#tw: coronavirus reference

[writethehousedown]

Things Are Really Cool (In Nazareth) (Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: wow hi, welcome to whatever the hell this is? this is a sort of a kind of a n19f verse/masp verse crossover set some years after the originals take place (but you don’t need to have read either to read this), borne out of the semi-autobiographical experience of my last few weeks at work trying to teach five year olds mid-pandemic. basically Nina’s a stressed primary teacher and Monet is her primary teacher girlfriend. this is fulfilling the prompt “Nice” only ten days late and also probably has one million and one typos in my haste to get it out in time for at least Christmas xo regardless, i hope u all enjoy and in the words of boyband JLS, “mewwy cwistmas”.

disclaimer: there are a couple of lines i’ve yoinked out of tv shows here- “lesbian having a panic attack” is adapted from Kimmy Schmidt and the “what are you, forty?” ones are from Always Sunny. leave me alone i’m too tired to be funny at this time of year xo

fic summary: When Nina’s headteacher asks her to pull a Nativity play out of thin air with only a week to organise it, Nina is simply too nice to say no. As a consequence, she is blindly oblivious to what her girlfriend Monet is planning, with useless lesbian results.

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She���d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.  

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.  

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.  

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

And Nina had never been one to say no to anything.

[jimkirkachu]

I just spent 3 hours agonizing over the online application for government healthcare. Had to call an 800 number at one point, so had a panic attack about that. My application is submitted/"complete" but my "next step" is to wait for my state health department to contact me (the computer thinks I'm eligible for Medicaid even though I've done the state's eligibility check multiple times and know I don't qualify). So when they come back in a day or a week or a month (who knows??) and say I don't qualify for Medicaid (because I probably won't, but the marketplace won't let me sign up for a non-Medicaid plan now just in case), am I screwed for another calendar year because I forgot to enroll until the last day and it took more than 20 minutes for them to get back to me? I have no idea. Will I be able to get health insurance for 2021, just in case I end up getting covid or something and it's bad enough that I'm hospitalized and I don't want to *literally bankrupt* my entire family because I'm unemployed and uninsured and I would undoubtedly get served with a massive bill? I have absolutely no idea, because none of this is comprehensible to me at all and I feel like I have no control over anything in my life anymore. Thanks for all the stress, America.

[trope-appreciation-tuesdays]

When one character is ill, and their s/o desperately wants to cuddle them, but they can't risk also catching the bug.

Heartbreaking, especially when they’re quarantined and they can’t even be near to each other.

[look-ma-im-on-tv]

Two guys, chilling in a hot tub, now 6 feet apart so they don't die!

-my theater class today

[purpleparrot]

[miyanodaichi]

coming home 💖 daitian

Date: 14 February Tagging: @sebasnunez​

He’d never been so thankful for global entry as he was right then and there, coming off a long flight from Japan--from east Asia, where the threats of the new virus were very real, and landing in the states where every other American at the airport was eyeing him with suspicion for looking the way he looked and for wearing the protective mask that he always wore when he traveled to stay healthy--to the point where he just wanted to roll his eyes and get out of there as fast as possible. It wasn’t lost on him how the man at customs released a heavy sigh of relief upon seeing his Japanese passport. Daichi did his best to ignore all of those annoyances, knowing how these people were driven by fear. His Japanese passport helped a lot, and he got through fairly quickly despite the previous delay, and as soon as he started down the long ramp towards the gates, he already had his phone out and was texting Sebas.

          [Daichi🐇]  --  I’m here, will come out soon ／(˃ᆺ˂)＼ pls take me to bed 🙏🙏

[franthehorsegir]

Waiting for my booster and the army is running it un the centre that I'm at. The vaccine wasn't hear yet, so in the room next door they where watching vines.

They stopped it before I could take a picture.

[rawwalnut]

Alright, I'm going on a rant about the dream smp and the members being disgusting and problematic TW FOR: RACISM, MISOGYNY, HOMOPHOBIA, TRANSPHOBIA, ANTISEMITISM, PEDOPHILIA, ect.

Dream: Has made a joke about lynching (lynching is when the KKK hanged the African Americans), Dream has said the r slur and said disabled people were "stupid idiotic individuals", dream has been queerbaiting with GNF. Made microaggressions to black people, invalidated indigenous people many times and saying "land back" isnt valid because it isn't their right. Has also made a joke about selling black people as slaves.

Georgenotfound: Queerbaiting with Dream, played a game with Fundy and said that SA was normal

Wilbur soot: Said the t slur, Anti-semitic and racist lyrics, defended jschlatt for saying the n word, in his earlier videos he hanged out with misogynistic friends

Fundy: Mocked AAVE, implied he was joking about SA when he said "the drugs will make her forget", joked about being a pedophile, called black people "monkeys"

Tommyinnit: Hes just outright creepy towards women, especially female celebrities such as Taylor Swift, mocked arabians, made a slave joke, related to lesbian struggles as a little funny "joke"

Quackity: Referred to east asians as "ching chongs" then proceeded to pull his eyes back to mock them, said the r slur

Jshlatt: this dude isnt even funny, hes just absolutely disgusting, he goes from making jokes about touching kids, digital blackface, saying slurs, and much more.

Minx: Pedophile, said they'd do "it" with a 13 year old, stereotyped Hispanic and Latino People, said many slurs.

Philizia: Mocked disabled people then said the r slur

Technoblade: Has a major racism issue in general, blamed asians for coronavirus, asked if h1tl3r was a lesbian, claimed he wanted to be racist when he grows up

Badboyhalo: Made a joke about self harm, made a racist comment on the black lives matter movement

Sapnap, dream, and badboyhalo all defended their racist, ableist friend a6d

Eret: lesbianphobic, deadnamed elliot page

Skeppy: said the n word

Tubbo: said the f slur

Now, there is some unproblematic members such as ranboo, although ranboo is allowing actions of the dream smp.

If you still support the dream smp members after this, you are a disgusting person. Its common sense to not support someone who is racist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, antisemitic ect JUST because you like them. I will be providing proof/evidence in my next post. These members have only apologized because the clips of them doing this went viral, plus most of the apologies were half-assed and scripted. These are not funny at all, nor should they be joked about.

[eternvlblyss]

#StopAsianHate

* ways we can help click here

tw // violence mentioned against Asians

I got to choose my topic for my research essay in one of my classes and I wanted to voice more about the Asian hate crimes that have been happening recently. I’ve heard too much about elderly Asians being violently attacked, spat on, etc. just because they are Asian. What bothers me the most is that I see those who were assaulted as either my uncle or my aunt or my parents, and that’s scary. 

This was the research essay I turned in for my class, and I thought it would help to post it for others to read about too. I learned so much while writing this essay, and I hope it’ll help someone else open their mind as well. Please check in on your Asian friends, understand that this is something very frustrating to our community as the media is now just covering what’s happening, now that innocent lives have been taken due to hate. 

Asian American Racial Injustice: During the COVID Pandemic

Just when we thought 2020 could not add anymore strain to our lives, the rise in racist violence towards Asian-Americans has increased even more last year when the pandemic had started and continues to occur in 2021. Violent attacks including verbal harassment, physical assault, and being coughed and spat on, have happened to Asian Americans, majority of whom are elderly and senior citizens. As this becomes a reoccurring issue in numerous locations of the United States, the Asian community has been voicing out their frustrations and anger over it all. The problems within these issues are that it took this long for the media to give attention to the incidents, as well as, why these anti-Asian hate crimes are even happening.

There is this phrase used, “model minority,” which suggests that Asians are the minority that are seen as successful and never have any issues with racism towards them. It is a stereotype in which people assume that Asian Americans have class privilege, higher socioeconomic status, and a higher education, which in turn leads to say that any discrimination that happens to Asian Americans is not real, or that no discrimination happens towards them (Lang, 2021). This false idea dates back to the Civil Rights era, when Asian Americans were seen as more successful than other ethnic minorities due to working hard, staying educated and abiding by the laws. Because of this, the hate crimes that are happening today are being overlooked. The “model minority” myth creates a fallacy that Asian Americans don’t experience any struggle or racism (Lang, 2021). Along with the false idea society stuck to from back then, the media also enjoys making Asian Americans look wealthy; examples being the film, Crazy Rich Asians, and the Netflix series, Bling Empire (Lang, 2021). The representation is everything as well, but the way they are perceived in Hollywood is not how all Asians are, everyone has struggles and hardships. This feeds more into the narrative that Asian Americans don’t experience any obstacles, and then when they do, no one pays attention to it.

Accurate statistics of these hate crimes have yet to be released, but the number of incidents happening recently can lead to one’s guess that it is much more prevalent now. The FBI warned at the start of the COVID outbreak that there would be a rise in hate crimes towards those who are of Asian descent (Farviar, 2021). It is true that there have been numbers of reports of hate crimes towards Asian Americans within the recent months of COVID cases also rising. These reports included verbal harassment, physical assault, being coughed or spat on, refusal of service, workplace discrimination, and robbery (Farviar, 2021). A few reports of attacks would include an 84-year-old Thai immigrant in San Francisco, CA being shoved to the ground during a morning walk, whom was later announce dead a few days after, an 89-year-old Chinese woman who was slapped and set on fire by two people in Brooklyn, NY, a 61-year-old Filipino American who was slashed in the face with a box cutter by a stranger, and so many more (Farviar, 2021).

Why are these attacks happening and why are the news media just now covering them? Many have connected our former President’s words and comments to the reasoning behind all of these hate crimes. Former President Trump has publicly blamed China for the awful coronavirus, even by racially calling it the “Chinese Virus” (Cabral, 2021). By doing that, he has shown other people that it is “okay” to say things such as that, basically brainwashing them and giving them a license initiate these attacks. He put such a huge target on the Asian community by repeatedly blaming China and insensitively using that term. Not only is the hate seen in public, but the slander towards Asians can be seen through social media as well, where Trump was very active on. The correlation of his words and these hate crimes go hand in hand, as more attacks started happening after he irresponsibly said the “Chinese Virus” on a huge platform on Twitter. Unfortunately, this resulted in scapegoating Asian Americans.

