#why are allergies so bullshit

[thisismycorneroftheinternet]

I think I have an allergy to hypoallergenic soap.

[fennopunk]

I drank lime flavored electrolyte/energy drink and I hope so incredibly much that I'm just imagining the slight tingling on my lips... 🙃

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

funniest thing about Six of Crows is that they technically have two wizards on the six person heist crew but one of them kind of sucks shit at it and it's not even why he's on the team. he's there for guns and the wizard thing is just like a silly little fun fact about him that they only break out in absolute emergencies. it's like having a weird allergy it's just so absolutely incidental. you could know this guy for years and not even know. love that level of casual magic bullshit in a world tbh some people are just magic by accident and don't make a whole personality out of it.

[keypaa]

Astrology Observations No.4

<3 TW

I use the whole sign system

Mars-Saturn hard aspects struggle with sexual encounters at first and have a poor relationship with intimicy.They may loose their virginity later than others and that‘s good yk never loose sahahah

Mars in leo/degrees can be known for their drive (that one girl in my class is super intelligent and everyone knows that) Since leo rules fame it makes more than sence✮⋆˙

Moon in cancer (if developed) can talk about that they just cried over an quite little duck running around without being ashamed of pointing out their own vulnerability (ma sweethearts) That is because cancers ruler is moon

Venus in aquarius always have something to do with animes and they live for video games and their friends. Nevertheless you can be their partner but sometimes they put their friends first 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

Mercury in taurus thinkkkk before they talk, might talk slow and come of as seriøs

Wait jupiter in 3rd house just get a lot of money from family members $♡

Venus in 11th house post their favorite things online ( your pets, your playlists…) 💋

4th house in aries: your home environment is wild, full of chaos and passion at the same time ✮⋆˙

Saturn-Pluto: The relationship to your father changed or transformed you. Some people with this placement are not in contact with their father anymore or just see him once in a while

Moon-Jupiter individuals get lucky if they show their emotions (others try to emphasize with them or they get help) also depends on other aspects ☼

Trust me libra mercury knows how to charm others or themselfes out of uncomfy situations with their words

Mercury in aries try to help you through telling you the solution to your problem (you might get mad but they just wanna help) lovely cookies of mine

Lilith-Mc no one believes that you are innocent. Oh you are a virgin,they will assume you have stds because apperently they assume that you fucked around the town and bānged your friend friends their exes and boyfriends/girlfirends plus their grandfather-mothers

Uranus-Venus positive =tip try to work if problems in relationships accure

How Uranus-Venus hard aspects behave= They may jump to the next person and think that working on relationships are not worth it if you have serious problems or if they don‘t see growth quickly. But that doesn't mean that they will leave you just that they do not have time for bullshit

Venus in pisces need a lot of time to recover if they get hurt but they will die for you

Sag moon have the opinion that getting distracted is good (especially with friends,loved ones). These folks don't believe in telling you their feelings that much

Specific but scorpio pluto in leo degree are known for their dark deep feelings and pain

Jupiter in libra generation loves money, some more others less ˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

Please listen Mercury-Asc people in combinition with Venus tense aspect with Mars, you are not ugly people always talked about your appearence and that makes you always think about how you look. Mercury=thoughts,Asc=Appearence. TW! Body dismorphia can be the case, if so I hug you and advice you to get help¡

Why do aries individuals often have some type of allergy it isn't normal anymore hahaha

TW! Most borderliners have intense aspected moons or gemini, leo or aries moons. Gemini moons have a maze of mind and will overthink everything and then turn into an empty minded person in one split second (typical for BPD), leo moons suffer from people pleasing and having a high opinion of themselfes turn into low low self esteem issues, and them aries moons show their emotions impulsifly or act on them impulsifly. I am not a professional but I am here to make you aware, I observed it in soo many charts, you know best if you show signs! It is more than important to get help :)

Neptune-Asc everyone seems to guess your age differently

Let me know if you would like to have a more dark astro observation next time

Luuuuuv muah

03:02 PM

555

© 2023 the content is subject to the copyright and responsibility of the author

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter five

Aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Fridays are the only day you carve out time for lunch. Less than coincidentally, Fridays are also the only day lunch is catered.

“Here-” Izuku jams his bowl of take out into Katsuki’s face. “Does it smell like there’s peanuts in here?”

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku’s fiance, is only half as ornery as he looks. A premature wrinkle has formed in between his brows, a sign of his almost constant annoyance. His straw colored hair is a sharp contrast to his deep red eyes, currently narrowed in disgust.

“Get this shit out of my fucking face,” he groans. “I’m not a fucking allergy alert dog-- I can’t smell peanuts.”

“To be fair-” Ochako interjects through a mouthful. She’s the opposite of Katsuki: dark hair, round eyes, a smile so sweet that it makes your teeth hurt. Her cheeks are always flushed, spots of broken blood vessels spattered like freckles. “Peanuts do have a smell.”

“Did you ask him to smell for penis?” Denki says, too loud to be genuine. “Kind of homophobic to ask a gay guy that.”

Both men give him identical deadpan stares.

“That’s just his fucking country-ass accent.” Katsuki brushes Denki off and turns back to the curly haired man. “Why would chicken have peanuts in it anyway?”

“The o’l.” Izuku stresses.

“The what?”

“Some places use peanut o’l.”

“Say oil.”

Izuku sneers a bit in return, smoothing out the curves of his accent. “Oy-I’ll.”

“Jesus christ, I’m marrying a hick.” Katsuki leans back in his chair and meets your eye with a jerk of his chin. “Can you believe this?”

You snap back into focus. Your own lunch is untouched, fork still in its little plastic wrapper. Hunger nips at your stomach, but nausea wins over today. The cafeteria isn’t very busy, but in the next couple minutes everyone will start pouring in. The lot of you arrived early to get the best seating-- a little couch and coffee table in the corner, a perfect place to eat and people watch.

“Oh, yeah, uh- Izuku, they have an allergen free option.”

“Well, yeah, but-” He tilts his head as he talks, watching you with those wide, green eyes, like he sees something just below the surface. “It doesn't have chicken-- are you good?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katsuki fingers a piece of Izuku’s food and pops it into his mouth, much to the man’s dismay. “You’ve been making that sad little face all day.”

You pout a bit harder at that. Shit-- you thought you were being subtle. You haven’t been able to walk this whole Aizawa thing off yet, despite all of your attempts. No amount of emails, meetings, and other petty office bullshit managed to distract you from the absolute shock and humiliation of… whatever that was.

Embarrassment.

Embarrassment? You’re certainly not the prettiest girl in the office, but embarrassing? That makes your gums ache, like a punch to the nose, and it makes you feel dirty, like the fall to the ground afterwards.

“You’re doing it again.” Ochako points to your face and it’s apparently sadness. “What’s going on?”

You hem a bit, before condensing it the best you can.

“I’m having issues with a guy.” What an understatement.

A collective glance is shared between the group.

“Touya again?”

Again, Touya haunts a room he’s never been in. You debate what to say. If you admit to it being someone new, they might start sniffing around and jump to conclusions-- though Aizawa would certainly be the last assumption they would make, you still can’t risk it. Besides, you don’t need a gaggle of 23 year olds dissecting your every move. They’re going to jump to some stupid conclusion, like you’re dating Toshinori, if you aren’t careful.

“Yeah, it’s Touya,” you lie, as sheepishly as you can. “Oops.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard that you imagine his brain must hurt. “Again?”

“Shh, just tell us what happened,” Izuku urges, elbowing his partner rather sharply.

“I don't know where I stand with him. It's so-- Ugh, I thought things were going to start going well and then it was just ice cold.” You press your palms into your eyes and sigh. The pressure feels good and helps with the remnants of your hangover. You need an electrolyte drink, stat. Maybe another fucking drink too. “And I’m not even sure why I’m surprised because it’s ice cold a lot.”

When you look up, Ochako is offering a hand, palm up and open. When you take it, she giggles a bit, squeezing gently.

“I think you need to prioritize yourself.”

Denki nods in agreement, cheeks stuffed with food. He’s finished his meal and started stabbing bits of yours. You just push the whole bowl towards him in defeat and slump down into the couch.

“Stop giving men who treat you poorly the time of day.” Ochako says. “When you let them in again and again, you’re basically, like, giving them permission to do this stuff.”

“Yeah!” Denki says through a mouthful. “Cut that fucker off! Don’t even talk to him!”

“Oh, I dunno--” You glance between them. “I think that’d be mean.”

Conflict makes your head spin. It’s so much easier to roll over and take whatever people give you, negative or otherwise. It’s what made your relationship with Touya work-- and it’s what’s allowed you to stay in this job for so long.

“Good!” Denki says. “He deserves it.”

“You deserve to be a little mean and a little angry when people treat you poorly.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Grow some balls. Stand up for yourself.”

“Yeah! Balls!” Denki agrees.

You suck on your bottom lip and turn the idea over in your head. Are you even angry at Aizawa? Or just hurt and confused? Right now, those things may as well be the same thing-- they certainly burn the same in your chest. Cruelty isn’t your usual indulgence…

But it’s someone else’s.

