Will with wink pushing him towards the stairs. Wishing Mitch and Steph a good night.

William gets to my bed before I do and lays starfish taking up the entire queen sized bed.

"Better move your ass over boy,"

"or what?" William challenged like a child wagging his brows getting more comfortable on the bed. Rolling my eyes at the man-child that is William Nylander. Turning my back to him to set up my laptop to my tv and turn on netlix and queueing up Pirates of the Caribbean, turning back to bed where William is still taking up the bed eyes closed. Turning the lights off, I jump on the unprepared blonde.

"ah," He groaned.

I laid on my stomach across his giggling as his arms surround me and flip me over to his side and adjusts us so my head lays on his chest his arms still around me. He's incredibly warm making a chill run down my spine.

A good chill.

I reach down the bed to pull my fuzzy blanket that I keep folded at the end, pulling it over us. Making me snuggle closer to William because of the heat his producing and the fabric of the blanket still cold from the air.

"Thank you for letting me stay over," William whispered halfway through the movie slightly starling me, forgetting my personal heater is, in fact, a person. Tilting my head up lazily, my blue eyes connect with him, full of emotions that I can't pinpoint.

"It's not a problem," I smiled softly up at him as he smiles down, his large surprisingly soft hand (not that surprising knowing Will) brushes the hair from my eyes to behind my ear before his handsets under my jaw. My cheeks are on fire due to my blush, I am not used to-to this type of intimate-IS THIS INTIMATE?- contact. Williams thumb faintly brushes over my lip before leaning his head down brushing his lips against mine softly.

This would have been great if I didn't squeak causing him to jerk his head smashing his head down against my nose spring instant tears and another squeak. My hands fly to my face instinctively protecting my nose from more damage.

"Oh my- are you okay? are you bleeding?" Came Williams frantic words helping me sit up straight, my hand's still over my face as I stare wide-eyed into Williams equally wide eyes. Embarrassed being an understanding.

"I am so sorry, just I thought there was a moment, I, I just went for it. Oh, man, that's one way to say you don't wanna kiss," Will ramble trailing off at the end look dejected.

"No, it's not that its - I-" I paused taking my hands from my face a tiny bit of blood on my hands, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to my left cleaning up a little, stopping the bleeding before going on.  "You're hot, believe me- but I don't like you like that,"  My face was scolding hot with a blush.

"Thank god," William huffed falling back in the pillows. "I thought there was a moment then nothing- I felt nothing it was like kissing a relative,"  a chuckle and a snort turns into a fit of laughter only stop by my aching my nose.

NEXT

[unkindnessofone]

5SOS. Ice Cream

This story gets a touch smutty in the middle. Just a warning. It was fun to write, please enjoy and let me know what you think! This story takes place right after Primal & Primal 2

"I don't like this." Sounding like a little kid just put on a time out in the corner, Ashton muttered to Simone as he stuffed a small white plastic spoon into his dish of half eaten frozen yogurt. 

"Really?" Very concerned, Simone looked up at him. "Do you want to go back?" She stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, patting the phone in the pocket of her sweater as it had been buzzing all day. "We could switch. The hazelnut is quite nice." She offered up her dish to him, reaching it closer to his face.

"Not the frozen yogurt." He frowned and scooped himself up another bite of French vanilla with cookie crumbs. "This." He motioned to the walking couple ahead of them, Molly and Flynn, under the transforming sky. 

"Oh, come on, Ash." She huffed at him with a head shake. "I thought dinner was lovely." Somehow throughout their meal, Simone had slipped deeper into her most posh English accent. Ashton figured it was because Flynn practically interviewed her about what it was like to grow up in Maida Vale and some of her favourite old London haunts. 

Truthfully, Ashton couldn't really complain about dinner. His salmon was cooked to perfection, his wife didn't answer a single text, and Molly's partner came across as genuinely in awe of her. Most importantly, she was obviously happy. Ashton wasn't sure if he had ever seen his daughter beam before, but across from him at their corner table he saw her face radiate joyfully every time Flynn said her name or "Molls" as he had taken to calling her with great affection. He showed a plethora of interest in Ashton's latest musical adventures, Simone's company, and their son's current opening act gig. It was clear that Flynn had been raised in a house where manners reigned supreme. He shared with them, well Simone mostly, about his mother's Samoan background and learning to fish and play rugby with his Dad over in Perth. Ashton knew he should have been thrilled. His intelligent daughter had once again made an excellent choice for herself, but he wasn't happy at all. He had a cup full of frozen yogurt, but a pout that not even a picture of his beloved dogs could improve.

"They are so fond of each other. It's sweet. It's nice to see Molly branching out and dating." She never mingled much in high school. Her goals went beyond sexual attraction and beach dates like many of her fellow classmates. While Simone was always proud of how tenacious and focused her eldest was, she still wanted her to make connections and find a partnership somewhere. 

"I don't care for it." Like a grump, he snarled. Ashton was generally such a pro at finding the silver lining, but this felt like was walking through feet upon feet of fog. He stared with squinted eyes at the young couple ahead of them. He watched as Flynn tossed his cup out in a recycling bin they passed and then draped his oversized arm around Molly's shoulder. At dinner, he showed how gentle he was, but all Ashton's mind could do was strange a list of all the easy ways Flynn O'Malley could hurt his precious daughter.

"Exercise some trust. Molly's very smart." Playfully, Simone jabbed Ashton in his side. "Well, at least when she isn't tying herself up into trees, she is." Simone would be trying to make sense of that decision for a while. 

"I can trust her and not like something she is doing at the same time." Ashton liked being the only good guy in Molly's life as selfish and, perhaps, demented as that was. He knew kissing frogs and meeting new people was part of being a very young adult, but that didn't change how badly he wanted to keep her safe from how painful those novelties could be.

"You're right." Slipping her hand into Ashton's once they passed by the recycling bin and she had disposed of her litter, Simone bent. "My dad didn't like you at all in the beginning." However, Simone remembered feeling that at the time he also really didn't trust her because of that. 

"What?!" That was enough to pull Ashton away from painting a mental bullseye on Flynn's very chiseled back. "Arthur loves me!" He nearly shouted as he looked at his beautiful wife like she was spewing nonsense. 

"He didn't always." Frowning with a shrug, Simone practically swore. "He wanted me to focus on my business and saw a rockstar from Australia as a waste of time and reckless. He called you all kinds of horrible things." They were not impressed by what they collected about Ashton through online gossip. Her parents had always imagined she would take up with someone who was Eton educated and knew the difference between a salad fork and an entree fork. 

"Simmie, this is already a horrible day, why are you telling me this?" Very seriously, Ashton asked her. He always looked at her dad as a father figure to himself. He truly respected Simone's parents and had always strived to do right by their daughter. It was news to Ashton that for even a moment, Arthur Telford thought he was scum. 

"Because he knew you made me happy and that we were good together!" She continued. "I know your mother thought I was stuffy at first." 

"No, she didn't." Shaking his head, he insisted.

"She told me years ago that she did." Simone didn't mind in the slightest. "My point is that we don't get to pick who Molly and Connor take up with. We raised great people and we are going to love them through whatever choices they make even if they choose to tie themselves to trees or pine after Penelope Hemmings." 

Like she almost always was, Simone was right and Ashton knew it. It was just an adjustment that he hadn't arrived in Canberra ready for. He was still internally burning that she didn't rush into his arms and thank him for saving her. His hero complex that Molly always indulged was left unfufilled. 

"He flew from Gold Coast to be here. He missed a training day to be there for her." Sim leaned into Ashton as he squeezed her hand, smiling at her daughter up ahead as she caught a glimpse of her grinning at something Flynn said the way she used to on the way to the zoo. "Reminds me of an old boyfriend I had." She waited for Ashton to look down at her before grinning back up at him, not at all hiding how happy their memories made her. "Look past the rugby player physique and everything else, just to try to be happy that right now she's happy and is with someone who seems to think she is perfect." 

"Haven't we talked about this?" With his cup in only one hand, the contents inside mostly melted, Ashton tossed his arm around his wife's shoulder and let go of holding her hand. He craved her much closer. "You're not allowed to be right more than twice per conversation." Ashton didn't always find it so easy to admit that she was right and he was wrong. They had really come so far together and been through a whirlwind. 

He noticed Molly turn around and check on them and instead of scowling, Ashton just shot her a dorky thumbs up. He knew he and Simone had a healthy marriage, albeit strange, and he knew that Molly would not settle for less than what she deserved from people. He just had to get with the program and then everything would be okay. 