Solutions to alleviating these hateful crimes involve having a voice and being able to educate one another. Much of the racial injustice seen anywhere stems from stereotypes and assumptions. It is important to always keep an open mind of others as well as educate ourselves on what is actually true and what is not. While the media has not been very generous with giving the Asian American reports attention, the more the community has help in voicing that, the more the media will notice that. Standing in solidarity with one another is another solution, as it shows that we are all equal and all just trying to help one another. The words of our former President did not help with that at all, and it seems as if we are more divided than ever, but there is always room to grow from that and change. Our world has seen enough negativity, the least we all can do is just help one another in tough times. 

References

Cabral, S. (2021, March 1). Covid ‘hate crimes’ against Asian Americans on rise. BBC News. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-56218684

Farviar, M. (2021, March 2). Hate crimes targeting Asian Americans spiked by 150% in major US cities. VOA news. https://www.voanews.com/usa/race-america/hate-crimes-targeting-asian-americans-spiked-150-major-us-cities

Lang, C. (2021, February 18). Hate crimes against Asian Americans are on the rise. TIME. https://time.com/5938482/asian-american-attacks/

[xxx-cat-xxx]

I walk this lonely road

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

TW: Self-harm references, Coronavirus (but nobody gets infected), Alcohol

A/N: This fic makes reference to self-harm and to the coronavirus. I know the latter is a really sensitive topic at the moment, so if that’s something that might upset you in any way, please be careful. 

The virus affects almost everyone in the world at the moment at some level and this fic is meant to explore one particular experience among millions. I do not claim that this experience is representative in any way, and I definitely do not claim that it is worse than what others have to deal with. Nat is in a very privileged position, but she is still hurting, and that’s what I wanted to write about.

As always, thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

*

They lock down the tower in the second week of the pandemic. 

Steve, while helping to set up tents next to the already overcrowded Metro General, shared his lunch with another volunteer who tested positive two days later. Since tests are hard to come by and none of them were showing symptoms, the team decided against using their influence to get tested through the backdoor and instead are self-quarantining for at least two weeks. 

Bruce and Tony are elbow-deep in research to find a vaccine and wouldn’t leave the tower if an armed battalion tried to force them out. Clint went back to stay with his family at the farm as soon as the first cases started being detected in New York. Steve is keeping busy by exercising, recording PSAs about everything from handwashing to social distancing, and sending uplifting video messages to infected fans. 

Meanwhile, Nat is slowly coming apart at the seams.

Before the self-enforced quarantine, she was distributing essentials to homeless and low-income families, but now, trapped inside the tower, there isn’t really anything she can do remotely to help the population. 

(Except maybe taking out the president with one of his own killer drones, but that’s not exactly in the realm of legality.)

It’s not that she hasn’t experienced being locked down somewhere for weeks at a time before, but that was on missions, with work to do and a goal to achieve. Right now, she has nowhere to go and nothing to do, and for Nat, that is the worst possible combination. 

The first few days are comparatively easy to bear. She runs the better part of a marathon on the treadmill every morning. Brushes up on her Mandarin. Hacks the Pentagon for the sheer thrill of it. 

Anything to keep her from spiralling too far down. 

Five days in, she wakes up at midnight from a nightmare about the Red Room, feeling like there’s a boulder on her chest weighing her down. She scrambles up to open the window and takes huge, gasping breaths of the cool night air, trying to convince herself that it doesn’t make a difference whether she’s inside or outside the window frame. 

Finally, she slides down onto the carpet and digs her fingernails into her bare shins, heart still beating way too fast and too loud in her ears. Catches herself wishing for a task, an attack, anything she can do, eyes the small imprints of her nails in her legs, a few of them oozing blood. The pain is tempting, much too tempting. She tries not to think of the blades under her mattress, in the cupboard, below the bathroom sink.

She knows it’s not exactly pain she longs for, but it’s a functional substitute for everything else. 

Nat swallows. Then she makes the executive decision that she needs to go for a walk.

*

She wears a mask and gloves when she slips into the darkness. Even with the protective outfit, she keeps away from walls, streetlights, shop windows, anything she could potentially contaminate. 

The night air is just the right kind of chilly to feel alive. The city, devoid of people, cars, and pollution, is a different kind of beautiful. The huddled groups of desperate families in front of the downtown hospital are not. 

Nat finds a children’s playground with monkey bars wedged in between two residential buildings. She does pull-ups until her shoulders are on fire. Then she climbs up and lies on top of the climbing frame, her gaze getting lost where the skyscrapers meet the night sky. 

She only climbs down when she can hear the sirens of an ambulance from a nearby street. Then she wipes the bars clean with the hand sanitizer and paper towel she brought along. When she makes her way back to the tower, it finally feels like she can breathe a little easier. 

*

Tony and Steve are waiting for her when she sneaks back in through the delivery entrance.

Tony looks tired, three-nights-awake-in-the-lab kind of tired, but there’s a manic energy radiating from him that almost seems electric; Nat wouldn’t be surprised to see sparks flying off his fingertips. It’s the kind of energy that keeps him up and running until whatever problem he is working on is completely solved, until the world is saved once more. 

Nat would love to say she feels guilty upon seeing him. But the ugly truth is, all she can feel is envy.

Steve looks… not exactly angry. His face is stony, but something else flickers in his eyes. Nat takes off her gloves, the coat, the mask, and that’s when she realises. He looks disappointed. 

“What were you thinking, Natasha?” he says, his voice low and tight. “You know we’re all under quarantine! What, do you think you’re above this or something?”

“I was wearing a mask—” she begins in a weak attempt to avoid this conversation, but he doesn’t even let her finish.

“You know damn well they’re not a hundred per cent.. You’re just tempting fate for no good reason.”

“I don't—”

“What, you don’t get sick?” he interrupts and maybe it’s a good thing because what she was going to say was something else: I don’t care if I get sick. It’s the truth, but it’s nothing either of them want to hear. 

“It’s not just about you, Nat,” Steve continues, ignorant of her thoughts, his voice rising and a vein starting to swell on his forehead. “What if you infect someone else? For god’s sake, Tony’s only got two thirds of his lung capacity left. Did you think of that before putting him in danger?” 

“Calm down, Cap,” Tony interjects. “I’ve lived through worse—”

“No, I’m not calming down!” Steve snaps. “We are so privileged to be able to live here with all the food and money and medical services we could need―all we have to do is endure a few weeks of boredom, which really shouldn’t be too much to ask in exchange for everyone’s protection. And you decide to throw all of that out the window for a stroll?” 

He stares at her for a moment as if waiting for her to defend herself, but there’s nothing she has to say. What should she tell them? I couldn’t bear the thoughts in my own head? I can’t deal with not knowing when I can be out again? It was either that or sitting on the bathroom floor, cutting lines in my own flesh just to fucking feel in control of something?

“I really expected more of you,” Steve says finally, an eerie calm in his voice. Then he turns on his heels and leaves. 

“Well, that was dramatic.” Tony rubs a tired hand over his eyes before looking at Nat directly, his expression sober. “His mother died of TB, you know?”  

Nat feels numb. “Yeah, I know,” she says quietly.  

Tony’s expression softens. He seems to make a decision. “Come on.” He waves roughly in the direction of the elevator. “I guess we both need a drink.” 

“Okay.” Nat takes a deep breath. “I’ll take the stairs.”

When she enters the living room fifteen minutes later—after showering thoroughly and changing her clothes—she finds drinks on the table and Tony on the sofa, working again. Nat sits down on the armrest of the chair across from him, keeping a safe distance. Jazz music is playing in the background, the fake fireplace is lit, and it all just feels wrong. 

Nat takes her time to fill her glass and slowly drain it. When she looks up, Tony is observing her, his dark eyes unusually warm. 

“I get it, Nat,” he sighs when their eyes meet. “Trust me, I do.” He nods at the tablet sitting in his lap. “Why do you think I keep busy with this all the time?”

She gives a tiny nod of appreciation and hopes he gets that too. Tony smiles at her with a bit of sadness and then turns back to his work. 

Nat goes to the kitchen to refill her glass. When she comes back, Tony is asleep, twisted up on the couch as if he just fell over from exhaustion, tablet still in his hand. She goes back to wash her hands thoroughly, and then, holding her breath, takes the device out of his hand and covers him with a blanket.

She sits there, alone with the scotch bottle, Tony’s snores, and her thoughts, until pink clouds start to creep over the sky. 

At 5:35 on the dot, Steve appears in the doorway, dressed in his workout clothes. He stops just outside of the room and leans against the doorframe, taking in the scene. The look on his face makes it clear that it’s her turn to speak. 

Nat takes a moment to weigh her words. “It’s just… I can’t sit in here not knowing when I’m going to be out. Not again,” she finally admits into the fake fireplace that has now grown cold.

Steve doesn’t reply, but he relaxes just the tiniest bit against the doorframe and something in his expression shifts. 

“Are you up for a sparring session before hitting the treadmill?” he asks.

“You want to work out with me?” Nat doesn’t look him in the eyes. 

“That’s why I’m asking.”

This isn’t an apology—not from either of them. Nat isn’t guilty, just sad. And if Steve was sorry, he would’ve said so straight away. But this is not a concession―it’s a I don’t approve of your actions, but I’ll still be here for you. Just like Tony’s glass of scotch, what it means is: You don’t have to go through this alone. 

“So?” Steve asks. 

Nat pushes herself up from the armchair. The residual alcohol in her bloodstream and the all-too-familiar tiredness make her head swim for a moment, but she’s stable once she gets to her feet. “Fencing. Let’s go.”

____________________________

This is part of the Red in my Ledger series.

All my fics

[jimkirkachu]

Idk if you saw but I sent you some messages in the notes of your last post and basically just know that I’m here if you ever wanna talk and also your feelings are valid and it’s totally ok to not feel ok right now. Also to keep in mind that this quarantine period won’t last forever and that we will all get through this together. And even if you did see sit I just wanted to say that to you again because it is important to remember and it’s true. You got this!!