“What do you think?” You turn to Katsuki, who’s been scrolling through twitter for a bit now. His face doesn’t change when he speaks, locked into a general annoyance.

“I think you should kill that fucker.”

You turn to Izuku, the rational one of the couple. He shrugs, straw in mouth and completely unamused.

“Oh, I also think you should kill him,” he says, tone matching Katsuki’s.

Not helpful.

“Listen--” Katsuki leans forward, elbows on his spread knees. He uses a fork to articulate as he speaks. “I’m the expert on being a cunt-”

“-we don’t use that word!” Ochako grimaces.

“And it’s the most freeing and addictive thing you can be.” The tongs of the fork point directly towards you, as sharp as his gaze. “More people should be cunts more often. The world would be a happier place.”

Ochako gasps. “I don’t agree with that at all!”

“Oh please, miss goody-goody,” Katsuki sneers. “You wouldn't need to go to kickboxing five times a week if you let your anger out day to day like a normal motherfucker.”

The girl of the group puffs out her cheeks, but does not argue back. Izuku pats her shoulder affectionately. His food is still untouched, but his free hand guards it from Denki.

“I'm telling you. Try it out. You’ll like it.” Katsuki leans back into his seat. “Or don't. Your life.”

“Question-” The other blonde pipes up. “Did you, like, do something?”

“Kaminari!”

“I mean, like, was there a catalyst?” “A fight or a date or-?”

You know exactly what drives Touya away everytime, but Aizawa is a new beast. Did you breathe wrong or--

“Oh, I uh,” A realization hits you. “I ignored a couple texts, I guess.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the outline of your phone and how it presses into your pocket. If there wasn’t a chance of you flashing the group pictures of their boss, you’d check it immediately, but you can’t mentally handle the risk.

“What an overreaction,” Ochako sighs. “Dump him forever and move on-- Mr. Hizashi and his wife-”

“We aren’t like that.” Ugh. You love Hizashi, but the trio relationship isn’t your speed. “Besides, I don’t like blondes.”

The two toe-heads of the group roll their eyes in a practiced synchrony. Ochako’s smile changes a little bit, something tighter and brighter; is she excited that you aren’t interested? Interesting and a bit gross: she’s too young for that. They’re more than ten years older than her-

(How old is Aizawa? He went to school with Hizashi, so he’s at least 38-- but you could have sworn there were whispers of his fortieth last year. You’ll have to snoop.)

“We’re in agreement. Be a cunt, move on. The end.” Katsuki turns away from you, done with this topic. “Izuku, just fucking eat it already.”

The boy takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his curly hair. “Well, alright, but if I get hives, you’re the one who has to deal with me.”

…

Be mean.

You’re written it on a sticky note and placed it under your computer monitor, like some sort of fucked up mantra. The mere idea of it feels antithetical to who you are at your core; you enjoy helping people, you love making the world better. That’s why you work like a dog for the company-- you know it’s improving the lives of its customers. If Toshinori wasn’t sick, you know he’d be doing even more too.

On the other hand, being nice has led to your own detriment many times. Touya has hurt you, your parents, and now even Aizawa. And you can’t even blame Aizawa, can you? Texting him was your mistake--

You rest your forehead against your desk. There’s still a sticky spot from when you spilled your coffee yesterday. God, yesterday feels so close and yet so far away. How does a man yoyo between yelling at you, sending you his weiner, then telling you that you’re embarrassing? The idea of ‘always wanted you’ goes flying out the window.

Just as you try and put yourself to work, you hear it. The familiar lopsided stomp. Fuck, it’s him, probably looking for his afternoon coffee. He’s been by much less than usual, a fact you’re very grateful for, so you haven’t even thought about the pot since before lunch. You glance over and see it’s empty. Crap.

As you start to get up, the sticky note catches your eye again. Be mean. That’s right. Why are you popping out of your chair for this, this, this--- total fucking cunt? Your chair squeaks with the force you sit down with. You try to embody Katsuki with your face - furrowing your brow and yet keeping your mouth unaffected-- and your worst nightmare turns the corner.

You keep typing and hope Aizawa doesn't notice that it's the same words over and over again, hit in the same rhythm. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. He waits a long moment, then clears his throat louder. You don't gift him your attention until he grumbles something under his breath, shifting his weight on to his other leg. Just as he begins to say something, you interject.

“I had more important things to focus on,” you lie. “You can figure out how to brew coffee, Mr.// Engineer.”

You throw in that last bit without thinking, but the bite rolls so easily off of your tongue. It’s nothing like your usual tone, but it feels so, so right. From the corner of your vision you can see his literally reel back, blinking hard,

“That’s how it’s going to be?”

You don’t respond. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. Your fingers shake from the adrenaline boost. Ochako was right; don't even give this man the time of day.

“It's going to be like that?” He yanks the pot from its stand. “Fine.”

You have to muster all of willpower not to grin as he starts slamming open the drawers and scrounging around for supplies. It takes a whole ten minutes before he presses brew, then another five before the pot is almost half full. The whole time he grumbles to himself, leaning his whole weight against the flimsy table.

This is good. Too good. The vindictive rush of power feels almost sexual in the way it satisfies. Teeth dig into your lip as you hold back a smile even harder.

Embarrassment? You'll show him what embarrassment really means.

Finally, he pours himself a cup. He doesn't fill his thermos nearly as much as he normally does, most likely trying to leave as quickly as possible. Just as he starts to turn, you get up out of your chair and walk over. You take one of the little disposable cups from the stack and take your time adding three sugars and two cream, each one at a time, as he lurks there. Then, you pour the coffee, thick and oddly gritty into your cup. You finally meet his eye when you take a swig.

Aizawa’s face is set hard, small eyes narrowed even tighter. His lips are screwed up with annoyance, wrinkling his low bridged nose. Pissed would be an understatement. Just as you brace for another yelling match, he turns away, marching down the hall.

“Enjoy the fucking coffee.”

Oh, Katsuki was right. Being mean tastes good.

….This coffee, however, does not.

[accidentalmistress]

Snzfic - Sparks of Something New

I'm planning to post a Zayne snzfic soon, but I realized that I never posted the first Zayne fic on Tumblr. So, here's the first snzfic I've written with my OC Zayne: a six and a half foot tall nerd with a PhD in immunology and the worst allergies on the planet.

Word count: 2852

Content and warnings: male allergy sneezing; mild swearing

------------------

No one uses the cubicle next to me. Or the one in front of me, for that matter. I'd say no one uses the one behind me, either, but the only thing behind my cubicle is a wall painted in a hideous dark orange color that some far-removed executive probably thought would be "fun" or "invigorating." There's no one in the cubicle on my other side, the one that shares a wall with mine. The ones diagonally in front me are empty, too. In fact, no one else sits in my row, or in either of the adjacent rows. This entire section is empty, excepting little ol’ me, of course.

When I requested moving my desk after that whole incident with my supervisor Greg, HR claimed that this deserted patch of cubicles that sits down a short flight of steps in the half-sunken ground floor of the lab building was the only area with open seats. I know that's bullshit. The Boys' Club of Upper Management wanted to shove me somewhere out of the way—in a whole separate building, even. Joke's on them: I thrive in solitude. I love having this quiet corner all to myself, without the dull drudgery of small talk or people bothering me with inane questions. I put my earbuds in, get in the zone, and focus on my work without distractions.

Which is why it's super weird when I hear someone in the cubicle across from mine.

I've been so engrossed in what I'm doing that I didn't notice anyone coming back here. It's only because of a lull in the music playing through my earbuds that I notice anything at all. It sounds like… heavy breathing?

"Heh… heEHHhh! … Hh'xcht! … h'gnKT! Heh-hahCHT!  Ugghh…"

Someone is sneezing like crazy in the empty cube next to me. Or, rather, they're stifling an onslaught of sneezes. Do they not know I'm here? I unlock my phone and touch the pause button on Spotify. Oh, I am so glad I didn't start jamming out when “Careless Whisper” came on, because when I get really into it I do the saxophone parts and everything.

Still, I'm honestly a little surprised whoever it is hasn't noticed me yet, or at least the clicking of keyboard keys beneath my fingers. From the sound of it, though, they're probably focused on their own problems with, y'know, breathing. Besides, if they're expecting this area to be deserted, it may not even cross their mind that someone could be back here.

I slowly push my office chair backwards and lean so I can look into the cubicle across the aisle to my right. Sure enough, someone is sitting at the desk. Well, more like slumped over it. Looks like a guy. I watch his back spasm a few more times.

"Gh-CHT! CHT! hhCHT! heh-EHssht! Mmmhh…"

Capping off another string of stifles is a pathetic-sounding whimper that tells me this is not the beginning of his suffering. I have no idea whether he's been back here for a while now or if his problems started somewhere else and he only snuck back here moments ago. Man, why’d he have to come to this section for his little sneeze attack break or whatever? I know I have no claim over these rows of empty cubes, but even so it feels like he's intruding on my quiet sanctuary of productivity.

I could try to ignore him—turn up my music, pretend he isn't there, and refocus on my work. Maybe he'll remain blissfully ignorant of my existence and leave quietly whenever he's done, uh… getting whatever it is out of his system.

