#to counter the millennialness of this post

[flynnriderishot]

PART 3 WAS SO GOOD IM HOPING THERES A PART FOUR BUT ALSO LIKE NO PRESSURE TAKE YOUR TIME BESTIE ILY

scandals pt.4 - c.s

a/n: thank you so much 😭

warning: i suck at writing out apologies 😬

chris

morning, baby :)

we got some donuts if you want some

matt tried to take your favorite again but i had to fight him off for it

i miss you

you sighed softly as you read the last text.

you hated to admit it, but you missed him too.

while you guys were still technically together, the longest you went without his affection was when he was on tour and even then, nick and matt surprised him with your presence half way through it.

you knew it was wrong to brush him off for as long as you’ve been doing, but your feelings were genuinely hurt.

how could he believe that you would cheat on him? were you efforts to prove how much you truly loved him just ignored?

it’s been two years and he was ready to just give it up like that? without asking you the facts first? it was like he was just waiting for the excuse.

it was heart wrenching to think about.

and you no longer wanted to think about it. you wanted answers, you wanted forgiveness, you wanted to forgive him and move past it.

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨

come over?

chris

really?

give me 10

•••

the excessive knocking on your door was enough for you to know that chris was here.

if that wasn’t enough, matt’s honking was.

as you opened the door, you were greeted with chris standing there with a box on donuts in his hand and a small smile on his face.

“hi.”

you stepped back to let him in, waving at matt who didn’t leave until his brother safely made it inside.

“hi, chris.”

“i got you donuts.” his voice was soft, almost hesitant to speak.

“thank you.” you nodded, watching him place the treat on your counter, “i actually wanted to talk. about us.”

his shoulders dropped, voice cracking slightly as he turned to look at you, “are you breaking up with me?”

“what? no. i wanted to apologize for being so hard on you.” you were shocked that he assumed you were breaking up with him, but you could understand why he thought that.

“wha—?”

“it was wrong of me to completely blow you off, even when you were trying so hard to make it right.”

“no, no. i’m supposed to be apologizing to you.” he stopped your rant, taking your hand and moving so you were both sat on the couch,

“i accused you of cheating on me. i let one small thing almost ruin our relationship so quickly when i should have asked you first instead of cursing and blocking you before you had the chance to defend yourself.”

“chris—”

“i love you and i’m sorry for making you think that i didn’t trust you.”

“i love you and i’m sorry for refusing to speak to you when you were trying to explain yourself.”

chris let of a breath of relief, smiling sweetly in your direction, “can i kiss you?”

your eyes creased as you smiled. you put your hands on his cheeks, pulling him forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

though it wasn’t enough, chris didn’t complain, “i’ll take what i can get.” he leaned forward, putting his body over yours, wrapping his arms around your body,

“i missed you so much.” his voice was muffled against your hair.

“i missed you more, baby.”

•••

christophersturniolo made a post !

comments

sturnsbabylove YESSSSSS

ynxchris tears are streaming down my face rn 😭👏

>>> lovelysturn literally me

matthew.sturniolo safe to say bro cried three times a week for her forgiveness

liked by yn.ln and 37,493 others

>>> christophersturniolo (creator) bro shut up 😭

nicksgiraffehat y’all thought they broke up 💀

nickssecretbf back with the couples content

>>> christophersturniolo (creator) yessir 🫡

yn.ln ❤️❤️

>>> christophersturniolo (creator) ^ love of my life fr 😔❤️

liked by yn.ln and 72,485 others

>> sturnnniolosbae they’re too cute 😭

nicolassturniolo i can confirm that they “ball”

>>> yn.ln this is so millennial of you

>>> nicolassturniolo thanks bae 😌

sturnsbabe THEYRE BACK ‼️‼️

tap to view more comments

•••

sturniolodrama made a post !

comments

sturnslover bro… @/christophersturniolo @/yn.ln

letstripbaby oh my god 💀😭 @/yn.ln

nicolassturniolo 💀

>>> secretlynicksturn lmaooo 😭

yn.ln wtf did i say about tagging me in this shit 😐

liked by matthew.sturniolo and 32,586 others

chrisyn I CANNOT 😌🤦‍♀️

christophersturniolo has blocked sturniolodrama

matthew.sturniolo has blocked sturniolodrama

yn.ln has blocked sturniolodrama

nicolassturniolo has blocked sturniolodrama

*edit* sturniolodrama (creator) they blocked me guys…

>>> sturnswife good💀

liked by lovelysturn and 135,846 others

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taglist: @creamoncreamoncream2 @strnlsblog @emssturniolo @noirpxrker @seobiiezs @sleepysturnss @junnniiieee07 @1201pm @dancemomsfanee @bri4nnaaaa @stinkytinkywinky @leah-loves-lilies @p1xieswrld @sturniolopepsi @chrissturniolosbitch

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo

[fuck-customers]

Why are millennials raising little Karens? I had to deal with so many annoying pre-teen customers today---making me repeat myself, ignoring what I say while literally standing at the counter trying to buy something from me, KICKING OTHER CUSTOMERS...I stg if I have to deal with one more 12 year old Karen I'm gonna walk into the desert and never return.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[simariahs]

here’s the interior of the realistic build I’ve been working on this week, check out this post to see the exterior. i don’t typically do ‘realistic’ builds, so this was really fun to do! some of the CC i used in this build will be linked below, please make sure to check me out on Instagram and Tiktok: @simariahs.

Buy Mode

[appliances, electronics and lighting]

Minimalist Fridge by Shino x KCR

SIMcredible Morning Tea Chandelier 

LG StanByMe TV by [NICKNAME]

[comfort]

Kassova Sectional by Peacemaker

Winner9 King Bed

Apartment Therapy Loveseat by AWingedLlama 

Jardane Outdoor Couches from HouseofHarlix

PlatinumLuxeSims Luxe Living Sofa 

Oneroom Set by [NICKNAME]

[miscellaneous decor]

2015 Benz LorySims

Electrical Outlets and Light Switches from Sympxls

[NICKNAME] Floor Mirror 

Matcha Bathroom Clutter from Networksims

[kkb] Thin Windows Blinds 

PlatinumLuxeSims Chester Blanket and Pillows 

PlatinumLuxeSims Mirrored Bar Cart 

Arnaud Clothing Decor by Syboulette 

Plouf pool Decor + Loungers by Syboulette

Soft Bedroom Cloud Mirrors by [NICKNAME]

[paintings]

Reyna Noriega Paintings from Cocogames

Black Queens Paintings by Simtember 

Self Care Paintings by Goddess Gamez

[plants]

Rory Planters by leaf-motif

Peonies from ArsBotanica

Apartment Therapy Macrame Plants by AWingedLlama

Chanel Peonies by ArsBotanica 

[plumbing]

Marble Lux Bathroom from SIXAMcc

[rugs]

ColourMeRug Series Black by Peacemaker

Freja Faux Fur Rug by myshunosun

ColourMeRug Series White by Peacemaker

PlatinumLuxeSims Marble Rug

[surfaces and storage] 

Glass Core Table by Lumen Niveus

Martins Living Coffee Table by Pyszny 

Arches Console from DEMISESIMS

Glass Bar from Ravasheen 

Millennial Kitchen Cabinets and Counters from Syboulette 

MAX20 Classic Kitchen Island Counters 

Modern Housewares counters by IllogicalSims 

Titanium Wardrobe by Wondymoon

PlatinumLuxeSims Marble Coffee Table 

Wicker Cabinet by DEMISESIMS 

Dress Table from PinkBaddie 

PlatinumLuxeSims Luxe Display Cabinets 

#the sims 4 #the sims cc #urban cc #sims 4 house #sims 4 build #sims 4 simblr #simblr #black simblr #black sims cc #urban furniture cc #black simmer #build

[theresthesnitch]

I posted 4,523 times in 2022

That's 1,574 more posts than 2021!

1,544 posts created (34%)

2,979 posts reblogged (66%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theresthesnitch

@elder-millennial-trash

@squintclover

@impishtubist

@krethes

I tagged 3,356 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#snitch answers asks - 1,033 posts

#wolfstar - 473 posts

#snitchwrites - 323 posts

#remus lupin - 239 posts

#sirius black - 229 posts

#ignite - 219 posts

#jily - 213 posts

#fic rec - 168 posts

#james potter - 159 posts

#shameless reblog - 144 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#james potter is the kind of boy who brings you a box of banana muffin mix because he remebers that one time you gave him a bite of one

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

(a little something for Sirius and Harry Saturday that I decided was too long for @impishtubist's askbox...)

When Sirius moved in with the Potters, things were not just suddenly okay. Sirius acted out a lot. Testing boundaries, sure, but he also thought that they would eventually kick him out too, because if even his parents didn't love him enough to keep him, then why would the Potters?

Only, Euphemia and Fleamont were not Walburga and Orion. They responded to each outburst with kindness and love. They set reasonable boundaries and had reasonable expectations. Every time Sirius did something else to break those boundaries and force them to finally punish him, Euphemia would look at him and say, "I love you, but I don't love the way you are acting right now."

One night, Sirius came home, hours after abandoning James in some muggle neighborhood, drunk and high. Euphemia stayed with him until he sobered up, even though he slept through most of it.

When he woke up, she was sitting in a chair next to his bed, knitting. She saw he was awake, and proceeded to tell him that she loved him, unconditionally, and that she was worried about him. She promised to always be there for him, even when he scared her the way he did the night before.

Sirius had never had anyone worry for him before. He hadn't thought that what he was doing would scare her. He never again disappeared like that, or came back quite that out of it.

(She knit a sweater that night, which Sirius wore nearly constantly until he wore it to rags. She knit him another to replace it.)