(This turned into a long post so more under the cut.  Trigger warnings for coronavirus, mental illness, depression, anxiety, ptsd, isolation, low self esteem)

(2/4) I wonder if it would help you if I distracted you? Maybe I could send you a funny crack fanfic I wrote one time? It’s about 100 words and it’s about Star Trek

(3/4) Oh! I also know what could maybe also help! A list of things that you could do if you get bored! Ok so what I’ve been doing is texting my friends and look at memes mostly. So you could do that! Or maybe, you could watch a tv show. Like it could be Star Trek or a totally new show! Or maybe you could throw a pillow at the wall (idk I do that when I’m stressed sometimes and it helps?) or you could do some crafts! Or you could read a fanfiction. Or do anything you want.(I realy hope this is helpful)

(4/4) Also if it makes you feel any better I’ve been pretty stressed out too. Like I haven’t done any homework and I was supposed to do an assignment in each class for the last three days lol… now I’m way behind. So in other words, I hope it brings you comfort that you aren’t the only one? Although idk what you are going through and it might be harder who knows but I just hope you know that you aren’t alone

Oh my goodness dear, first things first, I am so sorry it’s taken me until now to respond.  I’m so overwhelmed by how thoughtful and sweet you are, and all of your ideas and suggestions are wonderful.  (Oh, and absolutely feel free to send me ANY Trek stories ANY time!!) 💙💛💙💛💙💛🖖

The ironic part about my feeling so lonely is that it’s not the pandemic itself or the social isolating/distancing that have been getting me down.  (I’m actually kind of a hermit even without a global disease outbreak.)  As it turns out, my best means of coping with the stress and fear of the whole coronavirus thing (and with upsetting local/national/world news in general) is talking it out with people, discussing and brainstorming and just getting it out of my head and out in the open.  Somehow that process makes me feel less like I’m drowning in my anxiety and depression and ptsd…?  But the thing is, the 3 irl friends I have are apparently super triggered by talking about current events, including (as I found out the hard way) anything about covid.  I had no idea one of them in particular was suddenly having panic attacks any time it came up (they’re all in isolation together, where I’m in a totally different state) and when I mentioned it one day (the day of the first covid-related death in my state, so I was sort of terrified and just looking for reassurance or comfort or sympathy I guess, especially since the 2 people I live with were gone for the week at that point so I was literally alone), I was scolded big time right there in the group chat for causing so much pain and anxiety.  I’ve now spent the last 2 weeks feeling like a horrible, atrocious, despicable friend/human being because, well… my only coping mechanism for this situation is actively harmful and triggering to the only friends I have in real life.

So… I’ve been keeping busy with writing, reading, knitting, and replaying an old video game from my childhood that sort of feels like a security blanket.  But I immensely appreciate your sentiment that I’m not really alone (even if my dumpster fire of a brain doesn’t always believe it).  Especially with the cocktail of mental health issues I have that already make me feel isolated in my own body/mind every day, plus my extreme sensitivity to anything rejection-/discipline-like, the whole plague thing has really pounded me into the ground the last couple weeks and I’m so grateful for your kindness, compassion, and support that I’m afraid I can’t really put it into words.  Just… thank you so so so so much, dear. 💜💜💜

[rainbowchristy]

This Could be the End of Everything (Chapter Two)

Summary: Dan’s finally starting university, the phase of his life he’s been waiting for since he was a small child. His first real chance at freedom, away from his parents. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans for him.

Prompt: au where dan and phil are college students who get separated when they’re sent home bc of coronavirus. potential dan isn’t out to his parents angst + general ldr angst + fluffy reunion when they get back to campus and everything is over pls

A/N: This is for @counting2fifteen​ as part of the Phandom Writers Discord Fall (totally should be Autumn) exchange!

TW: References to homophobia, internalised homophobia, illness, hospitals.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1

-

In the morning, all Dan wants is to be away from Phil so he doesn’t have to remember what happened. It was so awkward, so embarrassing, to see his new roommate in that position.

So he does that. He wakes up before Phil, thankfully. He grabs a change of clothes so he can shower. He packs his backpack for the day and leaves the room. He keeps his old clothes in his bag. He doesn’t want to go back into that room for a little while. That was where Phil did, well, it.

Dan heads for the showers, only to see one of his dorm-mates is a towel and blow-drying his hair.

Queer, the voice in Dan’s head whispers. Dan looks away and heads for the only free shower.

It’s not until he’s under the water that he realises what was off about that whole interaction (if it could be called that).

See, the thing is, Dan’s ‘voice’ is usually gone by the time Dan wakes up. It comes out at night, when Dan’s thinking about what happened during the day. It attacks when he’s most vulnerable.

But this morning, Dan’s not vulnerable. He’s fine. No, he’s great. Dan thinks it’s maybe a fluke, as the voice doesn’t come back.

Once Dan catches himself staring at the back of someone’s head in a lecture theatre, a head that he quickly realises belongs to a man, the voice comes back. It wakes up and starts sneering words at him. Words like ‘queer’ and ‘fag’.

Dan’s not sure why. It isn’t like he deliberately stared at this random guy’s head. He’d just zoned out. But the voice doesn’t care, nor does it piss off like Dan tells it to multiple times throughout the day.

Mary invites him to a party she’s hosting after the lecture. Dan originally plans to say no. That he isn’t keen to go out and get drunk. That his parents have told him how bad alcohol is. But then he realises, his parents aren’t here. He can do whatever he wants.

So he does.

After making sure Phil’s not in their room, he changes his clothes into something more party-appropriate and heads out.

He doesn’t really remember getting drunk. He remembers arriving and being handed a drink within seconds. He remembers having that drink, and not understanding why his parents are so against alcohol. It’s great, he feels completely calm and he doesn’t even get flushed thinking about the prior night.

The next thing he remembers though, is waking up on Mary’s bedroom floor with a killer headache. He’s leaning against the wardrobe and after his eyes focus, he can see April and some other people sprawled across the floor.

That makes Dan feel better. Waking up in her room, he had thought that maybe he and Mary had done the do. Dan’s glad they hadn’t, or at least from what he can tell they hadn’t. He’d never done that before, and he would actually like to remember it when he finds the right person. The right girl, he thinks, correcting his previous thought.

You’re a little queer, the voice in his head hisses again. Dan hasn’t missed it. He remembers that the voice hadn’t been around after his first drink. And that was nice. Dan thought that maybe after that it wouldn’t come back. But clearly this morning has disproved that theory.

He groans. His head is throbbing and he feels like he’s going to puke. He stands, using the dresser’s draw handles to help himself up. He looks at the minefield of bodies between him and the door and sighs, silently hoping there are no more out in the hallway.

He very carefully makes his way to the door, successfully avoiding the infinite limbs on the floor.

Once he’s in the bathroom, he splashes his face. He looks into the mirror and instantly notices the world-record-worthy eyebags. He doesn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he heads for the toilet to relieve himself before looking for the kitchen.

An hour later, he’s on his way to class. The sun’s too bright, so he’s wearing sunglasses. Some of the second and third years look at him with pity when they notice. He doesn’t doubt they’ve been in the same situation as him.

It’s a few days later when he makes the connection. He’s lying on his friend’s couch since he can’t be in his dorm at night – nothing to do with Phil, he tells himself. He’s thinking about his day and his life, as he always does at night.

When he realises, he’s not even that surprised. Maybe it’s the voice that’s been hanging around, or maybe not. Either way, he realises it wasn’t uncomfortable seeing Phil and that boy. It was jealousy. Jealousy. Dan doesn’t get jealous. He’s got no one to be jealous of.

