#this is the second time I wrote hijack

[lemoneaorthingsiguess]

Hijack Week - Day 3. Date

(This will be long, too long)

(This one shot was inspired by @bignostalgias White Winter Hymnal AU and @seafoamdew Arranged Marriage AU and my own ideas)

(Thanks @ghostsfanficevents for the event)

The sky was the same everywhere, only the land was different. The people might have different personalities, but they were all people.

Or at least, that was what Jack Frost had figured out, even before he got married and came to this land.

Jack was on a hilltop with his flock of sheep by his side. He didn't watch them, but at least being around them kept him from feeling lonely, and the added bonus was that they didn't force Jack to talk to them like other people. It wasn't that Jack liked silence, but not everyone was someone he could talk to happily.

Especially the Vikings.

Jack glanced at the harbor. The Viking ships were truly the largest and most majestic ships he had ever seen, especially since the dry, snowy land where he lived was unfamiliar with ships. There were only a few small rivers to row a boat on, the rest were endless glaciers, or flat land covered in white snow. It was strange that the wind was not cold, but had an indescribable salty taste, and on the horizon, surrounded by impossibly large stone statues, was water, reflecting the clear turquoise of the sky.

Jack's fingers traced the wood grain of his walking staff. Of course, wood was not something that could be easily found where he came from, but here it was abundant. Jack had always gone barefoot since he came here, especially when no one was around to remind him of his clothing. It was strange not to have to cover his feet in thick cloth and fur, but to be able to feel the smooth, cool pebbles, the dry, sticky dirt, and the grass that seemed to soothe his feet. Jack had never thought he would be able to take his shoes off, except on those nights when he was lucky enough to sleep in a warm, blanketed tent owned by some kindhearted person. But here, Jack would take his shoes off whenever he could.

But of course, things never stayed that way forever.

His husband's friends soon found Jack. Let's see, Snotlout was complaining that Jack was always going to the wrong place and making them keep looking for him, the twins Tuffnut and Ruffnut were joking that he was new and needed time to explore this wonderful new, lush place, Fishlegs was coy about how they couldn't be sure how different Jack's place was from theirs. Finally Astrid sighed and pulled the others aside to let Jack breathe. It was at this point that Jack's husband, Hiccup, came over and explained that they had just finished training, so they wanted to meet Jack to get to know him better.

Hiccup, besides having a strange name like the other Vikings, had a lot of things in common with him.

Jack, even though he was a newcomer, had a lot of things in common with him.

Jack quickly joined the twins in talking about the fun things they had to do after he got used to everyone, of course adding a few words of teasing Snotlout. Despite the slight difference in dialect, getting to know these people wasn't really that difficult. Until they got so caught up in their excitement that they forgot Jack needed to breathe. He could handle the attention, but there was a limit to everything. At this point, Astrid would come over and separate the others, reminding them that Jack, although friendly, was definitely new to the place, and they should know their limits.

At this point, Jack's husband stepped forward and thanked Astrid. Jack looked at him. In fact, to the Vikings here, Hiccup… really wasn't a person who fit the social norm. Hiccup was small, actually smaller than Jack, even when they were the same age. His arms and legs didn't look muscular, and his speech was polite. They had only been married a few days, and Jack had never heard Hiccup speak harshly or swear. It didn't sound like much, but compared to the frequency with which a Viking would utter obscene words like breathing, Hiccup really should be considered the cleanest person in this tribe. Whether that was a compliment or a criticism, Jack didn't know.

When Jack first saw Hiccup, he thought he was a cute kid. Weird, but cute. It actually helped Jack Frost feel relieved that he had to marry at 14. Jack had seen girls in his hometown marry at that age, but boys until they were older. He had never felt comfortable being forced to step into those girls' shoes and go to a place he had never known before, in every sense. That old man could convince him that it would bring Jack so many good things and he would surely ignore those words. It was only when he lifted his brocade veil and saw his fiancé for the first time on their wedding day that Jack felt some of the weight lifted off his shoulders. And when he saw how different Hiccup was from other Vikings, Jack felt even more fortunate that this was the man he had married.

Calling a boy of 14 his husband was still weird, obvious. Maybe that would change when they got older, and… spent more time together.

Despite being married, Jack and Hiccup hadn't really made any progress, and were still like strangers forced into the same house.

"You don't have to actually speak their language to drive Snotlout crazy. That's cool," Hiccup whispered to Jack.

"Wait until I get the hang of it, and it'll be even more fun." Jack smiled.

"Not recommended." Hiccup glanced at Jack, but couldn't help but chuckle.

Making people laugh was Jack's forte, but making Hiccup laugh could be considered a plus.

"Come on! We all know that the reason this brat is here is because Hiccup needs a babysitter, and the chief doesn't want to hire a nanny for a kid over ten!"

It was Snotlout's voice, of course. Okay, this is mean.

“It sounds like you’re jealous that no one else will babysit you, Snotlout,” Hiccup said indifferently. “Keep trying and you’ll have someone else who’ll walk into your father’s house instead of you, in… eighty years, or you’ll have a legal nanny.”

Snotlout flew into a rage and screamed, ready to attack Hiccup but was stopped by Astrid.

“Look who said that,” Jack leaned over and grinned. But Hiccup still pretended to shrug his shoulders.

“Eh, Snotlout is easy to deal with.”

“The chief didn’t even give him a proper fiancé! It had to be a scrawny kid just like him with mismatched eyes! How would he choose someone to make everyone see the “specialness” of his son and son-in-law!”

Jack's face hardened, about to step forward when Hiccup secretly grabbed his hand. Hiccup didn't look happy either, but he silently reminded Jack that this wasn't worth it. Astrid smacked Snotlout's head so hard that his helmet fell off. While Snotlout was still screaming and taking all the attention, Hiccup led Jack away from that place.

After a while, Hiccup turned his head back.

"Sorry about Snotlout, he's just like that."

"Sounds like you're a natural pro."

"Yeah, you tell me."

"Yeah, and…"

Jack glanced down at their hands, Hiccup followed them and then pulled his hand back, his cheeks red. Jack smiled as he watched Hiccup rub his hands together in confusion and scratch his head. They laughed awkwardly for a while before returning to Hiccup's house.

Hiccup may be a little weird, but he's definitely adorable.

...

Jack Frost's eyes were two colors, one brown, one blue. He knew from a young age that he was different from others.

With his family gone and his memory gone, Jack became even more lost and didn't feel like he belonged anywhere. Sometimes he would stay at a kind family's house after helping them with their chores. Sometimes he would wander around and wonder where fate would take him.

If there was anyone Jack felt most connected to, it would be North - a burly old man who managed the tribes of the area, as well as the magical creatures and wonders of the place. Jack often helped North look after the magical reindeer that pulled the sleigh for the end-of-year gift-giving days, so he was given special privileges to be a guest at North's house whenever Jack wanted. Their relationship wasn't really that close, perhaps more like a mutual help. But at least North gave Jack the listening ear and respect he needed, sometimes with hot cocoa, and in return, Jack told North stories about the people he met, especially stories about children. North loved stories about children. North also turned a blind eye to some of Jack’s mischief in his toy workshop, because really, just making toys all year long was boring. Or at least Jack thought so. If there were any added benefits, the yetis in North taught Jack how to cook or sew so he could get by on his own out there. Jack didn’t have “many” problems with them, but not being ostracized when he went somewhere was… nice.

Until North told Jack to get married.

Jack never thought about getting married. He had seen weddings in his hometown, couples learning to love and laugh together, wives waiting for their husbands to return home after work. Jack had never thought that he would have such feelings for anyone, or that anyone would have such feelings for him, and marriage was even more out of reach. So when North talked about marriage, Jack strongly objected. He had never gotten to know North to become a sacrifice to benefit strangers, political marriage was nothing strange. Even more so when Jack realized that North and the yetis had secretly prepared a dowry for Jack, he was even more furious. It had taken North a lot of reassuring, probably half a year, and the assurance that Jack Frost had the right to separate, even divorce if he wanted, almost to have North's absolute protection before he decided to get into his carriage, with tons of dowry and wedding gifts behind him, and hundreds of people attending the ceremony behind him, dressed in the most beautiful and ridiculous clothes and jewelry, to go to a place he had never heard of, let alone set foot in.

That had been two weeks ago, because the Viking wedding must go on for a week for some reason. Jack still remembered how he had been hooded, and how weak he had been to have his indispensable staff taken away. North had taken Jack's hand to lead him to the wedding. Jack had let him help, not because he wanted to, but because Jack was too shaken to shake his hand off and go alone.

And now, Jack sat in front of the fire in Hiccup's house, watching it crackle. At least there was something about it that reminded him of the time before he came here. Jack's hand was fiddling with his staff, it helped him calm down, even though there was nothing to make him lose his temper right now.

Stoick, his father-in-law, was away. Being the chief of a tribe didn't exactly give him any free time. He reminded Jack of North, who was also a familiar figure. But since North was the one who put him in this situation, having him away all the time was a comfort to Jack.

Just like being alone was much more comfortable for Jack than being surrounded by strangers. But it also came with a downside.

Jack rubbed his blue eyes, the boy's words from before echoing in his head. It wasn't the first time Jack had been laughed at for his different eyes, he shouldn't have been so upset. But with all the recent events, he seemed to be tired of trying to fit in.

The sound of the door opening echoed, and Jack hurriedly wiped away his tears.

“You haven’t gone to bed yet ?” Hiccup asked as he closed the front door. He was soaked, Jack had forgotten it had been raining.

“No, just having trouble sleeping,” Jack replied as he moved Hiccup to sit next to the fireplace, shifting the logs to help the fire burn gently. “Aren’t you going to sleep at the forge ?”

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone.”

“You know I can’t hide out in the rain, right ?”

“And you know that’s not what I mean.”

Jack looked at Hiccup with an uneasy smile on his face and then silently turned back to the fire. Hiccup opened his mouth to say something, then fell silent. An awkward silence passed between them until Hiccup sneezed from the cold, startling them both.

“That’s a good way to start a conversation,” Jack laughed. “Now, you should take care of yourself first. Where did you put your towel ?”

“I can take care of myself. Don't look at me like I'm a babysitter ?"

"Sorry, we're stuck together now, where did you put the towel ?"

"No, seriously, I can do it myself!"

They struggled for a moment before sitting by the fire again, only this time Hiccup was shirtless, without shoes and a towel draped over his shoulders.

The sound of the rain outside and the crackling of the fire eating into the wood seemed to lull anyone to sleep. Hiccup and Jack occasionally added more wood and turned them over, not saying a word to each other. Sometimes one of them would glance at the other, then look away.

"Jack ?"

"What ?"

"Sorry about this afternoon."

"About Snotlout ? That's nothing!"

"No, I mean…about everything. People haven't been easy on you since we… um… that event"

"Yeah… that event" Jack gripped his staff tighter. It was still unfamiliar to say it out loud.

"And I should… help you do something. But… you see, I'm not the type, I mean, it's not like I don't want to-"

"Okay, okay, slow down" Jack laughed "I get it. It's not any easier for you than it is for me"

"Add a little 'fame' to the mix and it's ten times harder" Hiccup chimed in, his voice low and sarcastically clear "Good morning, son and son-in-law of the chief"

Jack laughed out loud "Yeah, you're a pro"

They laughed a little and fell silent again. Hiccup was the first to speak.

"So, before you came here, what did you… do ? I don’t think I’ve asked before.”

Jack thought for a moment and shrugged.

“Nothing special. I travel around, sometimes helping people out, and when I need a place to stay during snowstorms or want to stay in one place for a while, I’ll take on reindeer herding for North.”

“North is… the one who brought you here, right ?”

“Yeah, he’s like the manager of the whole land. Mediating internal affairs between the tribes and diplomacy with other lands. And all of these…” Jack turned his hand around “…stuff, North also manages to give to me.”

“Oh-” Hiccup was clearly surprised. “Because at first I thought you two were… um…”

“What ?” Jack smiled with narrowed eyes.

“Well…” Hiccup scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’d find it a little strange if you two weren’t… father and son.”

“What !?” Jack laughed loudly “It’s not like that”

“Well… personal experience” Hiccup chuckled dryly “Have you seen me and my dad ?”

Jack recalled the image of Hiccup standing next to Stoick the Vast - the leader of his tribe.

“Okay that explains a lot of things” Jack nodded “But no, North and I aren’t blood related”

“That explains a few things”

“Yup. Well, he’s a guardian of children so in a way North looks after me, because I…” Jack looked away “Don’t really belong anywhere”

Hiccup looked at Jack silently, knowing what he shouldn’t ask. He pursed his lips for a moment and then spoke.

“Maybe I can understand a little”

Jack looked at Hiccup silently, then smiled, then yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I should probably go to bed.”

Hiccup looked over, his face a little regretful, but he nodded.

“Ah, yeah- yeah. It’s late. You should go to bed.”

“Good night.”

Jack walked up the stairs, when Hiccup suddenly called out, startling Jack.

“Um… Jack !?”

“What ?”

“Um, this is a bit sudden… But- um… can we go on a date tomorrow ?”

Jack’s eyes widened.

“A date ?”

“Well… um… we’re already… family,” Hiccup said, waving his arms around. “So… maybe it wouldn’t be weird if… we could… have a few dates…?”

Jack could feel his cheeks heating up. A date sounded…

“Sure, why not ?”

...

The next morning, Hiccup and Jack went into the woods. Jack still had his staff, and Hiccup had a basket of fish almost as big as him on his shoulder. Enough fish to keep a family sick of fish for months. The smell of it made Jack recoil a little even though he thought he was used to it.

“I thought we were on a secret date today ?” Jack said as he followed Hiccup, walking in the woods with new shoes was not really familiar to him.

“Really ?” Hiccup turned to check on Jack, occasionally holding his hand to help him climb over the high mounds. “I just need… a little help.”

Jack hesitated. ‘A little help’ ? But he shook his head and continued following Hiccup, Jack believing that the kid wasn’t that crazy. Well, Hiccup was a bit weird, but at least he wasn’t crazy, right ?

Hiccup carried the basket of fish in one hand and led Jack Frost with the other to a lake in the middle of the forest, with large moss-covered ancient trees, the light spreading throughout the open space.

"Hmmm, isn't it weird ?" Hiccup said. "Jack, can you wait for me here ?"

Jack didn't complain and watched Hiccup slide down the lake in front of him skillfully, he had obviously done this a thousand times before. Jack looked up at a corner of the ancient tree covered in green moss and ferns next to him. He curiously touched it with his hand and then pulled it back because of the strange wet feeling, so this is how moss feels.

Suddenly, Jack heard the rustling of bushes behind him, and when he turned around, he saw a jet-black wolf with blue eyes, tall as a man, just stepping out of the bushes, staring at him. He jumped, raising his staff, but as Jack stepped back, he tripped over lower ground and fell, landing on Hiccup.

“Oh you found Toothless!” Hiccup grinned as Jack fumbled to help him up.

“Tooth-less ?” Jack pulled Hiccup to his feet and watched the other man greet the black wolf, who was half taller than him, even the wolf was tapping its feet, with its tail wagging. It let Hiccup pet it a bit before pushing him down again.