When Harry came to live with Sirius and Remus after POA, he was overly well behaved at the beginning. Sirius and Remus had to convince him that he didn't have to wake up early to make them breakfast, he didn't have to sweep and mop and wipe down the counters and the toilets every night, and he did not have to stay out of the way so he was neither seen nor heard. It took a while, and the sacrifice of every single piece of the Black Family fine china launched at the hideous Black Family Tree tapestry, but they finally convinced Harry that it was alright to be a teenager.

With the new freedom, Harry rebelled.

It was small things, at first. Testing boundaries. When he found lines to cross, he did, and Sirius watched as Harry braced for whatever punishment he had been conditioned to expect. It never came, and every time, when Harry relaxed again, Sirius watched the confusion and awe on his face, and wondered whether Euphemia saw the same mix of emotions on his own face.

Remus didn't get it–why Harry lashed out at them. He couldn't get it; not really. His parents weren't perfect, but they loved him.

Sirius got it, though. He understood the absolute disbelief that someone could love you as you were, unconditionally. So every time Harry yelled at them, or broke something, or slammed his door so hard that the entire house groaned under it, Sirius thought of Euphemia and her kind smile and her kinder words.

I love you, but I don't love how you're acting right now.

392 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

#4

Imagine Professor Remus J. Lupin showing up to Hogwarts the first week of September 1993, and all the professors are going on about the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lupin assures them that the chamber does not exist because TRUST HIM they would have found it (with a wink and a smirk to the professors who knew him back then).

Professor McGonagall sits him down one evening with a cup of tea spiked with a little fire whiskey, and proceeds to absolutely blow Remus's mind about the way that little Harry Potter beat all of the Marauder's accomplishments by the end of his second year.

419 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

#3

Wolfstar raising Harry snippet

This is from the fic that I'm writing (sloooooowly) in order to make @impishtubist cry. This is from the first night with Harry living with Sirius.

“Keep calling me old, Remus, and I’ll tell him about how you started getting grey hairs at 15.” Sirius tried to make his voice sound threatening, but he was just too content with the two of them to pull it off.

Remus rolled his eyes and waived his wand to send the dishes to the sink. “I’m a werewolf. We age prematurely due to–” 

“–due to your condition, yes, I know your excuses.” Sirius finished for him. 

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say due to the fact that I had to deal with you and James.” 

“Oh Merlin,” Harry said as he stood up and moved to the sink. “With both of those, I’m surprised you have any brown hair left.” 

Remus and Sirius both laughed, caught a bit off guard by how much the joke sounded like James. The laughter died off when Harry started filling the sink with water. 

“Haz, what are you doing?” Sirius asked. 

Harry didn’t even look over his shoulder. Instead, his head was under the sink, digging for something. “The dishes. Where’s the soap?”

“I don’t have any, and you don’t need to do the dishes.” 

Harry turned around, brow furrowed. “You don’t have soap? How do you get the dishes clean?”

Remus raised his wand and pointed it at the sink. Immediately it filled with sudzy water, and the dishes began scrubbing themselves. “Did you forget we were wizards, Harry?”

Harry looked dumbly at the sink before moving back to the table. “I guess I didn’t think of it. I’ve always done them by hand.” 

“Your mum did that too, I remember.” Sirius said. “Said she never liked the way the charm got them clean.” 

“Do you remember when James cleaned them with the charm without telling her, and she made him pull them all back out of the cabinets to redo it?” Remus laughed. 

“She was so mad.” Sirius leaned back laughing. “He knew she didn’t like it, but didn’t think she could actually tell the difference, and he wanted to go out to play pick-up quidditch”

“She got mad at him for how he cleaned the dishes?” Harry looked confused. 

“Not like mad, mad.” Remus said. “She helped him redo them, and in the end, I think they ended up–” Remus cut off short, eyes going wide as he looked at Sirius.

Harry looked between them. “Ended up what?” 

Sirius smirked. “Dancing. In the kitchen together.” 

Harry smiled, leaning on his hand. “That’s sweet.” Remus snorted, but he managed to hide it behind a cough.

“They were always like that.” Sirius smiled fondly at the memory of them. “They would bicker and banter, and then suddenly they’d be so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other started.”

445 notes - Posted July 21, 2022

#2

Okay, but now I'm picturing a gossipy Voldemort keeping up to date on all the goings ons.

"He married the mudblood? Absolute waste of a pureblood. He was good looking too. Could have had any pureblood girl he wanted, probably. No, not your wife Lucius, but he's very good looking, you can't deny that."

"I can't believe they're together. Shacking up with a half-blood, half-breed. My, how the House of Black has fallen. Orion, how shameful for you."

"Molly Weasley is pregnant again? Didn't she just have twins? Are they trying to get enough kids to have a quidditch team or something? How funny would it be if the next one is a girl? Yes, Bella, I know that girls can play quidditch too, but not well."

"Did you see the robes that Dumbledore was wearing on that last raid? Magenta is not your color, Alby. Someone should really tell him."

670 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I have a *thing* for Wolfstar fics when Remus thinks Sirius isn't going to stick with him because he's not good enough for Sirius, then it flips to Sirius's POV and he's tripping over his own feet because he's just so into Remus he can't think straight.

1,073 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I stand by that tag though #james potter is the kind of boy who brings you a box of banana muffin mix because he remebers that one time you gave him a bite of one

[dustedmagazine]

Weyes Blood — And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow (Sub Pop)

In part two of a projected trilogy of recordings (2019’s Titanic Rising was installment one), Weyes Blood (Natalie Mering) is in excellent voice and complemented by supple arrangements. She eschews the three-minute single format for songs that stretch to the six-minute mark, allowing them to musically develop and settle into a gentle moodiness.

And in the Darkness Hearts Aglow couldn’t exist without the soft rock and pop balladry of the 1970s. But the sweetness of strings and sheer beauty of overdubbed voices is countered by the frequent sadness of the lyrics (“It’s Not Just Me, it’s Everybody”). A sense of isolation and loneliness (“Grapevine”) are central themes, ones with which we can all relate in pandemic times. The juxtaposition of moods in music and lyrics is so pervasive that it carves a singular artistic space. 

The title track is bifurcated into a six-minute song “Hearts Aglow,” followed by a brief string interlude, “And in the Darkness.” “Hearts Aglow” is Weyes Blood’s most passionate vocal, and it is accompanied by fetching layers of backing vocals and an arrangement that combines a rock combo and a lushly hued orchestration. 

“God Turn Me into a Flower” begins with a synth pad and stately singing, which gradually becomes more passionate, providing contrast to the subdued nature of the accompaniment. Little touches to the arrangement, like the additions of a duet voice and planetarium electronics part way through are indicative of a detailed approach. A change of chord, a new voice or instrument entering or exiting, provide variety that justifies the duration of the songs. “Children of the Empire” provides a contrast to the down tempo songs here. Finger snaps, arpeggiated organ, and walls of vocals: If the lyrics are post-millennial in outlook, the music is pure Brill Building. 

There is a larger, somewhat creepy, contrast between Weyes Blood’s songs and the videos that accompany them. This can in part be explained by her enthusiasm for horror movies - she has curated horror showings in New York. It may be yet another contrast intended to ensure that her music doesn’t seem too ensconced in the past. Or maybe the creepiness factor is somehow baked in. Irrespective of the visuals, And in the Darkness Hearts Aglow is already a formidable amalgam. It will be interesting to see where the third volume of the trilogy takes Weyes Blood. 

Christian Carey

#weyes blood #and in the darkness hearts aglow #sub pop #christian carey #albumreview #dusted magazine #natalie mering #songwriter #pop #indie

[dreams-of-valeria]

CHAPTER TWO

| Series: The Glass Cage Epidemic | Pairing: Evan Peters OC x FOC | Warnings: Obscene language | Word count: 2,578 | Rated: Mature | Book mentioned: Piranesi by Susanna Clarke |

For the next hour or so, I couldn’t get that out of my mind. I struggled to come to grips in the beginning but by the end of my spiral, I had decided that it was just a sick joke. A man of his stature, assumingly, was embarrassed, obviously and wanted to teach me a lesson. He probably thought I’d show up exactly at 7 all eager and curious and get stood up like a chump.

Well, not this chump, pal.

And to be honest, I had forgotten about the entire ordeal come high tea time. 

It was the busiest hour for the bakery, what with all the yoga classes, Pilates, and whatever health savvy the millennials of LA did these days ending. And Ava just happened to be on leave today. But I couldn’t blame her, her IBS was flaring up. 

Although it wasn’t what I pictured when I was 10 years old and wanted to open a bakery of my own, Cleo's was IBS central. Sugar free, gluten free, locally sourced, organic, vegan, yada yada yada. Sure, it was healthy but at what cost? 

Unfortunately, I was a slave to capitalism. Envision doesn’t pay the bills. You catered to the majority’s needs. And the majority of downtown LA just happened to be inane and couldn’t wait 5 extra fucking minutes for his matcha tea.

And to think, only 10,000 years ago we were hunters in unprocessed leopard skins. Times have changed. Kind of.

I really underestimated Ava’s quiet but formidable presence. Did she creep patrons off with her cold and off putting persona sometimes? Sure. But that girl moved the walnut cookies like it was nobody’s business. They tasted vile and bitter no matter how many changes I made to the batter, but something about having nuts in confections especially in the off season really seemed to cream their pants. Ironically, we served nothing with cream. Not real cream, at least.

And she gathered tips upto half the jar too. I didn’t know how she did it. 

The tip jar today, however, was fittingly scraping the bottom. The bottommost dollar wouldn’t be useful anyway because of the remnants of chewing gum some poser thought it would be funny to drop in. 