Still, the lack of surprise doesn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He can’t be gay. Sure, he knows there’s nothing wrong with it. But not for him. His dad would never accept him. Hell, Dan would never accept himself.

~~~~

Phil’s worried. He hasn’t seen Dan since the night he walked in on Phil and Kallan. Of course, he saw him after the whole thing, when he collected Dan from the common room. And he’d seen him before he went to sleep.

But in the morning, Dan’s missing. At first, he thinks Dan probably just has an early class. Phil doesn’t know Dan’s exact schedule yet, they’ve only been roommates for a week, after all. So Phil’s not even worried when he hasn’t seen Dan by lunchtime. Nor by dinner time.

It’s only when it gets to his bedtime — around 1 am — that he starts to worry. He doesn’t think much of it, though. He remembers how many nights he used to spend out, getting wasted with friends, especially in first year.

Besides, Phil knows Dan’s a bit of a prude. He’s probably just embarrassed from walking in on Phil. It’s not like they were even doing anything by that point. It was just a heated make-out session.

Still, Phil supposes it’s a pretty awkward thing. It would make sense if Dan wanted a day where he didn’t have to see Phil and be reminded of what Phil had done last night.

But that was almost a week ago now. And Phil still hasn’t seen Dan.

Phil’s worried, to say the least.

When he voices that worry to Chris, his friend only laughs at him as he explains why he’s worried. Meaning as he explains what Dan walked in on.

Phil frowns, upset at how non-serious Chris is taking this. And he’s about to say as much, when Chris stands up on the table they’re sat at and clears his throat.

“Has anyone here seen Dan? He’s about so high, straight brown hair, brown eyes, pale as fuck.”

People laugh before slowly nodding.

“I saw him in class like, an hour ago. I don’t know where he went after,” one of the freshmen says, shrugging.

Chris smiles. “Thank you,” he tells the girl. He turns to Phil. “Problem solved.”

Phil’s considerably more relaxed now that he knows Dan’s still around and doing things. He’s not sure why he was so worried. They’d only known each other for two weeks, one of those involving Dan completely avoiding Phil.

At least, that’s what he has to conclude. Dan’s been to class, but he hasn’t been to their dorm room. Because he knows Phil could be there.

“Seriously, he’s probably just out getting drunk every night to get the image of you fucking Kallan out of his mind.”

Phil slaps his arm. “We were not fucking, Chris. I told you that.”

Chris laughs. “Not yet. But seriously, to Dan-the-prude, is there really a difference?”

Phil sighs. “I suppose not.”

“Just wait it out. We know how uncomfortable couches are. He’ll come running back to his bed soon enough,” Chris says, trying to comfort Phil.

“We also know couches are probably just as comfortable, if not more so, than the dorm beds.”

Chris barks out a laugh. “If that ain’t the truth, I don’t know what is.”

Phil rubs his face before yawning.

“Tired?” Chris asks.

Phil nods. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Chris smiles and Phil can tell he’s back to his teasing self. “Someone worried?”

He pushes him. “Fuck off.”

Chris actually does. He has a class in ten minutes so excuses himself and says he’ll talk to him later. Phil agrees and heads for his dorm. He’s got a short essay to write due by the end of the week and he’s already been procrastinating it since Monday… three days ago.

What he isn’t expecting is to unlock his dorm room door and see Dan sitting at his desk, earpods in and blasting Muse.

He hasn’t heard Phil come in, judging by the lack of reaction from the younger boy.

Phil closes the door and walks up behind Dan. He grabs the headphone cords and pulls them out, causing Dan to jump.

His eyes are wide when he turns his head, and they go even wider when he sees it’s Phil.

Phil doesn’t say anything, just taking a small step back so he isn’t in Dan’s personal space.

Dan, though, takes the opportunity and stands up, quickly sliding everything on his desk into his backpack.

Phil sees him visibly gulp and spare a glance for Phil. He’s not sure what Dan’s up to, but he’s awfully skittish which makes Phil feel guilty for essentially jump scaring him.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” Phil says as Dan pulls the backpack on and he realises what the younger is doing.

“You wanna bet?” he retorts. He opens his mouth to speak again but closes it, clearly deciding it’s better to just leave.

Phil’s not giving up that easily, though. He rushes over to the door and blocks the exit.

Dan’s less than unimpressed by this. And Phil would feel bad, but right now, he’s just annoyed. And Phil doesn’t get annoyed. Ever.

It’s just— Dan’s been ignoring him all week and Phil has no idea what he’s done. Sure, it was awkward when Dan walked in on him. But that was a week ago. He’s over it and he thinks Dan should be too.

Dan’s not looking at him. He’s got his eyes downcast and his hands wrapped around his backpack straps. He’s rubbing his thumb over the padded fabric, clearly as a nervous habit. 

Phil thinks it’s cute, before he realises what his brain said. He blushes a little before remembering what’s happening here, making him annoyed again.

“Jesus,” he says, to no reply. “Dan, just look at me!” he shouts.

And Dan looks up. It’s not what Phil expected though. Dan’s completely still. And Phil feels his breath catch in his throat.

Suddenly it’s just them. Nothing else matters anymore. Not Chris and his teasing. Not his essay due the day after next. And definitely not Kallan.

Dan swallows and Phil watches the action before liking his lips subconsciously. His and Dan’s eyes meet, and Phil looks from one eye to the other, trying to see if there’s something there.

He can’t tell, so he does the next best thing. He slowly starts leaning in. Very slowly. Slow enough for Dan to pull back if he doesn’t want this.

He doesn’t, though. Pull away, that is. Dan stays completely still and Phil’s lips meet his for the first time.

It’s nothing more than a peck, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay, actually. It’s perfect.

That is, until the moment’s broken.

Phil pulls back and opens his eyes. Dan reaches up to touch his lips. And he seems to realise what just happened. His eyes widen, and he looks at Phil, clearly scared, before staring at his feet again.

He wastes no time pushing Phil out of the way and giggling the door handle in a desperate attempt to get it open.

“Dan,” Phil starts, trying to find words to apologise.

The door squeaks open and Dan exits the room wordlessly.

“Dan!” Phil calls. “Get back here!” he tries, but Dan doesn’t listen. “Dan!”

Dan speeds up and before Phil’s eyes, he disappears down the stairs and out of sight.

Phil sighs. He’s not going to chase the boy. He clearly just needs some time to himself. Phil remembers when he realised he was gay and how much he’d panicked internally.

He had dreaded telling his parents. He used to be so scared they’d abandon him. Of course, they would never do that. Phil knows that now. Sure, he still hasn’t told them. There’s always that fear. But Phil knows they’ll be fully supportive. He knows Martin enjoys the occasional gay joke. He knows that’s how Martin shows his support for Phil’s community (not that he knows it’s Phil’s community).

Dan might not have the supports in place like Phil. So he knows Dan likely needs some time to think things through. Phil will wait for him. Now that Dan’s talked to him, even if it was just a few words, he shouldn’t hide away again.

Phil thinks he might, before correcting himself. Dan only did that because he was embarrassed. Phil just did something more embarrassing, kissing him. So Dan obviously has no reason to be ashamed anymore.

He’ll be back. Phil knows he will be.

~~~~

Dan doesn’t come back, much to Phil’s worry.

It’s a day and a half later and Phil’s sitting with Chris and Pj. He’s just submitted his mini-essay and he’s explaining to the two boyfriends what happened with Dan.

Chris is his usual teasing self. Pj’s a little more helpful. He suggests Phil alerts campus security after Chris asks if anyone has seen him… again. No one has this time though, which only makes Phil more worried.

“Come with me?” he asks, giving Pj puppy eyes.

“‘Course,” Pj agrees. He smiles at Chris and kisses his cheek.

“Enjoy your lecture, babe,” he tells him.

“Good luck!” Phil says as well.

Chris laughs. “I will try my best not to die.”

They separate then. Pj takes Phil’s hand — because they’re good friends who can do that without it being weird — and they head for the admin office.

“How may I help you?” the lady sitting at the reception desk asks.

“I’d like to report a missing person.”

She nods and types some things into her computer before nodding again.

“Just take a seat. Sam will be out shortly.”

The boys nod and do as she says. Sam, a short but stocky man, comes to collect them a few minutes later.

“So, what seems to be the problem here?” he says after introducing himself. Phil and Pj take their seats as he asks.

“My roommate is missing. We had a big, um, argument, I guess, on Thursday afternoon. And he ran out and I haven’t seen him since. Neither has anyone else in our dorm block.”

Sam nods. “Okay, what’s your name and dorm block and room number?”

“Block C, room 204.”

There’s a pause while he types on his keyboard.

“Daniel Howell?” he asks.

Phil shrugs. “He goes by Dan,” he provides. He’s not sure if Dan’s short for Daniel, or what his last name is. But he can assume Daniel Howell is his missing roommate.

“You’re Philip Michael Lester, right?”

Phil nods.

Sam chuckles. “Then your roommate is Daniel James Howell.”

He nods again. After Sam asks, he explains when he last saw Dan, and what happened – well, a somewhat similar story of what happened. Sam says he’ll alert the officers to keep an eye out for him. And he says that if Dan’s not back by the end of tomorrow, then he’ll alert the police for them. He makes it very clear that if they find out anything, to let him know. And that if Dan shows up, that they need to alert him so he doesn’t contact the police for a no-longer-missing person.

They agree to do all this and thank him as they shake his hand, before heading out and heading to the café nearby.

~~~~

Phil isn’t expecting it, but when he returns to his dorm room, Dan’s there. Phil quickly realises that it’s not as good as it seems, though.

Dan’s asleep on his bed, which isn’t particularly unsettling. But when Phil walks up to him, with the plan to wake him up, Dan opens his eyes. Clearly, he either wasn’t asleep when Phil came in, or he is very easily awoken.

“Jesus, Dan,” Phil breaths in shock.

Dan looks, well, miserable. He’s clearly sick. But Phil’s not sure what illness causes something like this.

He’s shivering, for starters, even though the dorms are always slightly too warm to be comfortable. And he’s clearly feeling the heat, if the sweat beading on his forehead means anything. His eyes are super puffy and watery too. Plus he’s covered in snot, which is not only concerning, but extremely gross.

“Hi,” Dan whispers quietly. Phil hears the wheeze in his voice and takes a step back when Dan starts coughing violently.

“Where have you been?”

Dan looks at him as if he’s crazy. “What do you mean?” he coughs out, eyes watering even more.

Phil shakes his head. “We’ll talk later. I’ll take you to A&E.”

“No, I’m fine,” Dan says.

Phil laughs, though it’s more from fear than anything actually funny.

“Sure, Dan,” he says, shaking his head again for good measure. “Come on,” he adds.

He steps up to Dan’s bed and pulls the blankets away so Dan can get up. He whines, but Phil doesn’t listen.

“Can you even get up?” Phil asks, worried.

Dan nods and coughs. “I’m sorry,” he says so quietly Phil almost doesn’t hear him.

He does though. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Dan tries to stand up but Phil notices his arms wobbling. He’s clearly weak and exhausted. And Phil doesn’t like the sound of his wheezing or his cough.

“I’m just gonna carry you, okay?”

Dan shakes his head quickly. He then reaches for his head with a wince, which causes him to fall onto the bed since his one arm isn’t strong enough to hold him up.

“Well you’re not getting a choice,” Phil decides. “I’m carrying you,” he adds, just so Dan knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Phil wraps one arm around his back and ignores the feel of Dan’s fabric clinging to his arm. He hooks his other arm under Dan’s knees and picks him up bridal style.

“Can you grab the door please?” Phil asks awkwardly as he realises he has no way to open the door.

Luckily, Dan’s got enough strength to pull the automatically-closing door enough for Phil to stick his foot through it.

They get plenty of looks on the way to Phil’s car. Worried people. Curious people. Mostly curious, he decides. People have a morbid fascination with the macabre, and Dan looks like he’s practically on his deathbed.

Once they get to A&E, nurses guide him to a room almost straight away. Phil gently lays him on the bed and steps back.

Doctors swarm him, checking his vitals and calling for a nurse to grab a cooling blanket. They even hook him up to an IV and put a mask on him to help his breathing.

After they’re satisfied with his treatment, they leave him be. One doctor stays behind though to talk to Phil.

He introduces himself as Dr Miral.

“Could you give me his name please,” he says first. After Phil answers, Dr Miral writes the answer down.

“And his date of birth?”

“I don’t know, sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No worries, son. May I ask, what’s your name? And your relationship to the patient.”

“I’m Phil Lester, and I’m his roommate at Manchester University.”

“Right. Well, do you know of anyone we should contact? Any family?”

“His parents live down south, I don’t know where. I don’t have their numbers either.”

“No worries. We’ll see if we can find him in the database.”

Phil nods and the man pats him on the shoulder before turning to leave.

“Excuse me,” Phil says quickly before he can leave. “Um, is he gonna be okay?”

Dr Miral smiles. “I can’t discuss his condition with non-family without verbal permission from the patient or next-of-kin. Though I can say he’s going to be just fine.”

Phil lets out a breath and nods.

“Thank you,” he says. The doctor nods and leaves.

Phil takes a seat, not really sure what to do. Sure, he could just go back to the dorms. But that feels mean. Dan doesn’t have any family up north, at least from what Phil knows. So he decides to stay and wait for Dan’s results to come back.

Dan’s still asleep when the results come back. Dr Miral asks Phil to press the nurse call button when he wakes up, and Phil agrees.

Once Dan’s awake, they learn what’s wrong. Dan’s asked if he’s comfortable with Phil being there, to which he nods. After that, Dr Miral informs them that Dan has pneumonia. It’s not a weak case, but it’s not the worst he’s seen.

He prescribes Dan some antibiotics to be injected through his IV and says that Dan will be feeling “good as new” in a few days time.

“You scared me,” Phil says with a chuckle.

Dr Miral’s been gone for twenty minutes or so and Dan says he’s already feeling the effects of the drugs.

“I didn’t mean to, I was scared,” he says. Phil’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be saying this if it wasn’t for the drugs. From the, admittedly few, interactions he’s had with Dan, he can tell Dan’s not one for verbalising his emotions.

Still, Phil looks down guiltily.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Dan sounds genuinely confused. Phil’s not sure if that means what he did wasn’t that bad, or if it was so bad that it’d be crazy to ask for forgiveness.

“For kissing you.”

Dan laughs and smiles, which makes Phil feel less scared.

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“I liked it,” Dan says quietly. He then looks into Phil’s eyes. “I like you.”

Phil’s eyes widened. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to react to that. He never thought Dan could like him.

“Oh,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

It’s clearly the wrong thing though, as Dan immediately looks away. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong. I’m trying to stop it.”

Phil’s heart pangs and he’s not sure what to say. Dan says he’s not homophobic, but what else could thinking being gay is wrong mean.

“I don’t care what you say. It’s not wrong for me to be gay,” he decides to say. He’s not going to let Dan berate him for his sexuality. He’s had enough of that he’s whole life and he’s now got enough self-confidence to stand up for himself.

Dan quickly shakes his head and Phil realises means that wasn’t what he meant.

“I know that. You can be gay. Anyone can be gay, I don’t care. Just— Just I can’t be gay.”

Phil tilts his head in confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because— I just can’t be gay. My Dad would never let me. I would never let me. It’s— it’s wrong for me to be gay. It’s fine for you, but not for me, okay?”

Phil nods, because he thinks he understands.

“Internalised homophobia.”

Dan’s eyes widen and he lifts his hand to pull the facemask off.

“I’m not a homophobe,” he says.

Phil smiles sadly. “You are. Just not to other people. Only to yourself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I used to be like you,” Phil explains. “My whole life, everyone at my school made gay jokes. I was taught it was wrong. But one of my friends came out to me in high school. And I realised it was fine for others to be gay before I realised it was fine for me to be gay too. I rejected it for a long time, years, really. But last year, I accepted it finally. I came out to my friends, two of which are gay, as you know. They were all supportive, of course. I think it’s then that I realised people don’t really care as much as it seems like they will. I don’t mean that in a ‘I don’t care about you’ kind of way. I mean in a ‘that doesn’t bother me’ way.”

Phil realises he started rambling a little and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Anyway,” he says awkwardly.

Dan smiles but Phil can see the internal pain he’s trying to hide.

“I like you,” he whispers.

Phil smiles kindly. “And that’s okay, Dan. It really is.”