“Oh come on!” Hiccup laughed as the wolf licked all over his face. Jack Frost slowly lowered his staff, watching Hiccup complain in between his bright laughs, and Jack unconsciously smiling. It seemed like this was the first time Jack had seen Hiccup smile like that.

“Okay, okay!” Hiccup tried to push the wolf’s mouth away and then stepped closer to Jack. His hands alternated between their sides. “Let me introduce you guys again. Jack, Toothless. Toothless, Jack”

The wolf tilted its head to look at Jack, slowly approaching. Jack was about to step back when Hiccup gently took his hand, his eyes filled with an unprecedented tenderness.

“It’s okay, trust me.”

Jack looked at Hiccup, the fear in him slowly fading.

“Just relax, leave your hand like this.”

Hiccup turned Jack’s hand over, letting the wolf sniff the back of his hand, then slowly turned his hand over, letting the wolf continue to sniff his palm. At this point, Jack was no longer afraid when Toothless came and sniffed his face. The wolf’s tail began to wag and it made a delighted sound in its mouth, and Jack also chuckled happily. He looked at Hiccup, and in the boy’s eyes was an immeasurable pride and happiness.

“It’s my fault Toothless lost his leg,” Hiccup said as the wolf devoured the delicious fish. Only when he calmed down and looked at Toothless from a distance did Jack realize that the wolf was missing a hind leg.

“It was my trap,” Hiccup said without looking at Jack. “People have always talked about a direwolf left in the forest, a wolf as big as a horse, with longer legs than a normal wolf, a bigger head, a bigger nose, a bigger mouth, intelligence like a man, maybe even magical connections, something like that.”

Hiccup paused to let Jack absorb the information.

“I thought they were extinct,” Jack said in disbelief.

“That’s why they’re so valuable,” Hiccup replied.

They watched in silence as Toothless gleefully fished for the remaining fish at the bottom of the basket.

“People have always talked about it, but no one has ever seen one. So I decided I would be the one to hunt it down.”

“The wolf was really smart, but I figured out how to trap it. But when I saw him in my trap, I couldn’t kill him.”

Jack stared at Hiccup silently, as if memorizing his face at that moment. And Hiccup was too absorbed in his memories to notice.

“Why ?”

Hiccup looked back at Jack.

“What ?”

“Why didn’t you kill him ?”

“Because…”

Hiccup looked at Toothless, then back at Jack.

“He was just as scared as I was. I looked at him, and I saw myself.”

Jack blinked, then he chuckled.

“What ?” Hiccup laughed in confusion. “What’s so funny ?”

“No. It's just, that explains a lot of things.”

Hiccup still didn't understand anything, and Jack would leave him be.

Remembering the day when they got married. Under the brocade veil, Jack couldn't see anything, and could only follow the other person's wishes. Especially when he was with the groom during the ceremony, the only thing he could see was the other person's shoes. At that time, perhaps because Jack's fear, anxiety was revealed or for some other reason, he saw the other person's hands, patiently waiting for Jack to take them. When he took that hand, Jack saw that the other person was also trembling, but that reassured him beyond belief. That Jack was not alone in this wedding, and that at this moment, someone still respected his decision.

That person did not lift Jack's veil to show him off to anyone, but let him choose whether he wanted to show his face to everyone or not.

That was why Jack lifted the veil himself, even though he was still feeling insecure about his different appearance. But before him was a boy of his age, looking at him with surprise and admiration, even blushing in embarrassment when he realized he had unconsciously complimented the other person.

That was why Jack stayed. And when he saw the way Hiccup talked about the wolf he had saved, Jack knew he had met the right person.

“Hey, do you want to ride a wolf ?”

Hiccup’s voice made Jack turn back to the ground.

“What ?”

“Do you want to ride a wolf ?”

Hiccup’s previous shyness seemed to have almost disappeared, but he was still Hiccup, helping Jack Frost take off his shoes and climb onto Toothless. When Toothless stood up, it was strange. Jack had swung from tree branches and high cliffs many times, but riding on the back of an animal like this was not just like climbing a rock or a tree. Jack felt like he was still grounded, but also like he was seeing a different world. It was a strange feeling, but also very…

“Free, right ?”

Jack looked down and met Hiccup’s green eyes. And for a moment, they understood each other more than ever.

Holding Hiccup, and letting Toothless roam the forest and leap over the cliffs, Jack felt like he was riding a wild, living wind. As if he was free, and no one would be able to make Jack do anything he didn’t want to do anymore.

From the sky, the first snowflakes of the season had begun to fall. Jack raised his hand, and a snowflake melted on his fingertip. Oh, how he missed his old place.

“What’s wrong, Jack ?” Hiccup’s voice rang out.

“Nothing,” Jack smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”

And now, he thought he had found a place where he could belong.

[translatemunson]

cat and mouse for a month or two or three • ttfd

chapter eight of the tortured firefighters department

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader, brains is recovering, idiots in love, short chapter after a huge hiatus I'M SORRY OK , no proofreading otherwise i’d never post this (lmk if i missed something)

A new routine took place. You spend most days inside your apartment, classes online since they were checking all the buildings on that side of the campus, on medical leave from your job because, on top of the broken ribs, they wanted you to recover from the burnout you got yourself into. That also meant you were taking mandatory therapy sessions, and maybe after a month they could let you work again. It was like being grounded from what kept you fueled in your late twenties.

Their first mistake was giving you way too much free time while bored. You wrote pages upon pages of your thesis in your first week. The moment you hit send and sat to wait for your professor’s notes, you found out you couldn’t reorganize your home because it was considered too much effort for your broken ribs. Your kitchen became the latest victim.

But a real victim to all your boredom was one door down the hall, who probably regretted giving you a copy of his keys — to be used just in case of an emergency.

“What the hell are you doing, Brains?” It was the third time this week that Buck arrived at his home and found out you were there, just casually chilling,

“Reading!” You were upside down on his couch, a romance book in your hands.

“I don’t think this position is good for your ribs. Can you sit like a normal person?”

“No. It’s boring. Also, I’m gonna babysit Chris tomorrow, so I’m hijacking your Xbox.”

“Why aren’t you doing that at your place?” He pointed to your silly reading position.

“Because I needed to tell you about your video game. Are you hungry? There’s some lasagna in your fridge.”

“Did you make it?”

“Yeah. Now shut up, they’re finally confessing their feelings for each other.”

Buck turned the TV on just to get some noises into the silent apartment. You were too busy with your book, he was too afraid of doing something he would have regretted later. Somewhere between his first and second plate of lasagna, you put the book aside and started to pay attention to the news.

“Big rescue, hm?”

“I don’t know why they keep building towers with paper thin structures and too many glass windows with shitty fire alarms. What happened to the good ol’ bricks and stones?” He was eating at the table, probably destroying the food in record time.

“Excellent question. I’ll look it up and give you an answer tomorrow”

“You’re really bored, aren’t you?”

“Oh, what gave it away?”

“It’s definitely not the same book from yesterday, you cooked a lasagna as big as the ones Bobby feeds us, you’re gonna babysit Chris on Eddie’s day off.”

“He needs to run some errands, and Chris hasn’t been feeling good lately, probably just the flu. So I offered my services for the day. What’s wrong with that?” You stared at him. Was he cuter upside down than the other way around?

“Nothing, it’s just… are you ok?”

“Please, don’t pull a therapist on me, I already had my mandatory session today. I swear I’m ok, I’m just bored of doing nothing. No adrenaline, no deadlines.”

“You’re really addicted, hm?”

“What can I say, Buckley, I wasn’t made to stay still.” As soon as the local news was over and football started, you moved back to your book. Buck got up and went for some beers. “I’m just gonna finish this and I’ll see myself out.”

“I’m gonna charge you rent for my couch.” He sat on the floor, right next to your face. Third time in his living room was a charm, right?

“Wasn’t the lasagna enough?”

“I thought that was for my Xbox. Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

You opened your book again, but the sudden proximity with Buck was the only thing you could focus on. The five o’clock shadow, the red birthmark on the left side of his face, the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen… Staying alone with your thoughts for too long was making you think of things you once judged impossible.

It was a split second, but he caught you red handed, staring at him. You smiled and moved your eyes to the pages of your book, not sure where you left off.

One big hand snatched the object from you. You turned to your side to complain and retrieve it, giving Buck the perfect opportunity to bring your lips close and kiss you. It barely turned into a deep kiss before you took some space to process what was happening. Your action made Buck a little confused, blinking his eyes and nervously messing with his own hair.

Your ribcage started hurting, so you moved your body carefully until you were sitting on the floor, face to face with him. Giving him enough time to change his mind, to say he actually didn’t mean it. Because how could he kiss someone like you?

You thought you’d never see a glimpse of fear on the eyes of one of the most fearless men you knew. Buck was too stunned to say anything, his full, pink lips slightly open. Your hand found the curve of his neck, your cold skin over his boiling hot veins.

You leaned in for another one. He pulled you closer carefully. However, it was nearly impossible to avoid the messier, helpless kisses. Evan Buckley was finally taking over your mind, maybe even your whole body.

Both of you had to move back a little, taking quick breaths after such intense kisses. You rested your hands on his shoulders and smiled.

“Did it really take me getting trapped in a burning building for us to have the courage to do this?” You bit your lower lip, trying to avoid him noticing your blushed cheeks.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed.

And it caught you by surprise. So Maddie was really telling you the truth.

“Wait, how long?” He avoided eye contact and you laughed. “No, Buck, please. Tell me.”

“Do you remember that shift I got your number with Eddie? So,” he took a deep breath, “I was planning on asking you out that day, but I just… I chickened, ok?”

“And right after that you ate all my cupcakes when I was at Maddie’s. Off to the best start, Buckley.”

“Not my best move, ok?” He laughed. “How many months ago was it?”

“No clue, to be honest.” You pecked his lips again.

Buck’s arms held you close, not willing to let you go. His lips were just inches away.

“Should I remind you of my doctor’s orders?” you whispered.

“You’re never walking into danger on my watch again.” Buck finally let you go, but it was written in his face it wasn’t what he wanted. His touch lingered a little longer, a little too deep. And you were sure you were mirroring his actions.

“I know.” You got his video game console and your book. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Brains.”

You leaned over, leaving a goodnight kiss and a promise to come back to whatever you just started.

+++

“Ok, do you want some snacks? I,” you checked your storage once again, noticing how you should’ve added “do groceries” to your list. “How are we feeling about popcorn?”

“I love popcorn!” Chris replied, his focus on the TV screen.

“Popcorn it is.” You turned the machine on and measured the serving. You heard knocks on your door. “Just a second!”

Maybe Eddie was back because Chris forgot something in the car? No, he had everything in his backpack. You opened the door, but your eyes stayed on the kid on your couch. “Really, Eddie, don’t worry. I can watch him for as long as you need and… Buck.”

“Hi.” Even if he looked like he just left the shower, his voice sounded like he ran a marathon and stopped at your door.

“Buck!” You both heard Chris from the couch. “Are you joining us?”

“Only if Brains let me.” He smiled, waiting for you to invite him in.

“How could I say ‘no’? Come in, we are playing video games and having popcorn.”

“You can play with me!”

“I’ll be there in a sec, Chris. I just need to talk to Brains first,” he pulled you aside and out of Chris’ view. Not like the kid is paying any attention to you, anyway. “Hey there.”

“Hi. Why do I have a feeling you’re here to babysit me?” You move to your kitchen, rushing to find the popcorn bucket in your cabinets.

“Can you blame me? You have two broken ribs, self diagnosed burnout syndrome,” you mumbled, “ok, your therapist said you have it, and you’re babysitting Chris on a day you’re supposed to wake up after 3.”

“It’s just for a few hours, and he’s not like Jee-Yun,” you pointed out the reality: Chris was just a little bit sick and Eddie didn’t want him to be alone. “So you’re here to see if I have plans for today.”

“Kinda.” He opened the top cabinet and gave you the bucket. “Do you?”

You elbowed him on the torso, playfully.

“Watch your step, I know his reputation.” You pointed to Chris over your shoulder. “But the answer to your question is no.”

Buck smiled, satisfied with himself. “Hey, Chris, orange or apple juice?”

“Apple, please! I’m crushing you!” The kid's voice indicated a promise to end Buck’s character.

“Ok, buddy, if you say so,” he turned to you and whispered, “so it’s a date?”

“Yes, Buckley. Now are you gonna help me with Chris or not?” You served two glasses of apple juice.

“Sure thing, but I might need to run some errands later because,” and he stopped himself. “You’ll see.”

a/n: hi is there anyone here still? i know guys, i was gone, no sign of life, but hey, i'm back (i hope so). IT FINALLY HAPPENED! i had to make this chapter shorter than usual because otherwise it would be too big. so that's it. see ya soon!

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

There's not a lot of details yet, because this happened less than an hour ago, but it's being reported that a terrorist shooting attack took place today, at least two people are said to have been wounded and taken to the hospital, and the terrorist has been neutralized.

A little over a week ago, I wrote that Marwan Issa, Hamas' 3rd top leader in Gaza, might have been killed in an IDF strike, but there's no final confirmation yet. Since then, no one has been able to contact Issa, and the Israeli assessment is that his body is buried under the rubble. Now, there's been private conversations where Hamas has said the same thing, though officially they're still saying they don't know. Hamas has motivation to present Issa as alive, and thus Israel as having failed, but at the same time, if he actually hasn't been killed, just wounded in the strike, then Hamas has reason to want Israel to falsely believe he's dead. In other words, I wouldn't take Hamas' double position as confirming anything, and from what I know, that's the general thinking in Israel. If Marwan Issa is dead, one of the sides will get to his body sooner or later, and then we might know (if it's Israel, or if it's Hamas, but for whatever reason, they decide it serves them better to confirm his death). That said, it's kind of funny, how the US doesn't seem to get the complexity of Hamas' contradicting motives here, and takes their word as final confirmation that Issa is indeed dead. The concept of "terrorists lie if it benefits them, in this case they just seem currently unsure if it does" shouldn't be that hard to grasp. Like yes, we all are inclined to think Issa's dead, but there's a reason why no Israeli official has yet come out and publicly said it as a fact. This vid reports how Hamas both confirms and rejects the claim that Issa's dead, and the way it's subtitled with both positions says it all IMO:

Also amusing is how the international press doesn't not the ranking within Hamas Gaza. Marwan Issa is NOT Hamas' #2 in Gaza, he's #3. I saw headlines saying Israel might have killed Hamas' second top senior in Gaza, which is Mohammed Deif, and was disappointed to learn that nope, the media is just confused. Quick reminder: Yahya sinwar is Hamas Gaza's leader and #1, Mohammed Deif is the military leader and #2, Marwan Issa is Deif's right hand man and #3, while international media is way too clueless on some very basic stuff regarding this conflict.

Here's the international press giving Issa a postmortem promotion:

For comparison, here are those who correctly referred to him as Hamas' #3:

The operation at the Shifa hospital, which I wrote about yesterday, continues. The number of terrorists killed there has risen to 50, and 180 suspects were arrested. Another soldier has been killed during this recent operation, 51 years old Sebastian Haion, after we already lost one during it. Just a small reminder, that if there had been only unarmed civilians at this hospital, there would have been no dead Israeli soldiers in this raid.

