#today it was like 60 degrees

[moonkhao]

hi.

[theworstcreature]

The fact that most people don’t immediately open the windows and fuck around outside the mere MOMENT it gets above like 55°F outside during winter months is just so strange to me like???? Bestie do you NOT appreciate Mother Nature ending the cold ass misery called February via letting us see the sun and feel its warmth for the first time in a thousand year????

[veloriium]

caught myself laying like this i think im going to kill myself

[hellfireeddiemunson]

a bitch is in need of attention (i’m bitch)

[bucketnspade]

its gonna snow again and im not excited lol..

[the-dragonlich]

Girl help, my server job is making me hate people

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Month

Sorry for being not active this month as I had some health problems. I'll start posting weekly now :) Meanwhile here's some good from last month

1. Widow donates $1 billion to medical school, giving free tuition forever

Ruth Gottesman surprised by her late husband's $1 billion in Berkshire stock, decides to donate it in full to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx, New York City's poorest borough. The donation is intended to cover students' tuition indefinitely, ensuring access to medical education for generations.

A video capturing students' emotional reactions to the news, cheering and crying, circulated after the announcement, highlighting the profound impact of the donation on the medical school community.

2. Electric school buses outperform diesel in extreme cold

In Colorado's West Grand School District, electric school buses outperformed their diesel counterparts, particularly in the bitterly cold temperatures of towns like Kremmling, where morning temperatures can drop below -30 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite common concerns about reduced range in extreme weather, the electric buses maintained their battery charge even in these frigid conditions, providing reliable transportation for students.

This success has been welcomed by the school district, as diesel vehicles also face challenges in starting in Colorado's harsh winter weather.

3. Christian Bale unveils plans to build 12 foster homes in California

Christian Bale has led a tour round the new village in California where he plans to build 12 foster homes, as well as two studio flats to help children transition into independent living, and a 7,000 sq ft community centre.

The actor has spearheaded the building of a unique complex of facilities with the aim of keeping siblings in the foster care system together, and ideally under the same roof.

4. Average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome has increased from 25 years in 1983 to 60 years today

Today the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome is approximately 60 years.

As recently as 1983, the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome was 25 years. The dramatic increase to 60 years is largely due to the end of the inhumane practice of institutionalizing people with Down syndrome.

5. Greece legalises same-sex marriage

Greece has become the first Christian Orthodox-majority country to legalise same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples will now also be legally allowed to adopt children after Thursday's 176-76 vote in parliament.

Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis said the new law would "boldly abolish a serious inequality".

6. Massachusetts police K9 tracks scent for over 2 miles to find missing 12-year-old in freezing cold

A Massachusetts police K9 followed her nose to help find a 12-year-old who went missing in frigid temperatures last week, tracking the child’s scent for over two miles, authorities said.

K9 Biza, a female German shepherd, was called on to help after officers learned the child left their home at around 10:30 p.m. Wednesday and was last seen in the Pakachoag Hill area of Auburn, the Auburn Police Department said.

7. Good News for the Socially Anxious: People Like You a Lot More Than You Think They Do, New Research Confirms

The "Lake Wobegon effect" or "illusory superiority" phenomenon highlights people's tendency to overestimate their abilities, but recent research suggests that in social interactions, individuals often underestimate their likability and charm.

Studies indicate that people consistently fail to recognize signals of others' liking toward them, leading to a "liking gap" where individuals believe they are less likable than they actually are.

Techniques such as focusing more on others during conversations and genuinely expressing interest in them can help alleviate social anxiety by shifting the focus away from self-criticism. Ultimately, understanding that others may also experience similar anxieties can lead to a more relaxed and enjoyable social experience.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[sweet-as-kiwis]

I feel like I should be making a list of all the violations I’m seeing at work

[mvncesa]

it’s hasn’t snowed in two weeks & has been steady 45-55 degrees for at least a week but today mother nature gave us a shit ton of snow

[vriskarlmarx]

it kind of grinds my gears how much of the commemoration of the coup (both here in chile but also abroad and online) is centered around the figure of allende specifically. there is obviously an affection for him as a figure on the part of former UP militants and people who both benefitted from and generally believed in allende's project in the 60s through '73, and i don't really have a problem with that, but i think it's an issue when allendist nostalgia clouds the judgement of more serious political analysis and action.

like the very obvious thing that it obscures is that there were actually several thousands of victims of murder, forced disappearance, torture, exile, incarceration and sexual violence. to have public discourse and political discussion focus overwhelmingly on the murder of one person does not do justice to all those people, many of whom may have supported allende's government but whose political projects far exceeded his in terms of radicalism. the popular movement in chile in that time period included socialists, communists, miristas, lautaristas, anarchists, and people who were organized workers not affiliated with a political party, and not all of them were even affiliated with the UP, and all of them were targets of the dictatorship. it is erroneous in terms of historical analysis to flatten that plurality to just one person, when there was a huge and powerful popular movement that both backed and exceeded him.

relatedly, i think insisting on carrying out memory this way also treats 1973 as a definite ending. and it is the ending of the project of the UP, sure, but it is not the ending of liberatory aspirations in this territory. it didn't even end them for one single solitary minute. the movement that backed and exceeded allende was able to regroup and rearticulate into old and new organizations that resisted against the dictatorship, sure, but also openly fought for communism/socialism/anarchism (depending on the group) not just through '89, but also well into the 90s and into today. we are very much still here, and still being targeted by the state that cynical commemorates allende every year. pretending that this is all about him overlooks the people who have been killed at the hands of the state since the return of democracy, too, like alonso who was killed 3 days ago in this year's commemorative march, and claudia who was killed in the same circumstances 26 years ago.

the other thing is that allendist nostalgia is reformist in nature, so it's not surprising to see this kind of thing from reformists (though i still don't like it for the above reasons), but it's pretty surprising to see it from people who espouse revolutionary projects. with the utmost respect, this sort of nostalgia and capital-R romance that enshrines allende as some sort of tragic hero only lends credence to a failed reformist project. perhaps the big lesson to be learned from the UP project is that reformism in our political context is doomed to failure, which does not mean that what happened wasn't unjust and horrific, but it is what happened and if we are going to move forward with any degree of seriousness then we have to recognize it for what it was and learn from it.