~~~~

Dan comes home five days later. And by home, Phil means their shared dorm room.

He’s tired and sleeping a lot. He’s been given clearance to miss classes for the week while he finishes recovering, which is very helpful. All he has to do is try and keep up with the work he’s missed before he falls too far behind.

When Phil enters their dorm room, Dan’s in his bed with his laptop resting on his chest. He smiles at Phil when he sees him and pulls one of his earpods out.

“How was class?” he asks.

Phil shrugs. “Alright. We just sit in silence working on our theses, so it’s never very exciting.”

Dan nods and goes back to watching whatever is on his laptop. Phil unpacks his bag and plugs his laptop and phone in so they can charge.

“What have you been up to?” Phil asks as he hangs his coat over the back of his chair.

It’s a cold day, even though they’re more than a month into Spring now. It’s dreary. There’s no rain, but the sky is covered in grey clouds that look ready to open up at any minute. They’ve looked like that all day though, and there’s still not a single drop.

“Nothing,” Dan says quickly, closing his laptop.

Phil’s sceptical but chooses not to say anything about it. Dan and him have been on better terms since Phil took him to the hospital. And Phil really wants to keep it that way.

So he nods instead, and takes a seat at his desk to get some more work done.

He looks over when he notices Dan looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He laughs awkwardly.

“Can I help you?”

Dan blushes and looks away. “Sorry.”

Phil shakes his head. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He glances at his laptop and pauses. “Did— Did you want to talk about something?”

Dan shivers a little, but this time it’s okay. The dorms are a little chilly, somehow. Though after Dan answers, Phil’s not sure if the shiver was one caused by the cold weather.

“How did you know you were gay?”

Phil, who’s sitting at his desk with his laptop open, closes it and moves to his bed.

“I think I always knew. I’ve never found girls attractive. My friends used to always talk about boobs and butts and I just never really cared. Well, not when the butt belonged to a girl. Guys can have pretty cute asses.” Phil pauses to laugh.

Dan joined in but only with his nose.

“Anyway, I think I really knew when I saw a really— sorry,” he says, having to stop so he could laugh at how awkward it was to discuss who he thought was attractive. “I saw a probably surfer dude, like, full six-pack, tan, muscly, you know the type. Anyway, he had a girl on his arm who’s probably, like, 100% attractive to any straight guy. Most of my friends were probably thinking something like ‘I wanna be him’, but my brain decided to say ‘I wanna kiss him’.”

Dan blushes and looks away. Phil chooses to ignore it and power on.

“Anyway, I did like a double-take and kinda realised at that moment what it meant that I’d never found girls attractive before. I don’t know. It’s probably not the most exciting story for realising your sexuality, but it’s mine.”

Phil watches Dan as he starts picking at a hangnail.

“I did that,” he says quietly, though it’s clear Phil’s meant to hear it.

“You did what?”

“Saw two people kissing and wanted to be one of them.”

Phil opens his mouth to say ‘oh’ or something else equally unhelpful, but he doesn’t get a chance, as Dan looks up into his eyes.

“You and that guy were those two people.” Dan looks away again. “I wanted to be him. I— I wanted to kiss you.”

Phil’s not entirely sure he’s surprised. Dan said he liked Phil when they were at the hospital and even though he was drugged up, that doesn’t mean he would have been less honest.

Either way, he’s flattered that Dan’s saying it completely drug-free.

“I wanted to kiss you too,” Phil says, blushing a little. “I still do.”

Phil watches Dan blink back tears.

“Me too,” he says, before shaking his head quickly. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?” Phil asks, challenging.

Dan swallows hard. “Because I can’t be gay. I can’t be. I— I know it’s okay, but it’s not for me. Anyone else can be gay. But not me. I can’t, I can’t.”

“You know you can fancy boys without being gay, right?”

Dan tilts his head in confusion and Phil smiles what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

He begins to explain what bisexuality is. And then pansexuality. And every other sexuality he knows of. He explains that he’s sure he’s missed some, as new ones are always forming, but that the one’s he’s explained are the main – or at least long-lasting – ones.

After a few minutes of silence, Phil clears his throat.

“Do you know what you think you might be?”

Dan shakes his head. “I’m sleepy,” he says instead.

Sleepy isn’t a sexuality, Phil thinks, before chuckling at his own thought.

“You’re still recovering and this is a big topic. That makes sense. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

Dan looks away and Phil notices the seemingly ever-present blush on his cheeks.

Phil ignores it and stands up. He takes Dan’s laptop slowly and places it on his bedside, placing Dan’s earpods on top afterwards. He’s about to take the blanket and tuck it up under Dan’s chin when he grabs Phil’s wrist.

He’s not looking at him, but Phil waits patiently anyway.

“Cuddle?” he asks, almost too quiet for Phil to hear.

“Sorry?” Phil asks, needing clarification. He thinks he heard Dan correctly, but even if he did, what does that single word mean without context.

Dan shakes his head, though not to dismiss Phil.

“I want to cuddle,” he whispers.

“Oh,” Phil says, before quickly correcting himself. “We can do that.”

Dan moves over to the side of the bed against the wall and pats the space next to him. After Phil climbs in, he pulls the blanket up around them. Dan shuffles back over, and wraps his arms around Phil’s middle, snuggling his head into the older’s chest. Phil gently puts his arm around Dan’s upper back and holds him close.

“Get some sleep,” he says, and Dan hums.

It doesn’t take long for Dan to fall asleep. And Phil is about to follow, before he remembers he made plans with his friends for dinner. He reaches for his phone, which is luckily just within reach.

5:07 pm – To Chris: Gotta skip tonight, soz.

5:10 pm – From Chris: No stress. What’s up?

5:11 pm – To Chris: Dan wanted cuddles ^.^

5:13 pm – From Chris: You get that boy 😉

5:13 pm – To Chris: It’s not like that!

5:14 pm – From Chris: Whatever, Peej owns me 10 bucks now.

5:15 pm – To Chris: I’m going to ignore that.

Phil’s about to put his phone down when he sees how adorable Dan looks asleep. He can’t help it as he switches to the camera app. He takes a photo of Dan, and then one of them together. He’ll ask Dan in the morning if it’s okay. He can always delete them if it’s not.

He closes his eyes and it doesn’t take long for him to follow Dan into dreamland. Dan’s in his dreams, though he’s not entirely surprised. Dan’s been in his dreams a lot lately.