It was a good day financially, but it was kicking my ass. Drops of sweat pooled down my chest and at the dam of my bra. I hated not being sweat free but there was just so much moving around. The muffins on display weren’t structurally pleasing enough for an Instagram post so could I please check in the back? Usually, I didn’t mind it but I was just nitpicky today. The good news was that I could just sleep it off and not feel this way the next day, hopefully.

It’s not like there was much for me to do after work anyway. I just like the change of place. My therapist once told me it was something about how I wanted to control time, and I agree. Everyday I’m frustrated that after all the leaps we’ve made in technology we’re yet to conquer time. What were the kids at CalTech doing anyway? It was long overdue. 

“I’ve been waiting for 20 minutes.” 

I dragged my eyes away from the bills on the counter and at the man in front.

“I’m sorry sir, we’re a little short staff—“

It was him. The weird man from the café. Did he say he was waiting?

“Why didn’t you show up?” For some reason, all the apprehension I’d felt that noon was gone, and it was promptly replaced by scorn. Who did he think he was?

“Well I’ve been busy, as you can see,” I shrugged and directed my attention back to the receipts. Then something hit me. “Wait, how did you find me?” I asked, pointing at him with a coffee stirrer I used to pierce receipts.

“You’re a regular at the cafe. George told me where you worked,” he shifted his weight, and the line of sweaty yoga wear silhouettes peered over his shoulder. Fucking George.

“I take it you haven’t finished the book?”

“Mm hm.” I didn’t even look up, because I could feel matcha guy’s eyes burning holes into me. He was the only regular I despised. The rest were borderline tolerable. Why would I get into the business of people if I didn’t necessarily like said people, you ask? I romanticised the idea of baking too much to deal with logistics. Do what you love, right? I didn’t know if it even mattered, we were all going to be forgotten anyway. 

Speaking of forgetting, on one hand I felt bad for dismissing him so abruptly, especially now that I knew it was not a setup, but I was restless and wanted as little distractions as possible, because I kept reading the receipt over and over and wasn’t able to process it for the life of me. 

The shadow across the counter disappeared and I sighed in relief. I didn’t even have time to unravel why he was so invested in my book review. Did he mistaken me for a minor celebrity? He didn’t seem the type to be starstruck, though.

For real, why is anyone starstruck? What is it about celebrities that make people think they shit gold and lose their minds over it and want to get their signature? On strange body parts? It’s wild if you really think about it. 

Focus!

Finally processing the words dozen and GF, SF blueberry muffins, I headed for the display, when I bumped into a wall.

It felt like a wall.

Then the wall grabbed me before I could fall flat on my arse. It was him. His face wore less of a scowl and more of disappointment as he steadied me by my arm.

“You take the cash register, I'll fill the orders?” 

He asked, shrugging off the same charcoal suit jacket from noon. 

“Huh?”

“I’m a bit rusty with registers so you take that?” He repeated, pulling one of the Holly green aprons over his crisp white shirt. The movement made his cologne seep into the air around me and, well.

“Sure,” I answered, utilising the stray bowl of words at the bottom of my brain that I kept aside for non-innovative conversations that didn’t necessarily require the maximum capacity of my cognition. Which were almost all of them. But the reason now was because I was flabbergasted.

He took the receipts from my hand after a curious glance at me, and dove right into them. I watched him package the goods with expertise, like he’d been doing it for years. 

Why? What was happening? Who was this man?

Was I being pranked? Was this Ava? Because I wouldn’t use her pizza cookie idea? 

“3 gooseberry muffins, please,” chirped a toned woman in fuchsia yoga pants, who then proceeded to quite obviously check him out. And he wasn’t helping, posing like a model. Seriously, who was this man?

But I was in no position to question help when it was available to me. However inexplicably. So I went along with it.

“Your hair’s a really pretty colour,” he said flatly. It wasn’t. But of course she fell for it. What hold did attractive humans hold over the mediocre that we trusted everything out of their mouths?

He had her giggling like a schoolgirl through her thank yous.

“I’ll tell you what, if you buy half a dozen muffins, I’ll throw in a pack of walnut cookies for free.”

Um what?

“Really?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell my boss though, I can’t afford to get fired right now,” he vagrantly pointed his head in my direction, before cracking a gorgeous smile. We met eyes for a brief second and then it was all gone. Why was he doing this again?

It truly baffled me. What could he possibly hope to gain from this?

The woman promised to keep it a secret as he filled her order, leaving him a large tip. How was he better at my job after 5 minutes? It had only been a few minutes in, but we already had a smooth system going like we’d been doing it forever. The line became decadent and the air of constant mellow conversation settled in.

It was then that we finally caught a breather, and he sidled up to the counter, resting his elbow on the display case.

“I don’t remember mentioning that offer to you,” I said in hopes of starting a conversation. I didn’t care for it, but it seemed like it needed to be addressed. 

“I got her to spend more while simultaneously getting rid of the stuff no one wants.”

“How did you know no one wants them?”

“Because it’s walnut cookies,” he shrugged.

I chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Just when I framed a sentence to ask him what the heck he was doing, he beat me to it.

“I don’t mean this offensively, but do you have anything here that’s not . . .”

“Healthy?”

“Yeah,” there was that grin again, but the floor got it this time. It was like he was going to make me work for it. And he didn’t even seem like he was trying. I already felt like I had to impress him for some reason. Was this daddy issues again? I really thought I’d gotten over the whole shebang a year ago.

I retrieved the muffins I baked for the rare customers who weren’t afraid of sugar or gluten from underneath the oven and offered him one. He gave it a once over, inhaled deeply and then took a bite.

I stood up straight. Why was I looking for his approval? I didn’t even know his name.

“Did you make this?”

I could only nod.

“It’s good.” 

Did I cream my pants or was it just really hot?

“All of these as well?”

“Yep, that’s what it says on the sign outside,” I chuckled, vaguely bringing up my name in hopes that he would tell me his, shifting my feet. I didn’t want to ask him for some reason. I wanted him to tell me.

“I’ve never met a Cleopatra before.”

“I’m a Cleodora, actually.”

“Greek,” he nodded, sounding impressed. Another bite and the muffin was gone. I noticed how he didn’t speak with his mouth full. A cultured, well educated man who didn't say dude even once. Was he the prodigal son the masses speak of? Who would finally free us from the bondage of surfer dudes and palm trees and tiki torches?

“Your parents fans?”

“I think they just wanted a break from all the Kayleys with two y’s and all the other pretentious names. I’m grateful.”

“You should be, it’s a very pretty name,” he breathed and leaned his back to the counter now, arms folded. I didn’t read too much into the compliment. Not after he found standard brunette shade pretty.

“Thank you, what’s yours?” I had to give in. He wouldn’t budge.

“Kaydyn. With two y’s.”

Fuck.

“Oh,” I leaned away from the register and shifted awkwardly. Just couldn’t keep my mouth shut, huh?

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, finally gracing me with it this time. There was just so much going on that I couldn’t catch much of it. “I’m Atticus,” he said and brought his hand out for me to shake. It nearly engulfed mine. Oh, but it was so warm. I hated it when people had cold hands.

“Greek.” I commented, nodding like I was impressed myself. 

“Nah, my parents were really into To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“I take it you’re a lawyer then?” I asked, idly billing a woman’s request for a chia seed tea. Why did I even make those?

“No, just a boring businessman.”

“How’s that classified?” I asked, walking to the filter. He followed me, keeping a respectful distance.

“What’s that?”

“The woman from lunch. You told her your job was classified.”

“Do you usually eavesdrop on private conversations?” He deftly raised an eyebrow.

I froze, my hand on the filter.

“No.” I sounded so guilty, but to my relief, he smiled again.

“I’m glad you did. The conversation was brain dead so I just stuck to answers that required no follow up hoping she’d get bored and leave. I have you to thank for that.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I’ll have you know, I don’t usually listen in, she was just so loud that I couldn’t get through a sentence.”

“So loud, right?” he enunciated, and that made me giggle. 

“An indirect vegan. And I thought LA couldn’t surprise me anymore.” I said, handing the drink to the woman with a smile. She tipped!

“That’s a terrible motto to live by.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s yours? Confuse strangers by demanding their book reviews?”

He was taken aback. Too on the nose?

“I can see how that was odd,” he shifted. “But I was intrigued by your take and wanted to hear more.”

“Why? There’s so many others out there with better takes.”

“But I’ve only come across you.”

I paused and looked at him. Oh?

“The women on Hinge aren’t as . . . sophisticated. No offence,” he added quickly with a hand up to show surrender. 

“And you think this is sophisticated?” I asked, gesturing around my silly little bakery. 

“Yes,” he said, and stepped closer. “And this.” 

He leaned down and I wobbled. I parted my lips slightly, out of reflex, but he moved past me to retrieve the novel I kept underneath the register. If there is a God, please don’t let him have seen that.

“You annotate,” he commented, rifling through the pages. “You have no idea how uncommon that is.”

“You’re just looking on the wrong dating apps.”

He smiled. “Oh, I’m not looking to date at all.”

?????

“Oh,” I breathed like I understood and looked away, mostly to hide my face. He didn’t want to date? Was he looking to make friends on an app famously used to hook up? Well, that was fucking adorable while also decimating to my ego.

I kept a close eye on him after that. He helped me fill a few more orders until it was time to close.

“Ah, the satisfaction of a full day’s job. Nothing beats that.” He sighed whimsically and shrugged his jacket back on.

I chuckled regardless, turning off the ovens and putting my own coat on. “Have you worked retail before?”

Why was he still here? I mean I knew why but how bad did he want this? Was I about to get murdered? Not that I’d mind getting strangled by those hands.

What?

“A lifetime ago,” he replied. Was I getting non-follow up answers now? Sensing the disdain in voice, I wordlessly counted the day’s spoils.