[odessa-2]

HUBLANDER MELBOURNE ☀️

OK ladies, so I ended up going. Long story short, I was given a spare ticket and decided to seize the moment. It was stinking hot, and a terribly organised event (it was literally in a shed). Despite this, I am glad I did go. My long held observations/beliefs of Sam's character, who he really is as a man, and the fantasy man, single Sam push, were proven correct. I did get a photo with Sam, and I must confess he really is incredibly good-looking. Even better in the flesh. A doll. He's hyper vigilant, astutely aware of his surrounds (eyes darting everywhere) , very polite and gentlemanly and professional.

He looked tanned and fresh and endured hoards of horny grannies fawning over him for hours on end and was attentive to everyone. The organisers of the event stuck Sam, Duncan, Charles and John in a small tin shed that had no air con, that must've been about 50 degrees celsius inside ,where they stood and posed with frenzied women for over 3 hours. They looked visibly overheated (shame on the organisers). Sam didn't faulter. Polite to a tee.

Would you believe that Sam had to use the same toilets as the plebs?! Yep, you heard correctly. Shocking work by the organisers. I actually had to desperately pee at one point but waited until I saw Sam come out of the toilets. In-between panels, the actors were staying upstairs in the loft level, and I saw the uber eats delivery man run upstairs to bring them food. The organisers didn't even feed their guests!

Sam is Jamie to these women and he knows it. Starz knows it. I saw the crazed obsession with my own eyes. I saw how his people; his team have shaped him and moulded him(for his public persona) to appeal to these women and this fantasy notion. They want their Jamie. They want single Sam, and that's what they (starz) give them. There is no room for anything else but Single Sam. And Sam professionally obliges. What he puts out to the public at the conventions is scripted and measured. He is very guarded. I could see it unfold in front of me with great clarity. There were women there who didn't want him with Caitriona (they weren't interested in the Caitriona titbits Sam gave), 50 and 60 year old women who actually think they stand a chance. Tragic. Sam is gorgeous and charming and Starz has used that to sell. And quite frankly, after witnessing this display, I can see why he has a fascade going on. I can see why he would want the public completely removed from his personal life and family. I get it.

Another observation of mine, I know this goes without saying, but he is definitely not gay for those who are insistent. He gives off zero gay vibes. He is not effeminate in the slightest, and I found him to be quite more masculine than I'd imagined. He reads people well and can't keep still. What else can I tell you? He has nice skin, piercing blue eyes (like really crystal blue) and exceptionally tall. He does his job very well and has high emotional intelligence. Starz uses his good looks and they pimp him out to the fan base.

Now don't get me wrong, i met lots of lovely women there today who were sweet and kind and exited. But hearing women's conversations at the event; he really is their fantasy. They were squealing and many saying how they wished they could grab his bum or 💋 him. There's no room for Caitriona. Just fantasy Sam.

Odessa says hi Sam 👋...you were a real trooper.

I'll share some more titbits from the panel tomorrow when my splitting headache hopefully dissipates.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

With the Earth at its most degraded point in recorded history, and humans making insufficient efforts to prevent the destruction of ecosystems, a growing number of scientists, lawyers and activists are proposing a potential solution that challenges more than 350 years of global governance. 

The idea is to get countries and civil society to sign onto a declaration that recognizes Antarctica and its surrounding Southern Ocean as its own autonomous legal entity, similar to a sovereign country. Along with that status comes the right of Antarctica to participate in decision making that affects it, like the United Nations conferences on climate and biodiversity. 

On Thursday, advocates with the group Antarctic Rights unveiled a draft declaration that would do just that. The document also says the continent possesses inherent rights to exist and continue its natural cycles “free of human disruptions.” Thursday’s event took place on the sidelines of the 16th gathering of parties to the U.N. Convention of Biological Diversity being held in Colombia. 

Since 1959 the region has been governed by the Antarctic Treaty System, a Cold War-era pact designed to promote peace and scientific cooperation south of 60 degrees latitude. While largely successful at achieving those goals, that system has been criticized for making little progress on issues like environmental protection in recent years. Political deadlock, for instance, has prevented the creation of new Marine Protected Areas and the implementation of existing ones in the region.   

Antarctic Rights’ proposal is part of the growing rights of nature movement, which has cemented various rights of ecosystems and individual species, like sea turtles, into legislation and court rulings in more than a dozen countries. The worsening climate and biodiversity crises have helped the movement gain momentum. In Ecuador, frogs have taken mining companies to court and won. In Colombia, courts have appointed human-guardians to oversee the rights of the Atrato River. There’s even precedent for giving nature a seat in the boardrooms of companies. 

But never has an idea been set forth to put a natural entity on par with nation-states. Since the 1600s, international law has treated national governments as the primary force in global decision making.

Critics of that structure, which political scientists call the Westphalian system, argue that it is ill-equipped to handle many of today’s problems, including climate change and environmental destruction, which span national borders. Advocates argue that the nation-state system has an inherent and narrow focus on short-term human interests, neglecting other forms of life. 

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p. 4.5

second half of exoplanet part 4!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: PLEASE READ! mentions of nsfw content (read at your own risk), violence, explicit language. also a lot of angst. ellie is still kind of a dick but not quite as much. 

a/n: haha. isn’t it sooo funny how i said this would come out almost 12 hours later and then i posted it? i need to hit the hay early asf today if im to be frank w you guys so here it is now. i want to thank you all for the sweet and kind messages and comments i’ve been getting—they’ve been fuel for my writing!! also, i’ve got a better idea of how i want to end it now, so i’ve got a pretty good outline for what’s going to happen. expect around 3 more parts (one of which may or may not be an epilogue from ellie’s pov). as always thanks for reading!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4.0 (first half of this part) 

playlist inspired by exoplanet!!

wc: 6.5k

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower​ 

enjoy x 

Dina’s sudden reappearance in your life was turning into one of the best things you had going on. When you were done with work, instead of loitering about Joel’s home and hoping to run into Ellie, you’d knock on Dina’s front door and spend your afternoons gossiping and trading stories. 