-

Next Chapter

[amurder-ofcrows]

it’s time for a ~ mental health update ~

! tw for mentions of suicidal thoughts and references to self harm !

so i just had a call with my psychiatrist and she’s changing some of my medications for my depression, specifically my wellbutrin and my zoloft, so hopefully i’ll have more energy during the day and not feel like i wanna die all day long.

she also ordered a sleep study for me. i sleep about 13 hours a night, take a nap in the day, and then go back to sleep for another night no problem. i’ve always been very tired, and she wants to make sure i don’t have a sleep disorder that’s contributing to my poor mental health. we don’t know when the sleep study will be because of the coronavirus, but at least it’s ordered.

overall i’ve been ok-ish. i haven’t been self harming so that’s good. i’m taking care of the cuts that i did do and making sure they heal properly, they’re definitely going to scar but they’re on my thighs so i can cover them up with pants really easily. i’ve still been really depressed and almost completely unable to do my work, but i’m not in danger so i consider that a win. i’ll take being safe and just stuck in bed over in danger and potentially needing to be hospitalized.

my auditory hallucinations have come back pretty strong, as well as my paranoid delusions. being alone in my room at night is completely terrifying and i’ve been triple checking to make sure the doors are locked before i can even think about going to sleep. i don’t want to increase my antipsychotics cause i’m already on a pretty high dosage of them and i don’t want to risk the more severe side effects that can come with them. i’m going to wait it out for the time being, but if it gets worse i’ll make a plan with my psychiatrist for what would be the best course of action to get it back under control.

thanks to everyone who’s been supporting me through all of this, it really means a lot to me 💖

[englishchinesetranslations]

Jay Foreman, chief executive of the toy company Basic Fun!, said his company had gone from being “panicked” about the future of its business in March and April to suddenly realizing that demand was stronger than ever.“Especially as you got into June, July and August, the spigot got turned on,” he said. “Everybody realized we don’t need less stuff from Asia and China, we need more stuff.” By Ana Swanson

Dec. 14, 2020

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WASHINGTON — American imports from China are surging as the year draws to a close, fueled by stay-at-home shoppers who are snapping up Chinese-made furniture and appliances, along with Barbie Dream Houses and bicycles for the holidays.

The surge in imports is another byproduct of the coronavirus, with Americans channeling money they might have spent on vacations, movies and restaurant dining to household items like new lighting for home offices, workout equipment for basement gyms, and toys to keep their children entertained.

That has been a boon for China, the world’s largest manufacturer of many of those goods. In November, China reported a record trade surplus of $75.43 billion, propelled by an unexpected 21.1 percent surge in exports compared with the same month last year. Leading the jump were exports to the United States, which climbed 46.1 percent to $51.98 billion, also a record.

That surge has defied the expectations of American politicians of both parties, who earlier this year predicted that the pandemic, which began in China, would be a moment for reducing trade with that country and finally bringing factories back to the United States.

“The global pandemic has proven once and for all that to be a strong nation, America must be a manufacturing nation,” President Trump said in May. “We’re bringing it back.”

But despite Mr. Trump’s restrictions on Chinese goods, including tariffs on more than $360 billion worth of its imports, there is little sign that global supply chains are returning to the United States. Instead, the prolonged effects of the pandemic on the United States appear to have only reinforced China’s manufacturing position.

China employed draconian lockdowns and extensive surveillance to shake off the effects of the pandemic earlier this year, allowing its factories to reopen at a large scale more quickly than businesses in America, where the disease is still running rampant. With many American companies, especially those based on services, crippled by coronavirus, consumers are pumping their money into online shopping for manufactured goods instead.

Mary E. Lovely, a senior fellow at the Peterson Institute, said that U.S. imports from the world were on track to be lower this year than in 2019, but that China’s overall share of U.S. imports would likely increase.

“Overall, China’s quick economic recovery and its dominance as a source for products that Americans have turned to during the pandemic have outweighed the dampening effect of Trump’s tariffs,” she said.

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Consumer demand is so strong that it has overwhelmed the capacity of the cargo industry, leading to a record spike in shipping rates. The surge in shipments is clogging many supply chains, snarling major ports and delaying delivery of holiday gifts by up to several weeks.

At the Port of Los Angeles, the country’s largest processor of container cargo and the gateway for many Chinese goods, shipping containers carrying Chinese imports are stacked like Legos in piles six high. Truckers jam the parking lots, waiting hours to pick up goods, which are then dispatched across the continent.

October was the busiest month in the port’s 114-year history, and traffic has remained high. On Dec. 1, dockworkers were busy unloading 19 vessels, compared with 10 to 12 on a normal day, said Gene Seroka, the port’s executive director. Twelve more ships waited in the harbor, which, on average, had been waiting about 48 hours beyond their scheduled arrival, he said.

“We’re going through a time that truly is unprecedented,” Mr. Seroka said. “You’re trying to stuff 10 pounds of potatoes in a five-pound bag. This ordering and replenishment is bigger than anything we’ve seen, and now it coincides with holidays.”

The pileup started earlier this year, as American retailers and manufacturers began to restock products this summer after brief lockdowns in the spring, and consumer spending began to rebound. While the pandemic has left former employees of restaurants, airlines and theme parks destitute, many members of the country’s vast remote work force have seen their bank accounts grow, and surveys show expectations for consumer spending remain strong.

The initial data snapshot of November trade released earlier this month by China’s General Administration of Customs did not include detailed data by product and country. But trade data for the first 10 months of this year, compiled from United States Customs data by IHS Markit, shows that American imports of consumer electronics from China have been strong, as have imports of masks and other personal protection equipment for the pandemic.

Closed storefronts in Los Angeles. With many American businesses crippled by the coronavirus, consumers are pumping their money into online shopping instead. Credit... Philip Cheung for The New York Times

For the toy industry, it is shaping up to be one of the biggest holiday seasons in years. But Mr. Foreman said his business would be dampened somewhat by the shipping delays. Some of the Tonka Trucks, Lite Brite sets and Care Bears that the company sells are currently stuck on container ships, or in the yard of the Port of Los Angeles.

While Mr. Foreman was confident he could still sell those toys in January, he said missing the Christmas cutoff would be much more problematic for small companies and importers of seasonal products, like wreaths and Christmas lights.

“Everyone has stuff sitting,” he said. “Everything is a week or two behind schedule.”

Arnold Kamler, the chief executive of bicycle-maker Kent International Inc., said he was also experiencing a historic combination of strong demand and shipping delays.

Lockdowns in China earlier this year led to production delays at Kent’s Chinese factories, while American demand for bicycles began to surge, as buyers sought them for entertainment and exercise, as well as an alternative to public transportation.

Pandemic-related demand for bicycles was so strong that some had begun referring to them as “the new toilet paper,” Mr. Kamler said.

“I never had hoped to be compared to toilet paper, but in this case, this was a good thing,” he said.

After maintaining light inventory all year, Mr. Kamler said his company had finally accumulated enough bicycles in its warehouses in California and South Carolina in the past four to six weeks to meet demand. But UPS and FedEx, which deliver the company’s bicycles directly to customers on behalf of Target, Kohl’s, Walmart and other retailers, have drastically cut the number of trucks they can dispatch to the warehouses each week.

“We can’t get trucks to show up,” he said. “It’s crazy to have this demand and not be able to ship it.”

That surge has created an unusual problem for China: finding enough 40-foot steel boxes into which all those goods can fit. China’s exports have been so strong this autumn that far more shipping containers are leaving Chinese ports than are coming back.

American exports to China have also soared this fall, driven by strong purchases of soybeans and other agricultural goods under the U.S.-China trade agreement. But these goods — like the iron ore and coal that China also imports plentifully — travel in bulk freighters, not 40-foot containers. China imports few American manufactured goods that would travel in containers.

Mr. Seroka said exports of containers stocked with American goods were down 14 percent annually so far this year at the L.A. port, creating inefficiencies and logistical issues for railroads, trucking companies and cargo lines.

In the month of October, the port exported more than twice as many empty containers as those filled with American goods, Mr. Seroka said. He blamed the trend on the U.S.-China trade war, which spurred Beijing to impose more tariffs on American products, as well as the strength of the U.S. dollar, which makes American goods more expensive overseas.

For both importers and logistics companies, it remains unclear how U.S. trade policy will shape their business in China in the years to come.

President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. has not committed to lifting any of Mr. Trump’s tariffs, saying he will begin reviewing them once in office. Many of the exemptions that companies received from the tariffs are set to expire on Dec. 31, and the Trump administration has not said whether they would renew them.

Chris Rogers, a global trade and logistics analyst at Panjiva, said that the trade wars and tariffs that the United States placed on China had actually reduced imports of the particular goods that were hit with tariffs — but other products that have not been taxed are booming. He said that companies could still choose to relocate their production out of China, as their businesses emerge from the pandemic.

“The time to muck about with your supply chain is not during the pandemic,” Mr. Rogers said. “A lot of companies have been in cash preservation mode. Moving your supply chain is expensive and takes time. There clearly is an opportunity for companies coming out of the pandemic to say we need to build resilience, move manufacturing closer to consumers.”

Despite the shipping disruptions, some companies that have kept their production in China throughout Mr. Trump’s trade wars are now feeling vindicated.

Mr. Foreman said he considered moving some operations to Vietnam or India, like many toymakers did amid the trade wars last year, but “staying in China ended up to be the best move.”

“China still has the best production supply chain of anybody in the world, and as it turned out, they were able to tackle the pandemic faster and more efficiently than anybody else,” he said. “China certainly has tested the boundaries and proven that they can weather the storm, as great as a storm as we’ve seen in a hundred years.”

Keith Bradsher contributed reporting from Shanghai.

[thotticus-dime]

Just an update because I can’t vent on any other platform and tw // depression and suicidal references:

Since college has let out, I have moved all of my stuff back home. I regret that decision completely. A lot of the time, I try to avoid Ohio completely by either staying in Kentucky or heading to Alabama for summers and breaks.

Since being home in Ohio, I have had jokes and comments made about my smile, my sexuality, my body, and everything else that I am insecure about. My brother constantly says the R word and the N word and told me “how does it feel being the inferior gender?”

I don’t have a bed. My mom got rid of my bed once I left and I don’t have a room because my step brother now lives with us. So the last couple of days, I’ve been sleeping on the couch. The first night, I didn’t sleep until 3 in the morning. I’m woken up at 6 with a flashlight in my eyes and my mom trying to talk to me. Then my little brother sumo slammed his body into my head.

Night two (or should I say morning 2), it’s around 6-7 am and my mom is sitting a foot away from me on the couch, loudly talking to my grandmother about her dogs.

What really upset me was what happened earlier today. When I’m home, I’m expected to do chores. But not like, hey, can you do a load of laundry? No. I am expected to clean the bathrooms, sweep and mop the living room and kitchen, do dishes, clean and organize the fridge and so on. I have been here for three days and I’ve already gotten all of that asked of me.