He seemed hesitant, but waited until I was done counting.

“Well?”

I looked at him expectantly like I didn’t know what he was referencing. But again, he wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll be ready with my priced opinion tomorrow at noon.” 

“Tomorrow? Why, what are you doing now?”

I knew I should have been insulted that he assumed I had nothing better to do, but for some reason I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I have . . . stuff to do.”

He breathed shakily and said nothing for a minute. “Of course.”

“Only because you’d have to watch me read for a couple hours, that’s all.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged, a grin playing at his lips.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters fluff #theglasscageepidemic #series #romantic #female reader #original character #fluff #masterlist #mental problems #possibly triggering #sad ending #tragic #Spotify #hot #books and quotes #literary #piranesi #rilke #yoko ogawa #memory police #depression #kai anderson #ahs fandom #reader fanfiction #poignantly #intimate #smut #lovers

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Dusty Smith!

Potentate of Logic

Stephen Jay Morris & Pamela Amodeo-Morris

December 15, 2022

Scientific Morality©

Don’t be fooled: There is no censorship of the political Right in the USA. Let me reiterate: though the American, ultra-conservatives have a militant faction that engages in property damage and the inadvertent death of cops, the military industrial complex would rather have White, Right wing militias to contend with than hordes of multi-racial, Leftists conducting a revolution. Fuck yeah, that’s true! The so-called, “Deep State” knows that Neo-Fascists have a low aptitude because the counter-revolutionary Right has brain-washed their followers against the Left wing intelligentsia. Those type of domestic enemies, are pushovers for the corporate police state. The red neck, rude buffoons, with their AR15s fully loaded, haven’t got a chance in goofy-land to overthrow the government and its arsenal of nuclear bombs! Common sense is hardly sufficient! If you think the U.S. Marines are part of a Jewish cabal of globalists, then you have no hope of victory. So, when the ‘Original Gangsters of Cancel Culture and Censorship’ cry sweet tears of McCarthyite regrets, and amplify their wailing and gnashing of teeth about how they are being censored, just put a boot up their ass and tell them to go home to mama!

There are shit loads of pod-casters on YouTube and other social media platforms. Most them are Right wing grifters and mercenaries, chasing after fame and fortune. Some are Millennial amateurs that want to be the next John Wayne. A lot of them have personality disorders. These disorders range from A.D.H.D to Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Kanye West, the has-been Rapper, has Bi-polar Disorder. Astoundingly, you can actually garner a salary from some Right wing think tanks as a spokesperson for these people. Like Charlie Kirk does.

As for Left wing pod-casters, there are a handful of them; they can be counted on your fingers. Some who lean toward the Liberal and Progressive direction have made a go of it. David Pakman and Kyle Kulinsky are two. Then there is Vaush , the pseudo-intellectual, Libertarian-Socialist. Also, there’s the “Amazing Atheist,” T.J. Kirk.

However. What about the Lumped-proletarian? The pauper with a Southern accent? You know—the authentic human being? A political Charles Bukowski. A dude that has had his run-ins with drinking, getting stoned, and running a porn site. A social fuck up, if you will! Well, that man lives modestly in a small, Mississippi town; the only White man in a Black neighborhood. He is Dusty Smith, overlooked giant of YouTube pod-casting! Creator and producer of “The Dusty Smith Show,” it is apparent that Dusty spends countless hours preparing for each and every podcast. Initially, he appears a bit rough around the edges, but it doesn’t take long to see that he is a sensitive, passionate, intelligent, and empathetic human being. He will yell with conviction at the reactionary creeps whose Internet posts he exposes, until his face is beet red. He will cry heartfelt tears while playing a video that features a victim of unbridled police brutality and cruelty. He will joke like the great comedians of yesterdays past. He will chastise and correct himself whenever something goes amiss during his show—video won’t play; voice is out of sync. Oh, Dusty curses like a longshoreman in some foggy harbor; he comes from working class roots. But that is part of his charm. He is an open book, sharing big and small life events. He provides helpful, Internet links to useful programs and creative websites. Dusty is a creative songwriter, as well, and posts his recordings on Sound Cloud, for free download. All in all, he presents his show with deep conviction, profound insight, razor-sharp logic, and humble generosity.

Also highly noteworthy about Dusty is that he rescues dogs and cats from death row, and houses them in his self-run, animal sanctuary for as long as they need a home. Some of his cats hang around and lie next to him during his podcast, and can be seen on camera. His primary source of revenue is from the tips and Super Chats contributed during his YouTube podcast, donations from Patreon members, and gifts sent via US mail directly to his P.O. box.

So, how does this king of the Anti-Authoritarian Left get treated by YouTube? Like a turd in a punch bowl!

My wife and I think very highly of him. We two Baby Boomers are strong supporters of this Gen Xer, and we catch his podcast, “The Dusty Smith Show,” live every Monday and Friday night at 9 EST. Its duration is typically two or more hours, sometimes three; if we don’t stay for the entire show, we catch the rest of it, on video, the next day or so. I love it when he makes fun of Right Wing pod-casters and Evangelical hate preachers! Were it not for Dusty’s informative and well-produced show, I would be largely unaware of the vast amount of Right-leaning garbage circulating Online.

At any rate, Social Media is trying to purify all Left wing content and Dusty is on their shit list—as am I. But Dusty has way more followers than I do, so his show being banned hits him especially hard. YouTube recently banned it for two months! Not the first time and, probably, it won’t be the last. In the meantime, he is podcasting his show live on Patreon, same schedule. Sign up to watch and support him!

Ever since Elon Musk took it over, Twitter has become a Right wing ghetto, devoid of any intelligence or logic. They suspended me twice.

Social Media is starting with the hard core Left. Once they succeed in purging them, it’s on to the Socialists and Communists. After that, it will be the Progressives, Democratic Socialists, Liberals, and, then moderate Democrats. However, it won’t stop there. They will go after Black conservatives and Jewish conservatives. Conservative women will be demoted to Christian motherhood. I don’t care if you don’t believe me. It will happen.

Dusty Smith and other Comrades must be protected and supported. I said this once and I’ll say it again: We need our own platform! Free speech is idealistic, but at this time in history, it is not practical. Elon Musk does not care about free speech. That is, with the exception for his Right wing buddies. He really, only cares about money and ego aggrandizement. No rich man is going to hand us a web site where we can freely express our opinions. Until we all realize that capitalism is not going to trickle down to us, we need a peoples’ site that is a true, public square, full of soap boxes for us to stand upon. But, the rich pig and his Conservative, Libertarian, and Evangelical flunkies only want their side of the story heard. The so-called Left does not have wealthy sugar daddies to finance us. George Soros? Well, he may have died of natural causes by the time you read this. Like all classical Leftists, we have no money. That is why we robbed banks for the Revolution!

Dusty may be off of YouTube this time around—but he will rise again!

#stephenjaymorris #poets of tumblr #american politics #youtube #Dusty Smith #atheism #relegion #anti authoritarianism #leftism #anarchocapitalism #anarchofeminism #anarchopunk #anti facist

[siriuslythatbitch]

I posted 3,175 times in 2022

That's 2,697 more posts than 2021!

140 posts created (4%)

3,035 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fuckboyregulus

@elder-millennial-trash

@dontbeanassbutt

@zackisontumblr

@classicdaisycalico

I tagged 265 of my posts in 2022

#sirius black - 91 posts

#remus lupin - 90 posts

#wolfstar - 87 posts

#marauders - 58 posts

#thank you for the ask! - 55 posts

#hp marauders - 51 posts

#remus x sirius - 44 posts

#marauders era - 35 posts

#my friends are so talented - 33 posts

#james potter - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#i came out to have a good time and i'm honestly feeling so attacked right now

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I see it's time for our semi regular 'hey minors could you fucking not' chat. So Miss B is gonna have to school you again apparently.

JUST BECAUSE YOU DONT LIKE SOMETHING DOESNT MAKE IT BAD

Read that, repeat it, internalize it, fucking live it. You do not get to dictate an authors right to write what they want. That is not your prerogative and quite frankly it's disgusting for you to do. You wouldn't pull this shit with a GoT book. You don't care about the fact that there is teenage rape in that and teen pregnancy and incest. But because these authors are 'accessable' you decide to attack them. No that's not gonna work bud.

Fun fact teenagers fuck. I fucked as a teenager and I damn well know my friends did. It's not a secret and I wish to fuck there had been someone to write a queer sex experience when I was growing up. You should be bowing down to these authors for providing you with something we never had at your age instead of trying to shame us into not writing.

Now I know it's hard for you to understand but life doesn't just end when you become a parent or turn 30. We have liked this series our entire lives. You weren't even a twinkle in your parent's eyes when this Fandom started. You do not get to claim it as yours. This is our baby. We nurtured and tended to it until it became what it is today and like fuck are you going to take it from us.

Speaking of being an adult an adult is an adult period. The age doesn't matter. You are 18 congrats you're and adult now. You're 45 or 89 or 19 it doesn't fucking matter. You are an adult. And funny thing, adults fuck other adults. That's how the world works. As long as it is consensual it's none of your concern how "adult" you think they are or aren't.

Honestly for every whiney post I see about an age gap im adding a year to the gap in my next fic between the pairing. Just fucking try me bitches. I am so done with your filtering bullshit. Fight me I promise I'll win.

29 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#4

Send Up a Signal, I’ll Throw You a Line

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37354114

It was three on a Tuesday and Sirius was near comatose at the counter. They’d had one customer in the shop all day, a fifty-something bloke looking for a Jefferson Starship record. Once found he proceeded to lecture Sirius on classic rock for the better part of an hour. Apparently, the man thought him completely ignorant of any bands at all. Despite the fact that he was wearing an Eagles t-shirt and worked at a bloody record shop. Not that he was surprised. Every man over thirty-five came in to see a man in his mid-twenties and assumed he must know nothing but Green Day and Foo Fighters. At this point, he was used to it, but that didn’t mean it made his exasperation with it all lessen.