She never asked so explicitly about Ellie again, but you could tell that occasionally she wanted to.

“Guess whose birthday it is this weekend?” asked Dina one day in late April. The Wyoming sun was hung high in the sky, and the weather was steadily becoming warmer. The temperature was stuck at a breezy 60, and a part of you wondered just how hot it would get over the summer. 

Terranova rarely ever got over 70 degrees. Would it be hotter than that? Would you even be here to see it?

“Yours?” you guessed casually, pushing away the ever-present question of how long you’d really be in Jackson.

Dina snorted. “No. Not quite. You just missed mine, actually. I’m a December baby.” 

“Jesse?”

“No.”

“Joel?”

“Nope.” Her mouth popped on the p. 

Your heart thudded. “Uh—Ellie?” 

Her face split into a wide grin. “Yes! It’s her 20th. Isn’t that crazy? She’s ancient.” 

“Wow!” you said, coaxing faux enthusiasm into your voice. 

You and her had kept seeing each other at night, long after Joel had turned in. It always proceeded like clockwork—she’d come knock at your door, you’d fall into her bed, and then you’d leave.

You’d thankfully avoided any of the embarrassing stuff that you’d done the second night—no more unnecessary sensual face touching and whispers of her being a good person. You wanted to, though. There was so much that you ached to tell her, so many words that threatened to spill from your lips that you just barely managed to keep at bay. 

The worst part was the way that nothing had really changed between you two beyond what transpired every few evenings in her room. Each morning, you’d wake up knowing that you were in for another day of pretending like she didn’t know what it sounded like when you whined and begged and told her where to touch you. Like you didn’t know how her mouth tasted.

“I want to get her a present,” Dina was saying. “I do something for her every year, but I want this birthday to be a little different—given that she’s made it two decades and all, you know.” 

“That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Dina’s eyes sparkled. “I know! Do you want to help? If you do, I’ll tell her it’s from you, too.”

“Actually,” you said, wheels in your head turning, “That would be amazing. I have no idea what I’d get her otherwise.”

“Great.” Dina leaned back, nabbing her backpack from the ground and fishing through it until she produced a map. She unfolded it and began gesturing over the marks. “I found an abandoned bookstore in this area outside of the wall.” She tapped on a dot that she’d made, situated a fair ways away from the wall and on the opposite side of the town as the dam. 

“So we’re going shopping?”

Dina laughed. “Yeah. 5 finger discount, too. The only problem is that we might need to kill some baddies to qualify, but once we clear our way, it’s home free.”

“Right,” you said, fear creeping into your bones at the thought of having to fight off the infected. You’d only been on a few patrols since you’d been shot, and each had been totally unnoteworthy. You’d yet to actually shoot your gun at anything. “You—you do know that I’m not actually that good of a patrol partner, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dina, waving her hand dismissively. “I can take care of us. Plus, we haven’t seen infected in this area for a while. This is a pretty remote area—tough to reach unless you know what you’re looking for.”

“So, when are we going?”

A glimmer appeared in her eye. “Now?”

~

“Where are you going?” 

Ellie stood, her arms crossed as she leaned against the opposite wall. You were grabbing your patrol things, slinging your backpack over your shoulders and pulling on the gray sweatshirt she’d given you.

“Out with Dina,” you said, slightly breathless from moving so quickly. You hadn’t been expecting Ellie to be home—normally she was keeping herself busy picking up extra patrol shifts and helping Joel. It had been an unwelcome surprise to run into her, sour faced and serious while you were trying to get ready. 

“Out where?”

You shrugged, trying your best to look nonchalant. “Dina said she wanted to show me something.”

She was silent as you finished lacing up your shoes, but you could see her watching you from the corner of your eyes.

“I’ll be back in time for tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you offered snidely, hardly realizing what you’d said until it had left your lips. It had been a low blow. It had been nasty. You weren’t sure why you’d said it. 

“That’s not—” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know.” You stood up, feeling deflated. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” 

Ellie sent you a tight smile. “It’s fine.”  

You walked back to Dina’s feeling heavy. That was how most of your interactions with Ellie seemed to go nowadays—awkward, stiff, and remarkably unfriendly. You weren’t sure what changed. And she was still fucking you, which didn’t make much sense.

Sometimes it felt like she was distancing herself on purpose. But that had to be wrong, because why would she do that? You obviously liked her. She wasn’t the one at risk of being hurt. 

You and Dina took off by foot as the sun began to set, well-armed with both weapons and navigational equipment. Well—Dina was, at least. All you had was the small gun Ellie had given you. Dina was doing all of the heavy lifting.

The forest was quiet, interrupted only occasionally by songbirds and the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. Spring had hit Jackson suddenly, the underbrush exploding in volume and flowers blooming everywhere.

As you two walked through the woods, chattering mindlessly and generally enjoying each other’s company, you made a mental reminder to return to the forest to pick up a makeshift bouquet of flowers. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to swoon over things like that, but even the most unromantic people could recognize the gesture of flowers. You were sure she’d at least put them in a vase. 

Eventually the path Dina was leading you on opened up to a heavily overgrown street, a small decrepit strip mall hidden away in the shrubbery.

“Here!” said Dina cheerily. She jogged forward, scrubbing the moss off of the door to show a book icon on the filthy glass.

“And you said that there’s no infected here?” you asked, your fingers wrapped nervously around your gun.

“Of course I did,” said Dina. “Do you think I’d take you somewhere that was infested?”

The glass shattered as a body came crashing through the door, thrashing and clicking in a mass of bloody limbs as it took Dina to the ground.

Your finger squeezed the trigger before you could think, sending a spray of gore into the air as Dina forced the thing off of her and stood, panting. 

There wasn’t even a chance to breathe. A piercing shriek cut through the air before three more followed the first, not paying any mind to the jagged edges of the broken door that grabbed at their mutilated skin. 

“Fuck!” Dina’s knife went swinging through the air, slicing and jabbing at the creatures in front of you. They fell in quick succession, but there was more rustling and screaming from inside. Far too much rustling. “Run!”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. Despite the fact that you’d never been a track star in school, you bolted quicker than you’d even known possible. Your backpack banged against your back as you sprinted down the road, ducking into the brush and making a break for it with Dina right on your tail. 