This tweet was too long to fit in one screenshot, but here's the essence of it. The IDF's spokesman in Arabic has published on Twitter evidence that just like Hamas, Hezbollah along with fellow Lebanese terrorist organization Amal are also misusing medical ambulances and organizations for terrorist activities.

I've written about a British Jewish director who, at the Oscars, hijacked the Holocaust to denounce hijacking the Holocaust for political positions he does not agree with, based on a false and ignorant narrative, which is harmful to Jews. I also mentioned that the biggest organization fighting against antisemitism, the ADL, as well as an organization of Holocaust survivors has come out to denounce this director. I've been seeing even more denouncements. Here's a short recap. I just wanna clarify, this isn't about him personally. This is a reminder that people like him don't get to erase the voices of the majority of Jews, while using his own Jewish identity to do so, without us speaking up, too. The sad thing is none of these voices will be heard as loudly or be as applauded as he was, for throwing most Jews (and Holocaust victims) under the bus, in favor of what's trendy to say these days.

I'll start with another Jewish director, László Nemes, who had also won an Oscar for a Holocaust movie, Son of Saul (I have to admit, Holocaust movies will never be truly able to capture the full horror and brutality of the Nazi camps, but of all the ones I've seen, and I've watched way too many, Son of Saul comes closest, probably aided by the fact that it's based on testimonies of the survivors who had seen the worst of the worst with their own eyes). Nemes said: "[The] director should have stayed silent instead of revealing he has no understanding of history and the forces undoing civilisation, before or after the Holocaust. Had he embraced the responsibility that comes with a film like that, he would not have resorted to talking points disseminated by propaganda meant to eradicate, at the end, all Jewish presence from the Earth. It is especially troubling in an age where we are reaching pre-Holocaust levels of anti-Jewish hatred – this time, in a trendy, ‘progressive’ way."

Another Jewish creator, Richard Trank, wrote a whole op-ed about how offensive he found the speech. Trank is a producer who won an Oscar for Holocaust documentary The Long Way Home (a movie that follows the struggle of the majority of survivors to get to Israel at the end of WWII, despite British opposition and Arab violence). Trank wrote, among other things: "Upon hearing [the speech], I thought about the assistant camera operator who has worked on three of my films, and whose 79-year-old father was kidnapped. This man had been spending his retirement years volunteering to drive Gazans needing medical care into Israel, care which Hamas could not provide for them despite billions in aid that has been sent to the area since the terrorist organization took control of it in 2006. I thought about the young people I have met in the last few weeks who survived the massacre at the Nova music festival. And then I reflected on this incredibly arrogant man who equated Israeli Jews to Nazis, and then left the Dolby Theatre with his statue when the awards show ended to party the night away."

And then, it turned out that the man who denounced hijacking the Holocaust for political causes, had not only hijacked the Holocaust itself with his little stunt, he also hijacked the Holocaust movie he had directed, from fellow Jewish co-creators who disagree deeply with his speech. Among them is Danny Cohen, an executive producer of this Oscar winning Holocaust film, and the article about his objection mentions that another Jewish producer of the movie, Len Blavatnik, who was standing on stage during the speech and was specifically referred to as if he agreed with it, did not sign off on it. Cohen made his position clear: "My support for Israel is unwavering. The war and the continuation of the war is the responsibility of Hamas, a genocidal terrorist organization, which continues to hold and abuse the hostages, and which doesn’t use its tunnels to protect the innocent civilians of Gaza, but uses it to hide themselves and allow Palestinians to die. I think the war is tragic and awful and the loss of civilian life is awful, but I blame Hamas for that. And any discussion of the war without saying that lacks the proper context that any discussion should have."

Now, there's an open letter condemning the director's speech, with the signatures of over 450 Jewish Hollywood creators, from different fields in the film industry. The letter says: "We refute our Jewishness being hijacked for the purpose of drawing a moral equivalence between a Nazi regime that sought to exterminate a race of people, and an Israeli nation that seeks to avert its own extermination. Every civilian death in Gaza is tragic. Israel is not targeting civilians. It is targeting Hamas. The moment Hamas releases the hostages and surrenders, is the moment this heartbreaking war ends. This has been true since the Hamas attacks of October 7th. The use of words like “occupation” to describe an indigenous Jewish people defending a homeland that dates back thousands of years, and has been recognized as a state by the United Nations, distorts history. It gives credence to the modern blood libel that fuels a growing anti-Jewish hatred around the world, in the United States, and in Hollywood.  The current climate of growing antisemitism only underscores the need for the Jewish State of Israel, a place which will always take us in, as no state did during the Holocaust." Here's a link to the full letter, and list of signatories, which includes 4 rabbis. Please don't let all of these voices go unheard and lost.

This is 19 years old Oz Daniel.

I was listening to a TV interview with the family of Oz Daniel yesterday. For many months, he was thought to be kidnapped when wounded (they found traces of blood), but not dead. The main reason for the latter assumption, was that Hamas had uploaded on Oct 7 a video of him where Oz is seen being taken away while alive. I wrote about him in one of my daily update post when it was published that the army had enough to determine he had actually been murdered during the massacre, and it's his body that's being held hostage in Gaza. His parents mentioned yesterday, that as the IDF is fighting Hamas in Gaza, it also gets to a lot of their computers. And on one of them, they found the original, unedited footage of Oz being kidnapped. It shows the part they'd seen before, where he's being taken away still alive, but then it continues to show him fighting back, and the Hamas terrorists murder him. That means that they took the time to go over the footage before they uploaded it, and edit it in the cruelest way, to give Oz's family false hope. For months, the Daniel family waited for any sign of life from their child, without knowing there will never be one. It is heartless and abusive, it is torture to put people through the ordeal of thinking that they have a chance of seeing their son alive, knowing it's a deliberate lie. I don't know if I can think of any worse form of torment.

This is (on the left) 40 years old Shlomi Ziv, with his wife Miren.

Shlomi finished his interior design studies a month before Hamas' massacre, and on occasion, he worked in security. On Oct 7, he worked at the Nova music festival as a guard, together with Aviv, who's Miren's cousin, and a friend of Slomi and Miren, Jack. Shlomi saw both of his friends murdered, while he himself was kidnapped. Miren shared that they had wanted kids, and tried fertility treatments, but after years of repeated attempts, she had to give up, and how rare and incredible it was, that Shlomi understood and accepted her decision, and stood by her. "We only have each other," she said, "we're each other's world. Please bring him back to me." In the last phone call that Shlomi had with her, he was running away from the terrorists, and could barely speak. Since then, Miren hasn't had any sign of life from her husband.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[pinkjoy-cons]

Childe Blub #1

Hello. I am not dead. Just distracted by several other things that I haven't had a moment to write anything smile :)

Despite how much I write for him...i actually don't like childe...

But @sammilimyy loves him so i write for him. This freaking man keeps hijacking my fics and I blame her really.

Anyway....i wrote this for her while i was on my lunch break. I got inspired by a LaDS fic that I now cannot find for the life of me. Hopefully they don't mind that I used a similar prompt for this blurb, if not I will delete it. If y'all find the fic let me know so I can confirm with them.

Warnings: Gender neutral reader (no defining feature/body parts) anyone can read, that being said: if you are amab he sticks his tongue in your a**, if you are afab it's just normal cunn!lingus (kinda) no use of Y/N, sub!Reader, hard dom!Childe, use of pet names (sweetheart, lovely, baby),Monster F!ucking, Size k!nk, overstimulation, rough!Childe, calling him Ajax, tongue F!ucking, exaggeration of sexual activity, dacryphilia (i think), belly bulge but it's when he's in Foul Legacy form so....I think that's it but let me know if I miss anything. MINORS DNI PLEASE

Please do not post/share my fics on TikTok, translate without my permission, narrate, or claim as your own.

Word Count: 669 (nice)

Imagine you're in bed with Childe and y'all are getting ready and such and as he puts it in about halfway you just go "is it in yet?"

You said it as a joke to act like a brat and get on his nerves. He paused just for a second and grabs you by the face. "So you wanna be a brat, huh?" Before you can respond he thrusts the rest of they way. It knocked your breath away. You put your hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away but he takes your hand and pins it next to your head. "Can you tell that it's in now?" He whispers in your ear, "How about when I do this?" His hips are flushed to you and he grinds ever so. It's rubbing inside of you so well all you can do is plead to him to wait; voice soft and whimpering.

"No, no sweetheart, you said you couldn't feel it so now I'm making sure you do. Or what? Still can't feel anything?" He can tell by the tears in your eyes that you can. "Yes Ajax I-I can. So full."

"No baby, I don't think you can. I mean why would you lie to me the first time then?" He then pulls out of you and you gasped; angry at the lack of him inside you.

You try to use your legs to pull him back to you but he unhooks himself from you and practically tosses them down. Through your daze you look to see what's going on. In what seemed like a blink and a flash of light, he changed and....Oh archons.

Towering above you is Ajax but now, he was in his Foul Legacy form. "I'm always so gentle with you lovely." He begins in a low gravel of his voice that was distorted due to being in this form. "I do my best to treat you with the respect that you deserve." His tongue comes out and his head lowers. Instantly, his snake-like tongue is shoved into you. You moan out but take it, trying to find purchase in the sheets below you as his thick tongue fucks in and out of you slowly. His tongue moves back and forth slowly and he takes his time to watch as the tears fall from your eyes. His tongue is removed and he questioned, "Did you feel that?" You took a moment too long to answer, too fucked out and rightfully embarrassed at how he's got you to this state so quickly.

"No answer," Ajax begins, "Fine then." In a shocking move he reaches above you and grips the headboard of the bed, snapping it with his strength. You snap out of it for just enough to see what was in front of you. Ajax's cock in his Foul Legacy form rubbing up and down your hole.

Your eyes go wide "A-Ajax that's not gonna-"

"Yes it will." He doesn't let you finish the sentence. It seems that he's done waiting because he starts to prod the engorged tip into you. "I want to make sure my baby feels-" the tip slips fully in, "Every." He speeds up and you can feel yourself stretching to fit it all. "Last." More is going in and at some point during the penetration you come; making a mess as he continues despite your cries. You cry out at the overstimulation and reach out to his arms above to ground you. "Inch"

Ajax bottoms out and you can honestly say you have never felt this full in your life. "Ajax!" You scream, "It was a joke baby. Please I-I can't!"

Childe lets out a low growl, "Sorry baby, I'm not laughing. You should have thought twice before saying something like that. And besides," Ajax pulls about and hand's width out and thrusts back in causing you to squirt a bit once again, "You've already come just from penetration alone, but I'm just barely getting started"

[booksandabeer]

Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

[softspace-fics]

Lost

⚠️ THIS IS NOT A AGE-RE POST. THIS IS A DARK POST. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION, DONT READ IF WARNINGS TRIGGER YOU⚠️

A/N - I had a honestly really bad mental day at school and I'm already super exhausted. I ended up involuntarily regressing in my math class and I sit in the front of the class. My old CG doesn't talk to me much anymore so I don't have anyone to reach out to when involuntary happens so I wrote Stucky x male!reader. This one's kinda darker due to my mental space but I'm hoping to make a new agere one here soon!

Masterlist - All my work!

Please let me know if you guys would be interested in a part two?

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Mentions of violence blood, sewing skin, passing out, being lost with no contact, mature language (cussing), Steve and bucky being worried over reader, reader is mentioned to be a victim of hydra, please let me know if I missed any!!

__________

It was known that you, Bucky, and Steve had started dating about a year ago. They had asked you to join their couple after you had been living in the tower for a while. You happily said yes, and from then on it was pretty easy.

It wasn’t common that you would be sent on the same missions as the other two due to different skill sets, but you were happy when you did. When you couldn’t go with them, you were happy when they came home.

You eventually got sent on a solo mission that was only supposed to last 3 months. You lost contact with anyone on your home side about halfway through causing it to extend to about 5 months. You only survived based on pure instinct and eventually finding a place to hijack and call for help.

Once returning from the extremely rough mission, where your battle and affairs were way harder and longer than you thought, you headed to your room. You still had your own just by design, to make sure you had a place if needed. This is where you mainly stayed. You sometimes crashed with Bucky or Steve, but not being in your own room and space sometimes made it hard to sleep. The days you had come home from a mission or from a quest and you hid in your room until hours or even days later, Bucky and Steve worried.

They weren't sure if it was something you preferred for after missions, or if you didn’t feel safe with them. Even in the rarity that it happened, it sent aches to their hearts. You were a part of them, this meant that those times after missions where everything is too much, they were supposed to be there with you, and they couldn't be.

The day you finally came home from the solo mission and found them on the couch cuddled up absolutely sound asleep, you smiled, glad to see them getting their well-deserved rest. After staring at them for maybe a second too long, you eventually sluggishly drag yourself to your room, throwing your items on your bed and heading to your bathroom to attend to your wounds.

It wasn’t anything horrible, a few cuts and gashes. Possible minor grazing by a bullet. Anything you got in the beginning of the mission had practically healed itself. What you had now wasn't anything you hadn’t fixed up before. You got into the shower, carefully washing off the blood, the dirt, and the disgusting grim. Your emotions begin to creep up, as the adrenaline rushes away, and the water takes you to a different place in your head.

You watch as the blood circles the drain. The aches of your joints and the stinging of water getting in your wounds, slowly pulling you back to reality. You climb out of the shower a little unsteadily and throw on some sweatpants. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you sigh before grabbing some gauze and skin sewing supplies, not excited for the pain you have to inflict on yourself.

Mid-second sewing patch, a knock on your bathroom door pulls you from the daze of pain you're in. You turn around and unlock the door before turning back to the mirror to watch as you continue to sew.

“Come in.” You say loud enough to make it through the solid wood door.

“No one told us you had been found, when did you get- Oh my god (Y/n)! What happened to you?” Steves worried tone booms through the bathroom.

You look up to meet his stunned gaze in the mirror, a look of almost confusion crossing your face in place of the dull one before. You didn’t normally let others in when you were cleaning your wounds, Steve being the first to see your process of sewing your own flesh together and putting gauze lazily around it.

“Huh? Oh just, ya know, battle?” You reply before attempting to finish off the wound you’d been working on when he walked in. You just wanted to go sleep. The minimal amounts of sleep you got due to needing to survive catching up to you.

“I heard you yell- holy shit? (Y/N) the fuck?” Bucky's voice suddenly came from behind. His voice grew with concern as he spoke.

“Your home? Why didn’t you get us? What the hell happened to you while you were lost? We thought you died!”

You finish off the wound before turning to your two boyfriends, bewilderment flowing through your veins. You just didn’t understand why they were so worried about your wounds or even just about you. They weren’t the worst you had gotten, by far. You could easily finish the last one or two and throw on some gauze and finally go sleep. You were too tired to understand why they were so concerned.

“Why are you looking at us like we’re speaking foreignly..? Your borderline shredded and there's...” Steve's voice trails off, the mention of your numerous other scars burning through your head.