“How’s it going down there, Black Dog?” His uncle called down from the upstairs that doubled as the man’s apartment and employee break room. Sirius couldn’t keep from grinning at the familiar nickname. Alphard had been the one to introduce him to classic rock in the first place. When his parents had been too busy to deal with him and his brother they’d come to the record store to spend time with their uncle.

He couldn’t have been more than four when he began grabbing records from the man’s collection upstairs, choosing them by the pretty art at first. The blond man, who he later learned was his uncle’s partner Nicholas, was always all too happy to man the shop for a while as he indulged his nephew’s newfound love for the music of their youth.

Nick had always found the fact that they were all named after constellations fascinating. It was that connection and Sirius’ particular fondness for Led Zeppelin that had dubbed him Black Dog. A name that stuck well through his teens and into adulthood. Black Dog was as much his name as Sirius at this point. It never failed to make him smile.

“I’ve seen legislation passed faster.” He groaned. The other man laughed at his joke. It was well known that their family had a distaste for both his and his Uncle’s career choices. Blacks were known for going into politics or becoming solicitors at the very least. His mother, father, and brother were all involved with it in one way or another. Fortunately, the idea of having a son without a uni degree compelled his parents to pay for it regardless.

Sirius didn’t regret his choice in the slightest. Music had always been his passion, and one his uncle had always indulged. Alphard was peering at him from the stairs. He’d moved just low enough to keep him in his line of sight.

“Nick is whipping up a batch of cinnamon scones now. I’ll bring you a few when they’re done.” In his younger years, his partner had been the pastry chef at multiple Michelin star restaurants. They often benefited from his penchant for baking when bored.

“Life may be worth living,” Sirius responded, completely missing the tinkling of the bell from the front of the shop. His uncle hadn’t. A sly smile crossed his face as he glanced across the room. Eyes flicking back to his nephew he replied.

“Perhaps there’ll be another soon enough.” The man winked, familiar grey eyes shining with mischief before disappearing back upstairs.

“Wha?” He tried to ask, shaking his head at his uncle before turning back to the store.

Sirius wasn’t sure what he might have expected to find when he glanced across the space, but this wasn’t it. A man in a dark brown cardigan had his back to him. His hair hung in sandy brown half curls that looked soft in the warm light. Even from across the store he could tell the man was a virtual giant. Sure, Sirius was shorter than your average bloke, a fact his best friend James loved reminding him of, but this man had to be well over six foot tall. He wanted to get a closer look though. It took him far too long to remember he worked at the bloody store and had every reason to approach the man.

“So… Do you come here often?” Sirius said, mentally berating himself for the cliché pickup line.

“Uh no, actually.” The other man laughed. His head was still downturned, long tan fingers rifling through the albums in the centre rack. The dexterity with which he did so did very unfortunate things to Sirius. Especially since he was at work, in the record shop, where his uncle was currently upstairs and well within earshot. “I had a friend tell me about this place, and I thought I’d check it out.” Finally, the man turned to glance at him. Sirius’ eyes went wide at the sight.

His lips were plush and a deep pink, one corner cocked up in amusement. His nose was almost button and utterly too adorable for Sirius’ good. The silvery band of a scar that ran across it just added to the urge to know this man inside and out. It was his eyes that were the real knockout. They were a shade of dark green, the kind of green that reminded him of warm summers spent in the countryside or his favourite jumper. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw flecks of gold or perhaps amber filtering through them. It was as if they glowed in the light and Sirius was desperate to lean in and examine them closer. Swallowing hard he attempted to cover his instant attraction to this man.

“Is there something I can help you find?” Sirius could tell his voice was a bit strained. Fortunately, the other man didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he didn’t care. Sure, he had no doubts that he was attractive, but there was no guarantee this guy was into blokes. He prayed to deities he had never been certain existed, that he was though.

“Yeah, actually.” Fuck. He’d been so distracted by the man’s appearance that he hadn’t really registered his voice. It was a smooth baritone that flooded his senses in the way that Alphard’s records had when he was a child.”I was looking for a Steve Miller Band record.” He had the faintest Welsh accent, the vowels leaving his tongue like music. Sirius was reminded of a much fitter Tom Jones.

“Oh, yeah, no, you’re in the completely wrong place for that.” He said, whipping around and making his way deeper into the store. “That’s where we keep all of the newer albums, anything from the naughties onwards.”

“Ah, well that would make sense.” He laughed behind him. The sound sent shivers up his spine, and he was glad he could play it off while walking.

“This is the section you want.” Sirius came to a stop in front of an enormous back wall. There were framed and signed classic rock records hung above a multi-tiered record holder. It ran from the staircase to the wall, wrapping around toward the counter. They truly did have the best collection in all of London, a fact his Uncle, and okay maybe Sirius too, was proud of.

“Woah.” The man’s eyes went huge as he took the setup in. “That’s quite the inventory you have here.”

“This isn’t even all of them.” Sirius laughed, thinking of the storage room where they kept the particularly expensive records. It took Sirius by surprise when the other man smiled at him. Not the half-smirk before, but an actual grin. His abdomen fluttered in a way he decidedly was not letting happen. Instead, he did his actual job “So do you want a specific album, or..?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He could have sworn he’d seen a slight flush to the man’s cheeks, but put that down to wishful thinking. “I was hoping you’d have a copy of “The Joker”.”

“I know we have at least one copy, but my uncle stocked it so we may have to dig for a bit.” Sirius fought a smile at having an excuse to spend more time with the mystery man. “You take that line, and I’ll look through this one.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He put on a jokingly solemn expression that had Sirius laughing despite himself. The other man let out an amused huff but turned toward his stack of records.

Unfortunately, or if he was honest with himself, which he steadfastly attempted never to be, quite fortunately, the two lines of records were quite close together. It was great for someone browsing alone. For two, however, it was close quarters. The cardigan covered arm of the other man brushed lightly against his bare one. At first, he’d assumed it was an accident, but then it happened again, this time staying in contact in some way. He bit his lip trying to keep his focus on the records and not the slide of the other man’s arm against his. Even through the garment, he could feel the radiating body heat and Sirius wanted to roll around in it like the dog his uncles had nicknamed him. This close he could smell the woodsy scent rolling off him. There was a faint hint of books, but the exceptionally old kind his parents had kept in the library of his childhood home. Somehow for once, the reminder didn’t make him want to bolt for the nearest exit. Contrarily, it made him want to press as close as possible, to claim the smell as his own. Christ, maybe he was a dog.

Sirius concentrated on the records instead, flicking past the Sex Pistols, The Smiths, and Stereophonics. At least he was at the st’s.

See the full post

34 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

#3

Wolfstar

Accidentally married

Intimate Artistry  

You spoil me so, Marigoals! I'll make this EXTRA special for you, babby<3

Remus opens up a tattoo parlor in Diagon Alley. He's done some research on basic charming for the designs, but has some he doesn't want to try out on his regular clients just incase. Sirius loves being his tester, which has resulted in quite a few tattoos (That Remus would love to trace with his fingers, tongue, and well anything Sirius would let him really). It's great, but it also means he's running out of room. Remus has come across some odd runes that he is pretty sure are meant to make the tattoo guaranteed not to fade, but he's not positive. Sirius decides he wants a wolf and dog baying at the moon on his hip, which means he has to take off his pants and use towel to try and cover. There's a lot of fumbling trying to keep from touching Sirius' cock, which just so happens to be making itself more obvious with each touch of the needle. (What can I say, he's a masochist and it's Remus afterall.) Both men are panting by the time he finally finishes tracing the last rune in invisible ink, but it doesn't have the effect either thought. A quick burst of pain has him gripping his own hip, working down his bottoms just enough to see the top of the very same tattoo he's just inlaid in Sirius' pale skin. Sirius, who has always been better at runes than Remus looks over the book and realizes the tattoo wasn't bound to his skin permanently but bound them to each other. And well, was that really so bad?

36 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

#2

Innocent Physical Contact and I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On Perciver (Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood)

Ooookay. First time thinking about this ship, but I'm excited so let's go. It's their 5th or 6th year and they've been the only two sharing their dorm just them since their first year, but things have gotten tense. Percy has tried to stay out of the dorm as much as possible and Oliver can't figure out why. He comes back from quidditch practice one day early because there was some issue or another and surprises Percy who had memorized his schedule. Percy has gay panic and makes to leave but Oliver stops him in the doorway with his hand on his chest. He demands that Percy tell him what's going on and after some very intense yelling Percy finally admits that he's pretty sure that he has a crush on him and the sight of him in that Quidditch uniform does things to him. Oliver definitely didn't think about what his uniform might do, but is very pleased with this revelation so takes it as a win and just kisses him. There's delightful frottage, Percy makes him keep the uniform on while he blows him (Because it's hot that's why) and it's just a lovely smutty time.

50 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay we're gonna have a fun time today because I am fucking enraged. It's clear that people have no clue what polyamory actually is or how a HEALTHY poly relationship works. I'm not just talking a triad, because outside of fiction those are fairly rare. Since apparently the cishets control the narrative I think it's about time I cleared some shit up. The key to polyamory is communication. THAT DOES NOT MEAN CHEATING AND SAYING IT'S FINE BECAUSE "Hey I'm poly"! There's a certain fic that tries to excuse this behavior and honestly I'm disgusted that it's so fucking glorified. That is NOT polyamory. That is cheating, plain and simple. If you want to write that that's fine, but call a spade a fucking spade. Don't you dare use a healthy and valid relationship choice to excuse your character's bad choices.