The walk there had taken close to 30 minutes. Your sprint cut that in over half. You and Dina ran in stride, with her lagging behind to send off a few shots to ground the runners that were quick enough to keep up. The clearing you appeared in all the way back in the winter flashed by you in a second, and within another few moments, you were both resting against the wall, chests heaving as you both picked off the stragglers that had come out of the forest to investigate.

By the time the last gunshot rang out and the final infected slumped to the ground, you were shaking uncontrollably, your gun vibrating in your hand. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” said Dina, equally breathless though significantly more composed as you two walked through the entrance, getting concerned looks from the people who were manning the gate. “I’ve never seen so many in that store before. I don’t understand. It was clear the last time I went.” 

Before you could respond, someone stepped into your eye line.

“What the fuck did you do,” seethed Ellie. Her eyes were wild, her lip curled in a manner so derisive you began to wonder if you’d ever actually seen her angry before this. 

“Chill, Ellie,” said Dina. “Y/N and I were just going to try and pick something up for your birthday. There were…a few more than what I was expecting. But it’s fine. We handled them. She did great.”

Ellie looked at you then, and you could feel her taking you in. Her eyes rested with accusation at the way that your hands were trembling. “You’re so fucking stupid, Dina. You knew that she’s never done this before. What the fuck is wrong with you, taking her out like that?”

“It was clear the last time I was there!” Dina spoke with her hands, waving them through the air in emphasis.“There wasn’t supposed to be any. I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t purposefully try to get us killed.” 

Ellie sent her another scathing look before turning her attention to you. “And don’t even get me started with you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” she snapped. 

Dina sent you a wink and disappeared down the street in the direction of her house. 

“I was thinking of your birthday, actually,” you said delicately. “We were going to get you something from the bookstore.”

“That is not an excuse to go get yourself killed!”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, which looked really stupid considering how hard you were still trembling. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the original plan. Can we not do this right now? I’m still trying to, uh, process what happened.” 

As if to punctuate your point, the next step you took nearly sent you to the ground, your knees wobbling. 

Ellie’s hands were at your sides in an instant, solid and steadying against you as you regained your balance.

“Sorry,” you said again, lower this time. 

“How many?” Ellie asked. Her voice was softer now, almost resigned. She hadn’t let go yet.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “After the first three or four, I lost count. They just kept—” You winced at the memory of the wet sound that they made hitting the ground. “They just kept coming.” 

“You did them a favor,” said Ellie, stepping back and to your side as you began to walk forward. Her hand stayed posed on your forearm. “It gets easier.” 

“I don’t know if I want it to get easier,” you confessed. 

“Well, how about you start by never doing something that fucking stupid again.” Her words lacked any venom. “Don’t you ever go out without me again, okay? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

You gave your trembling hands a look. “I can take a guess.”

Ellie walked you back to Joel’s house, helping you out of your jacket and unsubtly checking your skin for bites. Or at least that’s what she said she was doing. She couldn’t seem to stop touching you. 

You headed back up to your room to get changed as Ellie shut the front door and was off to finish her work with Tommy. As you leisurely made your way down the hallway, you noticed that something was off—the hallway closet was slightly ajar.

The memories of your first night there came floating back to you, images of Ellie shutting the door before you could see inside emerging to the forefront.

It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? It was probably nothing. 

Your hand wrapped tentatively around the handle, pulling the door open so slowly that the old, rusty hinge fell silent.

It wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you were expecting at all. 

It wasn’t really a closet—there were a few shelves, but no hangers. In their place, there were stacks of textbooks with old, dated covers of the stars, planets, and physics. The back wall was plastered with drawings of constellations and calculations in Ellie’s messy scrawl, reminiscent of the leftover scrap paper from when you sat your physics exams and did your problem sets.

The memory of Ellie staring at your textbook re-emerged to hit you with full force. No wonder she was interested in it. THIS is what she was going to say that she wanted to study when you’d asked her. 

A slow smile crept onto your face as you thought about her upcoming birthday.

You knew what you were getting her now. 

~

Preparing for Ellie’s surprise party was a full day’s worth of work. You and Dina had convinced Maria to give Ellie enough things to do that she’d stay out of the house for the majority of the afternoon. You felt kind of guilty that Ellie was being put to work on her birthday of all days, but Dina just shook her head.

“It’s Ellie,” she said. “She lives to act all macho and patrol and shit. This is probably an extra present to her.” 

You two had located some flour, sugar, eggs, and butter and were hard at work baking a cake. It was tough going without a real recipe, but you’d grown up with a mother who loved baking, so you tried to do it from memory.

The result was a rather lopsided looking monstrosity that you and Dina had attempted to salvage through the liberal application of the thin icing you’d managed to whip up using milk and powdered sugar. It didn’t work, and you two didn’t wait long enough for the cake to cool before frosting it, so it melted in puddles and made the cake soggy.

“Fantastic work,” said Dina, wiping her hands on her front as you two surveyed the final product. “Really incredible, Y/N. You should really consider a career change.”

“Shut up,” you said, snorting. “Ellie’s gonna hate this.”

“She’s going to think it’s hilarious,” Dina corrected. “I’m sure it can’t taste too bad, right?”

You shivered. “Don’t say that.”

The decorations and gathering of presents were thankfully an easier challenge, and before you knew it Joel’s living room was fixed up to look obnoxious as possible, with a tacky “HAPP BIRTHDAE ELLIE” strung up in blood red reflective plastic (you two couldn’t find any Ys) above the fireplace. “Happy 5th Birthday!” balloons filled the ceiling, their gaudy purple color clashing horrifically with the red of the lettering. 

“This is just awful, Dina,” you said. “Ellie’s never going to speak to us again.”

“You need to chill,” Dina responded. “She might act grumpy all of the time, but I know her, and I know she’ll secretly like this.”

7 rolled around quickly, and with it came the guests.

First was the unsurprising Jesse, grinning and carrying a satchel that had a makeshift card attached to the top labeled “Ellie”. 

Next came Astrid, Bonnie, and Greg—all of the patrolmen that were roughly around your age. You hadn’t spent all that much time with them, but they’d always been fun.