Yeah, right. Refocus? There's no way I'll be able to refocus as long as I know he's there. His mere presence will loom like an unseen specter and eat holes in my concentration. Which means my only real choices are to sit quietly and hope he leaves, or make my presence known and hope he leaves. One of those options will have far more immediate results, so I sigh lightly and remove my earbuds.

I get up and go peer at him from the relative safety of standing partly concealed behind the cubicle wall next to the doorway. Do cubicles have doorways? Whatever, the opening entrance thing. He's facedown on the desk, forehead resting on his arms and a box of tissues close at hand. I can't see his face, but I don't think I recognize him. Dark brown hair that’s on the longer side and messy in that tousled, “I just woke up like this” way that I can never achieve when I try to do it intentionally. Slim build. Wearing a white coat. Lab coat means lab guy. His whole upper body tenses up every time he sneezes.

“Heh-chxt! EhCH’nx! Huhh… God, it won't stop…”

"You all right there?"

I take a kind of perverse satisfaction in the way he jumps. His head snaps up, and he fixes me with a wide-eyed stare behind round-rimmed glasses. I'm struck by just how blue his eyes are. It's a deep blue, like a sky just beginning to darken. Now that I can see his face, I know I definitely don't recognize him, but something twitches in my gut all the same.

"Wh-wha-!? Oh n-no- heh-hehh- hhx'ch-TIEW! Heh-ts’CHIUHH! heGH’SHiuhh! HAH-GHSHIEEW!!"

He tries to keep stifling, but I guess I startled him too badly, because he quickly breaks down into a full-blown sneezing fit. It sounds pretty harsh, too, and I have to admit that I feel a little bad.

"Uh… sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"N-no, no, it's- heh-tchiuhh! I, um… I di-hihdn't know anyone was o-over heh-here."

I point across the aisle to my cubicle.

"My desk is right there, my dude."

His face is already flushed from sneezing, especially across his nose, which has a prominent aquiline shape and Roman bump at the bridge. I can just barely make out that he has freckles beneath that blush. He gets a few shades darker before my eyes.

"Wh- R-really? I- oh, hh'chnxt! Nguh… I-I'm so sorry, I ha- hah-shiew! h-had no idea anyone even s-sat over here. Oh, God, then you've been here this whole t-time?" He groans and puts his face in his hands. "Oh man… this day can't get any worse… heh-chtt! Nnhh…"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had headphones on, so I only just noticed you were here… So, uh… you sick or something?"

He shakes his head and his eyes screw shut as he grabs a handful of tissues, then he draws in a deep breath and buries his face in them.

"Hehh-GSSHHT!! … Allergies."

“Oh…”

I’m not the best conversationalist, but I feel like I should say something else, so my brain spins a roulette wheel of possible responses that apparently lands on: “To what?”

He looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes and sniffles miserably.

“Everything. Dust, mold, the pollen of every flower and tree you can think of, cats, dogs, fragrances. I swear a light breeze will set me off… -snfff- I th-think what’s really geh-getting me now is the- the- heh- the r- ragweed- heh! HEH-CHSHIEW! ESHyuu!”

He blows his nose into his wad of tissues with a wet honk and a slight moan. Part of me says I should just say a quick "welp, hope you feel better", go back to my desk, and really crank my music up. And yet…

There's something about this guy that glues my feet right where I’m standing. I don't know if it's instinct or empathy or the fact that, despite the streaming eyes and red, sniffling nose, he's actually kind of cute. In the same way a scraggly, wet kitten is, I guess.

"Wow, that… sucks. Bless you."

"Thanks… Um… I-I'm Zayne, by the way. Zayne Reynolds. -snndf-"

I nod, slowly. I'm pretty sure I remember there being a Dr Reynolds in the immunology department. Guess this is him.

"Lynette Sparks. So, like… do you take medication or anything?”

He nods and looks away to the side with a slightly uncomfortable look.

“Mhmm. B-but this morning, I um… Heh'ISSHiuh! -snf- I-I was running late, and I… I forgot.”

“Oh. Uh, well… Can I do anything for you? Or get you anything?"

He regards me with some surprise, eyebrows raised.

"You… want to he-help m- heh-hehh- HIH'chgdt! Nngh… -snfff- You want to help me?"

"Is that weird?" I say the words slowly, second-guessing myself. Maybe he'd rather be left alone.

"N-no, I didn't mean— It's just the guys I work with don't usually… Th-they don't, uh…" He sniffles, nose scrunching with obvious irritation. "Oh no… I-I'm gonna… hehh…"

His chest jumps with hitches of increasing urgency, and I can't help but notice the way his reddened nostrils twitch. His voice quavers and rises in pitch as his breath catches.

"G-gonna h-have a f-fit. Oh God- hehh! HhheEHH!"

He stifles a sneeze. Then another. And another. And another. The next he tries desperately to stifle as well, but the outburst breaks through his efforts to contain it, and from there it's all downhill. A dam has broken. His body is wracked by more and more powerful sneezes, and all he can do now is grip the bundle of tissues tight against his face to catch the expulsions and muffle the sound.

"HEH-TCHIUHH!! EHHSHHGHT! EHHSHHGHT! HEHH-EHH'SSHHIUHH! Ehsht!-Ehsht!-Ehsht! Ehh'SHHIUHH! Oh God- heh'CHSHIUHH!"

He goes on like that for what has to be at least a full minute, and I can think of nothing I can do but try not to stare. By the time he's done, his entire face is cherry red, and his breath comes in labored pants. He moans.

"Oh my God… I'm- I'm s-so sorry. I can't h-help it- Hah-gghhssiuh! Oh man… now I'm lightheaded… I-I’m really sorry…"

My face pinches into a scowl. "What? You- Why are you apologizing?" I sigh and smooth my features. "I was gonna ask if you're okay, but… you're obviously not."

Any irritation I harbored at having my workflow concentration broken feels insignificant and petty now. I may be antisocial, but I'd have to be pretty friggin heartless to just go back to my desk and leave this poor guy on his own.

"Give me a minute." I point a warning finger at him. "And don't go anywhere!"

He looks up at me with confused and bleary eyes. He doesn't even need to speak: his expression screams, "Why would I?"

I duck into my cubicle and grab my bag, hauling it up onto my desk. Rummaging through, I find a small zipper pouch, which I toss lightly into the air and catch with a smirk. Then it's off to the opposite side of the room where a water cooler sits plugged into the wall. I'd heard the phrase "water cooler talk," but I didn't think offices still had actual water coolers until I started working here. Not that there's anyone around for me to talk to, but the water cooler is genuine enough, and I fill one of the little paper cups.

I find the ailing Dr Reynolds much as I left him: hunched over the vacant desk with tissues attached to his face like a diver with a SCUBA mask. I plunk the water down next to him before unzipping the pouch and rifling through until I pull out a small, neon pink pill in a plastic blister pack.

"Here. Benadryl. Might make you sleepy, but I figure that's preferable to… this."

Zayne raises his head and stares at the pill in my outstretched hand for a few silent seconds. I clear my throat when it gets awkward.

"Uh, you don't have to take it if you don't want to."

That at least spurs him to respond. "N-no, I don't- I mean- heh-chhzhiuh! I-I'll take it if… you're sure?"

I raise an eyebrow. I don't know why he's making it sound like a question.

"I wouldn't be offering it to you if I wasn't."

"R-right… sorry. Thank you."

He extends a hand, and I drop the pill into his open palm. He sneezes twice while trying to get the blister pack open, and I'm about to offer to open it for him when he finally gets it himself. I watch the tiny pill vanish as he downs the water and sits back with a sigh. He looks exhausted.

"That should… eh… heh'chgt! Guh… Should hopefully kick in soon… -snfff- Um, thank you again… You said you're, um, Lynette?"

I nod. "Yeah. Sparks. Lynette Sparks. And please don't say something like, 'sparks flew' when we met. I've heard it a bajillion times before, and it's not a great pickup line."

"Huh? P-pickup line? Why would I… try to… um… heh-heh-hehh! HEHTCHIEW! Nnh. -sndf- Excuse me… Um, I-I wouldn't do that… T-try to hit on you, I mean. That's not, um, work appropriate."

Wow, this guy's a dork. I fight a giggle that threatens to bubble up, but it's not that I want to laugh at him. His timid stammering is actually oddly endearing. Maybe this is what people mean when they call someone "adorkable." I cross my arms as a smirk creeps across my face.

“Well, I appreciate your professionalism."

I'm not lying. I genuinely do appreciate that he's being considerate of me as a coworker. Yet, there's something else, too: a twinge of disappointment. Well, that's… new. I chew on my bottom lip for a second before I decide to take a chance.

"So… what if we got to know each other better first?"

I think that makes him short circuit, because he just stares at me for a good five seconds before he can speak again.

"I… What?"

"I'm just saying, if we got to know each other, that would maybe, y'know, open an avenue towards things happening outside of work. Where flirting might be more appropriate. I mean, if you actually wanted to. It's okay to say no; for all I know you're not even into women."