As a member of the queer community you should fucking know better. You wouldn't say being Bi or Pan is a reason to allow cheating, and if you would get the fuck out. I am tired of putting up with bi and pan phobia in the queer community. The hets fuck us over enough as it is, why the hell would you add to it?

I am polyamorous. I am in healthy and consenting relationships. I am fucking valid and am not a cheater or greedy or any of the bullshit that you all seem to perpetrate. I am so fucking done with you using my life as an excuse for your shitty writing. Don't pit partners against each other, don't make them keep from working out their normal feelings so it's healthy, and for fuckssake DON'T TRY AND COVER INFIDELITY WITH POLYAMORY!

Have a fan-fucking-tastic day, and think about what you say before you say it next time.

81 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[gwydionmisha]

Personal:  Something Good Survived

Wednesday, I promised to take a couple of millennials swimming.  The heat and air quality have been terrible, but the air is generally a bit better at the lake and the run off fed lake is refreshing on a too hot for the local ecosystem and me kind of day.

It drizzled in the morning and was very overcast in the afternoon, but really, to me it had simply cut the air contaminants in halfish and lowered the temperature to reasonable summer day in this micro-climate from unnatural and wrong levels.

I had a doctor's appointment for the afternoon, and had scheduled with the millennials to pick them up downtown after.  I had a massive number of downtown errands, but the timing looked reasonable.  The poverty clinic was way behind, as is often the case, especially with the under-staffing thanks to the pandemic, and I knew my appointment would be longish.  There is skin cancer in my family.  I have been periodically on medicines that increase the chances of it.  I'm also an Elder Goth, which is protective.  If you've been avoiding the sun whenever possible since the mid-'80's your skin ages much more gently and it drops your skin cancer risk.  Still I'm in my fifties, and I've had assorted lumps, moles and skin tags since my early thirties. I also have a serious autoimmune condition.  Once I went on Medicare, i made a habit of going in once a year or so for a skin check/tag removal because it's free and a really good idea preventative medicine wise.  (It infuriates me that we got ACA instead of Universal single payer or at minimum medicare for all.  EVERY BODY should get basic preventative medicine.)  Anyway, I skipped two years for the pandemic and a bunch of things had grown or appeared or changed and this takes a while.  (I'm fine by the way.  The new weird thing may end up getting removed if it grows or gets more annoying, but otherwise is a nuisance not a danger.  We're also keeping an eye on yet another cyst, but the other random stuff was the usual).

I also needed bloodwork, and to pick up meds at the attached Pharmacy, change stuff at the library, go to the post office, pay a small bill I pay every month in person, and drop off my sandals for repair as they broke last week.

I did all but the last three in time to pick up millennials for swimming.  I collected them.  We did the post office run as the thing needing mailing was time sensitive.  I blew off the small bill until next week, which is fine.  I flaked the shoe repair, which is extra stupid as it was literally a place I passed after collecting techie millennial on the way to get head millennial.  D'oh!  I went to my favorite post office where there was no line.  (Most people don't know it is there.  it's mostly a sorting depot, and the line is short or non-existence except in November and December.  Plus it's an historic building and really pretty inside).  It took less than ten minutes even with the hobbling to and from parking.

We stopped so millennials could pick up snacks, and went up to the lake.  The over cast day had scared most people away, so the parking was great.  There were a ton of ducks and a murder of crows and a lone seagull.  Techie Millennial i went in and it was fine.  Head millennial drank coffee and fed birds.  We came out when it got choppy and hung out for a while, enjoying bird politics and chatting.  It looked like a storm was coming in around five thirty, so we took techie millennial home.  Head Millennial prepped the kitchen for Stove exchange and made us pancakes to eat while watching what we do in the shadows.

It was a good day.  The storm missed us alas, so I still had trouble with my sinuses today, and the sky was cloudless and starting to turn the wrong colour when I took my sandals downtown.  It was a massive relief to see a mid-thirties millennial with a nose ring running the counter while the Elderly gentlemen who's run the place since long before I moved here was working in the back.  I worried about him during the pandemic and very much hoped he was okay.  I also worried there would be no one to take over the trade when the Boomer era shoe repair guy retired.  We have lost so much in this town in the last three years.  The fish store that was a local institution burned down the Autumn before the plague.  A ton of small businesses died in the last two years.  This summer, the elderly couple that ran the open air produce store retired and another institution is gone, but there is the tiny shoe repair place and the handmade sweet shop run by an equally ancient couple next door to it was open, though there was no point in me doing more than gaze longingly at it, since I can't chew anything.  They survived!  Something good survived!

Poor Squirrel is still sleeping on the sofa and occasionally napping in my room in the evening when I'm not using it.  The Cats find this deeply disturbing.  Tavy keeps Gargoyling on the sofa back to stare at Squirrel while he sleeps and both he and the Empress keeping checking squirrel's room in disbelief off and on all day because he's supposed to be there.  Livia has decided to pretend Squirrel is not sleeping in weird places so she ignores him and subtly avoids him when he is in the wrong place.

I am just having a ton of trouble with my body.  It is all chronic illness stuff made so much worse by heat and air quality every time I need to leave the safe, filtered bubble of the cat asylum and all the stress and drama around food and my teeth.  I keep having to go to bed very early without much warning.  I am falling drastically behind again sigh.

My Gothy heart longs for Autumn for all the usual reasons, but also because of all the ways climate change has complettely borked the local weather patterns.

#Personal

[phoebe-drawz]