“Is that why you're both looking at me like there’s something wrong with me? I know my scars aren’t pretty- Please go.” You look away from them, turning to grab your sewing needle again before a hand stops you, making you look back at them.

“No, handsome. That's not why we're looking at you like anything. We’re concerned. We were asleep on the couch when you got home, and you didn’t wake us up even though you were lost for months. You're so wounded that it's hard to see anywhere that's not hurt. Some of the wounds on your back need sewn up too. When we woke up, Tony told us you had been home for 4 hours. You're standing in here like a zombie on a mission to barely patch yourself up.” Bucky gently takes the sewing kit from you before pulling you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“It’s not that bad... I promise it's been worse before. You guys were asleep, I didn't want to bother you.” you mumble under your breath, you don’t even sound like you believe yourself.

Steve crouches in front of you, gently cupping your cheeks. Your eyes lazily focus on his, your body’s energy crashing fast.

“Baby let us help. You look like you could pass out any second. How long have you been actively bleeding?” Steve gently rubs his thumbs on your cheek, attempting to keep you awake.

“What day is it?” You joke quietly, smiling softly.

“I honestly don't know how long. I feel like I was only home for maybe an hour. I just want to get sewn up please. I just want to sleep; I haven’t slept in days.”

Bucky and Steve exchange extremely concerned looks. The hell was this mission that ended up with you getting lost and coming home looking like this. Why didn’t you wake them up? Why didn’t they even get a call from Fury about your arrival?

Bucky and Steve use teamwork to get you sewn up as much as possible before they help you climb into your bed. The moment you're in your bed it's almost as if a switch was flicked. You were completely asleep, the only reason they didn't think you were dead was your breathing.

“Steve... The hell did they do to him?” Bucky quietly mumbles, turning to the just as concerned soldier.

“I don’t know. I’m torn between staying here until they wake up or calling Fury to figure out what the hell, they did to him and how they hell they lost him...” Steve glances to bucky before his eyes settle back on you.

The next time you wake up, you groggily sit up. Pain courses through your entire body, but you shrug it off before you feel movement next to you and see Bucky shirtless, slowly waking up.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky turns to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“How long have I been asleep Buck?” Was your first question.

“3 days. Banner came and gave you IV fluids to keep your vitals steady while you slept. The hell did they do to you baby?” Bucky sits up next to you before he softly cups your cheeks. He slowly scans all of your wounds, and then softly kisses your lips. When he pulls away, he softly sighs contently, hearing your voice helping settle the pure anxiety coursing through his veins mildly.

“Hey how is he- Oh my god you're finally awake.” Steve walks in, quickly crossing the room to your side.

“How do you feel? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m okay Steve, just confused. I'm just disoriented from sleeping for so long.” You smile at Steve before slowly laying your head on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky carefully moves you to his lap, just like he did to Steve when they were kids, and he was sick or ended up in another alley fight.

“I bet its more than just the sleep, sweets.” Steve softly rubs the part of your arm that's not injured, keeping his eyes on you. His heart aches so much for you.

“Handsome, I really need you to tell us who and what did this to you? Why do you do your own medical procedures? What has happened to you that made you this way?” Bucky slowly asks again, kissing your forehead and caressing your cheek.

You look over at Steve who just slowly nods, giving you a sign that he wants to know too.

It's time to explain your time in hydra, and what this mission truly was.

~~

Part two

[inkblackorchid]

me again! 😹 I love the headcanons you wrote ,thank you ! While reading them I imagined something else so I thought to give it a try !

Perhaps, do you think you could write Faithshipping married headcanons? That would be so cool , thank you in advance:)

Also ,I am so excited for more Faithshipping fanfictions. Also ,I love how you're giving Aki more time to shine and get actual development 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

@mathemagician93 Hope you don't mind me combining these since they pertain to similar topics!

Had to think about these for a while so they've unfortunately been sitting in my inbox for a couple of days, haha. But here we go, married faithshipping headcanons!

The proposal is a long time coming (especially to Aki and Yusei's long-suffering friend circle), but both of them don't know how to go about it at first.

I imagine Aki's parents are just traditional enough that they're basically expecting Yusei to propose, while Aki herself really doesn't mind who proposes, but ends up being too chicken to do it herself. (She doesn't think Yusei would reject her, but old fears are a bitch and she knows it would break her heart if he said no for any reason.)

Yusei, meanwhile, definitely has the courage to propose, but doesn't have the foggiest idea how to. What do people do when they propose?? (Jack and Crow are the polar opposite of helpful, btw.) He ends up taking Martha's advice of doing it in a simple, but heartfelt way.

It's not a big thing. It's a date, but not a date that immediately seems special. There's no crowd, only them. The question's quiet and earnest, and the memory of it belongs to them and them alone.

(For a couple of days, the others don't even know the big question came up. Everyone's offended as hell when they find out Aki and Yusei didn't consider it big enough of a deal to make a big announcement out of it. But big doesn't matter to them. What matters is each other.)

I imagine several parties would try to hijack the wedding planning. Among them, Jack, Carly, and Aki's parents. Nobody manages to keep their trap shut and not make unprompted suggestions, at any rate.

Despite the above, the wedding wouldn't be big and fancy, either. Everyone who's important is there, but nobody beyond that. Aki manages to wriggle the occasional input out of Yusei and puts together some kickass (floral, duh) decor.

(They both stress about the wedding. Aki looks more like she stresses, but in truth, Yusei's also worried he's going to make an idiot of himself. Fancy occasions were never his thing. But they manage to put their heads together and make it work, because that's what they're best at.)

Married life ends up not being all that different from the way things were before. I'd imagine they already lived together and tackled day-to-day life together before. Except now both of them are Dr. Fudo.

(Yusei wouldn't have minded taking Aki's name, but Aki's parents fussed and she wasn't too attached to Izayoi, anyway, so she happily takes Fudo.)

They absolutely manage to mix up their name tags for work (if not their lab coats outright) at some point.

Half of the nurses working with Aki know and are convinced she's married to Yusei Fudo (yes, that Yusei Fudo). The other half are dead convinced the others are just pulling their legs and that it's a rumour because it would be cliché anyway, etc. The reason why is that Aki doesn't see the reason to make a big deal out of her marriage (and knows Yusei likes his privacy).

By contrast, the entirety of MIDS knows Yusei's married to Aki Izayoi. Because he brings her up every second conversation—not even to brag (although he sometimes does), but simply because he thinks of her that often. (You cannot convince me Yusei would not be one of the most wife guys to ever wife guy.)

They are popular with literally all their neighbours because they're the most capable couple on the block. Your washing machine is broken? Ask Yusei about it. Your grandma tripped and fell? Better pop over to Aki.

They're good at dividing up the chores and know exactly which chores each the other likes to do less. (Aki's better at doing the laundry and hates cleaning the bathroom, Yusei's better at doing the dishes and hates dusting the furniture.)

Despite Aki's demanding work hours, being a doctor and all, Yusei still always manages to be awake earlier than her. He knows exactly for what time her alarm is set and always makes sure a cup of tea and something small to eat are ready for her by then.

In return, Aki likes to stay on top of making sure that Yusei's got lunch he can take with him to work. (Because she knows his abysmal working habits and the fact that he makes time to actually go for lunch too rarely.)

They coordinate their days off to the best of their ability. What free time they have, they want to be able to spend together.

Yusei may or may not forget his lunch on occasion. Aki, on days where she's not stuck at work herself, may or may not pop into MIDS to bring her husband his lunch. (Yusei's coworkers find it hilarious.)

Hope you like these! And thank you so, so much, glad you enjoy my stories! Aki deserves every little bit of development I can give her. ^^

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Odesta Week Day 2: Take Me Out Tuesday

Finnick’s spent plenty of time in District Thirteen dissociating, but at least this time it’s for a good reason. 

He has Annie in his arms again, and they’ve backed themselves against a wall and have started to slump down. He doesn’t care that they’re on the floor, just like she doesn’t care that his fingers are tangled in her long hair. They’ll deal with that stuff later. 

It’s not until after they’ve done their fair share of crying and kissing that Finnick asks, “So, what do you want to do?”

Annie’s eyes are gleaming and her smile is practically blinding, but he thinks she’s never looked better. “I want to take you out, obviously.”

“I know you just got here,” he says, and presses another quick kiss to her mouth, “but there’s not really a lot of date night options—”

That’s as far as he gets before the blade of her knife tears through his gut. 

The first thing Finnick thinks is that the blood is coming out faster than it should. He’s seen a lot of blood. He’s watched a lot of tributes bleed out on the grass or sand or snow or gravel. But his mind is cloaked in a fuzziness that he can’t shake, and for some reason, he can’t seem to focus on his own blood as it seeps into his clothes. 

Finnick’s eyes eventually focus on Annie. He wants to reach for her hand and tell her that he’ll be fine, and there’s no way she’s getting rid of him that easily. Not after they just got each other back. But Annie’s not even looking at him. Her eyes are cold and impassive, but what strikes him most is the clarity. She knows what happened, and she’s standing here like it’s just another Tuesday for her. 

Then his eyes travel down her body, where her hand is still gripping a bloodied knife. 

This is when Finnick realizes that something is very, very wrong. 

He probably should have seen it sooner, but between the blood loss and betrayal, it’s hard to accept. That can’t be Annie. 

Someone comes over to take Annie away, and Finnick slips into darkness. 

***

He tries to keep track of the voices he hears around him, but it quickly becomes impossible. They must have Finnick on morphling because his world is hazy and soft. 

“Open your eyes.”

He’s not so sure he wants to. Who’s going to be waiting to stab him this time?

“Finnick, come on.”

That’s a voice he recognizes. Finnick’s eyes peel open involuntarily. Even now, he’s not good at sitting still. “Johanna?”

“Yeah,” she says. She’s sitting on a chair by his hospital bed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. “They let me out of the hospital just to talk to you. Lucky me.”

“Talk to me about what?” he asks, blinking against the fluorescent lighting. 

Johanna doesn’t mince her words. “When we were in the Capitol, they messed with Annie’s mind. Turned her against you. They did it with Peeta too.”

“I don’t understand,” says Finnick. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t want to understand. 

“It’s called hijacking. Something with tracker jacker venom, I don’t know. And before you lose your mind over this, she’s already showing signs of progress. More than Peeta, anyway. Probably because she’s older.”

His head is spinning. There’s way too much going on right now and not enough morphling in the world to deal with it. In all of his nightmarish scenarios his mind ran through while Annie was in the Capitol, Finnick hadn’t ever considered this. Turning Annie against him feels impossible somehow, even though he’s sitting in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped tight against his abdomen where she stabbed him. 

“What do we do?” he asks after a second, voice hoarse. “How do we help her get better?”

“Do I look like a doctor?” Johanna asks, and Finnick gives a shrug. “Look, some of the doctors suggested writing a note. It might trigger positive memories of you without you actually being in stabbing vicinity.”

It’s a good enough idea for him, so Finnick spends the next half hour trying to procure a pen and some paper. Figuring out what to write takes a lot less time. It’s an old poem he wrote for her when she turned twenty, and they invited all of Victor’s Village to a party on her boat. Thinking of that day still makes him smile. Kai, the second oldest resident of the Village, had gotten Annie a year long supply of cat food. It’s a very practical gift for someone who has a cat, which Annie doesn’t. 

He sends the poem along with Johanna and waits and waits for some kind of response. His note is delivered back to him not even a full day later, and Finnick is fully ready to let his mind slip away when he notices shaky handwriting on the back. 

Still a better gift than the cat food.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Stay focused on the unfolding coup!

February 3, 2025

Robert B. Hubbell

Over the weekend, Trump concluded that imposing the stupidest tariffs in history would distract the American press from reporting on an ongoing coup to overthrow constitutional order in the US.

Trump's plan worked.

He jingled some car keys and used a green laser to distract the short-attention-span journalists and lap-dog media owners from saying the most important and urgent thing out loud: The US Constitution is under assault and needs help from Congress, from the courts, and from the American people.

I will discuss the potentially ruinous tariffs below, but they are an afterthought if we hand over control of $3 trillion in tax revenue to a clueless billionaire and a handful of twenty-something software engineers who have hijacked the US Treasury.

Musk and his street gang of Silicon Valley engineers have found a way to circumvent Congress, the president, and the executive branch by stealing the nation’s checkbook—and the media appears not to give a damn. In close second place in the “What? Me worry?” Olympics are our representatives in Congress.

Trust me, I am gravely concerned about the stability of financial markets on Monday as the world wakes up to a global trade war. But only Donald Trump could think that tanking the world economy is a good cover for a coup against the US Constitution.

Candidly, I feel like I am caught in the Hitchcock’s movie “Gaslight,” in which those of us raising the alarm about Musk’s putsch are viewed as suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome. It is not enough for the media to report on the various and sundry ways that Trump and Musk are undermining constitutional order. Those disparate elements are part of an overarching plan laid out in Project 2025 to overthrow the “administrative state.” The first step in that plan necessarily involves circumventing and suspending the Constitution—which is happening at a breakneck speed.

What is most appalling is that Musk is brazenly publicizing his overthrow of the Constitution in real time on Twitter and the media still cannot rouse themselves to exhibit a modicum of concern about the threat of a coup, let alone outrage.

Here is the most important development: Over the weekend, Musk posted on Twitter that his DOGE team was “rapidly shutting down payments to federal contractors.” See Bloomberg, Musk Says DOGE Is Halting Treasury Payments to US Contractors.

Musk included screenshots of information that appeared to be taken from the US Treasury payments system. The payments were to a Lutheran charity with a federal contract for the resettlement of refugees admitted in accordance with US law. (The payments were posted by Michael Flynn on Twitter, and retweeted by Musk.)

Musk wrote on Twitter that “The corruption and waste are being rooted out in real-time,” saying that DOGE is “rapidly shutting down” payments to a Lutheran charity. (See Bloomberg article, above.)

To be clear, Musk has no authority to decide that congressionally appropriated funds constitute “corruption and waste.” If corruption and waste exist, there is an entire federal system designed to identify, stop, and punish those involved. But simply unilaterally declaring that appropriations will be canceled on the whim of one person who is not involved in the appropriations process is the very definition of a coup.

The fact that Musk retweeted information that appeared to be from the US Treasury payments system is deeply troubling. If that information was obtained by illegally downloading protected information from government servers, multiple felonies were committed as part of a conspiracy against the United States.

Worse, the seizure of the US payments system by rogue actors will likely lead to a downgrading of the US credit rating.

If the US cannot be trusted to pay debts of the US that were validly incurred pursuant to congressional appropriation, no outside contractor should do business with the US.

The Lutheran charity in question has incurred debts—payroll, purchases of goods, rent—all pursuant to a federal contract to resettle refugees. Musk has decided resettlement services are “fraudulent” or “wasteful” and claims to be “rapidly shutting down payments” to contractors like the Lutheran charity.