"N-no, I am! Uh, interested in women, that is. I just- I- oh, h-hang on- ah-hahh-HAESHIUU! Nguh, excuse me… I mean, um…"

His gaze rests on the desktop for a few more moments. I can't tell anymore how much of the flush in his face is from allergies and how much is from how flustered he is. I don’t know what it says about me as a person, but I can’t help but think it’s cute. He takes a breath. When he looks back up at me, though, there's something strange at the back of those deep blue eyes.

"Are you messing with me?"

My eyebrows twitch upwards for a moment. In retrospect, I can see how he might think that, what with my rather flippant tone. I’ve never been good at any form of socializing, let alone flirting, so I end up hiding behind sarcasm and humor. That way any screw ups I make can be passed off as a joke, no harm done. Of course, it doesn’t always pay off, like right now. In fact, I may have just blown my chances.

I clear my throat with a somewhat embarrassed cough.

“That was not my intention, no. I’m sorry if I offended you or made you uncomfortable. Maybe we should just, uh, forget I said anything?”

I take a step back with an awkward chuckle, not really intending to return to my own cubicle yet, just wanting to offer a little more space between us in case he is uncomfortable. He must think I'm leaving, though, because he stands up with such abrupt force that the chair he was sitting in rolls and hits the wall behind him. I can’t help but stare for a moment with slightly wide eyes. What I could not appreciate while he was seated (and, furthermore, hunched over), is that Zayne is tall. Really fucking tall. Like, he must be at least six foot six, which means he’s over a foot taller than I am.

Well, shit. He just got a heck of a lot hotter in my book. I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit: I have a thing for tall guys, and the taller the better.

He doesn’t seem to notice my reaction, though, or maybe he’s used to people gawking at his height.

“Wait, I didn’t mean- H-honestly I just… couldn't understand why you’d be interested in me. B-but I would, um, l-like to… ah… ahh-hahh-AESCHIUUH! S-sorry! I-I’d like to get to know you better… if that’s really alright with you.”

The corner of my mouth twitches into a smile that blossoms wider by the moment, and I nod.

“Yeah… Yeah, that's definitely alright with me.”

No one uses the cubicle next to me, and suddenly I'm finding myself even more grateful for that fact than usual. I don't know why Zayne chose this area of the building to hunker down and suffer through his allergy attack, but it seems those dickheads in HR did me a greater favor than I realized when they moved me here.

After all, this could be the start of something very interesting…

[centrally-unplanned]

Let's see if I have one more election take in me:

I am deeply sympathetic to Sam Kriss's rage against the Democratic corpo-political shibboleth, and not just because we are both deeply enmeshed in the grand tradition of dissident Oxbridge-style cantankerous internet rants. He is right that Kamala was a weak candidate, for one. But more importantly, I still feel what he feels deep down. I remember the starry idealism of my halcyon youth, of believing that conviction, that vision, that the zeal only a platform birthed from authentic principles, tempered by struggle and sweat, would carry the day over crass, paint-by-polling-numbers incrementalism. When he describes Harris thusly:

"She’s a machine politician. She wants power, but not for any particular reason. It’s just that life is a game, and the point is to reach the highest level."

I see my own reaction to her when she first stepped into the 2020 limelight, and low-key hating her for it. I feel his heart, for it is my heart.

But it is not my brain. Because I am not a teenager anymore, and his critique is fucking bullshit.

He says all this stuff like:

The reason Kamala Harris lost is the same as the reason she was the candidate to begin with: the Democratic Party is allergic to democracy.

And how the electorate is seen as but ants from inside the towers of the Machine, like the Dems just invented "not running a primary" this time as a lark. As opposed to neither party in America ever having primaries against incumbent presidents! Because they are normally popular, and it would be a waste of everyone's time to do that! Could you imagine, launching a real primary against Obama in 2012? And possibly sabotaging his brand a bit for absolutely nothing? It is a reasonable policy, particularly when incumbents used to have an advantage for being so. Now they clearly don't, Biden was unpopular and too old, and the Dems took too long to realize it. A costly mistake, but it is a purely strategic error. Big orgs have inertia, and the Dems fucked up. It has nothing to do with an "allergy to democracy".

And Kriss can go off summarizing how the Harris campaign was offering voters nothing:

But for some unaccountable reason, among the general public, ‘Kamala: You Already Like Her!’ was not the brilliant pitch it seemed to be. [...] Another option would be to actually offer something to the voters.

Which sounds neat, but he made it up! I remember Kamala's actual campaign speeches, ads, and platforms, which she repeated so monotonically in her tightly-scripted campaign appearances: protect abortion rights, expand the welfare state, provide better child care support, lower the cost of housing. And most importantly, she ran on Biden's record of a strong economy and promised to deliver more of it. What does even mean for this to not be a real platform? Beyond not having some synthesized, totalizing "Critique" of modernity that packages it all into a beautiful, systematizing little box.

Because I promise you, voters synthesize jack shit. None of this is why Harris lost - voters have made that pretty clear:

You can find other data ofc, this or that point varies, but the story is not opaque. They didn't like Biden! They didn't like his inflation. They didn't like immigration, or they didn't like his liberalism, and they thought Kamala was too similar. She had too much policy baggage. And she wasn't charismatic enough to dig herself out of that hole - no disagreement from me on that front.

Though even then, by that we mean she lost an election by ~3-4% margins after getting subbed in at the 4th quarter while down by ~8% in the polls. That ain't bad!

None of the voters who matter share Kriss's sensibilities, and he cannot hide his disappointment in that. So he pretends that Donald Trump, the guy who promised 20% tariffs on everything to fight inflation, is giving them a real vision:

That’s what Trump did: he offered an enemy to blame and the prospect of doing violence to them

I don't know man, I think swing voters just don't like the last four years and think 2019 was better. I don't think the promises of orgastic violence against democrats are why Trump won! Actually a bit of an unforced error on his part.

But since Kriss presumes to value democracy, that thesis can't hold - so the lack of reality delivering on what his vision for democracy should be is displaced onto Harris's mistakes. The voters can never fail you. You can only fail to elevate them with the right candidate. Which, tactically? Sure, why not. But you can leave the moralism at the classroom door.

This ties into our dreaded media discourse debate, so it is time to bring in another explainer, by Michael Tomasky:

The line-by-line isn't interesting here; instead I want to focus on this quote:

Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president? The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.”

To which the immediate reply is: my dude, what are you talking about??

A 56 percent majority of Americans say Trump is probably guilty of a criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election results through false claims of voter fraud, including 40 percent who believe he is “definitely guilty.” Republicans are less united than Democrats. Nearly 9 in 10 Democrats believe Trump is guilty, while nearly 7 in 10 Republicans think he is innocent. Among independents, nearly twice as many think Trump is guilty as think he is innocent.

You know how when you ~13 years old, and you have that friend who is just old enough to start taking Dungeons & Dragons books filled with splash art of succubi into the bathroom with him, but not yet old enough to get that "talking to girls" is an acquired skill? And they are blatantly, openly salivating over the first chick in the 7th grade class who discovered what power the combination of a camisole and a push-up bra holds over the male gaze? And she just completely ignores his faltering attempts at ~casual conversation~, so his brain script-cycles through its backlog of tween sitcom plots until it lands on, "Hey, what if I confess to her? Then she will know about my feelings!"

And you have to pull him aside and gently explain that, bro. She knows. That is not your problem.

Kriss is too intelligent a thinker to not understand this, but our dear Tomasky - and so many like him - has stuck his 14-year-old head in the sand over this. Swing voters know Trump is a scumbag! They know he lost the election, they know he raped a few women in his day, they know he is a serial fraudster. Even a bunch of those Republicans who, in polls, go "oh it's all a Dem conspiracy"? They know too; they just have the decency to lie about it. How could they not? Every media outlet in the country has been repeating it for a fucking decade! I might think voters are morons but even I won't stoop this low; they have eyes and ears, they aren't illiterate.

They just don't care.

Not enough at least, not enough to make it the only thing they consider. And here is the rub, here is the grand mistake Kriss & Tomasky are making - they are at least somewhat right to not care. The height of the Democratic privilege is that they get to play this card because they don't have to deal with it being turned against them. Kamala is a political chameleon but she is a decent person. She would never take a bribe from a foreign government, she would never assault a coworker, she would never, ever, deny a free and fair election.

Which means you don't have to choose between voting for a rapist and voting for someone who is going to shove a bullshit interpretation of the 14th amendment down your throat via a stacked court to ban abortion nationwide, forever. Pro-life people think abortion is genocide against babies! Why are you surprised they aren't voting for the pro-baby-genocide person because she is nice? How sure are you that you would do the same when that is reversed? I guess those boycott-Harris-because-of-Gaza people got some cred, but I think we all agreed they were dumb, right?

This is the rub of why outsiders always have so much difficulty understanding how people like Berlusconi, Trump, Le Pen, etc, get so much vote share - they have no stake in the political struggle beyond the vague idea of democratic norms. It is easy to say "Italy, choose a non-crook!" when you don't have to live with the policy programme of the other guy. From the inside the price of those principles is far, far harder. It isn't shocking that most choose not to pay it.