*****

For a girl who loved to be clean and carried around alcohol wipes and hand sanitizer in her purse, Simone wore her dirty hands proudly. Three was nothing quite like an afternoon tucked into her studio where she slipped into a work rabbit hole and fulfilled orders or new creative ideas rolling around in her mind. It took less than ten minutes each time for her fingers to be coated with black oil and shiny grey grime from widdling together her different jewelry pieces. 

She was concentrating so contently on creating one of her most beloved ring stacks, the Palisades, with ethically sourced diamonds over its usual peridots for a custom order that she hadn't noticed the sun had stopped floating through the window. It was almost ten o'clock and it took a terrifying thud against her front door followed by the bell ringing repeatedly to make her look up from her work and realize that she hadn't eaten since tea with her mother earlier in the day. 

She wasn't expecting guests, but Simone wiped her hands on the rag closest to her and checked her cell phone for any missed messages. There was only notifications for emails through her website. She didn't have any missed calls or texts, not even from Ashton, her best friend, or older brother or younger sister.  She hummed curiously to herself and kept trying to wipe at her filthy hands with the rag as she moved out of the spare bedroom that she had transformed into a studio and went to answer the door that was still being abused. 

She checked in her peep hole to see who in the Hell was making so much noise. Simone felt a even, but complicated mixture of relieved and worried when she saw Ashton on the other side. Was he okay? Why was he even here? Her mind raced as she hurried to unlock the chain on her door and then the deadbolt. Her internal monologue also contemplated how dreadful she currently felt. She had been fighting off a tickle of a sniffle for a couple days. She and Ashton had only been together a smattering of times and known one another for a few months, Simone realized this would be the first time he would see her without makeup on. She had on black yoga leggings and an oversized Chelsea FC tshirt on that had been gift from someone who didn't know her terribly well. Why couldn't he have come before when she was still in the business casual outfit she put together for tea? 

"I'm about to open the door." Holding the knob, Simone informed him. He was knocking with one fist so frantically that she felt confident he would fly forward and crash into her if she just swung it open.  Once the banging ceased, she pulled it open and revealed herself in all her casual glory. 

Ashton stood nervous in front of her, anxiety and exhaustion slicked over his face, but he looked like he was melting as his smile brightened and eyes softened at the sight of her. Simone didn't realize, but her cheeks began to hurt from grinning as hard as she could when she saw him. It took her a handful of seconds to realize that his non-knocking hand was holding a bouquet of autumn hues as it was just October as of two days ago. The sunflowers, coral roses, and orange alstroemeria shone brightly in his hand. It was bizarre that she had noticed his toothy nervous smile first. 

"I thought you were in Canada or something." Simone relaxed and shared. She was in the middle of stepping out of the way when she heard Ashton take a huge deep breath. She looked up just in time to spot his face right in front of hers, coming forward in one single motion to kiss her madly. He was like a sailor back home after being away for months at a time. The brown paper holding the flowers crinkled against her back as they moved deeper into her flat, their lips never parting as their hands gripped at one another's shirts. Behind Ashton, her front door slammed, but it was practically distant background noise to him.

"I don't want to be away from you anymore." His forehead leaned against hers and Ashton took his first breath away from her mouth to admit that. She was occupying all his thoughts in a way that nothing besides music and boobs had before. He always wanted to check in with her, he didn't like ending his day without hearing how hers was going first, and he had started considering how she would feel before he did just about anything that wasn't playing the drums, signing autographs, or taking his morning piss. She had devoured his thoughts despite rarely getting to spend more than a couple days together at a time. They were casual thanks to the travel aspect of his career, but he wanted so much more from the jewelry designer.   

"As soon as the show was done, I hopped on a plane and flew here." He explained, laughing in his uneven breath at how crazy the last seven hours had been. Ashton truly didn't know what time it was anywhere. "I missed you, Sim." He sighed and kissed her again. "Oh shit, I brought you flowers." He had picked them up from Heathrow as soon as he landed, wishing he had brought all the small things he had picked up along his travels for her. Ashton fisted them forward, making them the only thing between their bodies.

"Thank you." For the first time, Simone looked away from his engaging stare and took in the bouquet he picked, breathing in the scent and admiring the colours. It made her long for a Sunday roast with some kind of spiced pie, but she kept that to herself. "You could have just called." Shaking her head at him, Simone tried to inform him of what he already knew. She slinked away from him in order to rest the flowers on the black coffee table. "You didn't have to fly all this way -" With his schedule, she knew they probably only had a handful of hours together.

"Then I couldn't do this." From behind, Ashton wrapped his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. In one swift movement, he indulged the adrenaline that forged ahead of his exhaustion and picked her up so her legs wrapped around him. Her delighted gasp only made him feel more encouraged as he walked them both into her immaculately kept mostly white with some champagne tones bedroom. His mouth was stretched open on her neck the whole eleven steps in before he dropped her off somewhat in the bed's center.

The two of them had slept together before, just a handful of times. Ashton had felt surprised by how sexual Simone was. He had expected a good girl who would be repulsed by some of the positions he liked best or even his darker fantasies, but she really was his match. In some ways, she was his match with better stamina. She encouraged his fingers to dig in deeper, for his hands to push her into the bed harder, and for his mouth to call her a bevy of names that he would never associate with her outside of the bedroom. Ashton had finished himself off more times than he could count at the memory of perfectly polished London girl removing her red skin tight La Perla  thong and then stuffing into his mouth before going down on him. While Ashton loved that she was just as turned on by rough sex as he was, he had something else in mind. Simone had long since stopped being a woman he was infatuated with. He had finally given up on the notion that she was too good for him and would soon catch onto that. Ashton knew that he was so deeply in love with her that he was almost drowning. He wanted her to know that now. 

Simone inched up the bed, searching without looking for pillow, as Ashton climbed onto the mattress and followed her. He leaned in over her and inhaled deeply right above her hips before running both his palms over her legging covered thighs.

"You smell like home." He told her in a longing moan before he started to peel off her bottoms, bringing her black underwear from Primark with them. She felt so desired that she could have been wearing a hospital gown and felt sexy. Ashton's hands had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the room. His thumbs pushed into her thighs and he used his grip to push her legs back, bringing her bare knees to her stomach. He took his hands off of her long enough to fish his arms out of the sleeves of his denim button up and then pulled his white undershirt over his plane hair. Ashton's hands returned to under her thighs, holding her legs back before he pushed himself in and kissed her warm pussy just as he had kissed her upon arrival. Ashton had every intention of going slow, nibbling around her legs and teasing her entrance with long licks and rubbing at her small clit with two fingers the way he knew she couldn't help, but love. Once he saw her revealed to him, he couldn't control himself. He just had to devour her like she was his first real meal in days. Ashton practically sucked at her walls before sliding one finger in, curling it upward and grinning proudly into her as he felt her tighten and ass come closer. She was whispering his name up to the ceiling fan and Ashton knew she liked it. He let her stretch out her legs before running his free hand over her vulva. He thought it was so cute that even though they hadn't been around one another in almost a month, she still kept herself trimmed and tidied for herself. A small strip of hair right above where her clit was hiding. There was nothing he didn't notice about her from her patch of freckles under her belly button, to the way her whispers moved into slurs when he lapped at the bottom of her opening, to how she said she liked one sugar in her tea and didn't seem to notice she always put in two packets. Ashton could pen a book about the jeweller and, right now, he was using his tongue to write it inside of her. 

"Baby, let me look after you." She struggled for a second and then hoisted herself up on her elbows, watching him as he dedicated his jaw to her pussy. She had been amused before, but now he had her dripping wet and sparkling off of his stubbly chin. "I want you in my mouth." It wasn't so much about returning the favor. Simone just liked hollowing out her cheeks to fit him. It made her feel powerful to work him with her tongue and lips, to have lose himself just because of the way she flicked at his tip over and over like a hungry orphaned kitten. Besides, he had flown all the way there. A blowjob seemed like the least she could do despite how much she wanted to.

"Soon enough, babe." He moaned between her lips before raising himself up and crawling over top of her. Ashton snaked up her shirt with both hands to help it over her head. He had noticed when she opened her door that she wasn't wearing a bra, but he appreciated it more so now as he had full access of his favourite parts of her to fondle. "I'm going to have you on your stomach," he growled into her ear before sucking on the top of the line, feeling the shivers it always created suddenly grow from her skin. "And on your sides and with your face against the window above your bed," Ashton rattled off all the places he was going to take her tonight, each position. They didn't have a lot of time and he would make the most of what they did have. "I want to be sure you can still feel me when I see you again." It was supposed to be in another week and a half, but he seriously doubted he could make it that long.

"That better be a promise, Ashton Irwin." Her head had been turned on the pillow to better hear every word he was saying and feel every kiss he put on her cheek, jaw, clavicle, and now over her erect nipple. At the sound of words and the way she fidgeted her chest. He bit down on he left breast and didn't let go until after her gasp had disappeared in the room. 