I have drifted into too much detail, so let me reiterate the most important point: Neither Musk nor Trump have the authority to override congressional appropriations. Doing so violates Article I of the Constitution and the Impoundment Act of 1974. These events do not suggest a good faith dispute over the interpretation or application of the Constitution. They are a premeditated, deliberate attempt to overthrow the Constitution.

Another egregious example occurred over the weekend. USAID is a congressionally created agency within the executive branch that distributes foreign aid for humanitarian purposes across the globe. The funds distributed by USAID are appropriated by Congress by duly enacted law.

Musk and Trump appeared to have effectuated a hostile takeover and dissolution of USAID. Over the weekend, the Musk street gang of engineers tried to gain access to USAID computers. The managers at USAID refused on the grounds that the Musk Street gang members were not authorized to access the systems. In short order, those USAID managers were put on leave—and Musk gained access to the USAID computers. Shortly thereafter, the USAID website went dark. Check it out for yourself: www.usaid.gov.

See generally, ABC News, Turmoil inside USAID: DOGE reps take over offices, senior officials placed on leave.

Shortly after Musk engineered the beer-hall putsch against USAID, he posted on Twitter:

"USAID is a criminal organization. Time for it to die.”

If USAID is shuttered, it will not only be the agency that dies. As noted in the NYTimes,

In famine-stricken Sudan, soup kitchens that feed hundreds of thousands of civilians trapped in a war zone have shut down. In Thailand, war refugees with life-threatening diseases have been turned away by hospitals and carted off on makeshift stretchers. In Ukraine, residents on the frontline of the war with Russia may be going without firewood in the middle of winter. Some of the world’s most vulnerable populations are already feeling President Trump’s sudden cutoff of billions of dollars in American aid that helps fend off starvation, treats diseases and provides shelter for the displaced.

Like congressional appropriations, neither Musk nor Trump have the authority to unilaterally shut down USAID or impound its funding. See Just Security, Can the President Dissolve USAID by Executive Order? Spoiler alert: The answer is “No.”

Providing US humanitarian aid is justified because it is morally right. But it also serves US strategic purposes by building alliances across the globe. If the US ceases humanitarian aid in Africa, China will fill the void in one way or another, including military aid and economic investment. Trump and Musk are burning bridges that connect the US to the world.

The point is that the unfolding coup is concentrating the wealth and influence of the US in two ignorant narcissists who care about only themselves. That is a recipe for disaster.

We must keep hammering our representatives in Congress to rise to the moment. Their muted, business-as-usual approach to date is unacceptable. If you are looking for immediate steps to take, follow Jessica Craven on Chop Wood Carry Water, and become involved in Indivisible, Swing Left, and other grassroots movements. Or support Democracy Forward, Center for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW), the Brennan Center for Justice, Lawyers Defending American Democracy, Common Cause, the ACLU, and other justice organizations.

And to the leaders of grassroots organizations and members of Congress: The American people are primed to take action. Do not let the moment pass. Rally us, direct us, support us, and lead us. We will follow.

Oh, and in case members of Congress are wondering, now is the absolute worst time to ask us to “Please chip in $5.00 so I can fight for democracy.” Stop trying to fundraise off a crisis. Take care of the crisis and worry about the fundraising later.

Trump ignites tariff war

Trump imposed 25% tariffs on most goods from Mexico and Canada, and a 10% tariff on China. To the surprise of no one, Canada, Mexico, and China retaliated with similar tariffs. The Wall Street Editorial Board penned an editorial entitled, The Dumbest Trade War in History.

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau gave moving remarks that highlighted the risks to the American economy. Trudeau said,

From the beaches of Normandy to the mountains of the Korean Peninsula, from the fields of Flanders to the streets of Kandahar, we have fought and died alongside you during your darkest hours.

This is a choice that yes, will harm Canadians, but beyond that, it will have real consequences for you, the American people. As I have consistently said, tariffs against Canada will put your jobs at risk, potentially shutting down American auto assembly plants and other manufacturing facilities. They will raise costs for you, including food at the grocery stores and gas at the pump. They will impede your access to an affordable supply of vital goods crucial for U.S. security . . .

As I write Sunday evening, the world’s futures markets are tumbling as investors realize that, “Yes, Trump really is stupid enough to start a trade war.” See MarketWatch, Dow futures tumble, oil surges after Trump tariffs end ‘self-delusion in markets’.

Per Market Watch,

U.S. stock-index futures opened sharply lower and oil prices jumped Sunday night and investors braced for volatility across financial markets after President Donald Trump over the weekend announced heavy tariffs on imports from Canada, Mexico and China.

Analysts said the sweeping tariffs, including levies of 25% on imports from Canada and Mexico, 10% on energy products from Canada and an additional 10% tariff on China, would rattle investors who had previously appeared to hold out hope that Trump was using the threat of steep levies as a bargaining chip or would take a slower, gradual approach.

Trump acknowledged on Sunday that the tariffs would likely cause Americans to “feel some pain.” See AP, Trump says Americans could feel 'some pain' from tariffs as he threatens more import taxes.

The outright admission by Trump that his policies will “increase the price of eggs” flatly contradicts his campaign promises to end inflation and reduce prices. Here is what Trump said in his first interview after winning in 2024:

I won on the border, and I won on groceries. When you buy apples, when you buy bacon, when you buy eggs, they would double and triple the price over a short period of time, and I won an election based on that. We're going to bring those prices way down.

Trump's tariffs are likely to hit the price of groceries immediately and directly—because major produce farmers have relocated from the US to Mexico and Canada because Trump's immigration policies resulted in labor shortages in the US. As noted in the WSJ editorial, above,

Tariffs will also cause mayhem in the cross-border trade in farm goods. In fiscal 2024, Mexican food exports made up about 23% of total U.S. agricultural imports while Canada supplied some 20%. Many top U.S. growers have moved to Mexico because limits on legal immigration have made it hard to find workers in the U.S. Mexico now supplies 90% of avocados sold in the U.S.

Sadly, Trump plans to make a bad situation worse. He is now threatening tariffs against the UK and the EU. See The Guardian, Trump says EU tariffs will ‘definitely happen’ as Mexico, Canada and China retaliate.

It seems inevitable that Trump's tariffs will increase prices and decrease the retirement savings of tens of millions of Americans. We must make that point clearly and forcefully without throwing it in the faces of Trump supporters, who will suffer along with the rest of America. We will need their votes in 2026 and 2028. Being right is no consolation for our collective suffering. We are in this together.

Concluding Thoughts

There are many other important stories that deserve comment, but the ongoing coup and market-destabilizing sanctions are enough for now. Indeed, part of Trump's strategy is to flood the zone with so many outrageous stories that we become weary and look away. Let’s stay focused on the most important story—the ongoing, slow-rolling, inside-the-building effort to overthrow the Constitution.

I have followed the news very closely since November 2016 to write this daily missive. In all that time, there has been nothing like the last two weeks. It harkens back to 2017 when we first began to realize how bad it would be under Trump, when every morning began with a pit in the stomach as we asked, “Oh god, what has he tweeted now?”

But this time around, it is not just tweets—it is cuts to programs that are a lifeline to millions of Americans, it is denying the existence and dignity of LGBTQ+ Americans, it is denying women access to healthcare, it is about endangering the health and safety of millions of Americans.

So, if you are suffering from a renewed sense of dread, take strength from the fact that we survived the first time around. And take heart from the fact that tens of millions of Americans are battle-tested, dedicated defenders of democracy. Things feel worse at the moment because we are still finding our bearings in the first weeks of the new administration. But we will find our bearings—and when we do, watch out!

We will organize ourselves and bring the full force of the majority of Americans to bear on Musk and Trump. And when we do, there is nothing that can stop us—not even roving street gangs of software engineers who are not old enough to have witnessed the American people at their finest.

Musk and Trump have made the grave mistake of underestimating the American people. That is a mistake that most adversaries of American democracy make only once.

Talk to you tomorrow!

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

[iambic-stan]

Concertina

Writing this story was very therapeutic for me. I hope someone else, cardiophile or otherwise, can get some comfort and reassurance out of it, too.

"I'm not policing what you think and dream," was the lyric I fixated on, though it was only the first verse of the song.  Every explanation of the song "Concertina" I'd read contradicted my own interpretation.  Wasn't it mostly a song about feeling bold enough to be strange, even if it was frightening?  There was applause in the bar when I finished, and made me feel like the risk of a new track selection had paid off.  Tori clapped with the most vigor, as she usually does.

"Girl, who sang that one?" she asked, noting that it was different from my usual selections like Stevie Nicks and Pat Benetar.  I stared at her drink, something with pineapple and gin if I recalled, with this hypnotic red-orange-yellow ombre effect.  Without taking my eyes off of it, I said, "It was a Tori Amos song.  Not a big hit or anything though.  You share a name," I said, lightly touching her shoulder, "You should sing something of hers one night."

"Not if the DJ has anything Taylor," she laughed.  It was fair.  Tori loved to sing Taylor Swift at karaoke, just like how she loved to talk about Gaylor theories, analyze her lyrics, speculate about what her various IG and Tumblr posts might foretell, and scour Stubhub and every other possible site for the least-bankrupting concert tickets.  I was just along for the ride, though I had a couple of her albums at home myself.

"Ok, do something from Lover," I suggested.  

"I don't know.  What if all they have is "YNTCD?" she whined, abbreviating Taylor's divisive LGBTQ anthem from 2019, one that I happened to enjoy despite any criticism.  

"I know you like it, and maybe I'm being a terrible Swiftie, but isn't she just trying to hijack our trauma and claim it as hers?  *Unless* she is gay but didn't want to say so explicitly in the song.  It's great that she gave so many queer people screen time.  I didn't even know who Billy Porter was until I saw the video.  But then again, why did she make it about resolving her beef with Katy Perry?  That was so random.  Anyway, I'll see what I can do...for you, Elena."  She ran her hand down my arm and then squeezed my hand for a second.  She's drunk, I thought, but I appreciated the affection.  Her hand was soft and it felt right--sensual without the suggestion of something more.  I wouldn't want anything more.  

Well, that wasn't entirely true.  I had come to feel at home with Tori over the past year--my first close friend since college who also happened to be queer.  I had lingered longer when hugging her, and since she knew I was asexual, I didn't think she ever took anything the "wrong" way.  At home I had a bright magenta stethoscope that sat on my nightstand, waiting.  But since I'd never told Tori that 1) I loved heart sounds, 2) loved using stethoscopes, and 3) wanted to use one with her, my stethoscope could have been waiting for Godot.  I had strongly considered putting her (the stethoscope--named Alex for my love of Wizards of Waverly Place) in the living room so that Tori could just happen to notice her while we were watching a movie.  But I played the conversation out in my head and felt mortified with every possible script I wrote.  Still, whenever I pictured her wearing the binaurals and listening to my heart, I felt like skipping through a field of daisies.  It just seemed like I was struggling with level one of a video game while ravenously reading walkthroughs of the battle with the final boss I might never meet.  Not that it was a game to me--my love of heart sounds was and always had been one of the most important things in my life.  It kept me sane and grounded, and most of all, it was how I felt close to someone I cared about.

I felt a bit of envy as I watched her throw her arm around the DJ, whose adorable curly head of hair and petite stature brought to mind Jorgeous from one of my favorite shows--Rupaul's Drag Race.  But I wasn't jealous that Not-Jorgeous was enjoying Tori's affection; I wished I could have that sort of magnetism that drew everyone to me and put them immediately at ease.  Trauma had prevented me from being so gregarious.  I watched as four more karaoke singers ran up to Tori, happy to see a familiar face (she was there every week) and get their expected hug.  No, I didn't necessarily want that much attention, I realized--I only wanted the confidence and grace to be completely open with her.

When I heard the first few sharp, synth-laden notes, I knew exactly what song it was.  Tori was deadly serious in her delivery and everyone in the bar turned to gaze at this tall, striking woman who would almost look imposing if her face weren't so soft and kind.  "Combat, I'm ready for combat," she sang, and I was shocked that the DJ would have this track from Taylor's Lover album that we could agree on.  In a moment of accountability that Taylor-haters never acknowledge, the singer tells us she's been "the archer" and "the prey," and feared her propensity for causing hurt as well as her own crippling wounds might make her difficult to live with.  As Tori deftly crescendoed her way into the bridge (I had been given numerous lectures on her distinctive bridges), I felt like my heart beat louder as well.  Suddenly embarrassed, I turned away and stepped onto the bar's patio, my long wrap skirt catching a doorknob in my haste.  I pulled it out and turned to look at the wisteria still bright near sundown and the brick water feature with the goldfish.  There was a couple in the corner deep in conversation, voices so hushed I couldn't make out a single word. That was my last drink, I thought, staring at the crescent moon and the smattering of stars I could see in spite of light pollution.  I felt too much; why didn't alcohol make me numb like it did everyone else?

"Hey, did you like it?" I heard her say behind me.  I turned and saw the sheepish grin on her face.

"Oh, it was beautiful!" I exclaimed.  "I was just out here getting some air is all."  

"I was thinking about what you said last week."  She came closer and put her arms around me as she said it.  My head landed near her chest, and I could almost hear something if it weren't for her thick jacket.  I let myself fall into her embrace.  "I think it would be exciting, actually.  I want to do it.  I've never done that with anyone before," she continued.

I racked my brain and tried to remember what she could be talking about, slowly recalling that I'd had 3 cocktails and 2 shots last week.  There were a few portions of my last karaoke night that I didn't recall at all.  "Wait, what are you talking about?"

She looked at me, her eyes crinkled a little.  Gently, she pushed my hair out of my face.  "You're such a silly drunk and you don't remember any of it," she said, shaking her head.  "You surprised the hell out of me by talking about having a stethoscope and wanting to listen to my heartbeat.  And that you wanted me to listen to your heartbeat.  And I was speechless because that seemed like such a weird, random thing to say.  But then I thought about it and I'm really curious now.  None of my girlfriends ever wanted to do something like that.  Not that you're my girlfriend, but a friend who happens to be a girl, anyway.  I'm down."

I breathed in sharply.  How could I have said all of that without realizing what I was divulging?  My heart was really pounding then, and as if she read my mind, she placed her hand on my chest.  "Oh!" she squeaked, surprised.  "Am I embarrassing you?  Please don't feel that way!  I guess I should've thought you might've forgotten, like that time you went on for like 10 minutes about whether Drag Race All Stars is rigged like you were the only person in the room and had zero recollection of it the next day."  Without really thinking, I quickly placed my hand over hers, holding it fast to my chest.  Her hand so near my heart felt just right somehow.  I closed my eyes and only opened them when she pulled away to check her phone.

"Our Uber is on its way.  I told them to go to your apartment.  Is that ok?  Mine is a mess and Savannah has her boyfriend over, anyway.  He always brings that cheap, stinky weed.  Plus, we could watch more Babylon 5.  I want to see if the praying mantis thing is a 'legitimate businessman' ha."

The N'Grath reference made me smile.  "That sounds great," I almost slur, grinning like an idiot.

Mollie, my dachshund, is almost wider than she is long, so it's a struggle for her to make it up to the couch to properly greet Tori when she comes over.  This night was no different.  "She doesn't even eat that much," I said for probably the twentieth time.  "It's like she just has the worst possible metabolism, poor babe."  I stroked under her chin.