This isn't to give voters like a moral pass - Trump's conduct is truly disqualifying, I would vote Republican if the shoe was on the other foot in this case. My point instead is that they generally won't as a simple fact of life, and blaming them is futile. If you have wound up in a situation where the political system has taken its pool of hundreds of millions of potential candidates and narrowed it down to two for the voters, and one of them has "launched a coup but will say go to hell to the inflation guy" as a bundled package, someone fucked up and it isn't the voters.

You need political elites to do their part in the system - Republicans never should have let Trump be their candidate in 2016. Open primaries with no organizational thumbs on the scale are a mistake, actually, allowing arbitrary minorities to generate subpar candidates. The decision to let Biden run again was, fundamentally, born from the same impulse - the Democratic Party had no leadership capable of telling him no, because they outsourced that job to "primaries". The Dems are not "allergic" to democracy; democracy is allergic to too much of itself.

But the cat is out of the bag now! These changes happened for a reason after all. Which I won't dig into here - I will keep my point as focused as something as sprawling as this can be. Voters will not save you, and you should not be disappointed when they don't. It was never their job.

[utilitycaster]

in looking for posts about the end of C2 I found a self-inflicted ask meme (called that) in which I asked people to send wish items for C3 and first off, once we do have a hard episode count for C3 I might run something similar because it was fun, but also, looking through, some notes:

Laura playing a sorcerer was rather popular, as was Marisha as a high-Charisma character

Issylra setting REALLY popular...we got a smidge I suppose but this was not really a Continent In Depth campaign

people did want to see Travis as a lycan blood hunter, AND in some cases older characters

Lots of interest in an aeormaton too!

I really wanted to see Sam as a cleric, which is funny because I spent the first 30 episodes pissed off at FCG's execution but I DID come around, so. hat consumed.

why do people care so much about the seating arrangement. bestie i could not give a shit.

I think this campaign also made me go from "previously knowing each other can be good but I'm not interested in more twins, we've moved past that" to "let's keep the prior relationships either brief or like. require you submit a 10 page essay of backstory so we don't get some empty bullshit"

people REALLY liked wild magic barbarian so the fact that Taliesin and Matt were explicitly like "it sucks ass" is funny to me, a person who's neutral on it.

a lot of people wanted Travis as Tabaxi and I hate this and they got mad but I'm right and sexy and ready to have a long mean conversation with you about the anti-ableism leaving people's bodies when it comes to severe allergies.

3+ years and I still hate changelings and kalashtar I'm sexy and right on this one too

someone wanted a horse girl but a cavalier fighter; Imogen's horse girliness sort of didn't really have much time to be a thing (this is not a judgement, this is just, they weren't riding horses much bc of the nature of the campaign) and I would like a cavalier

*ironic laugh* multiple people wanting Laura specifically to play evil aligned.

people really wanted circle of spores for liam. there were a lot of repeats frankly that made no sense to me and i never got the answer. was there a server or something.

Travis INT or WIS caster when

Bard Ashley when

Sam's character should be taller than Travis's ACHIEVED FOR ALL BUT FCG & BERTRAND. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

everyone was like WELL OBVIOUSLY the cast will play elves for the sleep reasons and then no one did.

the specter of a Shadowgast child had already risen unfortunately. before the relationship was fully confirmed no less.

spelljammer fans are not intellectual to put it mildly

please GOD not everything has to be self-referential in-jokes. use your mind.

[buckyalpine]

Here is a list of things that make me mad in no particular order. Angry ranting. Pls ignore this, I'm just screaming into the void. These example apply to very specific situations I've encountered with people who are perfectly capable of doing better.

People who lack common sense. Social awareness. Common courtesy. Saying "Oh my God, I'd never do that" when they've never been even close to said situation but they're now experts on how they'd act while sitting on their pristine Thoroughbred horse, sipping on English tea with their pink so high it may as well be in their nose.

People who say "Well I wouldn't care if it happened to me" or "I'm just being honest" when you point out something they did/said.

When autocorrect/spellcheck decides it cannot for the life of it figure out what you're trying to spell OR it gives you suggestions for every word under the sun except the one you want. All you did was leave out a single letter with the rest of it spelled perfectly and spellcheck decides to go into a coma. So you fix the mistake and the little squiggly red line goes away. Fuck you.

Gnats. WTF is you're problem. I've Googled this shit cause I want to know why tf you can't just fly straight, why do you have to buzz all over the damn place near my head of all places.

Flies. Same thing as above. Why tf can't you just fly straight. WHY NEAR MY EAR. You have the entire world and you decided my room is the place to be? And now we're both miserable because you keep hitting yourself against the window after noticing your grave mistake. I leave the door wide open but you want to keep body slamming the glass.

Giving me life advice on something you know nothing about.

People who don't love their pets. Yeah, you take care of them but you do it as a chore and then complain about it. Those little fur babies deserve it all, give them the best or don't have pets at all.

Holier than thou attitude.

People who laugh at those who are visibly upset and tell them they're being too sensitive.

Allergies. IDK Why tf my body acts surprised as hell every single spring. It's just fucking pollen. Why are you trying to fight it. Do you understand that in your brilliant plan to try and fight the little evaders you actually make me want to end it all because my nose is itching and my eyes are watering and I can't breathe. Food allergies are another level of bullshit. I'll never forget the day this one girl tells me she wished she had allergies? Like it makes you special, mf what??? She was being serious too.

Thin, straight, fine black hair. Can't do anything with it. It doesn't hold hairstyles, doesn't curly, gets heavy as soon as you use any product and 90% of the time it just looks like Snape cosplay. Ask me how I know

Parents who buy their very young children shoes with laces. This is inconvenient for all of us. why tf would you do this when Velcro exists. Your 4 year old doesn't need laces when they have no clue how to even eat cheese with their crackers, mf why did you buy this shoe for them?!

Bananas. Hate them with a burning passion. The smell. The texture. I hate the peel is left out and about like it isn't making the entire room smell. Don't even get me started on banana breath. (Keep in mind this is not me saying I think they're gross. I wish I liked them because they're a super convenient snack and very healthy)

People who lie and say you can't taste the banana in a smoothie. Yes, I can. You always can. You can have 1000lbs of any fruits and that single banana will still stand out.

People who don't understand mental illness/ act ignorantly to those suffering.

Big companies who ask you to donate to stuff. You're going to use this as a tax write off, stfu.

Inflation.

People who laugh at others for not knowing something. Maybe that thing had 0 relevance to their life. Maybe they learned about that because they were taught something else. Either way, how is it funny.

People who laugh at those learning a new language. You're the fucking worst. They are LEARNING. Let them get used to the pronunciation, let them get accustomed to sentence structures, let them make mistakes without being embarrassed. You're the embarrassing one cackling you're damn ass off while they're trying to do something new. You're discouraging them from wanting to continue because you feel the need to be an asshole.

People who make everything a serious debate/conversation.

People who steal. Not out of necessity but just because they can. I'll never forget overhearing this group of kids in my high school bragging and laughing their asses off over how much candy they stole from other kids. They also stole phones. These were not troubled kids mind you, they were doing this for shits and giggles.

Eczema. So fucking itchy, why can't skin just act right. It feels awful, looks awful and just comes and goes as it pleases.

People who clown you for who you find attractive. Why. If I find this person attractive, what in the ever loving flying fuck does it have to do with you. It's just so unnecessarily rude. I don't even get how its funny or why you find it okay to call someone ugly as if this is something they personally have control over.

I'm going to add more to this list.

[thepenguinweeb]

`` You can't do that. Not a good idea. ``

[ ☆ Gojo x reader ]

[ ☆ Neither of you like the other. You find him stuck-up, he finds you annoying. So why is it that he finds himself enjoying your company more and more each day? ]

[ aka; enemies to lovers ]

[ Notes: this is specifically about teen Gojo :D ]

Gojo has disliked you ever since he heard you insulting him while talking to your friends.

"So, Gojo-senpai.. what do you think of him?"

"I don't know. He seems too arrogant and stuck-up for me to like him. I know he's strong and all, but he's just.. irritating."

That was a massive damage to his ego. So from that point on, he vowed to be your worst rival and enemy.. without you knowing.

Occasional rude remarks, small pranks, it was harmless for the most part. But despite his satisfaction at seeing your annoyance whenever he did something, he still had an empty feeling in his heart.

Somehow, he found himself no longer wanting to just annoy you. He wanted your approval, your praise, to hear you admit he's a good person.

And so, he thought the only way he could get that was trough being a show-off.

But however hard he tried to impress you with his powers, or money, you still didn't seem interested.

What annoyed him the most, though, was you getting closer with his best friend.

Gojo sat at a table, tapping his fingers to the wood impatiently. Suguru was supposed to arrive by now, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.

What's taking him so long?

He noticed the black-haired man from the corner of his eyes soon enough. "Suguru!" He waved to get his attention. "Over here!"

While his friend sat down, Gojo noticed something in his hands which piqued his curiousity. Flowers. Beautiful ones.

"What's that for?" He asked, pointing to the bouqet in his hands. "You wanna ask someone on a date, or something?"

Geto chuckled awkwardly and nodded. "Well, yes, actually.. They're for [Y/N]-san."