Last came a girl you’d never seen before.

“Hi!” she said, extending a hand and looking at you through a fringe of choppy black hair. 

“Hi!” you said, taking her hand and shaking it once. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “I’m Cat.”

“I can’t believe you two haven’t met before,” said Dina, swooping in to stand beside you. There was something written on her face—something that looked kind of like worry.

“I can’t either!” you said good-naturedly. “How do you know Ellie?”

Dina cringed.

Cat just smiled wider. “Oh. Ellie and I go way back.”

“Cat, why don’t you go help me in the kitchen? I need to finish plating some stuff,” said Dina. 

“Sure!” Cat sent you one more winning smile, following Dina with a bounce in her step.

Something felt deeply off about that interaction, but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. You’d never seen Dina so eager to get you away from someone. Maybe it’d just been a coincidence?

You didn’t get a chance to dwell on it further, because Ellie was opening the door. 

“Surprise!” Everyone in the living room yelled upon seeing her. 

Ellie blanched, her eyes landing on you for a moment before she cast her gaze to the rest of the room. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday party,” said Dina, appearing from the kitchen with a plate of crackers and other appetizers, Cat in tow. “You didn’t think we were just going to let you turn 20 without embarrassing you just a little bit?”

“Those are the most hideous balloons I’ve ever seen,” said Ellie, crossing her arms.

“Thanks,” you said, beaming. “I picked them out myself.” 

Much to your surprise, her lips lifted until she was smiling back. “You’re such a loser.”

“Okay!” said Dina, clearing her throat and stepping in between you two. “You two can flirt later. I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for an entire day. Let’s eat.”

You shut your mouth, blushing uncontrollably as your eyes lifted. Ellie’s cheeks looked uncharacteristically pink and her eyes were fixed on your shoes.

Dinner went by quickly, with everyone trading odd stories about patrolling and their life before Jackson. You learned that Dina had actually been born in New Mexico and that Astrid was from Oregon. You heard all about how Jesse and Greg came across an old mall a few miles out of Jackson that was so full of infected that they could hear them scratching at the doors and clicking even before they were within eyesight of the building. You told some stories about your life in Terranova, about studying and your family. 

“What the fuck is this?” asked Ellie once Dina had reappeared, carrying your sorry excuse of a birthday cake. Time had not treated it well. The first layer was almost entirely slid off, and the cake looked damp from the melted icing.

“It’s your birthday cake,” you said. “We, uh, tried. I don’t have a cake recipe memorized, and it was harder than I expected.”

The candles Dina attempted to stick into the cake kept falling out, the structural integrity so weakened from the melted frosting that chunks were coming off.

“Let’s just pretend that there’s 20 candles,” said Dina finally once the top layer of the cake finally split in half. 

“Right,” said Ellie, snorting. 

Dina led a very enthusiastic rendition of the Happy Birthday song that ended in cheers and hollers as Ellie dramatically lowered her head to the cake and pretended to blow the “candles” out. 

No one touched the cake, but you couldn’t blame them. 

Next came presents. Jesse went first, giving Ellie a satchel that held a bunch of cleaning equipment for her patrol rifles. Dina had found a t-shirt that said “Enemy of the State” in goofy comic sans lettering, and Ellie was unsuccessful in holding back her giggles at seeing it. 

“Dina, this is so stupid,” she said, but there was no venom in her tone, just amusement. 

It was your turn next, so you leaned across the table to place the small box in front of her. 

“Please tell me you didn’t almost die getting this one,” said Ellie, giving you a suspicious look.

“Not at all,” you said. “I accidentally brought it from Terranova.” 

Her nimble fingers untied the flimsy ribbon you’d haphazardly wrapped around the tiny brown box, lifting the lid off and peering inside.

“It’s a…rock?” Ellie frowned, pulling it out and holding it in her hand.

“You got her a rock for her birthday?” Cat asked you from her position to your right, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s not just a rock,” you said. “It’s a moon rock. Like, from the moon.”

Ellie froze, her eyes saucers as she stared at the rock balanced in her palm. “What?”

“I told you I studied astrophysics,” you said casually. “One of my professors let me borrow it because my research supervisor wanted to take a look at it, so it was in my bag. And I never had the chance to give it to him, obviously. So it’s yours now.” 

“Holy fuck.” She turned in over, her fingers running across the surface. “This is…wow. Oh my god.”

“That’s so cool, dude,” Jesse said. “Like, insane. I didn’t even know that those were a thing.”

“There’s only a couple in the world,” you added. “And even fewer that are still reachable. The rest are…well, out here somewhere. Terranova only has a few from our own expeditions and the professors who managed to grab what they had when they moved.”

“This one’s from me,” said Cat, leaning forward and placing an envelope in front of Ellie. “It’s not as cool as a moon rock, but I thought you’d like it.” 

Her fingers slid under the tongue of the envelope, ripping it open and pulling a piece of paper out. 

“Good for one more free tattoo,” Ellie read out.

Cat sat back, looking awfully pleased with herself. 

“Cat was the one who gave Ellie the one on her arm,” Dina explained to you.

 A memory pricked at your consciousness, dating back to your first patrol with Ellie.

An ex had given her the tattoo on her arm.

The girl who had given her tattoo was Cat.

Cat was her ex.

That makes so much sense you realized with horror as you remembered how Cat had told you so confidently that she and Ellie went way back. Of course they did. They used to date.

“Where’d you go?” asked Dina, bumping your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Just, uh, tired.”

When you looked up, Ellie’s eyes were on you, her lips slightly quirked.

You looked away, instead focusing on the placemats that Dina had set out. Cat was so different from you—so peppy, so confident, so loud. No wonder Ellie didn’t want anything more than what you had now. Whatever Ellie had seen in Cat had nothing to do with you. 

The night ended with you all sitting on the couches in the living room with Dina mixing drinks so strong that you were wondering if she was trying to kill you. 

“Jesus Christ, Dina,” you said as you watched her pour. “What is that? 90 percent vodka?” 

“I prefer to call it efficient,” Dina corrected. 

It burned going down your throat and you fought back a cough as you placed your glass back on the coffee table. Ellie was right next to you, her thigh barely brushing against yours as you moved.