As Ashton moved back down, squeezing her sides slowly and kissing her hip bones as he did, Simone forgot all about her dirty fingers and reached down to grip his hair and play in the near-curly locks as he went back to his very private conversation with her pussy.

****************************

Ashton could have slept right away afterwards. The thrill of seeing Simmie fled his body when he finally released his load and now he was struggling to keep his eyes open under her covers. His body was used to five star hotel beds by now, but her mattress was plenty comfortable for him. She had memory foam and he swore it could recall the shape they took together cuddling on their sides the few times he had managed to stay over before. Simone was reinvigorated with energy and inspiration. Ashton had made her cum three times, the final blowout along with him which felt intense and ardent, and now she could invest herself in a home renovation or attend an exercise boot camp. Instead, she walked through her apartment naked and went to make tea for their afterglow as well as find a vase and water for the flowers he brought her. Simone entered the room again with the flowers in front of her face, placing them down on the window sill behind the headboard of her bed. She glanced down at Ashton's most sleepy face, fighting with himself to keep his eyes partially open.

“I'm a fan of this.” In a low tone, he told her as her breasts hung in his face. She wished they could be perkier, but at the end of the day, she was quite happy with her  body and all it's dimensions and surprises. Simone had a beyond healthy dose of self confidence and it was, perhaps, the most appealing thing about her. Ashton also loved the way she could talk to anyone, handled her business, and could make any curse word sound like a compliment.

“How much time do we have?” She slid down under the covers that he opened for her and let him move in to rest his head on her bare chest. It felt better than any feather pillow ever could. Instinctively, she combed at his hair with three fingers and stared off at her wall, bare since she had moved her whiteboard, bulletin board of inspiration and thank you cards, and her most recent family portrait into her office. Ashton's eyes were shut as he breathed in the smell of her sweet hair mist her hair fallen around her shoulders.

“I have a flight at about 4 in the morning.” He had wanted her, no, required her so badly before that he hadn't wanted to mention it and cloud their time together with a ticking clock. “We have a show in Calgary.”

“Well, this was a very nice surprise.” She nodded and chose to look on the bright side. He was her with her right now.

“I'm in love with you, Sim.” He yawned, turning to make himself more comfortable and sandwiching his face between her breasts.

“I know. You said so about three times during sex.” She giggled freely and kissed the top of his head. While things were moving fast, she understood that this was novel ground for them both. “I'm quite crazy about you as well.” Simone rested her cheek onto the top of his head.

“That's good enough for me.” Ashton yawned again. “It doesn't change the fact that I'm going to marry you very soon, we're going to have five kids, two dogs, and a place here, in Sydney, and probably one more. You do a lot of work in New York, right?”

Simone had to tell herself not to howl with laughter. Ashton was taking being adorable while being sleepy to a whole different place.

“Well, where's my ring?” Playing along, Simone asked with her face still squished against the top of his head.

“I've looked.” He admitted openly through his drowsiness. It was fast, all his friends thought so, but Ashton knew that it was her for him. He didn't care that it would be the last beautiful girl he ever bedded or that it would change his life entirely. In fact, with her, that was what he wanted. “It's very hard to find a ring when the girl you want to marry designs jewelry.” She was always wearing her own creations and he couldn't exactly blame her. She was talented and her pieces were in demand.

“Well, you could just design something and I could make it.” Sweetly, Simone suggested.

“Maybe.” Ashton yawned and blew his warm breath against her right breasts before sinking deeper into sleep. The battle to stay awake was barely being fought anymore. “I've never designed a ring before.” His mind did have plenty of ideas to create from though. They always had that in common: their endless creativity.

“Just rest, darling.” She sat up a touch straighter and kissed the top of his head. “Wait, Ash?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.” She decided now was the right time to say it. It was what she was feeling. He was the reason she was being bubblier than usual. He was the one she anticipated talking to every day. He was the joy between a frustrating meeting or phone call.

In response, Ashton wrapped his arms around her stomach like she was a body pillow and kissed her breast, softer than before.

Simone knew the kettle was going to start whistling in her kitchen soon, but she was trapped under Ashton and she didn't want to move.

[gduncan969]

Has the Church Lost Its Purpose

Matthew 16:18 “..and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.”

If you’re like me, you are probably pretty fed up with Covid-19 and all the ever-changing rules and regulations thrust upon us in our government’s efforts to control it—by controlling us!  When will we get past this and back to normal is the question uppermost in many minds but no one is giving any definitive answer and by the looks of it, whatever answer there is, is still a long way off.   So we stumble on trying to remember to put our masks on, squirt our hands with another dose of hand sanitizer and then go home to watch the riots and mayhem in the city streets of downtown USA.  Where is all this headed and how does the Church fit into this scenario?  The Shorter Westminster Confession tells us the chief end of man is to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever” but in these days of closed, or partially “open” churches where singing is forbidden and masks must be worn, the question is: “What is the chief end of the Church of Jesus Christ?” and we can also tack on a second question: “Why does our government think the Church is non-essential when the casino’s and liquor stores are open and the rioters and protesters are given a free hand to assemble?.  How we answer these questions very much depends on our view of the Church’s purpose in this time of world pandemic and social unrest.  All of us who have committed our lives to Jesus Christ already know that the Church is the body and bride of Christ whom the Lord Himself will return to earth to “present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish.” (Ephesians 5:27).  It is not an organization but an organism which Jesus continues to nurture and grow through the revelation of Himself by His Spirit (Matthew 16:18) and that this present age will come to an end at the “marriage supper of the Lamb” (Revelation 19:9) when the old earth and Heaven will pass away and a new Heaven and a new earth will be created. These are great, all-encompassing statements describing our final destiny to “be ever with the Lord” but there’s a more pressing question that demands an answer at this current moment: “Has the Church lost its purpose in the middle of this Covid-19 pandemic in its compliance with government closures and restrictions, its social distancing rules, job losses, political uncertainty and a host of other issues like suicides, drug abuse, etc.?  How is the Church meeting these situations and challenges? One thing for sure is it has not been able to carry on as usual.  There is nothing “usual” about being forbidden to assemble together with fellow believers in our homes and churches, about being forbidden to praise God together in song or about having to wear a mask and distance ourselves from one another to avoid all physical contact during our services, but if these are the only things we miss then the “new normal” is really little more than an inconvenience.  Perhaps this is the reason most churches around the world have so easily accepted the mantra of the media and the government “It’s all for the common good” and agreed that the Church must do its part along with the rest of humanity to curb the spread of this deadly virus that supposedly is threatening to engulf the entire world in a holocaust of death.  Who would dare gainsay such common sense?  (I think it was Albert Einstein who declared that common sense is very uncommon!)  Let’s re-examine what the Church is and what it represents and then decide what its true purpose is.

Post Modernism

To the post-modern world in which we now live where your “truth” and my “truth” are equally acceptable and tolerable, the Church of Jesus Christ appears to most as little more than a social gathering of like-minded people enjoying each other’s fellowship on Sunday mornings in buildings called churches where we sing praises to God accompanied by an organist or pianist or even a full blown band with drums, guitars and sometimes even laser lights and smoke generators to create the “right” atmosphere.  We listen to sermons from the bible about how to be good and afterwards go to the local restaurant for lunch. Beyond that, the world is largely uncertain as to what the purpose of the church is and what it actually does and most are content to leave it to itself with no desire to get involved, especially if (not always when) it talks about things like “sin”, a word no longer acceptable in polite company.  Is it any wonder that governments have deemed church gatherings to be “non-essential” and almost all churches have quietly agreed to their banishment “for the common good” because the bible tells us to be “subject to the authorities” (Romans 13:1) while forgetting that Peter resisted those same authorities because “we must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29)?  Objections from the Christian community to church closures has been tepid at best and supportive at worst. This is understandable from a point of view that sees church meetings as an unnecessary opportunity for the virus to spread.  This may have been OK for the purpose of “flattening the curve” but those days are long past and the current fear of a second and possibly a third wave of the virus is making the long-term outlook for a return to normalcy very uncertain indeed!  There’s now plenty of evidence to show the damage being done to the Church by its obedience to these rules.