Gojo's eyes widened as he heard those words. He knew you'd been getting close to him, but not this close!

More importantly, why did he feel the urge to stop this?

"I- what?" He managed to ask as he crossed his arms. "You can't do that. Not a good idea."

Geto lookwd back at his friend with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know.. [Y/N] is quite popular. I hear they get tons of confessions every day. It would be a risky move. Also," he pointed at the flowers again, "aren't they allergic to those?"

"They are?" The black-haired sorcerer questioned, his expression softening. He put a hand on his cheek in slight embarrasement. "I wasn't aware. I'll get them new ones."

Of course, the whole allergy thing was just a bullshit excuse to delay this confession as much as he could.

"Thanks for the help, Satoru."

It stung so badly to lie to his best friend. His only friend. But he would make it up somehow, he was sure.

"Uh, yeah, it's nothing."

He could see you pass by in the distance, and he swore he stared for longer than usual.

He knew Geto wouldn't be too happy.. but he had to confess to you before he could.

A/N: Cliffhanger! Also yeah my first non-bsd post, shocker, I know. I honestly feel like I didn't do my man justice but lmk! Maybe I'll make a part 2 if ppl are interested

Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry tyy!

[shoegazingmonad]

Tavvy, Rage and Lord English

There have been a good handful of references to Lord English via Tavvy so far, his outfit is terribly similar to Caliborn's / Doc scratch's, he was raised by Gamzee, he sweats a lot, - his first word was honk, so was LE's. Enough comparisons between the two to rouse suspicion.

And so, I (and quite a few other people) think Tavvy is, or has been, set up in a way that he's going to be a successor to Caliborn or Lord English, and I think it's something Gamzee's being perpetuating since he was born.

Tavvy's character is centered around repression. He's been trapped living in close quarters with a murderer who's shown to leave people fuming in a few seconds, left unable to question why or show his explicit upset with the situation due to fear of punishment, and isn't given any proper emotional support by family members because they either don't care or are too inebriated to help in any way that matters. Tavvy is literally 'home' stuck (lol), and as we see here, he's clearly bottled-up whatever bullshit he's been put through for the first 15 years of his life. It's his Chekhov's gun, because we all know that at some point all of those feelings are going to burst out of him like a parasite bursting out of its host.

Firstly, I think it's important to understand why Gamzee would want to do this in the first place. As this wonderfully detailed post describes: Gamzee hates the Author for making him the butt-of-the-joke, hates them because it means every miserable aspect of his life was not simply coincidence but a carefully plotted shitshow, and he hates the audience too for if it weren't for us, he wouldn't have been given such a joke of an existence in the first place. Ruining and perverting everything he can just so he can spite the Author and disgust the Audience has been his whole shtick since Act 5.

This motivation continues to drive him throughout his life in the epilogues, which feels like a particularly disgusting stain on an already harrowing story as we see him ruin Dirk's funeral, assert himself as a priest whose forgiveness comes in the form of sprinkling breastmilk on people before forcing them to make out, and enter a kismesissitude with Jane, putting even more strain on her as she tries to maneuver an entire planet into her power. In short, he's trying, and succeeding to make a pretty fucked situation into an immensely fucked up situation, and there are no bounds to what he'll do to achieve this.

Now, we know he's had a heavy hand in Tavvy's life, and that there's a method to his madness, but we don't know the exacts of what he's been planning for him. Little has come to fruition so far, and Tavvy almost seems so unaffected that you'd think that maybe his reign of terror really had come to an end with his death, but you'd be wrong. Because, ironically, in the same scene that Tavvy supposedly removes his uncle's influence on him, he just reveals that there are plenty of unseen layers to this. Layers that he can't even recognize due to his unawareness of the bigger picture here.

The thing about continuing Homestuck is that - at the end of the day - you are literally just creating English again. That's what writing is, after all. And who better to kickstart the rebirth of Homestuck's antagonist than y'know, the guy who raised him in the first place?

Anyway, what I'm saying is that Gamzee has been setting up Tavvy to be the next Caliborn / Doc Scratch / Lord English since his birth. And we've seen some of the ways he's been 'training' Tavvy for this, forcing Jake to cure his allergy by forcefully exposing him to them under the guise of pity for him being unable to eat PB&J. An allergy, which seems to function as an allergy to the character's existence within Homestuck itself, as though he's trying to cure Tavvy of his inability to confront their metanarrative reality, and perhaps goading him into a grudge against it in the process. Look at that knowing smile and smug gaze and tell me he doesn't know what he's doing.

As of now, there isn't much to suggest Tavvy has any sort of hatred towards the nature of his existence. But the issue there is that for the most part he isn't aware of why Candy is the way it is, or that there could be anyone purposefully manipulating the timeline into the way it was. Candy's creator is a vague subject; but it's one with an answer within the text.

In Meat 36 Roxy tells Terezi that ever since Jade got possessed Calliope has been painting 'lotsa nasty purple blood' 'nudity' and 'various combos of them all getting married', and in Candy 40, Alt Calliope says 'the sky looks like something painted by a crazy person'. So, if the nature of Candy didn't give it's author away already; yeah, it's Calliope. This actually helps my case quite a bit, because not only is it well known that Lord English fucking hates Calliope, Tavvy's also got a reason to dislike her besides her role in its making, as it's Calliope who decides Gamzee deserves 'redemption' in the first place.

It's not like he'd need to have a direct grudge towards the Author anyway, just his feelings. He's had a whole 15 years of life to experience infuriating bullshit that others didn't after all, I mean why did his mother have him in the first place if she was only going to regret it and neglect him because of it? Why couldn't she have chosen someone who wanted to have a child with her, and how is he supposed to blame his father for anything when he never wanted him - or this - to begin with?

Why did ANY of the adults around him think it was okay to let a MURDERER take care of a child? Why do his friends / close same-age family members (because he doesn't really have any friends) get to have at least one decent parent whilst he gets none? Why did nobody intervene when Jane stopped John from taking him away from there? Why did Jane even punish him for that? John came to him with the idea, he was only going along with it! Gamzee's been putting him through comically stupid '''training''' under the excuse of teaching him about 'combat, philosophy, life, and love' since he was a toddler, and, according to quite a handful of people utterly unaware and inconsiderate of how awful his life is, all and every bit of this is fine and dandy because he's RICH??? BUDDY, YOU'RE ALL RICH?????????

...And now that Gamzee and (presumably) Jane are dead, his dad trying to make his best of what's left of their frayed relationship after nearly two decades of spousal abuse, who is he supposed to blame but the people who have allowed it to get this bad in the first place?

So, if he is sure to burst at some point, when? I think it helps to look at Gamzee's meltdown; the reason he was aware enough to put the pieces together when it came to watching ICP's Miracles was because he hadn't eaten any sopor recently, something akin to a pacifier for him that he later says 'RUSTS YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN THINK PAN'. Gamzee himself is Tavvy's 'sopor', his pacifier in the way Gamzee suppresses other's anger, so following his death we're left to assume Tavvy will slowly, but surely become less inhibited as his influence lessens. It's something we've been seeing steadily unfold for a while now.

I imagine he'll 'snap' whenever he learns the full scope of what's been going on behind the scenes, though that's assuming his change in character will be immediate, and not a slow trickle like we've seen of him so far. I've got my bets on a breakdown though, we know damn well the little cry he has after seeing Gamzee's corpse is nowhere near the full thing, they were in a rush after all, and he thinks so himself.

Though there's other ways it could go down. Maybe it'll be the classic 'mind control but it isn't really mind control so much as it is an excuse to express thoughts and feelings you already had' like we've seen before with two of his guardians. Maybe he'll get exposed to an overload of upsetting information all at once, overwhelming him and causing some grim affliction in the process? Or perhaps he'll accidentally get entangled in the situation regarding John's (likely) Lord English possessed corpse? What about something new and completely unpredictable? The possibilities are endless...

[matchadobo]

KIDD; the captain has an allergy!

wc: 2061 summary: kidd has an allergy, he's allergic to... you. warnings: afab reader, none, just dumb kidd who can't figure out his feelings while killer tries to compartmentalize the captain's head to sort out his feelings for you, just fluff, a bit suggestive but no nsfw, kidd rambling abt you that's it

something's wrong with eustass kidd. he reckons that he's fatally ill. he feels like he could die any second. his chest feels tight, his muscles feel tense, his vision hazy, his body temperature skyrocketing, and his body perpetually weak most times of the day. he wanted to kill someone, the next pirate king shouldn't be so frail!

"man, i-huff-i feel like i'm having a-huff-a heart attack." the redhead clutched his chest tight, discarding his fur coat off and tossing it somewhere in the blond's quarters. killer looked quite offended that his captain interrupted his knitting.

"what's wrong with you?" killer started as he watched his captain sit by the edge of his bed, taking his vest off as he tries gathering air. "not a fever perhaps?" he stood up and placed the back of his hand atop kidd's forehead, he seemed to be sweating coldly. "talk to me, kidd."

"can you- huff- can you get allergic to someone?"

killer looked at his best friend like he grew a another head. it took him a while to respond. he cleared his throat and continued. "sorry, kidd but... whatever the fuck do you mean?" he tried searching clarity from his captain's eyes as he tried racking his lacking-medicinal-terms brain.