So, I began cleaning today. Dishes are piled up because my family is filthy and they don’t care. I needed to wash a pan so my mom could make spaghetti. Everyone is nose deep into iPads, iPhones, switches, playstations and so on. Everything cool out there, they probably have it. All of the other kids are spoiled so I’m the only one cleaning and I’m getting a constant reminder every ten minutes that my mom needs to start dinner and that I’m not cleaning the kitchen up fast enough.

I spent nearly 2 hours cleaning the kitchen up and getting dishes done for dinner. My mom started making dinner and I turned on my Xbox in the living room, where I have been sleeping. I got yelled at for twenty minutes about how that was the family tv and it wasn’t meant for people to be on it all of the time and that she bought it with her money and that I was going to obey the rules.

I’ve spent the last two hours crying. I didn’t even have the stomach to eat dinner and, you guessed it, I got yelled at for not eating and that it was my fault there wasn’t enough for me when I could get up and eat.

I never feel happy with myself when I come home and I never feel like I’m enough or that I can do the right thing. I feel like a maid who doesn’t have room to speak. I was diagnosed with clinical depression/anxiety and I’ve slowly weaned myself away from my medicine because my mom threatened to beat the shit out of me if I was still taking it but I’ve also been wanting to feel better and try new therapeutic ways of coping but I am back to that dark pit I was months ago.

I can’t stop thinking about how much better it would be if I was just gone. I wouldn’t have to hear all of the arguing and the yelling. I wouldn’t have the be the one yelled at. I wouldn’t have water bottles or shoes thrown at me. I wouldn’t be made fun of for my body or my smile. One comment on my teeth can shut me down and keep me from smiling for weeks.

My mom told me, a 20 year old, that I cannot drive down and live with my boyfriend until college starts back up again because I’m visiting family and I shouldn’t risk getting the Coronavirus because I might die but I might die if I stay here and longer.

[rainbowchristy]

This Could be the End of Everything (Chapter Three)

Summary: Dan’s finally starting university, the phase of his life he’s been waiting for since he was a small child. His first real chance at freedom, away from his parents. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans for him.

Prompt: au where dan and phil are college students who get separated when they’re sent home bc of coronavirus. potential dan isn’t out to his parents angst + general ldr angst + fluffy reunion when they get back to campus and everything is over pls

A/N: This is for @counting2fifteen​ as part of the Phandom Writers Discord Fall (totally should be Autumn) exchange!

TW: References to homophobia, references to internalised homophobia, references to coronavirus.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 | Last Chapter

-

“Morning,” Dan says, voice rough with sleep.

He’s rubbing his eyes with his fists, which Phil thinks is just too adorable. Phil quickly wipes the sleep out of his own eyes and checks his phone for the time. It’s just past eight o’clock.

“Morning,” Phil mimics, smiling at Dan. He smiles back before pushing on his bed to sit up.

He seems to look around for a little, almost as if he can’t work out where he is, before his eyes land on Phil. He looks down seconds later, and Phil sees him blushing.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says, reaching out to link his fingers with Phil. It’s probably a grounding thing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I enjoyed it.” Phil lifts their linked hands and kisses Dan’s before lowering them again back onto his knee.

“But—”

“No ‘but’s, Dan. It’s okay, you’re allowed to cuddle with boys. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Phil watches as Dan’s eyes seem to search his. Phil doesn’t doubt he’s looking for any hint that he’s lying. Dan almost certainly wants to see something — anything — to grab onto, to tell him being gay is wrong, to help him keep the status quo. Phil knows he won’t find what he’s after, though.

“I don’t want to cuddle with boys. I want to cuddle with you,” Dan decides to say, making Phil chuckle. He runs his free han through his hair, getting it off his face.

“I am a boy, Dan.”

“I know that!” Dan says, giggling.

He lies back down, resting his cheek on Phil’s chest.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he says.

Phil smiles. “At least you know I’m not a vampire.”

“You’re too warm to be a vampire.”

Phil doesn’t want to, but he knows they have to talk about this. About what they are.

“Dan,” he says, hating to disturb the boy.

He seems to sense something in Phil’s tone as he sits up, looking worried.

“We need to talk about this.”

Dan shakes his head. “No we don’t.”

Phil sighs. “Dan.”

“What?”

Phil doesn’t answer, simply raising his eyebrows at him.

“I know friends don’t normally cuddle. I’m sorry. We don’t have to.”

“That’s true. Friends don’t usually cuddle. But that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

Dan tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

Phil smiles and shakes his head a little, chuckling. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to go out sometime? If you’d let me, as your boyfriend.”

He watches Dan’s eyes widen and he almost wishes he could take those words and shove them back into his mouth. Dan is a first year and Phil’s writing his thesis. What on Earth made him think Dan would want him?

Dan blinks a few times before opening his mouth. He sighs though, and closes it again, before reopening it.

“I want to,” he says.

Phil doesn’t interrupt, he has a feeling there’s a ‘but’ on it’s way.

“But,” he says, “I can’t have a boyfriend. My dad would never let me.”

“Dan, I want to ask you something.”

Dan hums, so Phil continues.

“Why does your dad get a say in who you love? It’s not his life, you deserve to be happy and to love who you love and to be loved in return.”

Phil sees tears in Dan’s eyes, and he’s not sure what he said to cause a reaction that’s that emotional.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he says, before the tears escape and he’s full-on crying.

Phil pulls his hand from Dan’s and places both of his against Dan’s cheeks, wiping his tears away. He pulls Dan forward a little and kisses his forehead before kissing both his cheeks and then his lips.

Dan pulls away.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

Phil backs away, making sure he’s not touching Dan. He’s so stupid. He can’t just kiss Dan whenever he wants to now that they’re boyfriends. Consent is always needed, even if it’s just for a peck on the lips with his significant other.

“I’m sorry.”

Dan shakes his head faster.

“No kisses. I can’t kiss boys.”

Phil takes Dan’s hand, hoping it would help his panic.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to kiss. We can just cuddle and hold hands. Or we can not even do that, if you want. It’s completely up to you what we do, okay Dan?”

Dan stops shaking his head and starts nodding. Phil takes his other hand when Dan reaches to tug his hair.

“Hey. Look at me.” Phil notices Dan’s chest moving quickly, and realises this is more than just panic, it’s an attack. “Breath with me,” he says.

He pulls Dan’s hand to his chest so he can feel Phil’s heartbeat.

“In,” he says, breathing in deeply. “Hold.” He holds his own breath. “And out.” He releases the breath.

Dan didn’t really follow very well. He breathed in for a second, before huffing out and returning to his rapid breathing.

“Good job, let’s try again,” Phil says anyway.

He guides him through it, and this time Dan lasts a second and a half before breathing out. They do it another 15 times before Dan can breath in and hold his breath in time with Phil.

“Really good job, Dan. Well done,” Phil praises, smiling encouragingly at Dan.

They breathe together for another four or so minutes before Phil’s satisfied that Dan’s attack is over.

Dan collapses against him, clearly exhausted. Phil knows from experience that panic attacks are tiring. And Dan’s still recovering from the pneumonia too.

“I just wanna cuddle and hold hands. That’s all,” Dan says, surprisingly articulate for someone post-attack.

“That’s okay,” Phil says, but Dan shakes his head.

“No. I mean I only want to cuddle and hold hands here. Where no one can see. No one can see, Phil. Promise me no one will see,” Dan says, sitting up to look at Phil as he says the last sentence.

Phil shushes him and pulls him back down against his chest.

“It’s okay, Dan. No one will ever see unless you want them to, okay? I promise you.”

Dan tightens his grip on Phil. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Phil squeezes Dan as he speaks, before pressing his cheek to the top of Dan’s head as a non-kiss comforting gesture.

~~~~

Dear students,

The spread of coronavirus (COVID-19) has been vast and rapid, reaching various cities in England.

As per the English Government’s recommendations, all universities are post-poning in-person classes, including lectures and tutorials.

To support students who feel they are more vulnerable, tutorials and lectures will not be compulsory for this week (Monday 16 – Friday 20 March), effective immediately.

Plans to move to remote delivery for a vast majority of our courses are well advanced.  All students should keep an eye on their emails during this time for updates and other information regarding their studies.

The Spring mid-semester break has been brought forward to commence on 23 March and will conclude on 3 April. Classes will recommence through online tools from 6 April. Students will receive further information about these tools during the mid-semester break.

We appreciate your understanding during this time as lockdown procedures continue to be put into place.

Stay safe,

Lemn Sissay Chancellor of University of Manchester

“Did you get one of these?” Dan asks, turning his laptop screen towards Phil.

Dan watches as Phil skims the text before shrugging.

“I haven’t checked my email yet today,” he says.

Phil types a few things on his keyboard, and scans the screen.

“Yeah, I got it too,” he informs. “Wait, hang on.”

Dan waits as Phil clicks his trackpad a few more times before scanning the screen again.

“Reload your email,” he says. Dan does as he’s told.

Dear students in dormitories,

Please review the previous email titled ‘COVID-19 — Remote Delivery’ before proceeding with this email.

As per the English Government’s recommendations, all universities are temporarily closing in-person classes.

UOM has taken further steps to prevent the spread of coronavirus (COVID-19), including the closure of dormitories until further notice. All students will be given until Sunday 22 March to move out of the dorms.

If it is not at all possible for you to vacate the dorms, contact your resident assistants urgently to organise alternative living arrangements.

We appreciate your understanding during this time as lockdown procedures continue to be put into place.

Stay safe,

Lemn Sissay Chancellor of University of Manchester

“What does this mean?” Dan asks, looking up at Phil.

He smiles. “I think it means we have to go home.”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but decides better of it. He doesn’t want to upset Phil. He’ll keep it to himself. He’ll be fine; he has to be fine.

~~~~

Phil sighs. “What’s wrong?”

They’re having dinner, just the two of them this time. Chris and Pj are on a date and Louise is working on her thesis.

Dan’s been quiet all afternoon. Phil chose to ignore it, figuring he was just upset that his first year at uni wouldn’t actually be at uni. But he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Hm?” he says, looking up from his food. He’s been stirring the pasta around since they sat down. Phil’s not sure he’s eaten a single bite.

“What’s wrong?” Phil repeats.

Dan shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“You haven’t touched your food. And I know you love pasta. You spent an hour talking about it when you were drugged up in the hospital.”

Dan blushes and opens his mouth, but closes it. He’s clearly trying to decide how to word what is going on in his mind.