The Church is Suffering Damage

The harm done to the church by its complicity in its own closure is appearing in the form of a dramatic drop in attendance.  A Barna Group poll in the US taken in May of this year shows that one third of “practicing Christians” (I take that to mean those who attend church regularly) have completely quit attending any church—either on line or in person—and half the millenials (young people) have done likewise!  Barna’s latest poll, announced this week carries the headline: “1 in 5 Churches Facing Permanent Closure Within 18 Months Due to Covid-19 Shutdowns.”  The reason for this is quite simple: one in five churches do not have enough income to keep their doors open even as the restrictions have been eased and partial services allowed!  These figures lead me to ask, “What kind of commitment to the local body of Christ do those have who so soon walked away?” This is not encouraging news but my real concern is not church finances or even church attendance, it is the failure of many in the Church to recognize what the Church is, a living body, spiritual in nature and determined in its purpose to reach a dying world with the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ who died for it, rose again to empower it with His Spirit and is coming again to receive it to Himself at the end of the present age.  Each born again believer is a member in particular joined to every other member by the “joints and ligaments” (Colossians 2:19) that connect us to the Head, Jesus Christ and to each other. The “joints and ligaments” are the relationships between us and the Head that hold the body together and these suffer damage when members cannot assemble together to pray together, worship together and minister to the world around them together.  It is very difficult to maintain real relationships through a mobile phone.  It is impossible to visit the sick at home or in hospital to lay hands on them or anoint them with oil. It is impossible kneel by the bedside of a dying saint to hug them one last time or wrap your arms around a grieving saint from six feet away and it is impossible to encourage anyone with a smile while wearing a mask.  These are not trivial issues, they go to the heart of Christian ministry.  How many church members have and will forsake the faith and wander off into the world because their church was obedient to their civic duty and closed its doors?  Church gatherings are far, far more than a social event, they are a critical function of the Church to further the gospel in the lives of believers and unbelievers alike.  I was not saved by watching a video but by attending a meeting where I went forward before thousands of others to commit my life to Christ.  Yes, of course God uses videos to reach others but He doesn’t leave us there, alone in our basement wondering where do I go from here.  He joins me to the rest of His body in personal, human, on-going contact with other believers. If the Church is not meeting, lives are being lost!

The Lord is Shaking His Church

Why has the Church been so afraid to disobey the government and so unafraid to disobey the Lord who has told us to “forsake not the assembling of (y)ourselves together” (Hebrews 10:25); to “lay hands on the sick” (Mark 16:18); to gather together to pray and sing; to baptize; to go into all the world and preach the gospel.  Can you ever imagine Jesus saying to the leper, “Sorry, I can’t touch you because I may get what you’ve got and besides, it’s against the law for me to touch you”?  What kind of gospel is that?  It is the gospel of fear, not love, of weakness, not strength.  Father Damien of Molokai was a Belgian missionary to the lepers in the Pacific who willingly lived among them and became one of them for the sake of the gospel.  Countless others have done likewise throughout the history of the Church and have “counted it all joy” (James 1:2).  I believe the Lord Jesus is using this present pandemic to shake His Church awake from its slumber.  He is removing the old normal and replacing it with a whole new church experience of the power of the Holy Spirit at work through its members to reach the world.  The old order with the pastor and the platform team doing all the work while the congregation waits to be led (and entertained?) will be replaced with God’s order as described in 1 Corinthians 14:24 - 26 showing how the early church ran its services: “if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or an uninformed person comes in, he is convinced by all, he is convicted by all. And thus the secrets of his heart are revealed; and so, falling down on his face, he will worship God and report that God is truly among you. How is it then, brethren? Whenever you come together, each of you has a psalm, has a teaching, has a tongue, has a revelation, has an interpretation.”   The world wants evidence that the gospel we preach is real and the only way to show it is real is to do as Paul did, “not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 2:4).  How exciting and challenging it will be to go to church knowing that the Lord wants to use you in the service to bring something besides your bible and your tithes, (although many bring neither). If you feel you don’t have a psalm, a teaching, a tongue, a revelation or an interpretation to offer and if you feel you are unable to demonstrate the Holy Spirit and His Power, then go to Jesus and ask Him first to baptize you in His Holy Spirit and then open your mouth and let Him fill it as He gives you the utterance.  Expect the Lord to give you something to add to the service besides your presence and your praise (but first pray that the elders will make room for your ministry and wait until they do). This may seem all too far-fetched but it is clearly biblical and in the coming time of testing for the Church, clearly necessary.

The days ahead are filled with uncertainty but God is faithful and we will not be deserted by Him or left to figure it all out by ourselves.  He loves us intensely and will carry us through as long as we hang on to Him.  More than that, He will reveal how great His Power is in us if we will but trust Him to use us for His glory. That’s the kind of Church He is building.  If you are still uncertain as to the purpose of the Church, pray for God to reveal this to you that you may function as a healthy member.  I sense that God is about to judge the earth but first He will judge His Church and cleanse it from every spot and wrinkle.  “He that endures to the end will be saved” (Matthew 24:13) and as I said in my last blog, endurance may not be pleasant but it is necessary to get through what lies ahead.  The initial acceptance of the closures by the churches is understandable in human terms but given the great damage being caused to the Church (and to society) as it continues, this issue must be faced prayerfully and determinedly.  If the Barna polls are correct---and I believe they are---we must decide whether to continue in obedience to man or God!

[revolutionyoga]

The first case of Corona virus has been confirmed on Long Island. There is so much information about what the virus is and what symptoms to look out for at The World Health Organization and The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) so educate yourself on the ins and outs of the virus if you’re not aware yet. There are a few things I would like to share with you. 1.  I wanted to make you aware of what Revolution has been doing to keep our staff and practitioners safe since Corona virus landed in the US and what we will continue to do moving forward to keep you in your yoga practice safely during this stressful time. 2.  I wanted to share some Ayurvedic wisdom in regard to this particular virus and offer some information on what is recommended by the CDC, Yoga Alliance and our insurance company if it can help our beloved community at all. 3.  Lastly, even if the whole state is put under quarantine we have creative plans in place to make sure your yoga practice is not interrupted at any time. What we are doing inside the studio Surfaces Twice daily all surfaces and items commonly touched are disinfected with cleaners proven to kill coronavirus that pose no threat to our students with chemical sensitivities. Staff follow a stringent list so that nothing is forgotten and everything is cleaned uniformly each time. Air We use an ancient Ayurvedic Technique to disinfect all the air throughout the studio in the evening, daily. Bowing Policy We all love each other to the moon and back and everyone in our community tends to be very affectionate. With that being said let us all shift how we show affection to one another for the time being. There will be a policy of instead of hugging, kissing, shaking hands we all bow to one another. In Vedic tradition the head is the highest part of the body and to lower that to another person is a sign of great admiration and respect. Hands in prayer at heart center signifies Namaste which means I cherish and honor the pure, divine consciousness in you which is the same consciousness in me. It's simply bringing us back to the way things used to be done. Practice at home Policy We ask that if you have a cough, cold, or fever before coming back to the studio wait two weeks and/or undergo testing for coronavirus before coming in. We will send you an at home sick day yoga video if you want to keep up with your practice while feeling unwell. We have students in our population healing from cancer, autoimmune and more and we need to protect the community as a whole by being conscientious of one another. This also applies to people who have travelled to other affected countries within the past two weeks. Hands on Adjustments Policy To protect the teachers and students at the studio we will suspend all hands on adjustments until the virus is under control in New York. Disinfect your hands within the studio As of Monday March 9 we will have alcohol based hand sanitizer at the front desk for use during sign in and in all the bathrooms. Wash hands, bring fresh clothing to practice in and we should all be safe within the space we love so dearly. Mat Rentals and Props Mats rentals will now be kept behind the front desk. Please return to the front desk staff when finished so mats can undergo a deep disinfecting treatment. Props like blocks at the studio will all be disinfected twice daily and blankets will be cleaned frequently. That being said it can’t hurt to bring your own blanket to place over bolsters or use in your practice. We sell them in our shoppe up front. What you can do inside your body I wanted to share some ancient wisdom. I’ve put in orders to stock the shoppe with all you need to keep your at home apothecary ready to go just in case you need it. If we all take part in getting our bodies to their healthiest state we protect not only ourselves but others as well. Obviously this is not meant to replace the recommendations of your doctor. Always check with your doctor before taking herbs. Ayurvedic Ojas The Best thing you can do for yourself is boost your immune system. Ojas means a person’s inner glow which comes from a robust immune system. To get into that space it is helpful to adjust your diet (eat sattvic food and drink- see images below) and lifestyle to nourish all the tissues. Eat Sattvic Foods Sattvic means balanced, Life giving and Ojas Giving-