"this is fuckin' ridiculous, alright mate? don'tcha dare laugh at me." kidd started, leaning his arms back behind him as they supported his weight. after taking in a deep breath, he continued. "i think i'm allergic to name."

killer tried stifling his laughter but failed, receiving death glares from the other. "oh you're serious, damn." the blond soon realized and cleared his throat. "how did you... arrive at that verdict, kidd?"

"to start: whenever that fuckin' woman's around, she always makes my stomach feel funny. like i'm about to puke rainbows and shit." he started. "i feel all hot and my throat goes dry, like cat got my damn tongue." he moved his hands around for emphasis, mostly towards his head and chest.

at this point, killer's not getting enough credit for stomaching whatever bullshit his captain brings upon him. he's thanking all the gods there is for his mask because he can't muster how contorted his face looks from the dumb shit his captain is spewing. the amount of times his best friend rambles incoherent drivel about you will send him to madness the next time he hears about them and not see any development. it's nonsense like these that makes him rub his temples and would rather physically punt kidd to make that boneheaded captain realize what he truly feels about you.

the blond stared at him with a grim aura around him, "the fuck are you staring at me like that for?!" kidd protested.

"do you not realize that maybe- just maybe- she makes you feel something else more than... just a fellow crewmate? like i don't know maybe fucking love?" killer tried tiptoeing, piecing it out for him. that is until kidd just blankly stared at him, blinking his eyes as he waits for a word that he understands.

"love?! pft, hell no, shit doesn't sound like me. and that's impossible, i am in hate with her." he shook his head, crossing his arms. "that's why she makes me sick all the way to my stomach. she's a witch i'm tellin' ya."

killer worried at how serious kidd was at that last bit, the redhead's brows furrowed earnestly as he clasped his hands together. "and you think these are all uhh- symptoms for your allergy?"

"not just those!" he interceded, fist slamming down the wooden table. the impact shaking the cup of tea killer had before this disaster walked in. "my chest, i can't breathe each time she's there. just like earlier before i came in, she walked pass me and then i feel like she casted some kind of stupid witchcraft and then i suddenly struggle to breathe...! have i told you that i strongly think that she's a goddamn witch?!"

"yeah, that's twice now."

"i can't eat, feels like i'll throw everythin' up once she sits beside me. and each time she does, her touch feels like i'm bein' stung. she'll walk up to me with that annoyingly beamin' smile and bright fuckin' eyes, i just end up embarrassin' my damn self if i associate myself even further..." he downed the rum in his hands, "there it is! i feel fuckin' hot again! that woman really-"

"what woman?" you suddenly came around, peeking at killer's quarters. kidd jumped at your voice, knocking over things from the table and immediately falling off his seat. killer could be seen with a hand buried on his face, well in this case helmet. you let out a laugh at your rum-drenched captain who was sitting bashfully on the floor.

despite that, you sauntered towards him and squatted down. you took your hanky and unfolded it, drying his hair and wiping the residue liquid on the rest of his face. "what dumb shit are you up to again, captain?" you tilted your head to get a good look at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. you sighed, realizing he was too embarrassed to speak. "well, pick yourself up cuz you look stupid. also, it's not good to see the future pirate king on the floor, don't you think? whatever, see ya." you stood upright, waving to the two men goodbye.

"kidd, you alright?"

"you're right. i'm in love, am i?" he looked up at his best friend, fisting his pants bashfully.

killer rested his chin by his hands with a sigh, "about time you fucking realize."

"that's fuckin' funny, how could i be fuckin' in love?! cuz i hate that she shuts me up cuz i think she's right most of the time. i hate that all that i see is her, every minute for every day. i hate how her eyes shine when she smiles. i hate how she looks at me with that much faith that i'd make it. i hate how she calls me captain and it messes with my fuckin' head, drivin' my chest abnormal. i hate how i constantly want to be beside her. i hate that i always think about where she is and what she's up to. i hate that i am dying to know if she feels the goddamn same for this helpless sack of fuck that can't even pull himself towards her!"

"damn." killer clicked his tongue. "you really are crazy for her, aren't you?"

"from the beginning of it all," he shook his head in disbelief. how can a woman, manage to weaken eustass kidd like this?! just how?! "but i doubt this'd happen, have you seen her and have you seen me? she's way out of my league." he picked himself up, padding his bum with dirt and wiping himself with that hanky you gave. your perfume mixing with rum on his hands.

"oh? humbling yourself, kidd? now, that's not like you." killer countered.

"i-i'm not!" his ears turned red just as fast as he shot out a response. "she's just..."

"too precious you don't want to ruin her?" killer finished, the shock in kidd's eyes proved his accuracy. killer stood beside his best friend and put an arm around his shoulder. "come on, kidd. i look at the two of you and all i see are a couple of hardheaded crooks from the same mould with the same attitude, same stubbornness, and same passion for their dreams. she's tamer than you yes, more intelligent yes, more emotionally aware yes, and much calmer than you yes. that's exactly why you need each other, she regulates your storms and you give her peace a little peril. and trust me, i've seen how much she craves for your danger."

that bit made something primal awaken within kidd, something that he won't be apologizing for once it reveals itself later.

"so go, kidd. get her." killer gave him a little pat on the shoulder and pushed him out his quarters. a sigh of relief as he finally sees the end of this farce.

kidd took a deep breath and went on a search for you. he went looking for you in almost an hour, only to find you in his workshop as you mused at his trinkets and creations. "name, i've been looking everywhere for you. the hell are you doing here?"

"jeez, a hello would be nice." you rolled your eyes. "i wanted to tell you something."

"that's crazy, so do i." he shut the door behind him. he saw the shift in your expression as you heard his statement.

"you can go first." you smiled, making his heart skip a beat again.

"nah, you go."

"i insist. go on."

"no, go ahead."

"captain, just spit it out."

"you spit it out."

"you were the one looking for me, you go first!"

"well, you're the first one who said you were gonna say somethin'!"

"you know what?! neverfuckingmind! i can't with your dumb, stubborn ass!" you walked pass him. that is until he impulsively grabs your wrist and puts you back in your initial place.

you felt your skin burn at his touch, sucking in a deep breath as you regulated your rhythms from his firm grip.

"stay." he announced, seriously this time. you got a good look at his face, the faint light of the lantern along the little window by the other side of the room illuminated his sharp features. his eyes glowing with earnest and the genuine

need to say something he seems to be keeping for a while now.

he got closer and closer until your bum met with his worktable settled at the other side of the room, your hands holding at the edges for support as he got precariously close. you looked away as to not make your heart explode, mustering something up to calm yourself down. "w-why are you s-so clo-"

"look at me." he raised your chin with his index finger, directly locking eyes with you. "you aware that you've been driving your captain fuckin' insane ever since you set foot in the victoria?"

you furrowed your brows lightly, looking for any sort of clue in his honey eyes. your mouth was agape, too lost at the situation and too aroused at the proximity between the two of you. "from the way you always oppose me on the littlest things as you measure up to my stubbornness and knock some sense into me, to the way you usher me on to my dream like my pocket-sized cheerleader." he started, hypnotizing you with the fiery burn of his golden orbs; honey swirls swimming in them. "i love you." he placed a kiss on your forehead, down to your nose, to each side of your cheek, before pausing and waiting for the green light to your lips.

"well?" he raised a brow, keeping a milimeter distance away from your lips you could choke physically.

"tease." you replied, pulling him by his collar as you two clash your lips against each other. you wrapped your arms around his neck and he did too around your waist. it went on for a while before you two pulled away to get some air, panting in each other's lips. "your breath stinks of rum."

"as if that doesn't off you." he smirked, playfully tugging at your lower lips between his teeth. "so, what were you gonna say?"

"that i'm nuts about you too." you kissed his cheek. "funny how this whole shit works, right?!"

he threw his head back as he laughed. "all this time i thought i was the only crazy one."

"well, you're not very good at hiding how you like me so much." you teased, poking his cheek.

"shut it and kiss me more." he changed the topic, growling as he nuzzled his face by your neck. grinning as he elicited a little moan from you.

"have i told you how much i love your perfume?" he sucked in a deep breath, buttering your jaw and neck with kisses as the red pigment from his lips spanned further across your skin.

"no i thought you hated it."

"that's code for love, you dumbass." he breathed in your ear, making you giggle. he littered your neck with kisses, reveling at the fits of giggles he kindles from you.

i took this idea from an ao3 fic i read abt todobaku aND I CAN'T FIND IT ANYMORE! but anw i thought it'd be a good idea to incorporate kidd into this hehe. FINALLY FLESHED OUT A FIC IN SO LONG WOO

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Also while I'm on a train of blatant self-projection and my blood boils on the theme of patriotism, I proclaim Nikolai allergic to birch blooms.