“I just—” he decides, before cutting himself off. “My dad isn’t exactly gay-friendly,” he says.

Phil frowns. “Is that why you were so scared that you liked boys?”

He nods. “I can’t like boys, Phil. You don’t understand.”

“You can. And I do understand. My parents may not be homophobic, but I know what it’s like to be scared of your sexuality. You can’t help who you like, Dan.”

Dan shakes his head. “We’ve already done this. I’m not happy about being gay or whatever, but I guess I’ll get used to it. It’s my dad I’m scared about. He’s— he— he really isn’t at all lgbt friendly. He rants about gay people pretty much every day when he gets home from work. And it’s not a good rant, trust me. He calls gay people things I’d rather not repeat.”

“It’s okay, Dan,” Phil says, trying to comfort him.

“No, it’s not. It’s never okay to say those things. I’m— I’m scared that if I go home and hear him say those things, I’ll be afraid again. I’m scared he’ll make me regret us.”

Phil looks away from Dan. He can’t believe he just said that. Sure, the logical part in his mind knows what Dan says should be taken at face value. But he can feel his heart beating a little harder inside his chest. It feels as though Dan regretted agreeing to date the second that he did. It feels as though he’s using his dad as an excuse.

He knows it’s not true. He knows Dan’s not the kind of person to do that. But Dan’s also the youngest person he’s ever dated, a list that is two people long, including him.

“If you don’t want to date, that’s fine,” Phil says. He means it to come out neutral, but even he can hear the passive-aggressive and hurt tone to his words.

Dan shakes his head quickly. “No— Phil, that’s not what I meant. I just— I’m sorry. I’m not sure what to do; I’ve never dated anyone before, ever.”

“I’m not exactly super experienced either.”

Dan smiles slightly. “I want to date you, Phil,” he says, reaching out to take Phil’s hand.

It’s only for a split second, and Dan’s eyes are scanning the room quickly to make sure no one’s looking. He lets go after he squeezes Phil’s hand, and then they retreat back to his lap.

“But?” Phil supplies.

“But,” Dan agrees, “my dad is probably the most anti-gay person in the whole wide world. He’ll never accept us, or more importantly, me.”

Dan looks down at his hands. Phil notices he’s running the fabric of his shirt through his fingers.

“I’m just scared he’s going to make me afraid to be gay again. I don’t— I like not being afraid of who I am. Like you said, I can’t help that I like boys. And— and that’s okay, I think,” Dan says, speaking quickly. He sounds incredibly unsure of himself and Phil’s quick to smile at him.

“It is okay. It’s more than okay, Dan,” he confirms. After a pause, he adds, “And guess what?”

Dan tilts his head. “What?”

“I’ll be there the whole time,” Phil says, before faltering. “Well, maybe not in person. But I’ll be there through text messages and maybe skype calls?”

“Definitely skype calls,” Dan says, making Phil smile.

The conversion falters a bit more and Phil watches as Dan starts to eat his food. He picks up the last slice of pizza, his own dinner.

Dan, who’s halfway to bringing a forkful of pasta to his mouth, places the fork back into the bowl.

“You know,” he starts, “I never really thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” Phil asks.

Dan nods. “For, you know, like, respecting my boundaries, I guess. You didn’t push me to do, um, coupley things. I said I didn’t want to, and you respected that. So, uh, thank you for that.”

Phil’s shocked. He never in a million years expected to be thanked for respecting someone’s boundaries. It’s like thanking someone for not assaulting someone else. It should be a given. Not something that has to be thanked.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Phil says, chuckling a little uncomfortably.

His mind suddenly comes up with a new idea, and he feels sick at the thought of it. He hopes no one’s ever not respected Dan’s boundaries. Sure, Dan said he’s never had a boyfriend or girlfriend before, but there are plenty of other ways to intrude on another’s boundaries.

Dan smiles though, and Phil pushes the thought away.

“Thanks anyway,” he says, giggling a little. Phil thinks it’s the cutest sound he’s ever heard.

~~~~

Dan whines and flops backwards onto his bed. Phil laughs at his antics.

“Come on, Dan. We have to pack.”

It’s Wednesday currently. They received the email yesterday, saying the university was closing and that they had to the end of the week to move back home.

Despite still having five days, they’re packing. Well, Phil’s packing, Dan got his suitcase open before flopping onto his bed and whining.

“I don’t want to,” he says, an air of certainty in his voice.

Phil smiles and rolls his eyes playfully. “Well, you don’t get a choice. You have to go home, unless you want to be homeless.”

Dan shakes his head. “Can I come live with you?”

Phil laughs. “I think that kinda defeats the point of quarantine.”

“But if I quarantine with you from the beginning, then it’s fine.”

“Dan,” Phil says, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. “You can’t come live with me. I’m going to my parents’. And I don’t think they’d approve of a literal stranger living in their house for God knows how long, until quarantine ends.”

He looks down but nods. “I mean that makes sense. I just don’t wanna live with my dad again. I don’t want to have to lie and pretend I hate all lgbt people. I mean, we’re just people for fuck’s sake! Just cause we aren’t white, straight, middle-aged men doesn’t mean we have to be ostracised from society!”

Phil hums in agreement. “We still have to pack, though.”

Dan frowns. “Can’t we leave on Sunday? At least then we’d get this week together.”

He shakes his head sadly. “You know they want us out of here as soon as possible. It’s just some people need more time to find somewhere to go.”

“Well I don’t care what they want. I’m staying till Sunday,” Dan says, crossing his arms.

Phil chuckles. “If you pack today, I’ll give you cuddles.”

“If I don’t pack today, we can cuddle for the rest of the week,” Dan counters, making Phil laugh and roll his eyes.

“Pack or no cuddles for you,” he threatens, though his tone gives away that he’s joking.

“Ugh!” Dan says, before swinging his legs off his bed. “Fine,” he says grumpily.

“Good boy,” Phil teases, sticking his tongue out, though he notices Dan’s blush at his words.

He supposes it is pretty embarrassing to be literally praised as an adult. Unless it’s kinky, his brain suddenly supplies, and he chokes on his own spit, blushing himself.

A few hours later, Phil is fully packed. Despite living in dorms for years at this point, the staff insisted on giving him a new room each semester. He hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully unpack, considering the term had only started two and a half weeks ago.

Dan is half packed, but he insists he’ll do the rest later if they break for lunch. Phil makes him pinky promise, which he does begrudgingly. Something tells Phil he hadn’t actually planned on finishing packing.

After lunch, Phil helps Dan finish packing.

“All done,” Dan says, frowning.

“All done,” Phil mimics. “Have you looked at the train timetable?”

Dan shakes his head. “I’ve been putting it off. I don’t want to know what time I’m officially leaving. I can’t count down that way.”

Phil frowns. He feels sorry for Dan. He’s returning to a homophobic household and Phil’s returning to a loving and supportive one.

“I don’t want your pity,” Dan says, interrupting Phil’s thoughts. He must have seen Phil’s sour expression.

“Sorry,” he says. “How about find a train for tomorrow? I’m sure they won’t mind one more day. And I sure wouldn’t mind cuddles and a movie tonight.”

Dan smiles widely. “I like that plan,” he says happily.

They find a train for Dan — 10:34 am — and settle into Phil’s bed.

“I like cuddles,” Dan says, snuggling closer to Phil, who chuckles.

“I know. You only want to do it at every chance we get,” he teases. Dan blushes and hides his face in Phil’s shoulder.

“I do not,” he retorts, but they both know it’s a lie. “Besides, you like cuddles too.”

Phil shrugs before laughing lightly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to knock your head around.”

Dan nods. “It’s okay.”

~~~~

The next morning, they sleep in. They wake up, tangled in each other’s limbs. Dan’s pleasantly warm and he snuggles into Phil. He doesn’t care for the time. If he misses his train, so what? He just gets to spend more time with Phil.

Possessive, much? the voice in his head says, and he shakes it away.

Unfortunately, his head knocks into Phil’s, causing the older to groan and blink his eyes open.

“Morning,” he mumbles. And Dan instandly loves Phil’s morning voice. He’s sure he’s heard it before, but he can’t remember ever paying attention to it.

“Morning,” Dan echoes, voice slightly less sleep-filled.

“What time is it?” Phil asks.

When Dan shrugs, Phil works to untangle themselves so he can check his phone.

“Almost ten,” he says, answering his own question.

“I’ll have to go in like half an hour,” Dan says, looking down sadly.

He really doesn’t want to return home. Sure, his parents aren’t as bad as some people’s. But his dad certainly isn’t a nice person. And his mother just lets him say whatever he wants, leaving his dad with absolutely no filter.

He’s one of the more traditional men. One of the ‘men go to work, women raise the children’ type of people. He thinks he rules the house, and that what he says is law. Dan has liked living on his own. Where his opinion and views matter. Even Phil’s friends, who are all years older than him, listen to him when he speaks. Sure, he hasn’t hung out with them much, but they’re all nice. They don’t treat him like a nuisance.

“Come on, we should get ready,” Phil says, smiling sadly at Dan.

Dan frowns but compiles. He climbs out of bed, grabs his toiletries and a change of clothes, and excuses himself to the dorm bathrooms.

He opts not to shower. Even though he wants to stay, the anxiety of missing his train and getting in trouble for wasting his dad’s money again is too much.

After spraying extra deodorant, he heads back to his and Phil’s dorm. He knocks and once he hears Phil call him in, he opens the door.

“I’m ready,” he says after shoving his toiletries and night clothes into the front pocket of one of his suitcases. He thought of an idea in the bathroom. And he’s trying to push away his anxiety so he can follow through with it.

“Me too,” Phil says. He walks up to Dan, two suitcases behind him.

Dan swallows and licks his lips before creating the courage he needs within him. He never would have found enough for this; he had to make some.

He leans forward, and up, and connects his lips with Phil’s briefly.

After the kiss, he looks away, blushing.

He sees Phil’s Adam’s apple bob out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t want you to regret this,” he whispers.

Dan looks back at him, sad. He hadn’t meant to make Phil question their blossoming relationship, he really hadn’t. Though he supposes it’s pretty obvious why what he said came out that way.

“I won’t, I promise,” Dan says quickly, before Phil has the chance to doubt him more.

-

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