Food Should Be: Clean, Pure- Chemical FreeNatural Processed Free Vital, Energy giving, Fresh Be Conscious- Stay Present and lovingly aware while cooking Foods prepared wisely Foods for Consitution Eat only when Hungry Leave 1/4 Stomach Empty Avoid Excess sour, salt, bitter, oil, spice Avoid Unripe Vegetables, Fermented, Leftovers, alcohol and drugs  Raw Cold Pressed Olive, Red Palm, Sesame, Flax Oil  All Fruits Milk from loved pastured cows only after baby has eaten Yogurt and Cheese Made the Same Day Ghee and Cooked Whole Milk All vegetables excluding fungi, nightshades and alliums Sprouted and roasted whole grains Mung Beans Honey & Jaggery Basil, Corriander, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Cumin, Fennel, Fenugreek, Ginger, Turmeric, Soma Salt Always Activate Nuts in Water Overnight Hemp Seeds Coconut Pine Nutes Walnuts Sesame Seeds Pumpkin Seeds Flax Seeds

Get Proper Rest Ayurveda teaches to wake before the sunrise each morning (usually around 6a) and be in bed before 9:30p. Honor darkness an hour before bedtime to help melatonin naturally rise and avoid using electronics with artificial light during wind down time. If you have trouble falling asleep lay down in bed and listen to yoga nidra recordings to help you fall asleep. Proper rest means the body can repair itself and the immune system can be healthy. Follow a Predictable Eating Rhythm The largest meal at noon, the smallest lightest meal at night before 7p and a medium sized breakfast around 7:30a. Two snacks if still hungry during the day. Follow proper combinations of foods. Simple ways to do this- eat fruit alone, don’t combine dairy with fruit or meat. Practice Yoga and Meditation Daily This helps to keep the channels clear and healthy and reduce stress that can inhibit the immune system’s response.   Proper Ayurvedic Cleanliness Protocols Oiling Oil inside the ears and nostrils (we sell nasya and ear oil in the shoppe) this will help create a barrier to viruses getting in. Massage the whole body before taking a shower. This boosts the immune system and keeps the skin healthy. They say the oil helps to bar anything bad from getting in. We carry ayurvedic daily massage oil which is good for all constitutions but also a simple coconut oil massage will suffice! Oil pull as well with coconut oil before brushing teeth. Shoes Take off your shoes in your house and the studio. We drag innumerable viruses into our houses. Go barefoot or keep house slippers by the door so you can swap into them. Wash your hands As soon as you get home before touching anything. Wash again before you eat your food, or before washing your face/ applying product. Try not to touch your eyes nose or mouth before washing hands as this is how disease most quickly enters. This isn’t Ayurvedic but I’m considering the cell phone an extension of my hands while I’m out with it during the day. Keeping rubbing alcohol and cotton balls near the sink to wipe down the phone upon arriving home can’t hurt! Cover your Mouth Avoid the spread of disease by covering your mouth with your inner arm when you cough or sneeze. Antivirals to take Proactively -  Chyavanprash is an effective “ayurvedic vitamin” that is incredible for the immune system and high in natural vitamin C. It’s great to take daily. If you are fire constitution taking with cow’s or coconut milk drink beside it will help to cool its heating qualities. -  Zinc Bhasma- this is a special formulation that is more easily absorbed than regular zinc supplements. -  Turmeric should be a part of your every day diet or taken as a supplement. Indian Bay Leaf is a potent antiviral that can be thrown into soups, stews and even made a tea of. Herbs that Help Manage Symptoms if you Catch the Virus to Have on Hand -  Dashamoola will help open the lungs making it easier to breath, cut out congestion, and reduce fever quickly -  Shatavari and Amalaki will act quickly on reducing fever -  Ginger and Turmeric will help to decrease inflammation and counteract the effects of the virus -  Cinquefoil is proven in studies to stop the viral replication of corona viruses. - Take only after symptoms begin -  Eucalyptus is a bronchodilator that can be hung in the shower and help to open lungs quickly. Preparing for a Quarantine There is no expectation that any of us will have to be in quarantine but many countries struggling with this virus have instituted this. Again I’ll reiterate your practice at Revolution Yoga will not be affected by this if it happens we have really great contingency plans in place for our members and those who want to continue to “drop in” to classes. - Make sure your kitchen is stocked with the herbs you need. -  Rice, mung beans and ghee with turmeric and dried cilantro can keep you healthy and well for a long time so have these on hand in bulk. -  Dried beans, grains, dehydrated vegetables can all be rehydrated and made into soups. Gourds, root veggies, apples all have a long shelf life in the fridge. -  Whatever you use often try to have more of it in the house. -  We still have lots of seeds in stock if you want to get your garden going for ensured source of healthy fresh veggies you can pick right in your backyard. Sending you all Love and Gratitude and Good Health! Feel free to share with friends and family! Peace and Love, Amanda DiGiovanna and the good folks at Revolution Yoga

[highgaarden]

fic: i come alive in the fall time (2/3)

“If you go today, Stefan,” Caroline starts. Her voice is perfectly even, perfectly practiced. Perfect is a look he’s grown to hate on her. “If you go, there’s no turning back.”

“What difference does it make if it’s in a church or a diner?” Stefan asks and pulls away. He straightens his tie – never say he doesn’t put effort in these jaunts – and nudges the door open with his shoulder, still looking at her. “They all make their choices in the end.”

He saunters down the aisle just as the priest says, As long as you both shall live.

“It doesn’t hurt to dream bigger, you know,” he calls out to them. The stained glass filtered light into the densely packed church, and everyone looks kaleidoscopic. It’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

He bares his fangs anyway.

Stefan; Stefan/Caroline | Explicit | wc. 7769 | ch. 2/3 | (ao3) (ff.net)

shoot me some LOVE because now this is apparently a third parter? blame @ishenwulf? do i even have a soul anymore?

.

.

I come alive in the fall time,

II

-

He will not feel but he will remember:

A snap of the spine, the vacancy of remorse, the churn and tide of sadness. Pain. Guilt. Grief.

He remembers the emotions. It is easier, now, to look upon them as abject words instead of the gaping maw of feeling, to be as obtuse as commenting on a painting, “That is where he went wrong. That is where I will not go.”

Caroline touches him and he does not feel, but he remembers: hardwood floors, scrubbed clean yet scuffed with age; golden hair spilling out of a bun, the smell of lavender in the warm soak of their clothes.

And she is laughing.

He closes his eyes. That, is where he will not go.

 *

 In the next few days he progresses through faces, towns, teeth, cities, blood. He’s dropped the habit of remembering their names, the tremble and scrape of lists and columns on a wall – it’s Caroline who starts picking it up. Hesitantly, at first, but then tucking their hair behind their ears and whispering, like a sweet reprieve before death, “Tell me your name.”

She writes them down in a book he has tried many times to burn, but she wrestles it out of his grip, tears and scratches her way back to humanity, and he stands with a twisted, split lip, wondering at the futility of it all.

He remembers the rock of her hips in the singed hotel room – “Let go, Caroline.”

“The harder you try, the stronger I’ll hold on,” she counters, and he knows she’s not talking about the book she’s hugging close to her breast,

He wonders, idly, if this is when he starts becoming possessed with the idea of getting her to turn it off.

 *

 It’s a long, long road, made longer by the rain slapping down in grey sheets against the windshields. Caroline has her ankles up – she always has her ankles up – and is humming along to the tinny music clanging out of her earphones.

She hasn’t paid attention to him for some hours.

It’s fine, because he’s planning.

“Sure is homey,” he comments without bothering to raise his voice. He knows she hears him through the music.

They pull up to a little bed and breakfast, a cottage creeping with vines, neat little bricks, and a lush and sprawling garden. It reminds him of the two days he’d spent locked up in a room with Caroline trying to undo her humanity-less spell, and it fills him up with something positively feral.

Caroline looks on in interest, but no verbal agreement.

“You don’t look impressed.”

“I’m having a hard time imagining any bad guys dwelling here.”

“In that case,” and he rises to the challenge, “how about a trip to New Orleans?”

It’s so fast and so loaded that he couldn’t possibly miss it: the look she gives him. A warning and a question all at once.

He cocks a smirk at her. “You did say bad guys only.”

“Stefan.”

“And I imagine Cade would have a field day with Klaus’ soul disintegrating in hellfire.”

 “You think this is funny.” And loathe as she looks to bring it up, he knew he would – he knew – because she’s Caroline: “You can’t. He saved your life.”

“For you,” Stefan shoots back. He observes the way her face is a mask now, carefully devoid of emotion. It’s only temporary – Caroline feels too much to be able to hold it all in. Pity, really. “He told me to let you go.”

“And –” Caroline busies herself with putting her earphones into her bag. “What did you think?”

“Thinking he’s right.”

Caroline very visibly bites her tongue, but she doesn’t share the same bed as him that night, which, not that he notices, busy as he is sublimating.