Cat was on the other side of the room, seated next to Jesse and Astrid. You were internally very proud that Ellie had chosen to sit next to you instead. Her arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, and even though it couldn’t have meant all that much, you couldn’t help but wonder if it at least meant something. 

You were just halfway through your cup by the time you started to feel really and properly sloshed. Your voice sounded tinny in your ears, and from the way that Ellie was laughing at anything anyone said, you had a sneaking suspicion that she was somewhere around where you were.

It wasn’t long before everyone had excused themselves and wished Ellie a final happy birthday—it was getting late and quite a few had early shifts the next day.

Dina was the last to go, saying goodbye and sending you another look as she pointedly stared at the arm rested behind you.

For a few minutes, you and Ellie just sat in silence, hearing the fire crackle and the sound of her softly breathing.

Then she spoke.

“How did you know that I’d like the moon rock?”

“Oh.” You blushed. “Don’t be mad. You left the closet door open the other day—you know, the one with all your space textbooks and everything. It was an educated guess.” 

“So nosy,” she tutted. 

“But you do like the rock?” 

She smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

You reached forward and polished off the rest of the drink that Dina had made you, feeling the liquid fire slide down your throat and settle in your stomach. 

When you turned back, you could see Ellie staring at you, her auburn hair glowing in the firelight, her pupils blown wide, and her eyes slightly unfocused. She’d had more than one of the drinks that Dina had made, and it was really showing. 

“You’re so pretty.”

You froze. Out of all the things you expected her to say, that was nowhere on the list. The words had left Ellie’s lips like a compulsion, raw and honest. 

She hadn’t stopped looking at you, but her eyes were wider, her cheeks red. She hadn’t meant to say it, you realized. Now she was embarrassed and flustered, and it was all because of you. 

It was the boldness of being tipsy that made you move towards her, pulling your legs up until you were seated on your knees in front of her.

Ellie didn’t move apart from wetting her lips, her eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth. 

When you kissed her, she melted into you. The arm that had been draped over the couch behind you dropped to your back, your own hands sliding into her hair and tightening at the back of her neck.

She gasped as she felt your nails scrape against her, and you took the opportunity to lick into her open mouth, tasting the vodka on her tongue as it slid against yours.

To your surprise, her hands didn’t creep up your shirt or dip below the waist of your pants. They stayed static, one glommed onto your back while the other clutched your jaw as she let you kiss her, over and over again. 

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something about it that felt different than your usual nighttime meetups. It felt more—vulnerable, almost, that Ellie was kissing you just to kiss you, not with some other agenda. 

The grandfather clock chimed, indicating that it was almost midnight. You pulled away from her for a second, panting as you caught your breath. A string of saliva suspended between your lips, snapping as you waved a hand through it and flushed.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She just smiled.

“Is Joel going to be back soon?”

As if to punctuate your point, the front door banged open, the man in question pulling his jacket off and turning to see you both. You’d thankfully managed to get off her lap before he saw. 

“Oh!” he said, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “I wasn’t expecting you two to still be awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ellie, scratching the back of her neck. “We’ve just been…talking.”

“Good party?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m glad. Tommy and Maria wish you a happy birthday, by the way. Though I’m sure you knew that.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Well,” said Joel, giving a sigh that only old men could recreate, “I’m off to bed. You two don’t stay up too late, huh? You’ve still got work tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight,” you two chorused. 

Once Joel had disappeared into his room, you turned to look at her.

“That was close.” 

“Yeah.” Ellie laughed nervously, picking at her cuticles. “Um—do you want to move somewhere else?”

Something deep in your chest ached. Sure, you’d be okay with spending another hour or so feeling her hands on you as she made you finish, but a part of you had really liked just touching her for the sake of touching her—kissing her just because you could.

“Sure,” you said. “Just give me a chance to change.”

When you knocked after switching into more comfortable clothes, the door swung open to reveal a significantly more nervous looking Ellie than you’d seen in a while.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi.” 

You stepped into her, pressing a tentative kiss to the corner of her mouth. When she didn’t react, you pulled back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to stay over?” Ellie blurted out, her eyes wide and afraid. 

You balked. “Uh, what?”

“You don’t have to,” she said, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry. I know we’re not like that. I just thought that—maybe, I dunno, just this once—”

“Yes,” you interrupted. “Please. I’d really like that.” 

“Right. Good. Okay.” She took a deep breath, then laced her fingers through yours to lead you to her bed.

When your mouth found hers again, it was just like on the couch—no intentionally rough or overtly sexual touches, just gentle brushes against your skin and the weight of fingers tangled in your hair as she pulled you further into her.

For the first time since you confessed, you didn’t sleep together. When you two finally tired out, you flopping down on the pillow first, Ellie’s head came to rest on the expanse of skin between your shoulder and your neck, your arms coming around her.

It was strange. For someone so deadly and tough, Ellie suddenly looked so small and fragile curled against you, the rise and fall of her chest synchronized with your breathing. 

“I’m sorry Cat was invited,” Ellie said, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into your neck.

“What do you mean?”

“I should have told you what her name was. That must’ve been a nasty surprise.”

Her foresight and understanding made your heart ache, deeply. How was it that she could say all these things but not want anything more with you?

“It was alright,” you said. There was no conviction in your tone. “I wouldn’t have expected you to tell me.”

Ellie was silent for a few beats. You knew she was thinking, though; you could feel the flutter of her lashes against you as she blinked.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you to forget me?”

You paused. “What? What do you mean?”

Ellie shifted against you, one of her arms draped over your chest. “I mean, when you go back.”

“Ellie,” you chided, bringing your hand up so you could run your fingers through her hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d ever just leave you behind. If I go back there, I’m finding some way to bring you with me. So, no. That’s not even a valid question. I’m never forgetting you.” 

In truth, you hadn’t even begun to consider what you’d do if—when—you were found. You’d been so focused on trying to fit into your new life here that your past had largely just faded into the back, shrinking in the horizon. What you did know, at least, was that even in some dystopian future without Ellie, she’d never be off of your mind.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“I’m not,” you replied, tapping her shoulder. “I mean it. You’re stuck with me.” 