The DVD was loaded, and with the confidence that only alcohol could summon in me, I'd stealthily transferred Alex from my bedroom to the coffee table in the living room while Tori was in the bathroom.  When she emerged, she smiled all big and plopped back down on the couch.  My voice boomed in my head when I picked up the stethoscope and said, "This is Alex.  She was named for Alex Russo, you know, when I was younger.  Well, not that much younger.  But still.  Yes, I know it was a kids' show," I say shyly, wondering why I can't shut up.

Tori laughed and picked her up, turning the chestpiece around over and over again to switch from diaphragm to bell, hearing that satisfying click each time.  "She doubles as a fidget toy, I see," she said.  "Oh what's that?" I had to follow her gaze because I was staring at her chest (not her breasts--give me some credit) rising and falling and could barely think of anything else.  She picked up a pill bottle from the coffee table, one that I usually put away when someone is over out of an overabundance of caution. But I hadn't realized we were both coming back here tonight.  "Spiro?" she asked.  "I used to take that, like in my 20s when my acne was a lot worse.  What do you take it for?" she asked innocently.

I looked up at her, struck dumb and wordless.  We both stared in silence for a few seconds too long, and that was when it dawned on me.  Elena, she doesn't know, you moron.  You're about to ask her to do something intimate and she doesn't know.  Does it matter?  Maybe, maybe not.  I sighed.  This was not the way I wanted her to find out.  What if she changed her mind, decided I'm not one of her girl friends after all?  What if she declared this some kind of "trick"?  What if she got mad, felt betrayed, and blabbed all over social media?  What if it got out at work?  This wasn't something to play with, I realized, and it made me feel like I was suffocating suddenly, imagining all the worst case scenarios. They flicked through my brain rapidly, like someone pressing the lever on one of those retro viewfinders at lightning speed, taking in all of the little thumbnails in a blur.  I gasped and then deliberately began to breathe in and out very slowly and evenly.  I grabbed the arm of the couch as if I was falling.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry.  You don't have to answer that.  It's none of my business," she insisted apologetically.  I could tell she was uncomfortable.  I had made her uncomfortable.  But it didn't feel like there was any escaping it now.  The mood had changed dramatically, all thanks to my reaction to her question, and as much as I yearned for her to listen to my heart and had pictured it many times in the last few months, it was pounding because I was terrified.  She put Alex down on the couch, where Mollie reached over to lick her eartips, and took my hand.  "What's wrong?" she whispered.

I looked up at her and it felt like someone else's voice when I choked out, "I'm trans."  Her brow furrowed.  When she didn't respond right away, I added, in a whispered rush, "I grew up a boy.  I mean I'm not one.  I never was.  I thought you knew.  That's what the prescription is for."  I exhaled loudly, then realized I'd been staring at the floor and not facing Tori.  She let my hand go, almost in slow-motion, and she looked at my body as though she was seeing it for the first time.  Oh god, I winced.  Please don't look for masculine things.  

"I'm such an idiot," she finally said, almost inaudibly.  I stared in horror as she said,  "Why didn't I know?!?"  

I felt my mouth go dry.  My voice was hoarse.  "It's not like I wanted everyone to know," I said.  "It's not like I want to lose my job."

"Oh, Elena!" she exclaimed.  "You weren't thinking it would make a difference, were you?"  When I didn't respond, she wrapped her arms tightly around me, and tears flooded my vision.  "You're one of my best friends.  You're my only friend who will go with me to karaoke, for one," she laughed.  "You're the only person besides my mom who listened to me carry on about my undying devotion to Amari, even after the third time she fucking cheated.  Not my finest moment, but that woman had a hold on me."  I inadvertently let out a snort, remembering her beautiful but treacherous ex. 

She kept one arm around me and reached again for Alex.  "She's probably got Mollie slobber on her now," I pointed out.

"Ha, I'm not worried about it," Tori said.  I watched her insert the ear tips, thinking she had a 50/50 chance of putting them in correctly, and she managed it.  There was something transformative about her wearing the binaurals, and it dried my tears to see it.  She was only about ten years my senior, but in that moment I felt like the child I was always meant to be--one who was free to play how I wanted, with whatever toys I wanted, and just be who I was without being called names I didn't even understand.  She was the older, wiser one who could really see me.  I was safe.  She unfastened just the top button of my shirt and I looked at her face as I could feel the coolness of the metal circle on my skin.

A minute passed, then another, and they were brief but filled with knowing that she could hear me so well.  "That's so cool," she said softly.  "It was fast at first and now it's slow and steady.  I kind of feel like...I know you in a new way," she smiled and looked at my face before looking back down at the instrument.  I felt so happy I thought I could cry again.  She moved the chestpiece around--left and right and center, then between my breasts.  "It sounds different in different areas," she observed.  "Like, the first sound is louder in some places and the second is louder in others."

"You're listening near a different valve each time," I whispered, thrilled that she heard those nuances that most ordinary people don't seem attuned to.  She nodded, the look on her face one of wonder.  I breathed along with her for another few minutes while she listened, and it felt like the sort of connection I only dreamed of feeling, knowing that most people don't "get" this.  I felt almost reborn, and completely satiated. 

When it was my turn to listen, I tried to push past my reservations and self-doubt.  "Is it ok if I put this under your shirt?" I asked tentatively, pointing while holding the chestpiece.  

"Girl, yes!" she practically sputtered.  "After all the poking around I just did?  It's only fair," she laughed.

Mollie jumped up to grab and lick my hand as I moved to place the stethoscope on Tori's chest, and we both had to stop what we were doing to laugh.  When I slipped it underneath her blouse, the sound was clear and strong.  She watched my eyes as I breathed in several systoles and diastoles and it made her smile.  First, I listened for the semilunar valves--aortic and pulmonic, then, gaining confidence in what could have been an uncomfortable endeavor, moved downward to listen properly at the atrioventricular valves--tricuspid and mitral.  Tori leaned forward so I could easily access these different auscultation points.  I stayed at each one for awhile, trying to commit this sound to memory in case we never did this again.  When I was finished, she said, "Wow, that was kind of a vulnerable feeling but not in a bad way."

"You sounded so, so beautiful," I told her softly, and was pleased when that display of raw emotions didn't elicit a raised eyebrow.  This wasn't a night I'd forget anytime soon.

Thanks so much for reading! If you're able and would like to, click here to donate to the Trans Lifeline, a hotline that provides life-saving assistance to trans people, staffed by trans people.

[thelaurenshippen]

When you write your characters, do they have specific, locked-in physical appearances? Does that only come once you get the characters cast/does it match what the VAs look like irl? I was thinking about how, when I listen to TBS I picture the characters different than you probably do or how other listeners do.

For me, I usually only picture things like height/build and hair color/length, but even that is different from other interpretations I see in fanart. What’s it like to see fanart of characters who don’t have faces?

great question!!! no, absolutely not, pretty much never. I have a hard time coming up with character appearances even in books--I am just not a visual person! in writing prose, I of course do have to determine what they look like, but it's not usually the first thing that comes to mind.

when I wrote TBS, I had absolutely no thoughts about what the characters looked like beyond certain vibes (mark: handsome, agent green: beanpole, damien: exceptionally average, etc.) but that said, I'm not sure I necessarily picture every single character looking like their actor. and that's largely because we have so much incredible fanart for the show, that every time I see a new version of a character, I'm like "that's it!". so, to answer the last question in your ask, it RULES

but it's a little different depending on how the casting went. with the exception of Chloe and Sam, almost all the original roles in TBS (so, the first four seasons), were written without a specific actor in mind okay, I started to write a long paragraph about each of the characters and then realized it might be fun to go through the whole original cast and talk about how each actor ended up in that role--

(my god this got long I'M SO SORRY I feel like I've hijacked your really nice and straightforward question)

Sam - easy; she was written for me, she is me, and yet I never picture her looking like me

Chloe - I knew I wanted to get Anna to be a part of the show, so I wrote Chloe with her in mind. but I also don't really picture Chloe looking like her!

Dr. Bright - the hidden lore of TBS is that I thought about playing this role for about half a second, instead of playing Sam (thank GOD I wised up). I don't remember the thought process of casting Julia at all because I'm pretty sure I was just sitting in acting class one day as she was doing a scene and was like "oh, there she is"

Caleb - god, it's so weird to try and remember when these people were strangers to me - Briggon was so big-hearted in acting class, that I knew he'd bring so much to Caleb. but it was watching him do a gruffer scene in class that made me ask him - I wanted Caleb's big heart to make itself known more slowly. Briggon has an essence that I picture with Caleb, but I don't picture Briggon as Caleb, if that makes sense.

Adam - in lots of ways, Briggon cast Adam! he and Alex had been buds for ages and when I wrote the episode in which Adam first appears, I needed someone to do a few quick lines and Briggon suggested Alex. and that was supposed to be that - I had no plans to ever have Adam appear in the show again. but then, of course, we recorded with Alex and I simply had to make him a presence in the show. ditto here in terms of essence vs. appearance.

Damien - I remember the moment I (mentally) cast Charlie so vividly. I'd already shared the season 2 script where Damien first appears with Julia and she was very eager to know who I was going to cast - I think we were talking about it before class, because we both knew that we needed someone very specific and very good. and I'm like "idk! I haven't thought about it in depth yet!". and then Charlie was doing some scene or other in class and Julia and I literally leaned forward in our chairs so that we could look down the row at each other because we had the exact same thought at the exact same time. and we shared this look and that was that. I've never pictured Damien as looking like Charlie, because Charlie is way too good looking.

Mark - these next two were really hard to cast. mostly because I had such a specific idea in my head of a vocal tone/vibe, and I didn't know any actors who fit that perfectly. and it took several weeks of sunday classes with Andrew before I asked if he wanted to get coffee and talk about it. and it took that long because Andrew has this very annoying thing about him where he's literally so versatile and so grounded and real and fucking good in every role he does, that every time I'd watch him perform, all I could see is what he was doing in the moment and nothing else. I would get totally lost in what he was doing and, of course, it is that exact quality that makes him such a compelling Mark. I picture Andrew as Mark about...32% of the time.

Agent Green - an insurmountable task. no one in my acting class was right for it. no friends of friends were right for it and I asked around a lot, got sent a lot of voice memos. and then I was doing a short film with Anna and Ian was there - I'd met him once before when he was in a Rocky Horror production with Anna - and I really dug his energy. and he wasn't right at all for what I was imagining Agent Green to be, but I was like "you know what, I want to work with this actor, and it's one small-ish role in two episodes" and then we got Ian in with Julia and all of a sudden I was like "WELL I GUESS I HAVE TO WRITE A WHOLE AGENT GREEN STORYLINE NOW" (this has happened to me several times. goddamn actors). I think the Green in my head is like...the combination of Ian and his common fan art representation.

Wadsworth - I met Alex doing the same short film - she was in it and also doing fight choreographer and was just incredibly competent and cool. I knew I wanted Wadsworth to be someone who could really boss people around but, like.....in a hot way. it helped that Alex and Ian knew each other pretty well, because obviously that dynamic is central to both those characters. and I think, similarly, Wadsworth is half Alex, half fan art in my head

Frank - I hadn't really planned on bringing Frank into the show itself - kind of an Adam situation - but I saw Phillip do a very interesting intense scene in class and just....couldn't stop thinking about it. despite writing the role into the show more or less for Phillip, I don't really picture Frank as looking that much like him.

Rose - this one was pretty straightforward - I wrote Rose, thought through actresses I knew who had a particular energy and could also sing and Alana popped into my head right away! (the only other actress that came close was Helen, who plays Helen in TAMA which, as you can guess, was written for her. she's got an incredible singing voice like Alana does, but Alana was the better fit, and I got to have Helen villain it up, which was so fun, and have a fucked up thing with Wadsworth (Alex and Helen are irl besties)). but I don't picture Rose in any particular way, other than the cover art for SFP!

Charlie - I loved Ars Paradoxica, I loved Reyn in Ars Paradoxica, and it just felt right. I do think I picture Charlie as Reyn actually.

honorable mentions from the spin-offs:

Mags - I knew pretty much immediately that I wanted to get Bryce in the mix of TAMA and wrote Mags for her in the same way I wrote Chloe for Anna. Bryce and I met doing a production of Spring Awakening years and years previously (she was Martha, I was Wendla) and she's such a talent! I don't really picture Mags like Bryce though - I think I picture Mags as being much nerdier.

Beck - Jason "Marley" Beck has a very specific description in the books. he's a tall, hulking white guy with a buzz cut and a kind of frankenstein's monster energy to him. he's pale as shit. when I wrote him into TCT, I looked for actors like that (and found some truly great ones!) but I'd left the role open and when I heard Chris's audition I was like "welp. that's Beck. I guess Beck is going to be Black in podcast canon!" and that's what we did. podcast canon and book canon are technically two slightly different versions running on parallel tracks, and I wanted to go with the actor that I felt best fit the role, regardless of the fact that the book had already been published. so the image of Beck in my head is different for the book and the podcast.

Oliver - ah, Oliver. the surprising fan favorite. or, really, not that surprising, because I had the exact same reaction to Kristian when I first met him. he auditioned for a role in Passenger List and, while I was of course already a fan of his from Orphan Black, I was still shocked at just how much fun the audition was. and to be clear: auditions suck so so so so so bad. and for PL, they were full 6 hour days of watching actor after actor after actor and, well, it's my least favorite part of the process always. but for the, like, 5 minutes Kristian was in the room, I was having a genuinely good time. so of course we cast him and he was as lovely to direct as he'd been in his audition. when Caitlin came up with Oliver, I think we both had something very different in mind. but there was a mad scientist energy to him that made me think of Kristian so I pitched him to her and she liked the idea and the rest is history. and then, of course, he and Andrew's chemistry was a wild lovely surprise, so we brought him back. gun to my head, I could not tell you what I think Oliver looks like.

[misfitwashere]

February 3, 2025

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

FEB 3

LISTEN TO POST · 20:19

Over the weekend, Trump concluded that imposing the stupidest tariffs in history would distract the American press from reporting on an ongoing coup to overthrow constitutional order in the US.

Trump's plan worked.

He jingled some car keys and used a green laser to distract the short-attention-span journalists and lap-dog media owners from saying the most important and urgent thing out loud: The US Constitution is under assault and needs help from Congress, from the courts, and from the American people.

I will discuss the potentially ruinous tariffs below, but they are an afterthought if we hand over control of $3 trillion in tax revenue to a clueless billionaire and a handful of twenty-something software engineers who have hijacked the US Treasury. 

Musk and his street gang of Silicon Valley engineers have found a way to circumvent Congress, the president, and the executive branch by stealing the nation’s checkbook—and the media appears not to give a damn. In close second place in the “What? Me worry?” Olympics are our representatives in Congress.

Trust me, I am gravely concerned about the stability of financial markets on Monday as the world wakes up to a global trade war. But only Donald Trump could think that tanking the world economy is a good cover for a coup against the US Constitution.