 *

 They’re standing in a vestibule. Through the oiled double doors they can hear the soar of a voice vibrating off of high, stone walls. A hundred years ago he’d thought setting foot in a church would result in him lighting up in fire.

Safe to say, he doesn’t think that anymore.

“Stefan – Stefan.” Caroline catches his arm. “I didn’t say anything earlier, but – okay, if there is literally a hellfire hotel that Cade apparently owns, don’t you think doing this will cross you off that,” she points upwards, sheepish, determined all at once, “—waiting list, permanently?”

“Heaven’s a lost cause, Caroline,” Stefan says, continuing on his path. “I’m surprised you’re still selfish enough to think it isn’t after all the people we maimed and murdered.”

It’s all too easy for her to bite. “You mean you maimed and murdered.”

Stefan whips around. “I’m not talking about our murder road trip, Caroline. I’m talking about the time you turned it all off and left everything to instinct. I’m talking about your fangs and how they tasted coated with blood. I’m talking,” Stefan continues, stepping closer and closer, “about the time you were bored one afternoon and we spread an entire soccer field red. I’m talking about you and me and the world between our teeth. Can’t you just taste it, Care?”

His hands cup her cheeks. He’s standing so close his voice had dropped to barely a murmur, but her beating heart skipping tremendously tells him she hadn’t missed a thing. Not with the way her breathing grows very shallow, or the way her eyes do not stray from his.

“I… can.” Her eyes slide shut, they shut very tight, remembering everything he presumes. When she opens her eyes again, she is heavy-lidded with remorse. “I still do. That’s the thing, Stefan. I remember each distinct taste of each nondescript human. I don’t remember their names, but I remember how they taste. I don’t even have a name to be remorseful about. I just have faces, and guilt.”

“So turn it off,” he urges quietly. His thumb traces the high point of her cheekbones and he feels in her skin the turmoil of want and need and despair as she tries her hardest not to press her face into his touch. “Turn it off and be free.”

Caroline stiffens. Stefan almost snorts.

“If you go today, Stefan,” Caroline starts. Her voice is perfectly even, perfectly practiced. Perfect is a look he’s grown to hate on her. “If you go, there’s no turning back.”

“What difference does it make if it’s in a church or a diner?” Stefan asks and pulls away. He straightens his tie – never say he doesn’t put effort in these jaunts – and nudges the door open with his shoulder, still looking at her. “They all make their choices in the end.”

He saunters down the aisle just as the priest says, As long as you both shall live.

“It doesn’t hurt to dream bigger, you know,” he calls out to them. The stained glass filtered light into the densely packed church, and everyone looks kaleidoscopic. It’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

He bares his fangs anyway.

 *

The ride back to the cottage is the most silent of rides. Caroline has blood splattered down her front. She has blood barely licked around her mouth, too.

He doesn’t feel sorry for the blood lust she’d fallen into, watching him press his fangs into all those pretty necks.

He’s not so sure how he feels about this silence.

He indulges, instead, in the way she had appeared behind him, teeth ready to tear, eyes a black abyss. Too easy to tempt, too beautiful for destruction, but she finds an in-between and works at it. He waits for her to produce some hand sanitizers and hot towels, like last time, but she sits stock-still, staring out the window.

Her ankles are down.

And he realizes – no shit, Sherlock – that her silence is anything but submission.

It’s not a silence of pleading regret – it’s a silence of white hot rage.

She slams the car door after her, tramples up the lane, and clangs the door open without as much as a hello to the front desk. With his ears pricked he can hear the thudding in her chest, harsh and murderous. His own chest stirs with interest.

He follows her in, pursuing the flirt-and-bounce of her skirt as she heads upstairs. She’d chosen that skirt this morning because she had woken up in still love with the bore that was Stefan “Horny for Humanity” Salvatore. She’d chosen soft lines and dreamy colours, things that sure would’ve lured out that Stefan, and she’d turned to him with an expectant smile, like she was sure this was the day he’d come back to her.

By noon it was a different story.

“I hate you,” she cries over the limp body of a girl he’d chosen specifically because she looked a little like Bonnie. Caroline lets out a long, bitter laugh. It hiccups out of her towards the end of it. “And the worst part is you got what you wanted all along. I hate you, Stefan Salvatore.”

He’s still thinking about her unnecessary use of his full name when they get to the second floor landing. And finds himself practically kicked through the door. He crashes into the leather of the sofa; his head spins.

“You’re on the couch tonight,” Caroline says, as calmly as a woman who’d decided to use quinoa instead of rice in tonight’s casserole. “I’m going to take a shower. See you in the morning.”

Caroline walks the length of the room, knowing his eyes are on hers, a furious creak in his bones. Stefan flashes to his feet and his an arm blocking the door to the bedroom before she can close it. “That’s a bit sexist. How come it’s always us men who end up on the couch? Is anyone tallying this?”

“Oh, now you want your feminist ally badge?” Caroline laughs derisively. “After you made those two girls fight over who they thought was the prettiest?”

“Vanity packs a punch in the darkness department,” Stefan gives an exaggerated fist pump, and slides into the room. Caroline presses her back to the door as she shuts it, tracking him like a cat in the wild, a pounce ready in the spring of its feet.

“Here’s the thing.” He finds a seat at the perch of the side-table. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’ll let the whole thing sl—”

Caroline blazes her way towards him and suddenly he’s slammed onto his back, head hitting the damask tablecloth. She has her fangs out, hissing in his face, and he takes in a deep breath at the look on her face, like she wants to rip his throat out, he balls his fists into the satin of her dress and grins—

She kisses him. Her teeth bite down on his tongue, pricks the taste of red in his mouth. The table creaks as she crawls over him, digs her knees into the table, clamps her thighs around his hips, rests her forearm in the space above his head, and proceeds to make sure his mouth is thoroughly bruised by her tongue.

He’s breathing hard, embarrassingly panting, because fucked they had not since the hotel, touched they had not since she figured out he was intentionally avoiding hers, not a single goddamn intentional press of her back as they get dress in the cramped space of the walk-in closet.

Caroline had been civil and stern all week.

Now, she’s scraping her teeth across his collarbones.

He pulls her back to him, grabs the back of her head when they kiss, and by God she tasted like the sea, like cold water and weary salt. His other hand finds her cheeks, digs grooves into the delicate skin with his blunt fingernails, and she gasps, breaking the kiss.

“You’re crying,” he observes. He notes the disdain in his tone.

“Because I’m feeling too much,” Caroline says, crushing the tears against her mascara with a quick swipe of her palm, “and you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Figured it out!” he bellows and sits up. Caroline nearly tumbles off in the abruptness, but he grabs onto her hips and keeps her close. “You’re about to nag. I’ll take the couch before that happens. Men, always a back door.”

“I won’t keep you from your sleep, then. Need to recharge those murder batteries, huh?” she grins winningly before letting her scowl slide back into place.

Stefan, on the contrary, doesn’t let her go.

He pulls his head back just the slightest to study the state of her hair. It’s in disarray, had been a mess since the impromptu Jeopardy Stefan forced the church inhabitants to play. She holds her head high, haughty as she always gets when she knows she’s being scrutinized.

In a gesture truly of experimental motivation, he presses a kiss filled with intent, slow and hot against the dip between her breasts; nudges the cotton aside with his nose, breathes her in.

“Or.” He blows on her skin and feels her shiver against his fingertips on the base of her spine. “We could fuck all night and you’ll find a way for your pretty little heart to forgive me by dawn.

The sound coming from Caroline’s lips sounds like half a sigh, half a snarl. Her body betrays her the minute he tightens his hold on her waist: she arches into him, and in a tumble and sigh he falls back against the table again, her warm mouth insistent against his.

Stefan lets her ride him because she needs to, because she’s angry and vengeful, broken and sad, too. The heels of her palm rest heavily on his chest as she grinds her hips down, and only when he elicits a gasp does she take it easy on him. She’s moving tantalizingly slow, fingers levering her as she moves, the conflict of pleasure and pain building in the stutter of his hips, and there’s a sob breaking any time at the back of his throat.

When she breaks over him her cheeks are dry. She doesn’t speak to him when she disentangles herself from his arms, and when she changes into a nightgown it’s with back to him.

He goes to splash water on his face, steady his shaking hands on sides of the sink. By the time he makes it back into the room Caroline’s curled up in her side of the bed, taking all the pillows and more than her share of the blanket, but leaves a space for him.

He sleeps on the couch instead.

 *

 When he wakes, he’s sure his arm shooting out beside him, searching the blankets almost instinctually, was a thing he’d dreamt.

 *

 They’re driving back to Vermont when he gets the idea.

It’s a week before they finally make it to Long Island – New York City was a blur of depraved souls and corrupt yuppies – and head straight to the heart of Brentwood, which circled around a lake.