It Was Just a Walk

Here’s something short that I wrote as a small exploration of the relationship between my one CR OC, Morrigan (the Queen of Crows), and the Millennial Tree. I was originally going to draw something to go along with this before posting, but...well. I’m too busy for that right now. So here’s just the fic in the meantime.

~~~~~

"So...you still plan to return to the Enchantress tomorrow?"

The question came after a walk, which the Millennial Tree had insisted that she join. She wasn't much for things like this, but she supposed they were nice to participate in every so often. However, that question did ruin the mood.

The self-proclaimed Queen of Crows stopped in her tracks.

"Of course I'm going back to her, Aklamesh. I live with her."

"I understand that, it's just-"

"I know you hate her, and I know you hate that I keep going back to her. Stop beating around the bush."

"I don't-" Aklamesh sighed. "I do not hate her, Morrigan. It's more complicated than that."

"And the second part?"

He looked down to see Morrigan with her arms crossed, scowling up at him through the crow's skull.

"I...yes, you are correct. I simply do not believe continuing to return to her is the best decision for you."

"Yes, you've told me that many times. And it hasn't changed my mind."

After a few moments of silence, Morrigan began to walk away, only to be stopped once more as Aklamesh finally spoke again.

"I just don't appreciate how she encourages your behavior. There are so many other options to vent your frustrations and anger through than by hurting people."

"And what if I don't want to use those?" Morrigan snapped, turning so fast on her heel that her cape flew out behind her. The sudden flare even made the Millennial Tree startle a bit.

"What if I like 'venting my frustrations and anger' like this?" she asked. "The world made me suffer, so why shouldn't I return the favor?"

"They are innocent people, Morrigan!" Aklamesh countered, throwing his hand out. "None of them had ever done anything to you! You know that. And that's exactly what I'm talking about with the Enchantress. She enables you to do these things, and in the end it's only for her own personal gain."

"And what if it is?! Why do you even care? I did these things long before I met her, anyway. You knew that!" Morrigan spat back. "You knew all of it! And you hate it: so, what? Are you gunna end up hating me too?"

Aklamesh was silent as she glared into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

His gaze locked on her, straight ahead.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips.

In her anger, she hadn't even realized she'd left the ground. 

She shouldn't be up here. She shouldn't be looking him in the eyes like this, from his level. 

She crossed a line. It's why he was silent. 

She started to descend.

And as she did, she tried to calm herself. But it wasn't working. She felt as though she were choking on her own smoke.

That dark smoke of her accursed birth; the smoke that manifested within her lungs, plaguing every exhalation she'd ever made and leaking through the skull of the old bird. The reminder of the world that wronged her.

The sound of shuffling robes brought her back.

She was on her knees now. She hadn't even realized she was back on the ground.

The old bird's skull was lifted from her head and carefully placed beside her. Then she felt his hands on either side of her jaw, gently turning her head up.

The old giant had settled in front of her, looking down at her with an expression she couldn't read.

She was crying.

"You knew all of it," she said again, her voice coming out as a whimper. "You knew every horrible, awful thing I've ever done. Yet you still chose to show yourself to me, that day in the ruins. You showed yourself to me ; someone so young, so far beneath you."

"Morrigan-"

"You hate the things I do, yet you don't hate me. I don't understand. I'm a terrible person . Someone like you should detest me. But you don't."

Aklamesh sighed, a sad look on his face.

"Why do you cry for the things you've done if you do not regret them?" he asked.

She felt the knot in her throat get tighter.

"Why do you care about me when you hate the things I do? When you hate that I go back to her?" Morrigan asked in return. "I don't get it."

"I care about everyone."

"That's not what I mean, you old tree!" she almost shouted, her tears continuing to fall. "You shouldn't care about me."

Her voice was shaking.

"Why do you love me?"

He gazed down at her, brushed his thumb along her cheek.

"I love you because the world did not."

#my stories #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oc #the queen of crows cookie #millennial tree cookie

[college-girl199328]

The Liberals just had themselves a “twofer.” For the second time in as many weeks, Liberal party insiders and their surrogates online saw attacks against newly recruited Conservative candidates backfire spectacularly, succeeding only in raising the profiles of the would-be Parliamentarians.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau took aim at Conservative candidate for Durham Jamil Jivani on Thursday, calling Jivani, who is biracial, a “ twofer ” in an address to his caucus. Trudeau explained, in the next sentence, that by “twofer,” he meant that Jivani was “both an ideologue and an insider.” The prime minister’s unfortunate choice of words nevertheless gave the 36-year-old Jivani an opening to put together a rapid-fire counter-attack.

The irony is that Jivani is exactly the sort of “star candidate” that, under different circumstances, would have Liberals salivating. Indeed, the parallels between Jivani’s personal history, detailed in his 2018 book Why Young Men and that of ex-U.S. president Barack Obama are hard to ignore — right down to the Kenyan-born absentee father and the Ivy League law degree (Jivani graduated from Yale Law School in 2013). Throw in the fact that Jivani beat Stage 4 non-Hodgkin lymphoma, being declared “cured of cancer” just weeks ago, and we’re well into “made for TV movie” territory. Why Trudeau and other prominent Liberals would fritter away scarce political capital by going after Jivani is anyone’s guess, especially when he won’t be facing especially strong competition in the race for ex-Tory leader Erin O’Toole’s old seat in the March 4 by-election. Liberal nominee Robert Rock, currently a municipal councilor, ran unsuccessfully against Jivani for the riding’s Conservative nomination.

The Liberal meltdown over Jivani echoes the party’s similarly counterproductive targeting, one week earlier, of 35-year-old ex-National Post columnist Sabrina Maddeaux. Maddeaux was attacked online by two sitting Liberal MPs, one of them a cabinet member, just hours after posting her own video to X announcing that she was seeking the Conservative nomination for Aurora—Oak Ridges—Richmond Hill. (Disclosure: Sabrina is a personal friend and I made a small donation to her campaign shortly after it launched, though I am not a member of any political party.) Maddeaux was subsequently targeted by an army of pro-liberal trolls, with criticisms of the stylish ex-fashion writer at times crossing the line into creepy. One especially skin-crawling post paired a photo of Maddeaux taken at a fashion event with the caption, “Really? Sabrina is a ‘conservative’? Not sure I’d wear that to Sunday school.”

Ickiness aside, this has all made for excellent publicity for Maddeaux, whose two-minute campaign announcement video now has nearly 400,000 views on X. Maddeaux, like Jivani, is an accomplished and telegenic young urbanite whom the Liberals would no doubt have loved to run themselves in a competitive Greater Toronto Area riding. As a columnist, Maddeaux wrote prolifically on issues affecting urban millennials like herself, notably housing. Her segue into Conservative politics is emblematic of the party’s rising fortunes among younger Canadians.

The prime minister also singled out 33-year-old Oxford MP Arpan Khanna in his Thursday address. Khanna was reportedly the target of racist campaigning during last year’s bruising Oxford by-election. More recently, he’s been at the center of heretofore unsuccessful Liberal and NDP efforts to stoke anxieties over alleged Indian election interference. A thinly sourced story published earlier this month by the transparently partisan Press Progress claimed that the vote that made Khanna the Conservative party’s nominee for Oxford is currently under investigation by CSIS. The Liberal party’s baffling attacks on three promising young Conservatives show, above all, just how dramatically party demographics have changed during the Trudeau years. Whereas the expression “stale, pale and male” once broadly fit the Conservative party caucus, the Liberals don’t seem to have a playbook for dealing with a diverse crop of young political talent that’s flocked to the Big Blue Tent under Pierre Poilievre.

Without the epithets “old”, “male” and “white” at its disposal, the once lethal Liberal attack machine now looks to be toothless.

[projecthipster]

Avocado on Toast

(Yes, with an “on.” That’s what the list says.)

Oh, avocado toast. Simplest of concepts, and yet, ambrosia. The fruit of a mesoamerican conifer, rich with oil and nutrients, softens to a lovely-textured paste or a soft smooth fruit that falls easily into slices, it’s up to you how long you want to let it age on the counter, like a cask ale or a cheddar cheese. Put that on bread. End of concept description.

Simplest of concepts, and yet, made so much. Most of the time that I eat avocado toast, I make it at home with a simple, perfect recipe. Here it is:

Using a fork, mash half an avocado in a small bowl. Mix in a splash of olive oil, a couple of sprinkles of salt, fresh-ground pepper, and red chili flakes to taste. Toast two slices of good quality bread, dry, until they are golden brown and slightly crispy on the edges. Divide the avocado mash to spread thickly across the two slices. Eat while still warm.

Of course, most of the avocadi toasti that gave the dish its Hipster association aren’t so simple. Let’s inspect the brunch menu of a hip café at Van Horne and Hamilton, in the hip not-quite-downtown district. The area and café are both named after a defunct streetcar line, which is rather Hipster. This spot’s menu reveals an avocado toast featuring, for eighteen dollars, sunny-side-up eggs, arugula, gem tomatoes, and country hash.

Sounds good! I’d order it, and in fact I may even get it for brunch tomorrow when I head that way before work. Tips have been good lately. But at that price you can see why this humble conifer-fruit-on-bread has been cast as a sort of account-draining millennial meth that dooms its orderers of my generation to a lifetime of loft rentals. Putting aside the what’s wrong with lofts? question and the general wrongness of the idea, it’s still easy to be baffled at the price and excess of these luxurious toastses.

Another place, down on the Atlantic Avenue strip, features, alongside breakfast pierogies and taco pancakes (I think I once saw Homer Simpson invent such a thing,) a twenty dollar avo toast with a poached egg and bacon or salmon. A far cry from a few dollars for a grocery store avocado and loaf of bread for my recipe, that provides four servings with half the loaf left over.

But the luxury is the point, isn’t it? When the feeling of avocado meat melting in ones mouth feels like a luxury in itself, it’s a dish that lends itself naturally to a special-occasion treat. While working at the ski hill I had the expensive lodge avo toast a couple of times to celebrate sending a new challenging run. Who’s to say we don’t deserve it? Socialist movements of the twentieth century called for “bread and roses;” the bread of secure staples, and the roses of luxury, recognition that an improved world ought not only secure material stability, but beyond that, luxury and comfort. As hipsters rallied against the greed and destructiveness of the corporate mainstream, let us therefore take up the cry of the old century for the new. Panem et avocadi!

Post-scriptum

I wrote all the preceding at home in the evening while listening to a Bob Dylan record*, no avocados in the building. Since it had been months since I actually ordered avo toast, I did so this morning. I didn’t go to the twenty dollar place, nor the seventeen. I went to a hip-aspiring café near Stephen and Broadway, busy with office workers getting takeout. The avo toast there was a much kinder seven dollars, served with cherry tomatoes and arugula, with white bean hummus mixed into mash. I had it with a local roast cappucino, of course. And you know what? It was damn good. Yes, easily seven dollars good. Shitty picture of it in its compostable tray at the top of the post, which I tried to snap without looking like I was, because I didn’t want at all to be that guy.

I give this hipster food five studio loft rentals out of five.

Project Hipster is a futile and disorganized attempt to dive into the world of things that the internet has at some point claimed "are hipster," mostly through ListChallenges search results.

This review comes from the fourth list, Hipster Starter Pack.

Stay deck.

*Bob Dylan at Budokan, which apparently is a controversial album? I guess I can see why since it features him singing the lyrics to some of my favourite of his songs as set to unrecognizable new tunes. But eh, it’s interesting and sounds like a cool pop rock record aside from the Dylanness. Anyway, this was supposed to be about toast.

#hipster #avocado toast #food

[writingandsleeping]

So, I've decided to start writing my intrusive thoughts like stories to get them out of my head better and now I feel like I need to post them to really get them out. Send them off. Eject them.