Her diaphragm vibrated as she let out a short laugh. “Oh, the horrors.” 

She fell silent as you kept threading your fingers through her hair, letting your nails scrape against her scalp. The hand that wasn’t draped over your chest had crept up, her thumb rubbing back and forth as she traced the outline of your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I can be such a sad drunk sometimes. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, your other hand lightly dancing up and down her back. “I think it’s sweet.”

She snorted. “You would.” 

Then, after a few more seconds of silence: “You really weren’t jealous?”

“I never said that.” 

“So she did make you jealous?”

You flicked her shoulder. “Fuck off. Of course she did. Happy?”

“Thrilled.” 

A few moments later, she spoke up again. 

“Can you promise me something?” Her voice was deceptively casual.

“Anything.” You’d give her anything she wanted.

“Promise me that you’ll take the first opportunity to go home,” she said softly. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll take the first opportunity to go home as long as I get to have you around, too.” 

You couldn’t see it, but you knew she was rolling her eyes. “Not good enough.”

“You want me to leave that badly?” You weren’t sure if you should be hurt.

“Of course not,” she responded. “I just...I don’t expect you to wait around here for me. I don’t want you to. I want you to be safe.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“Will you just—fucking—say you’ll go?” Her voice sounded raw, tired. 

“Fine,” you said. “I promise.” 

Your words were empty. You couldn’t promise her that. She had to know that. But would it matter? If you never had to make that choice?

In retrospect, you weren’t sure when you drifted off. All you remembered was the warmth of Ellie gathered up in your arms, her measured breath blowing across your exposed neck as you felt the slow, marching rhythm of her heart.

~

When you awoke to the early morning sunbeams streaming in through the window and warming your face, Ellie was passed out cold on top of you. A few unruly strands of her auburn hair had ruffled upwards overnight, sticking to your cheek and threatening the seams of your lips. 

You’d never been happier.

As you thought, running your hand gently up and down the length of her spine, Ellie’s breath hitched.

You froze, thinking you must have woken her.

Then she made a quiet snort. She took another deep breath in, whistling as it went. Her next exhale was louder and caught in her nose. 

You did your best not to laugh enough to wake her.

Ellie snored, even though she wasn’t that loud. The part of you that was still intimidated by her was shrinking by the minute. If only you had known in the beginning that after a long day of bullying you she went back to her room to honk shoo the night away, you never would’ve let it bother you.

She jolted awake, blinking rapidly as she pulled away and looked up at you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” she said groggily. “It’s—” She twisted in your arms, squinting at her desk. “It’s 6 in the fucking morning. Shut up.” With that, she flopped back down on top of you, laying one arm over your torso so she could shove it the space under the pillow beside your head. 

“You shut up,” you heard yourself say. 

Ellie smacked your shoulder, not even bothering to lift her head. 

“You snore,” you said, quieter this time. 

“I don’t.”

“You literally do. I was there when it happened.” 

She was silent for a few moments. “Really?”

You pressed your lips to her forehead instead as you trembled from the laugh you were doing your best to rein in.

“Oh, god,” groaned Ellie. “That’s so embarrassing.” 

“I thought it was cute.”

“You think everything I do is cute.” 

“And what about it?”

You settled back in, wrapping your arms around Ellie as you tried to drift back off.

“Do you hear that?” 

Her voice was whispered.

“Hear what?”

“That sound.” 

You let go of her and sat up, your eyes unfocused as you tried your best to tune into whatever Ellie was talking about. Out of the corner of your vision you could see her staring at you with big, nervous eyes.

It took you a moment to notice it. No one could blame you, really. It was hardly a rarity to hear the sound of a plane when you grew up in Terranova. 

“That’s a plane, Ellie,” you said, reaching out to cup her face. “It’s fine.” 

“A plane?” She frowned, still blinking bleariness out of her eyes. “I’ve never heard one before. Joel told me that they stopped being used after the government officially fell.”

“That’s not true,” you corrected. “There’s some in—”

A puzzle piece clicked into place, and with it came a sense of underlying dread. But you shouldn’t be dreading it. It’s what you were hoping for after all, weren’t you? What you’d been praying for since you’d arrived?

“Let’s go outside and look,” you said, nudging her side. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You were hoping it was nothing. 

Ellie followed you, pulling a throw blanket from her bed and draping it around her shoulders like a cape. She looked so cute like that. You wanted to bite her. Not, like, in a weird blood kink way. Just in a…you didn’t know how to describe it. Better leave it there. 

A lump formed in your throat.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this had nothing to do with you.

The air was tepid and pleasant against your bare skin as you two quietly opened the front door and crept onto the porch. The town was quiet. No one was awake at this hour, not unless they were down by the stables or doing night watch. 

There was a sliver of pink and orange hanging over the tops of the mountains, no doubt remnants of what had been a spectacular sunrise. There were still snowy caps on the highest peaks. You hadn’t known that mountains could stay so cold for so long until you’d come to Jackson.

The lump in your throat grew larger.

“Shit,” said Ellie, leaping down from the porch and onto the road. “Do you see this?”

The plane was no longer in sight, but the swirling papers that hadn’t been on the road the night before were left as evidence.

“They must’ve dropped them,” said Ellie excitedly, snatching one from the ground and bounding back up the steps so she was next to you. “What do you think this says?”

You smiled sadly. “Why don’t you read it?”

She unfolded the envelope, ripping open the top and dumping the contents out in her hand. 

“Oh.” 

It was a picture of you. It’d been taken months prior at your family’s Christmas party. You’d worn glittery silver eyeliner and curled your hair. The upper half of your body was in view, clad in a rich red fabric that landed right below your collarbones. A string of creamy white pearls were clasped around your neck, matching the teardrop pearls that hung delicately from your ears. 

HAVE YOU SEEN HER?

There was no other text, but you did notice a divet at the top right corner in the shape of a small oval. 

Terranovan security. Of course. 

Wordlessly, you pressed your thumb into the mold, holding it there for a second as the parchment recorded your print.

Then a paragraph formed at the bottom, ink slowly leaking into the paper.

COME TO THE COORDINATES LISTED BELOW AT EXACTLY NOON, MAY 15TH. A LIFT WILL BE WAITING TO ESCORT YOU.