That’s where all the pretty houses are.

The pavements are pink and brown from the fallen flowers, but the tree makes for a certain charm, towering over the lawn, branches drooping low enough to scratch against the white-picket fence when the wind picks up. The front porch comes with the wholesome-looking swing in its corner, and there’s already a welcome mat at the front door. A push of the door reveals a house Stefan called ahead and had an interior designer piece together in a gusto of uniform, tasteful colours, snuck straight from Caroline’s binder of dream home colour schemes.

Caroline runs a finger against the texture of the walls, wide-eyed and mouth slightly parted.

There’s no sight of any carpeting, which Caroline hums approvingly at, which only makes his smirk grow wider.

“Is this a homestay?” she asks from the other room.

“Nope,” he calls back. “Just home.”

Caroline had been perusing the album collection in the study, and he hears the rove of her fingers stop. “What.”

“Surprise, I bought a house,” he grins at the wall, imagining her expression now.

“For what?”

“So we have a place to host our housewarming party. That starts in just a little after two hours, by the way. You’re really behind on your planning.”

Caroline appears behind him in a flash. “What are you saying?”

 +

 “I have a gift. For being my best friend, for being my fiancé, and for being my wife. For agreeing to share what we have as individuals and making something that’s ours. For as long as we both shall live.” Stefan pulls out a ring encrusted in diamonds and blue lagoons, and still he keeps smiling. He can’t help it, inside joke. The punchline involves him having stolen the ring from the dearly beloved, now dearly departed bride.

Amidst a backdrop of pastel-wearing neighbours all smiling sappily, Stefan slides the ring onto Caroline’s finger with great fanfare, swears his eternal love to her, swears her white picket fences and 2.5 children should they ever be in a position to Kill Enzo, Damon, and the rest of the vampire population for the cure.

Love, blood and violence – makes for some pretty good vows, if you ask him.

The smiles of their guests still do not slip.

In her lovely lace and gleaming pearls Caroline isn’t scowling indignance like he’d assumed she’d be. Her hand is still in his. There’s a thoughtful silence stewing in the air around her, and she looks at him with eyes that are too bright. “I don’t have a ring for you,” she says deliberately. “But. You should have something too.”

She flashes to her bag and rummages in it a second before she’s back in an instant: in her hands balances the book, her list of names cultivated with great care. There is a tenderness in her eyes he hasn’t seen in a while. And then something other than the usual dull murk of observation stabs him—hate, he thinks. He hates that look on her face right now.

“Rightfully, these names are yours anyway. It’s a tradition. Take away the shape of it: names, rings. It all pretty much means the same.” Caroline takes a deep breath. “I trust you not to violate these names. I trust you, Stefan. Even when you’re like this.”

She presses the book into his palms.

He thinks about her chaining him up in the Salvatore cellar, and she’d said Because I love you, Stefan.

There’s a bright burst of light in his eyes and suddenly he sees the floor, that floor, smells the faint float of flowery soap that he distantly remembers having offered some comfort, the slip of a wrinkled shirt over his chest, Caroline laughing breathlessly, hair spilled onto the floor.

Because I love you, he breathed then, into her neck, into her neck, into her neck.

The hotel room. His throat gurgling with blood from her neck, that look in her eyes searching as always.

Cade, smiling with his too-white teeth, a glint in his eye, fading in and out against the flicker of the fireplace.

“Love, oh love,” he sings. “How obtrusively virtuous of her—to love a dead thing inside a shell of a man.”

Stefan doesn’t answer. He is but a soldier, waiting on every beck and call. He will not budge.

“Remember,” Cade warns, voice slicing the air like the flick of a serpent tongue, like rich silk, “if she gets your humanity back on, she dies next.”

I trust you, Caroline says, still so naïve. Why does he love her—

He blinks. There’s the book balanced in his hands, there’s Caroline shooting him a smile before retreating to the bar, and he feels the urge to follow.

He feels –

Fuck.

[kristablogs]

Why COVID-19 can’t beat a good hand-washing

A little scrubbing goes a long way. (Pexels/)

Researchers are still working to understand how deadly COVID-19 is and how it spreads. But they know one thing for sure: Washing your hands is the key to minimizing the novel coronavirus’ powers of destruction.

Hand washing really, really works—and not just during outbreaks of new respiratory viruses. It also helps prevent the spread of a wide variety of disease-causing microbes, known as pathogens, from food-borne diseases like E.coli to flesh-eating bugs. And it works to contain the spread of illness whether you’re the one who is sick or you’re trying to avoid catching something in the first place. (It even works better than hand sanitizer, so lay off the Purell unless you’re on the go).

“Hand washing with soap for 20 seconds is one of the single most important practices to protect yourself, your family, and your community,” says Matthew Freeman, a professor of epidemiology and global health at Emory University.

On a purely physical level, hand washing works by actually removing the microbes from your hand thanks to some basic chemistry. Soap is what’s known as a surfactant, which means it breaks down the oils and dirt on your skin; water rinses the broken-down oils and dirt away, carrying microbes along for the ride. “By rubbing your hands together you create the friction to get the oils off,” Freeman says.

Washing your hands with just water can help a bit if the alternative is not washing your hands at all, but it’s way less effective than scrubbing with suds.

But why does this simple practice work so well to prevent the spread of contagious disease? After all, washing your hands regularly (and properly—see here for instructions) might seem like it’s just a first step. Everything around your hands is still covered in potentially pathogenic microbes.

Again, the answer is pretty basic: your hands touch the world, and they also touch you (and your face. Stop touching your face.) If you are sick, washing your hands regularly makes it less likely that you’ll spread pathogens from your hands to the things you touch, where they can be picked up by others. If you’re not sick, you can pick up microbes on your digits and carry them to your mucus membranes, like your eyes, nose, and mouth. (Stop. Touching. Your. Face.)

People have known about the effectiveness of hand washing for hundreds of years, says Freeman—even if they didn’t know why it worked. For instance, many of the world’s religions promote hand washing as a ritual practice. In the 19th century, as Western physicians stumbled toward an understanding of the germ theory of disease, hand washing slowly became an important thing to do in medical settings (though it was initially shockingly controversial). But it took much longer to get hand washing to the general public, says Freeman. It’s only in the last 40 years or so that public health authorities have started working hard to convince people to wash their hands after leaving the house, before eating, and even—eek—after using the bathroom.

Wash your hands, with soap, for about 20 seconds: it’s a simple recipe for good health.

But “possibly because it’s something that people know they should do, it’s very hard to get a sense of how many people actually do it,” he says. Research has shown that, globally, only around 19 percent of people wash their hands after using the bathroom. But there’s not a lot of data out there about how often people wash their hands at other times, and some studies indicate that even supposed-hand-washers don’t regularly subject themselves to the proper 20 to 30 seconds of sudsing.

Right now, you’re probably seeing a lot more hand washing (and a lot more thorough hand washing) than you’re used to. That’s because all of the messaging in the news and elsewhere about COVID-19 reminds people to wash their hands. But you should really be doing it all the time.

“Changing practices and habits are really hard,” Freeman says. Consider creating what Freeman calls a “cue to action” that encourages hand washing at key times, such as when you enter your house from the outside world. It could be as simple as placing a note where you hang up your keys. Freeman and his wife (who also studied hand washing practices) placed a sticker on the back of their first child’s highchair to remind them to wash her hands before they all sat down to dinner.

This outbreak is likely to change your hygiene habits for the better, and there’s no reason not to change them permanently. “Wash your hands like you’ve been chopping jalapeños and you need to change your contacts,” one Canadian health official said recently. Wash early, wash often, and wash well. And don’t touch your face. Seriously.

[scootoaster]

Why COVID-19 can’t beat a good hand-washing

A little scrubbing goes a long way. (Pexels/)

Researchers are still working to understand how deadly COVID-19 is and how it spreads. But they know one thing for sure: Washing your hands is the key to minimizing the novel coronavirus’ powers of destruction.

Hand washing really, really works—and not just during outbreaks of new respiratory viruses. It also helps prevent the spread of a wide variety of disease-causing microbes, known as pathogens, from food-borne diseases like E.coli to flesh-eating bugs. And it works to contain the spread of illness whether you’re the one who is sick or you’re trying to avoid catching something in the first place. (It even works better than hand sanitizer, so lay off the Purell unless you’re on the go).

“Hand washing with soap for 20 seconds is one of the single most important practices to protect yourself, your family, and your community,” says Matthew Freeman, a professor of epidemiology and global health at Emory University.