Candidly, I feel like I am caught in the Hitchcock’s movie “Gaslight,” in which those of us raising the alarm about Musk’s putsch are viewed as suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome. It is not enough for the media to report on the various and sundry ways that Trump and Musk are undermining constitutional order. Those disparate elements are part of an overarching plan laid out in Project 2025 to overthrow the “administrative state.” The first step in that plan necessarily involves circumventing and suspending the Constitution—which is happening at a breakneck speed.

What is most appalling is that Musk is brazenly publicizing his overthrow of the Constitution in real time on Twitter and the media still cannot rouse themselves to exhibit a modicum of concern about the threat of a coup, let alone outrage.

Here is the most important development: Over the weekend, Musk posted on Twitter that his DOGE team was “rapidly shutting down payments to federal contractors.” See Bloomberg, Musk Says DOGE Is Halting Treasury Payments to US Contractors.

Musk included screenshots of information that appeared to be taken from the US Treasury payments system. The payments were to a Lutheran charity with a federal contract for the resettlement of refugees admitted in accordance with US law. (The payments were posted by Michael Flynn on Twitter, and retweeted by Musk.)

Musk wrote on Twitter that “The corruption and waste are being rooted out in real-time,” saying that DOGE is “rapidly shutting down” payments to a Lutheran charity. (See Bloomberg article, above.)

To be clear, Musk has no authority to decide that congressionally appropriated funds constitute “corruption and waste.” If corruption and waste exist, there is an entire federal system designed to identify, stop, and punish those involved. But simply unilaterally declaring that appropriations will be canceled on the whim of one person who is not involved in the appropriations process is the very definition of a coup.

The fact that Musk retweeted information that appeared to be from the US Treasury payments system is deeply troubling. If that information was obtained by illegally downloading protected information from government servers, multiple felonies were committed as part of a conspiracy against the United States.

Worse, the seizure of the US payments system by rogue actors will likely lead to a downgrading of the US credit rating.

If the US cannot be trusted to pay debts of the US that were validly incurred pursuant to congressional appropriation, no outside contractor should do business with the US.

The Lutheran charity in question has incurred debts—payroll, purchases of goods, rent—all pursuant to a federal contract to resettle refugees. Musk has decided resettlement services are “fraudulent” or “wasteful” and claims to be “rapidly shutting down payments” to contractors like the Lutheran charity.

I have drifted into too much detail, so let me reiterate the most important point: Neither Musk nor Trump have the authority to override congressional appropriations. Doing so violates Article I of the Constitution and the Impoundment Act of 1974. These events do not suggest a good faith dispute over the interpretation or application of the Constitution. They are a premeditated, deliberate attempt to overthrow the Constitution.

Another egregious example occurred over the weekend. USAID is a congressionally created agency within the executive branch that distributes foreign aid for humanitarian purposes across the globe. The funds distributed by USAID are appropriated by Congress by duly enacted law.

Musk and Trump appeared to have effectuated a hostile takeover and dissolution of USAID. Over the weekend, the Musk street gang of engineers tried to gain access to USAID computers. The managers at USAID refused on the grounds that the Musk Street gang members were not authorized to access the systems. In short order, those USAID managers were put on leave—and Musk gained access to the USAID computers. Shortly thereafter, the USAID website went dark. Check it out for yourself: www.usaid.gov.

See generally, ABC News, Turmoil inside USAID: DOGE reps take over offices, senior officials placed on leave.

Shortly after Musk engineered the beer-hall putsch against USAID, he posted on Twitter:

"USAID is a criminal organization. Time for it to die.”

If USAID is shuttered, it will not only be the agency that dies. As noted in the NYTimes,

In famine-stricken Sudan, soup kitchens that feed hundreds of thousands of civilians trapped in a war zone have shut down. In Thailand, war refugees with life-threatening diseases have been turned away by hospitals and carted off on makeshift stretchers. In Ukraine, residents on the frontline of the war with Russia may be going without firewood in the middle of winter. Some of the world’s most vulnerable populations are already feeling President Trump’s sudden cutoff of billions of dollars in American aid that helps fend off starvation, treats diseases and provides shelter for the displaced.

Like congressional appropriations, neither Musk nor Trump have the authority to unilaterally shut down USAID or impound its funding. See Just Security, Can the President Dissolve USAID by Executive Order? Spoiler alert: The answer is “No.”

Providing US humanitarian aid is justified because it is morally right. But it also serves US strategic purposes by building alliances across the globe. If the US ceases humanitarian aid in Africa, China will fill the void in one way or another, including military aid and economic investment. Trump and Musk are burning bridges that connect the US to the world.

The point is that the unfolding coup is concentrating the wealth and influence of the US in two ignorant narcissists who care about only themselves. That is a recipe for disaster.

We must keep hammering our representatives in Congress to rise to the moment. Their muted, business-as-usual approach to date is unacceptable. If you are looking for immediate steps to take, follow Jessica Craven on Chop Wood Carry Water, and become involved in Indivisible, Swing Left, and other grassroots movements. Or support Democracy Forward, Center for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW), the Brennan Center for Justice, Lawyers Defending American Democracy, Common Cause, the ACLU, and other justice organizations.

And to the leaders of grassroots organizations and members of Congress: The American people are primed to take action. Do not let the moment pass. Rally us, direct us, support us, and lead us. We will follow.

Oh, and in case members of Congress are wondering, now is the absolute worst time to ask us to “Please chip in $5.00 so I can fight for democracy.” Stop trying to fundraise off a crisis. Take care of the crisis and worry about the fundraising later.

[myloveforhergoeson]

hii <3 i'm hijacking @selangkir 's girl time rush au for my own silly purposes <3 i tried to capture your unique voice from your girl time rush chapters. hopefully you don't mind!!

here's 'espresso' a scene inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name! if we can imagine songwriter james could write such a masterpiece...

James shouldn’t have written the song. 

He knew the second he penned the lyrics it would only cause trouble for the girls, yet at the same time, he didn’t care. Why should he have to quell his feelings to make the songs he wrote more palatable for his friends? Songwriting was all about expression, passion even, and was one of the only chances he got to work through the garbled mess of his mind. 

So yeah. Maybe the song he’d penned was a bit too suggestive. In his defense though, it was never supposed to see the light of day. It’s not really his fault that Griffin had requested a change-up for the band’s newest single; Something “Hot and sizzling! I want to grill a hot dog on it,” the CEO had declared, and Gustavo looked across his office as though he was going to leap out from behind his desk strangle the white-haired man. “Something to put the Pussycat Dolls to shame!” 

That, James figured, was a bit much, because who could ever put Nicole Scherzinger to shame? 

And the answer, apparently, was him, and the song he’d written after losing far too much sleep thinking about one of the girls he worked for. But again, not his fault, because again, the song was never supposed to leave the pages of his book and enter the real world. As were most of the other various musings and journal entries he wrote in there, these days practically orbiting the idea of being with Roxanne after their time at the school dance together like she was the central star of his ever-expanding universe of stupid, sappy, teenage feelings. 

The only blame he could take was leaving his journal open for all of sixty seconds while he ran to the bathroom during his writing session with Gustavo last week. Curse his handwriting for being so perfect and large, the man could read it from the other side of the table they were both working at. When James finally returned, to his horror, Gustavo had the pages spread open on the piano’s music desk, trying to work out the perfect melody for the lyrics his assistant had written. 

When they pitched the song, Kendall had, expectedly, thrown a fit. 

Despite all of their time together as a girl band, she was still having a bit of trouble understanding the market strategy of appealing to an audience.

“You want us to sing this?” She’d practically shrieked in horror, crinkling the pages of the lyric sheets so tightly that James feared they might crumble into dust and leak out between her fingers. “It’s so- so-”

“...Empowering,” Roxy finished for her, eyes trained on the pages she held, jumping from one line to the next as she took his writing in. “Look here, Kendall,” she held out a sheet and pointed out a set of lyrics. “It’s all about girl power, don’t you think?”

Her song, he told himself, finding it hard to take his eyes off Roxy while she continued to read over it. His stomach did a few somersaults when she looked over to Gustavo, an award-winning smile breaking out on her face. And she loves it. 

“Evocative is the word I’d use,” Chimed in Logan, though she didn’t seem to share the blonde’s vitriol for the song she’d been handed. “Definitely… Different but I’m down to give it a try. We can treat it like an experiment - Is this type of song better for a girl band or should we keep sticking to our current musical strategy?” 

“I love trying new things!” Carlota agreed, bouncing up and down on her heels to show her approval, long brown curls following suit. “This song is so upbeat and dancey; When can we get in the studio?” 

James' stomach turned again, still very obviously finding himself lost in his head as he mooned over the girl in front of him, and he knew that Kendall’s eyes were boring holes into his skull. Even with the green light from her bandmates, she still wasn’t on board.

“I didn’t join this band to be evocative, or empowered, or whatever!” The frontwoman huffed, “We’re field hockey players, not seductresses!” 

For a moment, he swore Roxy flinched a bit at Kendall’s words, but Kelly cut him off, clearing her throat before he was able to decipher just what about that statement she took issue with.

Straightening out the lyric and music sheets she was holding by tapping them on Gustavo’s desk a few times, Kelly threw a pleading glance at the band before handing the pages off to their boss. 

“Look, this is what Griffin wants. If you like having a career here, we need to do as he says,” She pleaded. “He’s already given his okay for this one; We’ve got a massive recording and music video budget that expires in a few days.” 

Being on the administrative side of things, James had gained a new appreciation for just how much work writing, recording, marketing, and all that corporate jazz was. Big Time Rush hadn’t been granted a major opportunity like this yet, despite Griffin’s backing; The girls had been too busy settling into their new home and work life and Roxy, on top of all of that, had been nursing a broken heart. 

James was too, slightly, if he was even allowed to call whatever he and Dak had breakable.

Could this song take some of that pain away? He asked himself, clutching the black leatherbound book to his chest. His gaze flickered down at the floor, hoping so. The thought of her still being miserable over that blood-sucking asshat wasn’t sitting well with him… So much so that he was literally losing sleep over it, and Kendall be dammed, writing blatantly suggestive songs about it.

He’d certainly never treat her like Dak had; If she read over the lyrics of the song again, she should realize that. 

“Sooo,” Gustavo slapped his hands on his desk, pushing himself out of his chair, and pointed to the door, “Dawgs, booth, now!” 

Not so subtly growling in displeasure, the blonde stalked out of the room, Logan and Carlota following, as they headed toward the recording room. 

Still standing in place and reading the sheets over again, James stepped around Roxy to get to the door, before she reached out and caught his arm. 

“James, this one’s incredible, really,” She told him, the same dazzling smile on her face from before, and he swore his brain stopped working as all of his focus jumped to where her soft fingers curled around his bicep. “Not that the rest of them weren’t or anything-”

“No problem,” the boy managed, swallowing a lump in his throat that hadn’t been there a moment ago while he fixated on the bright red polish of her nails. “It’s been stuck in my head for a while, I guess.”

When Roxy let him go, he was steps away from entering a period of mourning. “Thank you. For this one, and all the others. I know songwriting wasn’t truly your dream,” Her smile flickered. “Just… Thank you.”

***

By now, James was still 50/50 on whether he should have written the song or not. 

One month in L.A. and he’d finally started to get through to Kendall, as much as one could get through to a girl like that, and all it took was one song to unravel it all. 

She’d been stomping around Rocque Records all day, extra vocal about her hatred of their new song, even though Gustavo had granted her the line with “fuck” in it. James had been hoping that, and a promise she’d get to dance without a partner in the music video, would be enough for her to stop throwing her venom his way, but nothing seemed to make the girl feel any better. 

On the other hand, the other three girls seemed to be having a good time. This song was an interesting, but welcome change to their discography, and the three of them were giving everything new hurling their way their best shot. Recording the song went off without a hitch, mostly, if one didn’t count Kendall’s aggressiveness on the swear word she was repeating even outside of the booth, and the choreographed routine Mr. X had whipped up for the video shoot was nothing less than exceptional. 

With the master copy of the song complete, all that was left to do was film the music video the next morning, and this whole nightmare would finally be over. James promised himself the next song he wrote would be back to what the girls were used to; Airing out his private thoughts to the world didn’t seem to be giving the best results. 

Except for the times Roxy threw a compliment his way or asked him if he wanted a hand on the administrative side. Or sang the words to his song completely unaware of the images that ran through his mind when he’d written it. Or… just spoke to him. 

Ugh, this was getting embarrassing. He should’ve just asked her out on a real date when he’d thought of it last week at the dance. 

But songwriting was easier because there was no way she’d reject a song. (Not that she’d reject him either, of course, because who in their right mind would reject James Diamond?) 

Finally reaching the end of the giant stack of paperwork Gustavo and Kelly had him double-check and file away in her office for the expense report on tomorrow’s video equipment, location, and staff, James rubbed his tired eyes before checking his phone to see what time it was. 

As if the dark sky outside wasn’t enough of an indicator, even against the bright LED lights of the city around him, it was far later than he’d meant to stay. No doubt the girls were already back home enjoying one of Mrs. Knight’s homecooked meals and flipping on whatever hockey game they could find. 

Get out of your head, Diamond! He chastised himself, She’s just Roxy.

Whatever that meant, he repeated to himself a few more times before pulling his small black backpack over his shoulder and locking up Kelly’s office for the night. 

Checking his ScuttleButter as he strolled down the hallway to the elevator, James turned the sharp corner just as he watched an adorable video of two puppies playing with one another loop around to begin again when he accidentally collided with someone else. 

“Shit!” She hissed, just as his phone hit the ground, and pulled her hands up to her face to cover her presumably hurt nose. 

“Rox?” The boy asked, more shocked that she was still at work rather than worried about his expensive electronic that may or may not be completely shattered on the floor beside him. 

As she sucked in a few sharp breaths, the girl nodded, hands obscuring her voice as she explained, “I was just coming to see if you were still here. It’s late.” 

Roxy said it more like a concern than an observation. That was something he shouldn’t have read into, but did regardless. “Yeah, I just finished my stuff for the night. Are the other girls still here?”

Finally, her hands lowered, and thank God her nose wasn’t bleeding because James didn’t know what he’d do if it was. “Oh, um, no. They’re not.”

It wasn’t hard to ignore her soft tone and the way she glanced to her right as if the Rocque Records lounge was suddenly very, very interesting to her. 

“Is everything okay?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, because clearly, she was seeking him out for a reason. Justifying a once over to make sure she was physically in good shape, he ran his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and took note that she was still in her rehearsal outfit for the video tomorrow. 

High, high heels, a tight blue dress, and dozens of dangly bracelets adorned her. Certainly, not the usual, more eclectic style she’d choose for herself, but one he thought suited her nonetheless. 

“Yes,” She assured him, nodding her head. Watching her throat work once, then twice, James patiently waited for her to continue. “I think I-” Cutting herself off, she ran one hand to her wrist twisting a few of the bracelets around before another deep breath. “I’m having trouble getting my dance routine down for the video tomorrow and the girls didn’t want to miss tonight’s game and my partner said he had to head home too because it’s so late.”

Stopping again, but still running her hand over the jewelry, James picked up on the hint of anxiety in her voice. 