You’d been found. 

final a/n: sorry not sorry this was the original cliffhanger that i was planning for part 4 all along. you guys are incredible for still sticking around and reading even though this is getting lengthy as hell. anyway i hope you guys enjoyed this sort of different side of ellie before we reach the final act. the plot is abt to reach its peak and i’m hellaaa excited to share it with you. okok let me know what you think! it might take me around the same time it took me to finish part 4 to get part 5 out considering how sick i am/how much i have on my plate, but i promise it’s coming :))

[sweetspidergirl]

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. ���I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

NEXT:

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

[lesb0]

I'm always trying to stay on the cutting edge of every permutation of our constantly evolving visual culture but the elusiveness of every new form makes it difficult for me, even as one of the youngest possible millennials. in fashion, my freshman students are all wearing 2000s or "y2k" fashion: baggy grungy or baby phat hiphop, with an elevated touch of modesty, good color theory, and a stark awareness of bodily proportion. in memes, legendary 00s icon, lisa frank. its embarrassing to follow influencers with over 10 mil, now, as if it breaks the parasocial connection.

someone asked yesterday if tiktok is now the premier vehicle of visual culture. I open tiktok. on one side, a zoomed in interview with the mother of a shooting victim. but the other side is a compilation of slime videos, a woman cutting soap, life hacks, and chinese "smart" product placements. you can hear and see both. this bizarre genre, I can only recognize as content. on social media, content is technically anything you can doomscroll, the action of spending over 2 hours on a social media feed, a for you page, a timeline, a dashboard to tumblr addicts.

I'm watching cable TV with a girl I'm seeing. the ads are remarkably only geared towards boomers and older gen x. but, so is the 'content', bad action movies made for cable and reruns of 80s/90s TV shows, but the exact same show marathoned in hours long successions.

to be an effective art historian, I have to take things from this ever-shifting visual culture and translate it into the equally fickle and amorphous art world... so what does 'content' look like for museum shows? my first 100+ object loan show was in part by a colleague, a younger curator at BAMPFA. a massive exhibition of all female nonbinary artists, from the 60s PoMo feminists to the self obsessed identity displayers of today. I absolutely LOVED it. I had no problem enthusiastically flitting from object to object, frontwards and in reverse twice, to spend special time with all my favorites. a fave professor stopped me. I hadn't even recognized him in the excitement. he looked bewildered, but laughed about how giddy I was. he didn't write any criticism on the show. my boss at the time, our museum director, told me she thought it was "such a big mess". my favorite lesbian professor clutched onto her wife with an anxious look. my lesbian artist friend had panic attack and put his headphones on in a dark corner. on the other hand, the younger undergrad girls from berkeley looked elated and delighted, flitting around and oohing and aahing at my same pace. I learned one of them was an engineering student named erin who needed a feminist pickup from the disouragement in her male dominated field.

so how has the 'content' show, or the art world reception to them, changed in the past 4 years? well for one, it seems like major flagship institutions are dropping the mononym altogether. as the french impressionists take over the east coast, none of shows feature one painter as a sole focus, but curators use juxtapositions to keep people interested. in MoMAs, monoynym shows are reserved for major retrospectives or figuratively and literally, monolith artists like simone leigh. the older art historians are hesitant to adapt to these changes. one of my favorite shows this summer, over 300 very different collection pieces packed onto the floor and across the hall, wasn't enjoyed by any of the critics I know. My dates all hated it. except one, a hot ADHD butch who had a tiktok doomscrolling addiction.

what does this mean for the future of how shows are displayed.... how do museums let go of the traditional princely standard: 3.5 inch hangings with a 25 degree downwards tilt? is it better or worse to compromise museums into messy 17th century curiosity cabinets?

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: car culture

Getting a license is more than a right of passage, it’s integral. Getting a car is big- both for one’s reputation and social life, back in the day kids couldn’t wait to get their license…

In the 60s cars were becoming the dominant mode of transportation, it was getting more common for families to have more than one (if they could afford it) and so on. Though public transportation was still prevalent and reliable like bus and trolly systems… cars were a status/clout symbol for teenagers. You wanted the cool car, the nice car, the muscle car.

Automatic transmission, a variety of colors, bench seats, bigger, better, sleek. An interesting note is that people have been racing cars since they were invented, but particularly it started to ramp up professionally besides just troublesome teens, hobbiest and bootleggers.

I cannot emphasize enough how much the “car culture” began to be cemented in this period, the 60s is sometimes even referred to as the golden age of motoring. Movies and pop culture of nice slick cars helped cement that, growing trends of customization -> car centered architecture! Not only mid century modern and space age but Googie, meant to capture motorists eyes! Started in the 50s and carried on here.

Route 66!!! “Golden age of motoring” also means the golden age of road trips and tourist attractions, this route is still renown today though it’s mostly the remains of it (which did go through Tulsa!) it was one of the first national highways and later popularized in pop culture for its later touristy nature.

traffic on the highway increased, a growing share of it long-distance, and the need for food, fuel, repairs, and shelter transformed the economies of the towns through which the route passed. The development of novel methods of merchandising to the transient customer that became commonplace in mid-20th-century America—drive-in and drive-up businesses, fast food, motor inns, and roadside advertising—can to a great degree be traced to the influence of Route 66 in those towns.

It was decommissioned formally and completely by 1985, due to high speed highways— often decimating the small towns that came to rely on the traffic (think of Pixar’s cars lmao) it’s not the point of this post but it’s interesting I want to look into more and drive it someday.

Teen specific-

Back on track! The ideas of cars = freedom is about as old as cars themselves, they meant transportation and movement and independence. All things the American teenager craves, all the more if it looks cool and is both a place to hang out and one to take you to hang outs.

“Make out point” is a trope for a reason, the ability for teens to go off and have sex semi secluded was another huge factor for cars importance to teenagers. (Also a time when it is generally becoming less stigmatized/uptight culture)

Car dates generally. It’s private. Intimate and well a lot of ones social life was centered around them so why not your love life? -> there’s also something to be said here about the influence of consumerism too like how it’s why the ‘teenager’ came to be in the first place etc