On a purely physical level, hand washing works by actually removing the microbes from your hand thanks to some basic chemistry. Soap is what’s known as a surfactant, which means it breaks down the oils and dirt on your skin; water rinses the broken-down oils and dirt away, carrying microbes along for the ride. “By rubbing your hands together you create the friction to get the oils off,” Freeman says.

Washing your hands with just water can help a bit if the alternative is not washing your hands at all, but it’s way less effective than scrubbing with suds.

But why does this simple practice work so well to prevent the spread of contagious disease? After all, washing your hands regularly (and properly—see here for instructions) might seem like it’s just a first step. Everything around your hands is still covered in potentially pathogenic microbes.

Again, the answer is pretty basic: your hands touch the world, and they also touch you (and your face. Stop touching your face.) If you are sick, washing your hands regularly makes it less likely that you’ll spread pathogens from your hands to the things you touch, where they can be picked up by others. If you’re not sick, you can pick up microbes on your digits and carry them to your mucus membranes, like your eyes, nose, and mouth. (Stop. Touching. Your. Face.)

People have known about the effectiveness of hand washing for hundreds of years, says Freeman—even if they didn’t know why it worked. For instance, many of the world’s religions promote hand washing as a ritual practice. In the 19th century, as Western physicians stumbled toward an understanding of the germ theory of disease, hand washing slowly became an important thing to do in medical settings (though it was initially shockingly controversial). But it took much longer to get hand washing to the general public, says Freeman. It’s only in the last 40 years or so that public health authorities have started working hard to convince people to wash their hands after leaving the house, before eating, and even—eek—after using the bathroom.

Wash your hands, with soap, for about 20 seconds: it’s a simple recipe for good health.

But “possibly because it’s something that people know they should do, it’s very hard to get a sense of how many people actually do it,” he says. Research has shown that, globally, only around 19 percent of people wash their hands after using the bathroom. But there’s not a lot of data out there about how often people wash their hands at other times, and some studies indicate that even supposed-hand-washers don’t regularly subject themselves to the proper 20 to 30 seconds of sudsing.

Right now, you’re probably seeing a lot more hand washing (and a lot more thorough hand washing) than you’re used to. That’s because all of the messaging in the news and elsewhere about COVID-19 reminds people to wash their hands. But you should really be doing it all the time.

“Changing practices and habits are really hard,” Freeman says. Consider creating what Freeman calls a “cue to action” that encourages hand washing at key times, such as when you enter your house from the outside world. It could be as simple as placing a note where you hang up your keys. Freeman and his wife (who also studied hand washing practices) placed a sticker on the back of their first child’s highchair to remind them to wash her hands before they all sat down to dinner.

This outbreak is likely to change your hygiene habits for the better, and there’s no reason not to change them permanently. “Wash your hands like you’ve been chopping jalapeños and you need to change your contacts,” one Canadian health official said recently. Wash early, wash often, and wash well. And don’t touch your face. Seriously.

[zibizuba]

Strip Club Employees Describe How Dirty They Really Are

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Generally speaking, most people don’t visit strip clubs to have good, clean fun. But even with that being the case, it’s nice to visit an establishment that doesn’t feel like a bio-hazard. With focus on the girls onstage, hygiene and cleanliness are often thrown to the wayside, leaving customers feeling dirty, in more than one way. What is it really like in a VIP room? Do people really do it there? Does anyone clean those places?

Strip club workers on Reddit shared some of the most repulsive hygiene practices they’ve witnessed in their career. From sordid surfaces, to very dirty money, you’re gonna need some time to wash your hands after reading these.

Toilets are coated with cocaine

“The tops of the toilet tanks often have powdery residue on them. Obviously from dancers/patrons (male or female) doing lines of coke. Some bar managers used to spray the toilet tops with Pam or wipe them with oil… was good for a laugh.”

Employees pee in sinks rather than toilets

” The first club that I worked in had roughly 10 girls that were brought to work from a different country. They would get up onto the counters and urinate into the sinks. We never knew why. Obviously, that was more so in the staff/dancer bathrooms, not the ones intended for public. Regardless, it was disgusting to think that we staff were to wash our hands there and then handle drinks.”

Cash has been everywhere

“Don’t put your money where your mouth is… We washed our hands often and had sanitizing liquid at our bar and stations to cleanse our hands that had touched money that had come into contact with vaginas or mouths. I was always shocked at how many customers were willing to put money into their mouth and lay back on the stage to have it snatched off by a dancer’s labia while she was doing the splits.”

Couches are just giant sponges for bodily fluids

” The couches in the private areas are scary. As staff, we never sat on them. Customers are known to be messy and yes, there are likely to be bodily fluids being exchanged or ‘wiped’ on the couches. Many men would go into the bathroom prior to getting a lap dance and put on a condom inside of their pants so that if they (you know) it would be less messy for cleanup. That certainly isn’t to say that we didn’t find our share of discarded condoms on the floor near the couches after hours. Full contact is actually illegal here, but it was never a surprise to see a girl, naked, grinding away on a customer’s lap.”

Customers litter wherever they want

” Anything that looks like it can be used as a trashcan has been. “

Blacklights serve a dual purpose

” The black lights are for fluid detection so that employees can track down stains for spot cleaning, but they also have a way of obscuring skin imperfections and blurring some ethnic lines that may turn some men off.”

Mirrors are cleaned often so security can clearly case the club

“Mirrors must be clean around the club for two reasons. First off it allows men to look without being pervy and second and most importantly for security. club managers/DJ’s security need to keep an eye on things.”

The bartender’s hands are only as clean as the cash

“Those bartender’s hands aren’t that clean when they’ve been handling and exchanging stripper money then throwing the limes into your glass.”

Stage floors aren’t cleaned often

” I’m a stripper and at my last club I was a stripper/bartender so I knew the whole rundown of the place. We were an about 40 girl club with three stages. The poles were cleaned by every girl for every set but the floors, which we do roll around and do floor work on, are cleaned twice a week. Friday and Saturday. Then we get all those nasty floor germs all up on your lap.”

Carpet holds on to any liquid

” It’s dirty. The staff does the best they can, and we have a cleaning crew every night, but carpet and clubsare always a dicey mix. Dirty feet, spilled drinks, vomit, plus other unsavory fluids are hard to get out of carpet permanently.”

Staff only cleans what they use

“The cleanliness is sub par, and always geared towards the staff benefit. Staff doesn’t care if the tables and chairs are actually clean, we don’t use those. We often wipe those down with the same dirty rag all night. Glassware is another thing that can get slightly overlooked. Usually glasses are pushed through a dishwasher that hasn’t been properly maintained and then stacked together and touched by two to four different people before it gets to you. This is why I recommend using straws.”

If you're willing to touch something on the floor, you can keep it

“I used to be a cocktail waitress at a club for about eight months. The place was dirty as hell. But when you do clean up you can usually find money! Just on the floor or by the couches. (I never touched the cushions) I found money all over the place. Even a hundred once. And a giant bag of pot!”

The food is never fresh

” I was a bartender for about three months, which meant I was also the cook. Usually no one ordered food except the dancers, and they would usually just get fries (in the three months that I was there I never once changed the oil nor did I cover the fryer at night). One night, a guy ordered a burger. When I went to get a burger patty out of the freezer I saw the expiration date, which was 1998. I was working there in 2004. I asked the owner and he said to just use them.”

The bathroom floors are only cleaned out of necessity

” I never once saw anyone clean the floors or bathrooms. Except for one time when a guy projectile vomited on the floor and it was mopped up with dirty water. No sanitizer.”

Dancers dance even if they’ve got active STIs

“One dancer asked the owner if she could say no to full [naked] that week because she had a herpes outbreak (which the owner had given her). He said no, so she was naked, with herpes sores, grinding on guys. The sofas and chairs in the lap dance room were definitely never wiped down and they were definitely covered in disease & bodily fluids of all kinds.”

Whatever covers the floor causes rashes

” I used to be a dancer. I couldn’t let any party of my body but my shoes touch the stage or I would get these immediate, disgusting breakouts and have to wipe the area clean with straight rubbing alcohol.”

The dancers trash the bathrooms

“I worked as bar staff at a club in Toronto for about four months. For all those who think working [there] would be awesome… it isn’t. The girls I worked with had no sense of cleanliness. Toilet paper (some of it used) and tampons (used) were all over the bathroom. Everywhere but the actual toilet. Condoms, not so much, they were smart enough to hide them afterwards but the odd one would still turn up behind the seats in the booths.”

Even dry bars have drug problems

“I temporarily worked as a security guy at a [bare it all club] that didn’t serve alcohol. It’s shut down now, but in it’s prime you could find meth pipes hidden everywhere. The owner’s name was Jerry, and he had a hot tub room with a floating cocaine pillow.”

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