“That’s to say that I… need some help in the studio. And if you want to go home that’s fine too! It’s just… you sat in on practice earlier and you’re a natural-born performer and-”

At this point she was panicking, her shaky breaths beginning to affect the words she was trying to get out. 

“Woah! Woah!” He tried to assure her, going against the alarm bells going off in his brain not to touch her as he reached out two steadying hands to her shoulder. James’ fingertips buzzed. “It’s alright, Roxy. I can stay I don’t mind.”

While his words didn’t stop her from freaking out, he certainly hoped it would help at least relieve some of her worry. However, he’d be lying if he said seeing her so anxious didn’t feel like a bomb detonating inside his chest. 

Gently, one of her shaking hands tapped his, before she grabbed his wrist and headed for Studio A. 

***

Watching Roxy do her solo part of the dance routine, James determined he should have written the song sooner. 

Even if she stumbled over some of her steps, to say that she looked like an absolute dream was an understatement. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor, her delicate voice as she practiced her lyrics, and the frantic roaring of blood rushing through James’ ears only added to the scene unfolding in front of him, mouth going dry as he let her show him just what she had been practicing all day. 

In his opinion, the routine wasn’t long enough, and the second she pressed the remote in her hand to stop the music coming through the stereo and take a breath, he needed to take a few moments to focus on literally anything but the girl in front of him. 

Who’s playing tonight? Maple Leafs and the Flyers… Starting lineup: Beauchemin, Kessel, Orr, Wallin…

He wasn’t able to get much farther before she asked, “What do you think? Was I good enough?” 

That question made James’ heart wrench, words flying into his left ear, rattling around his brain, before shooting out the right. 

“Of course you were,” He told her, wringing his hands together so he didn’t reach out and touch her again, attempting to imbue his words with as much care as he could. “You’re one of the best pop stars of our generation, Roxy - More than good, great even.”

From the center of the studio, she scoffed like she didn’t believe him. She didn’t even know that if given the chance, he was pretty sure he could go on and on about her passion, dedication, drive… Everything about her was more than just good. 

“Gustavo said I needed more practice earlier, but I think that’s the best it’s going to get. What I’m really struggling with is the partner portion.”

The boy took that as a sign to drop his bag and join her where she stood, watching as the large mirrors on the studio walls reflected his actions. “Right… Any part in particular?”

From sitting in the studio with the girls and their dance partners all day, handing out water and towels when necessary, from what he recalled, the routine wasn’t that complicated. That didn’t mean, however, that Roxy was struggling any less. 

“I’ve got the steps down in my head, it’s just a matter of actually being able to land them in time. It’s a long dance and I’m not as… athletic as Kendall, Logan, and Carlota are. So if we could run it a few times, I’d appreciate it.” 

Roxy didn’t give James any time to respond before she stepped in front of him, grabbed his hands, and drew them to her hips, causing him to stumble forward until they were practically flush against each other. Before she even brought her hands around his neck and started the track, he’d recited the first ten dead presidents in his head. 

As far as the routine went, James didn’t have that many steps to memorize from earlier; The girls were more dancing on their partners than dancing with them. 

Incredibly Pussycat Dolls? Absolutely. 

Did that mean he was enjoying it? Obviously. But the thought of her dancing with another guy on the video set dampened any kind of good mood he could allow himself to be in. It hadn’t been fun today and it certainly wouldn’t be fun tomorrow. 

About halfway through the duo portion, Roxy had taken a misstep and released a loud curse under her breath, pausing the track and allowing herself time to reset. Stepping out of his grasp, she practiced the move a few more times off to the side until she was satisfied and the routine began again. 

What was it about seeing her work so hard to reach her goals that got to him? James was in the presidential thirties now and would probably have to move on to historical wars in a moment. 

Roxy must have sensed some sort of shift in his mood, or maybe she just found the situation as a whole awkward, but as she worked out the next few steps and led him to the right of the room, she asked between breaths, “How’d you come up with this one?” 

He hoped she’d figure his cheeks turned bright red from all the dancing, but she was too busy looking down to make sure her footwork was correct as she silently counted the beat. 

“Uh,” He faltered, suddenly feeling his hands burning into her sides, moving easily with her as she rolled her hips to the music. “Dunno. I was just formulating a story.”

A few more silent counts and she finally replied, “No one special keeping you up all hours of the night then?” 

Was he crazy? Was Roxy flirting with him right now? Or was she just interested in how he’d written the song? 

James audibly gulped, but it was swallowed up by the thumping baseline, “Nope.” 

Good save, Diamond.

Reaching the end of the song and listening to the track fade out, Roxy paused, hands still laced around the back of his neck as she tried to regulate her breathing.

“Too bad. I think it’d be sweet if someone was thinking about me all the time,” was her nonchalant response, though she let him go and walked back to the center of the room, suggesting she was ready for another go at the routine. “So much so they couldn’t sleep? God, that’d be something.”

“Yeah?” He said a bit too quickly, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he’d speed-walked over to where she was just because he hated the thought of any distance between them. 

Not waiting for her to guide his movements this time, his hands instinctively reached out for her hips; So natural, so easy, so right. At contact, she let out an unexpected squeak, one hand flying to her mouth to try and make it look like she was coughing instead. 

No… I’m crazy. You’re crazy, James!

“Y-yeah, totally,” Roxy affirmed, hitting play on the remote to run the routine again. 

There was no talking this time, just full, clean choreography; Video-worthy if James did say so himself, who cares what Gustavo might think tomorrow. He was too hard on the girls anyway. 

Roxy’s words replayed in James’ head again and again, and for a new run-through of the routine, he debated telling her the song was about her before another round came and he convinced himself that was a terrible idea.

[defiantcurse]

just the beginning of something i wrote! i also don’t know if it’s going to break it on its own or if i have to put stuff under the break anyway college au, literature student!dazai & skater!chuuya

His day started like any other, at 11am oversleeping and nearly missing his bus to university for what was probably the dozenth time already that semester. Dazai took a calculated risk by staying up all night to finish his paper but he was never one for mathematics. He could answer the problems but never had the ability to explain how he got his answers. He thanked his lucky stars that he'd already earned his math credits.

It's at this point that he realized he forgot to grab coffee before hopping on the bus and he was going to have to buy an energy drink on campus. He wondered if Kunikida would chastise him about it again or if he could get away with it.

Hopping off the bus he hurried along the sidewalks, not ready for his second semester midterms which were rapidly approaching. It was crunch time and that's why he'd been up so late anyway. Editing his rough draft for a midterm paper.

Fatigue started washing over him as he entered the campus building, beelining for the hallway with the vending machines where it appeared someone was trying to hijack the machine. The redhead stood little more than five feet tall and had his little arm halfway up the machine to get the can that was stuck. Dazai couldn't help the small snicker at the other man's predicament. He also ignored the part of him that admitted he'd do the same thing to get his hands on caffeine.

"Oh sure laugh at me now asshole, what about the drink you came to get for yourself? You can't get it out if this one's stuck," the shrimp said from where he was crouched on the floor.

Dazai leaned in and said, "Well if you would be so nice as to move out of the way I can solve both of our problems."

The man to his credit seemed a little sheepish as he extracted his arm from the vending machine, standing up and stepping back to allow Dazai access. Dazai then grips the top of the vending machine with one hand, the other on the side of it as he swings his hip out and into the machine, successfully dislodging the can inside. Dazai reached down and grabbed the soda, handing it to the surprised redhead.

"See? Good things come to those who wait Chibi,"He said with a shit eating grin.

"Excuse me Chibi? What kind of nickname is that for someone you just met??" The redhead said indignantly.

Dazai puts a hand out and squishes the air atop the other man's head and said, "You're chibi sized! Of course I'm going to call you Chibi!"

"Well if you had cared to ask my NAME is Chuuya, call me that instead. Anything but Chibi."

"Chuuuya~" Dazai rolled his name over his lips like smoke from a dragon's maw, a notable singsong effect to the name. "What a fitting name."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chuuya said defiantly, already popping off again.

Dazai's watch buzzed then, letting him know he only had five minutes to make it to class.

"Unfortunately for you, slug, I've got class, catch you later!"

Chuuya's indignant shout of "SLUG?" follows behind him as he runs to not be late to class. As he sits in his seat he realizes he never got caffeine and that this was going to be a long morning in lab with Kunikida.

[bigbigshot]

So. There's a Deltarune theory that's been rotating around my mind ever since the first chapter came out, but I never wrote it down- until now!

It has to do with the intro of the game. For starters, here's a refresher:

The relevant part I'll be talking about is from 3:55 to the end. After all the effort you put into creating your vessel, it is discarded, and you wake up as Kris. There's a lot to be said and theorized about this moment, but the thing that's stuck out to me for a long time is that it reminded me of another game's intro:

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Gates to Infinity

Go ahead and take a peek at it's intro. (Most relevant part is till 1:30 in, though I'd recommend watching till about 5 minutes in for the full effect)

You may notice some slight similarities between the two intros, but the most interesting part about it doesn't get revealed until later in the story. Obvious spoiler warning is obvious, proceed with caution!

So, throughout the first half of the game, the MC is looking for Muuna in order to rescue her from Hydreigon. She reaches out psychically a few times until you finally track her down... and then this happens.

Turns out it was a trap the whole time, and Muuna is actually trying to take you down.

It is then revealed that Hydreigon was the one calling out to you, as they are not actually a Pokemon, but a representation of life in the form of one. Their plea for help saving the world was hijacked by Munna, since she is on the side of destroying everything. ...Yeah, the story of this game is surprisingly complicated. I've left out a lot of details, so there's plenty more to discover if you wish to play the game.

If you're like me, you didn't really think much of the sudden cut during the intro, assuming it was just for dramatic effect. But nope, it was actually a huge plot point.

And now suddenly, this cut here is so much more suspicious. With the whole background and vessel disappearing, it really seems like the player got disconnected by some outside force (Heck, one of the first lines is "Are we connected?"!). The speaking voice also changes in style from probably-Gaster to something else entirely.

Further than that, there's also a second suspicious cut. The interrupting voice doesn't finish telling you what your name is, Toriel does. Our name being Kris is only an inference, not a stated fact. The names of Chara and Frisk were a twist back in Undertale, so there's merit for this being a twist's setup as well. In Gates to Infinity, Muuna's call for help seems like a natural continuation of Hydreigon sentence, but it's a lie. This could be the same in Deltarune, for both cuts.

Who interrupted probably-Gaster, what our name actually is, and what any of this really means? No clue. But I think there's a real good chance that at least part of this theory is true. We'll just have to wait and see for any more hints.

[crydentialzz]

PART 2 HERE hi hii hello!! twiddlefinger has been rolling around in my nbrain like marblses soo have my take on the disease :3 - oh also if u like this consider taking a peek at my fan species i made for the nuggets of the max design pro universe here - idrk what warnings specifically would fit this since this is more like a breakdown of the virus itself, but just be warned there are itty bitty mentions of blood. lmk some suggestions for the warnings tho, would b very helpful ^w^ - (i based this off of being a opposite (kindof) to hanahaki disease since they r both emotion related and hanahaki is probably one of the most popular forms of "illness-due-to-feelings" which i thought was cool. oh also b aware that this is all copy-pasted from a doc i wrote up at infrequent times at night when motivation was high. i went through the entire thing and made sure it was coherent, but i doubt i caught all of it so apologies in advance for any parts that may be weirdly written or phrased, feel free to ask questions to clear stuff up. if u guys like it ill probably post more. this in parts since its so long, this 1 is the introduction and first 2 stages of the illness. aaaaanyways enjoy!!!!)

Inquies cupidinem or it's nickname “Twiddlefinger” is a parasitic disease that hijacks the dopamine system in the brain that activates when in love, causing an intense obsessive drive to keep their partner with them by any means.

Instead of illness being borne of unrequited feelings / love, Inquies cupidinem is from requited feelings and its connections to obsession, greed and or desire for a partner (these all vary in intensity). It can also be created from requited yet repressed feelings yet to be expressed to an established partner (or partners), or even from an intense fear of their partner leaving.

The disease manifests itself as a type of parasite, often located in the Jugular Vein or hidden in the arteries and veins in the lungs, and appear as black, oily growths. Its placement in veins and blood vessels is due to the disease hiding in blood cells to travel around the body and infect their host fully.

Stage 1 The disease will start out small. Little things like a temporary sore throat, cough, lower / higher body temperature, and will last a few days (3-5 days). Slowly as the illness grows, the host’s physical appearance may begin to change in a variety of ways, most notably being thinning fur around a certain region or fur patterns changing color to become muddier / darker; for those with dark fur this will be the opposite, patterns will become lighter in color / washed out. This begins about 2-5 weeks into having the previous infrequent symptoms, mental health is stable, but the patient may experience moments of memory loss, fuzziness / brain fog or deja-vu. The infected may also start to have odd behavior around their partner such as stealing / hoarding items owned by their partner or asking excessive questions about things their partner likes (these actions all act towards getting closer to their lover which temporarily satiates any need for their partner the patient may experience early on). Stage 2

Thus begins the second stage in which the internal decay rapidly increases. The body is stuck in an internal fight, the physical constantly decaying and losing mass while the infection wants to keep growing, increasing mass and keeping the body alive with its growth and amplification of muscles (this overall leads to odd looking body variations, oftentimes looking somewhat muscular and dangerously thin at the same time). The host will get strong instincts / urges to keep their partner close, even escalating into violent overreactions when said partner interacts with others. This is controllable for the most part, but the feelings will only grow stronger the longer they are unaddressed or ignored. The sickness increases, now comparable to an elevated high fever; constant shaking, occasional dry heaving / throwing up large amounts of infected blood, high irritability and intense muscle spasms most commonly occurring in the hands and fingers (the brain will send signals to grab their partner and keep them close, think something similar to alien hand syndrome but a little more controllable as this command can be averted with other stimuli). In terms of physical symptoms, the thinning fur will have targeted one area at this point, covering it in the oily substance of the infection. The muscle and tissue underneath may begin to rot away as well, leaving exposed bone (if it doesnt rot immediately, it at least is very loose, barely connected to the host and has high chances of simply tearing away if injured or touched too much). This stage is usually where contact with the patient will be limited as, against their instinct and drive to be around their partner, they will most likely try and lock themselves away from the public in fear of harming loved ones, or depending on the patient's situation will spend less time around family / their partner often opting to cover the area temporarily and distract themself. At this point mentally, brain fog has increased; the patient will find it difficult to get their mind off of their partner as they slowly grow more obsessive, even revealing some OCD symptoms (notably “Pure-O”, “Real Events OCD” and “Relationship OCD” mix). Symptoms such as repetitive rituals, replaying events over and over / flashbacks, intense overwhelming feelings of shame / guilt / fear / embarrassment, worrying that actions have caused others harm, thinking they dont deserve their partner (or idolizing / putting their partner on a pedestal), and much more. The infected will also often experience Hyperthyroidism + Polyphagia symptoms as the obsession grows from just a want to a physical (carnal) need. This will occur directly after or in the middle of the 2-5 week time-frame for the second stage is up as the disease quickens its spread.