They spoon-fed me all that берёзки as a symbol of Russia curated patriotism bullshit from the youngest age and I am so sure that my pure unadulterated hatred towards the tree on account of me being horribly allergic to it played a part of me growing up as un-patriotic as one can be

(This is obviously a joke and I do have my patriotic moments, although much tamer than Nik. But blooming birch is still my sworn enemy. Bitch, you're a plant, procreate sexlessly, why you gotta make my life so miserable every spring, your flowers look like whipped worms anyway)

Sorry for ranting in your ask, you just evoked Feelings in me as you do

Haha, anti-patriotic sentiment through virtue of an allergy is such a mood. Being force-fed propaganda is always the best way to make a young person hate their country, and it's proven ineffective. I'm so sorry about the tree torture. 😞

My example is the union flag. I have an absolute hate-love relationship with it, because it's flown over genocides, oppressed peoples, atrocities. British history is a mire of sins. The world could have been so different without the fingerprints of British imperialism all over it. I'm lucky in that we have never been required to swear a pledge of allegiance, or raise the flag at any point at school, but I was forced into the cadets to try and sort me out, where it was flag-shagging from dawn 'til dusk (and racism, homophobia, misogyny, etc).

But... I took a union flag with me alongside my rainbow flag to an anti-fash protest and actually tore into some middle-aged woman when she told me to put my union flag away because someone might think I'm far right. Uh, no, this flag of my people, and if the far right want it, they can come take it out of my hands themselves. You're essentially condemning an entire country by surrendering their international representation to fascists. The rioters from Cable Street would be disgusted.

But ... I dunno. The St. George's Cross (England flag) is a lost cause. If I see some cunt with that tattooed on them or in their hand, I know they drink Stella, beat their wives and think shouting slurs at minorities is the height of humour.

Anyway. A ramble for a ramble, m'love. ❤️ I am always here for learning about other people's cultures and lives. The world is so Americanised online sometimes, it's like the other few billion people don't exist...

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I can see cowboy having some tension within the team when he feels like his theories are going unheard and his opinion unvalued when they're all throwing ideas around. I feel like he'd gradually start stress eatin' more and more sunflower seeds until he runs out and just leaps up in the middle of spencer's long-winded argument after cowboy's suggestion has gone unheard by the team for the third time in five minutes he practically runs for the door because his allergies are about to hit fever pitch or he's gunna go smash some government issued coffee mugs.

This is right when you join the BAU, before everything.

Warnings: bad government knowledge on Atlas' part, I did try to google it but idk guys, trying my best here. Oh, also, stress eating.

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @anonstories08

"Perhaps the unsub's a teenager," Spencer theorises and you want to slam your head against the desk. Because that's what you've been trying to put forth for the last ten minutes - ignored each time.

Instead, you say nothing, just continuing to shovel the sunflower seeds into your mouth before you say something you'll regret. "We should have seen that sooner..." Hotch mutters.

'I did.' You think bitterly, letting a handful of sunflower seeds fall into your mouth.

"But why is he targetting these men?" Garcia asked. Whoever the unsub was, he was going round shooting men - never life-threatening, but clearly out for revenge of some sort.

"Maybe someone like them scorned him in his past," You say, Prentiss talking over you before you can get your third word out. You were gonna need some more sunflower seeds real soon if this kept going. How many sunflower seeds were healthy to consume in a day?

You close your eyes for a moment before trying yet again to reiterate your point. This time, though, Reid cuts you off with a long list of statistics about female offenders.

"I think someone in his past hurt him and these guys remind him of them." Morgan says and you realise you're out of sunflower seeds. You shoot up, knowing that you didn't have many options right now (what with your anger): 1, scream at them (not literally but close enough), 2, throw the closest mug at the wall (but these were government-issued mugs so that probably wasn't the best idea), or 3, get some more sunflower seeds to munch on whilst you try not to regret your entire life decisions.

You don't know if they've even realised you've left the room and you can't be fucked to check. Instead, you head on over to your bag, pulling out a fresh pack of sunflower seeds and open it before making your way back to the room.

"Everything okay?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes sir," You answer, "Ran out of sunflower seeds. Figured no one would notice if I left anyway,"

"I know you were part of hostage negotiation previously, but we work as a team here."

You look at him for a moment, debating saying something. On calling his bullshit because clearly you only worked part of a team here if they had accepted you as a part of their 'group' - which you clearly weren't in yet. You settle for a simple, one worded answer.

"Interestin'." You say before resuming the eating of your sunflower seeds.

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked, clenching his jaw in frustration.

"Surprised you heard me, Sir," You said, "That's all,"

"Is there a problem here?"

"You tell me," You answer, "You're the boss."

"We'll talk about this later. We have more important things to be concerned about right now."

You tilted your head ever so slightly in a small nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the bag of sunflower seeds in your hands as you listened to the team - seeing no point in joining in at this point.

[jamtartandsunshine]

augusnippets Day 7 * Choking* ________________________________________ In hindsight, Colin kind of can't believe none of them knew. It was particularly stupid because the entire team had taken part in multiple conversations where they sometimes lovingly and sometimes not so lovingly, made fun of the stupid little bags Jamie was always carrying around. Except turns out they weren't just stupid fashion choices. Jamie was using them to carry around a fucking Epipen that none of them knew he had. Except Roy apparently. And Ted And Beard

"Thank fuck for mandatory medical training for coaching staff." Colin sighed wearily throwing himself back down into a hard plastic hospital waiting room chair after yet another session of pacing up and down the waiting room. "Don't know what we'd have done if Roy hadn't known to go for Jamie's bag so quickly." He receives several grunts in response, but otherwise the small collective of the players selected to follow Jamie to the hospital remained silent. Colin didn’t blame them. All of them were shook up. How could they not be? After seeing what they had, seeing Jamie clutch at his throat, watching his face turn red as he struggled to take in the tiniest breath.

Colin had frozen but thankfully Roy had appeared out of nowhere, ripping the bumbag from Jamie’s shoulder and practically tearing it open to get the epipen from inside it.

Colin winced at the memory of watching Roy stab it into Jamie’s thigh. Rubbing at his own leg absentmindedly. It had seemed so rough and brutal, a massive contrast from the way Roy had held Jamie’s hand until the ambulance arrived. The coach gruffly promising “you’ll be okay you little prick” even as he ran his free hand over Jamie’s hair gently.

Colin shook his head and looked around the private waiting room they’d be secluded to.

Isaac was sat several seats away from everyone else in self appointed time out, he was appalled at himself for not knowing Jamie had a life threatening allergy. Blaming himself for not being quicker to help Jamie, which was to Colin fucking ridiculous. How could any of them help Jamie when they hadn’t even known he was allergic to nuts? Colin sat as close to Isaac as he could get with the captains self imposed exile, watching the door they'd taken Jamie through like a hawk. Ted and Beard stood a little way down the hall, talking to each other in low voices. They'd been told one person could go through with Jamie and it hadn't even been a discussion. Roy had followed the gurney without sparing any of them so much as a second look. Not that they'd thought it would be any other way, especially with the grip Jamie had on Roy's hand. Dani and Sam made up the rest of their ragtag group. Sitting huddled together on the opposite wall to Colin and Isaac "I don't understand why Jamie didn't tell us." Sam says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the private waiting room. "Maybe he was embarrassed?" Dani offers with a soft shrug. "He gets funny about things like that." "That's bullshit" Isaac growls looking up, his eyes ablaze. "Jamie knows we fucking have his back." "Except we didn't" Colin points out sadly. "We just all stood around and watched him stop breathing cause we didn't know what was happening." Ted looks over at them with a frown. "Now y'all better not be blaming yourselves for all this, ain't nobody to blame." "Except the manufactures of the nut contaminated protein bar" Beard points out. Ted points at him "That's true buckaroo" He nods before looking back to the boys "and you can bet Rebecca's legal team is going to unleash hell on those poor suckers."

They all nod and murmured their agreement before falling silent again, all of them pretending they’re not watching the door they know Jamie and Roy are somewhere behind.

[tiny-space-platypus]

I want a medical show about the staff in the watch tower so badly. Like imagine the bull shot you have to deal with up there? There's no one to help you and you're living the 'don't meet your hero bullshit' as an occupation.

Like it could be happy hero doctors (because so many of them have degrees and have done medical school of some kind) and very very tired nurses who just want to go home/ "fresh blood" who are so excited to be with actual heroes.

"Yes Ms. Martian is in treatment, we know how to take care of green martians- ... WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S NOT A FUCKING GREEN MARTIAN" A ran about the importance of telling your doctors everything became we don't want to kill you.

"I swear to god if another random ass speeders pops up out of nowhere I'm going to castrate The Flash."

Staring at new interns/nurses/doctors while shaking holding a cup of coffee "run while you can."

"Yes Robin I am a trained professional, yes Robin I know you can have this done in the cave. No we are not taking you to the cave you are bleeding out."

"I should have went to a normal hospital, I should have been a travel nurse but nooooo I had to do something 'for filling'" currently under lock down do to some threat to the tower

"If I find out another hero is hiding their race, age, allergies, and or medical conditions I'm going to loose my mind. WE ARE DOCTORS. not the cops this is why HIPAA EXIST PEOPLE"

(New nurse just vetted by Bats or who ever) "it's a pleasure to meet you in person! We're just going to be doing a standard Physical Mr.Question/(anyone else who make life different)"