If anyone actually reads this, please know that I'm aware that it's probably inaccurate. I did no research into proper procedure. The point was therapeutic writing, not proper world-building.

Time slowed down as it sped up. Each excruciating second felt like an eternity but passed as rapidly as each shallow breath. She had no idea how long she actually laid on the floor. Did she just fall or had she been down for a while? Was she still screaming? How had her roommate not found her yet? Or had she called 911 already, and she just couldn’t hear it over the throbbing in her ears? The way she could practically feel each drop of blood jump with the pounding of her heart in each eardrum?

Oh god, the blood. So much blood. Her pants were wet, her face was sticky, and her mouth was full of the tangy taste of it. What about her ankle? She couldn’t see or feel any blood down there but oh god was it throbbing.

Wait. Why couldn’t she see?

She couldn’t see.

Was she screaming again or was it still the same scream?

So much pain. She clenched her jaw despite the sharp protest of her molars. Okay, so that meant she probably cracked her jaw or bit her tongue hard on her way down. Explains the blood in her mouth at least. Her hands flexed at her sides. She wanted to wipe her face or grab her back or punch the cabinets behind her. She couldn’t pick, so she settled with digging her nails into the sensitive skin of her palms. It helped for a second, allowed her to focus on a new sharp point of pain and assess the situation for a microsecond.

It was the cat’s fault. Her roommate’s cat was eating her dinner leftovers again as they cooled on the counter. When she stormed over to scare the cat off, it jumped at her instead of ran away. That was new. The cat had never attacked her before. But this time, it flew at her face with claws extended, and that was the last she saw.

She felt the claws hook into her right eye, her eyebrow, her cheek, her ear. She felt her knees buckle. She felt her hand drag something off the dish mat behind her. She felt her back hit the cabinet hard and scrape downward. She felt her tailbone make sharp impact with the hardwood floor. She felt all the resulting, reverberating pain that echoed throughout her body like radar, pulsing from the pressure points, bouncing against neighboring waves, and throbbing back again.

The pain was starting to dull at least. Maybe. Her toes didn’t tingle anymore, nor her ankle throb. Was she getting used to it or was she going numb?

And where the hell was her roommate? Surely, she had been on the floor for an hour now.

She had stopped screaming at least. Her jaw was so stiff it was certainly never going to open again. But her breathing hadn’t slowed. It was coming in batches punctuated by slightly deeper breaths. Five barely filled inhale-exhales, one shuddering, passable inhale, five barely filled inhale-exhales. Her face was feeling heavier and heavier with each hour-long second. She was sobbing. Definitely ugly, snot-dominated sobbing.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Her roommate. Finally. With the stupidest question ever uttered by mankind.

“Call 911, damnit,” she yelled. She choked a little on the blood still in her mouth, felt her jaw click with each syllable and spittle fly out with unintended emphasis.

Huh. Well, maybe she didn’t look as bad as she felt? Maybe there was more snot than blood after all? Perhaps it was all superficial and she was overreacting. Was 911 worth it if it was all superficial? How did that meme go, a ride in the woo-woo wagon broke the bank of underpaid millennials? She briefly considered how expensive an Uber’s cleaning and sanitization fees would be compared to an actual ambulance.

But then she remembered she couldn’t see and freaked out all over again.

In the background of her existential crisis, she heard her roommate telling 911 that she didn’t know what happened but they needed an ambulance to their address right away. She demanded her roommate pass her the phone with more expletives than at all necessary. It took a moment to pry her stiff fingers out of their fist formation to accept it.

“Hi, I’m the wounded in question. A cat scratched my face. I believe I got a claw directly to the eye because I cannot see at all. I’m fucking blind, and I can’t feel my legs.”

Wow, that was so calm. Where did the reasonable tone come from? Good job, she congratulated herself.

“Hello, ma’am. An ambulance is on its way. I’m going to ask you a few questions about your condition. Do you think you can answer to the best of your ability and stay calm?”

“I can certainly try, but I can’t promise to stay calm.”

“I understand, ma’am. Thank you for trying. Can you open your eyes and not see, or are they instinctively closed?”

She paused. That was a good question. Had she tried opening her eyes? Maybe not. She took a deep breath — when did her breathing steady a little? — and relaxed her face. Her eyes were definitely closed. She tried to open one and screeched.

“Ma’am?”

“They’re closed. I tried to open them, but it hurts too much. Like something sandy between the eyelid and ball.”

“Okay. That’s good to know. An important distinction.”

“Yes.”

“Do you wear glasses?”

“I do need glasses, but I wasn’t wearing them at the time.”

“So there’s no chance of broken glass?”

“No, thankfully, no broken glass.”

“Okay, that’s definitely good.”

“Yes.”

“What about the rest of your body? You said there are a lot of scratches on your face. Did you get hurt anywhere else?”

“I fell backward when the cat launched itself at me. I definitely hit my head on the way down.”

“Are you currently on the floor?”

“Yes.”

“Are you laying down in a prone position or sitting upright?”

“Um. I’m kinda slouched up against the cabinet. I doubt I’d be upright if there wasn’t a cabinet behind me though.”

“Okay. And you said you can’t feel your legs?”

“No. There’s a heavy, bad pinch in my lower back, like the small of my back, and that’s all I can feel. Well no I can feel that my butt is going numb from hitting the ground and not moving.”

“How long have you been on the floor?”

“I have no idea. I think this just happened. Maybe like five minutes?”

“Okay, that’s good. The EMTs should be there soon. They’ll help you and ease your discomfort as best they can before taking you to a hospital.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, ma’am.”

“Yes I do. You’re keeping me so calm, it’s astounding.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m helping you stay calm. How are your eyes? Are they still closed?”

“Yes. I don’t want to try opening them again. I’m afraid to.”

“That’s alright. I understand. I recommend you keep them closed until an EMT can assess them in person.”

“Okay.”

“The ambulance is approaching your building. Will someone be there to let them in?”

“Um, I think my roommate can buzz them in, yeah. It’s just the two of us here.”

“Okay. Well let her know to stay by the door then. She should definitely stay with you not go to the front door.”

“Can you warn the EMTs that it’s a walk-up? We’re on the fourth floor, and there’s no elevator. So that’s three flights of stairs.”

“That is a good note for them, thank you, ma’am.”

“My name is Erin.”

“Alright, Erin. Well, it’s nice to meet you. How are you doing? Still calm?”

“Yes, thank you. Breathing easier now.”

“Are you still in a lot of pain?”

“Oh, good god, yes. 23 out of 10, lots of pain.”

“Alright, hopefully the EMTs will help with that. What apartment number are you in?”

“Number 14.”

The door buzzed almost immediately 

“Thank you.”

It buzzed again.

“Ashley?” I yelled.

“Sorry!” I heard her yelp from far away. Was she not waiting at the door? Did she think the EMTs would axe their way in?

The seconds stretched into eternities again before she heard a pounding on the door that shook the floor.

“Hello, we got a distress call,” she heard distantly. The voice sounded rushed and impatient until it changed its thought mid-sentence. “Oh shit, wow, so you’re the patient.”

There was a lot of pushing and thudding until she felt a body beside her. She just knew a man was there, felt the shadow of him step over her outstretched legs and then crouch down beside her torso. She didn’t know how she knew it was a man. It didn’t feel like an especially large presence, but it seemed extra hunched in the small space between her and the window, between the oven and the egg crate of boxed and canned food.

Maybe she was overthinking this and just assumed it was a man because it had been a man’s voice at the door.

Another presence appeared to her left, the opposite side of the man. It felt smaller, gentler, uncertain. Either a new, inexperienced EMT or a woman, she decided.

“Do I look that bad?” she asked. The EMT to her left took the phone away from her, assured the attendant on the line that the patient was being seen to, and tossed it out of the way. She heard her roommate huff but couldn’t care at all.

“You certainly don’t look ready for prom,” he answered. He didn’t quite laugh. The bad joke did nothing to cover his shock and distress even though his voice was even.

“First, let’s look at your eyes,” he continued. She could hear gloves slap against his wrists and suddenly someone was gently holding her check and chin in one hand, tilting  her face to the right, toward him.

“The cuts look superficial.” The voice floating on her left was forceful but effeminate. Knowing she guessed right about the second EMT being a woman helped her take a calming deep breath.

The first EMT agreed. “They should clean up easy enough without stitches, but I’m worried about the amount of blood coming from her lashes.”

And she was hyperventilating again.

“You need me to open them don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I do,” the first EMT said.

“Do you wanna squeeze my hand?” the second asked.

“Do you mind if I accidentally break your fingers?” she asked with a weak chuckle.

“Do your worst,” the EMT said. Smooth gloves gently picked up her fist and tried to open her fingers. “Um, it only works if you open this first.”

“I know, sorry. It’s a pain response. They’re so tight, they’re kinda stuck that that. My other hand is still open though.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll take that hand.”

Her left hand was placed in her lap, and then her right hand was covered by the smooth gloves. She turned her hand over to grip whatever part of the gloves she could reach.

“Alright. Take deep breath in and open your eyes slowly whenever you’re ready,” the first EMT said.

She took a shaky breath. She let it out as a long shuddering exhale. She breathed as deeply as she could, telling herself that she preparing for a dive at the start of a swim meet, nothing more, and opened her eyes into just a squint.

More expletives were screamed. The second EMT yelped as her fingers found themselves in a bear trap. The first EMT dragged her eyelids up the rest of the way.

She didn’t know what hit her first: the pain or the light. Her eyeballs felt like they were on fire. Or being electrocuted. Or stabbed. Simply put, they were in the most pain she had ever felt before in her life. The lights didn’t help. The white pinpoint beam of a flashlight was inescapable, made worse by the glow of the kitchen’s yellow light above.

Vaguely, she commented to herself that she was definitely going to have a migraine from this for a solid fortnight. Fortnight? She usually only used that word in reference to tennis tournaments. What happened to all the lights? They had been so bright a moment ago, she thought slowly.

The EMTs were talking over her, but she couldn’t comprehend any words. The tones definitely got harsher. Bad news then. That was fine. Maybe if she just slept it off, everything would be fine and she wouldn’t need a ride in the woo-woo wagon after all.

“Hey!” a feminine voice snapped very close to her ear. “Stay awake!”

“So, that still hurts real bad, huh?” the first EMT asked.

She tried to speak and nod, but neither seemed to work. All she managed was a positive-sounding murmur.

“Alright, close your eyes again.” There was pressure on her eyelids, then on the top of her eyeballs. He must have closed them for her. 

“We need to get her to the hospital now,” the first EMT said.

“How do you propose getting her down all those stairs?” the second EMT asked. She couldn’t decide what the EMT’s tone was though. Nervous? Sarcastic?

The first EMT was definitely anxious. “I know. Go see if the roommate knows anyone in the building. Hell, go directly to the crowd outside. Maybe someone will be willing to help.”

The presence left her left side, and she suddenly felt incredibly cold and alone.

“Can you walk by any chance?”

“I still can’t feel my legs,” she managed in a flat tone, “or my ass anymore.” She was vaguely aware of her head rolling toward the EMT but mostly sagging toward her chest.

“Oh. That’s not good.”

“I didn’t… think… it would be.”

“Alright, well, can you lean forward? I need to see if there’s anything making you uncomfortable. It could just be a reaction to the hard fall and sitting still so long.”

She didn’t grace that with an answer because she could hear in his voice that he didn’t believe it himself. But she was so stiff, she couldn’t move either, until the soft pressure of an hand was placed on her mid-back and pushed her forward.

She heard him gasp but was too afraid the ask. Moving even just that small amount sent jarring waves of pain throughout her entire nervous system to the point that her tongue tickled, her shoulders cramped, and her fingers felt pricked. She was definitely awake again. Yet still nothing in her knees and toes.

The EMT sat her up again, sending a fresh bout of radar waves through her abdomen and frantic butterflies loose in her chest. He mumbled something and walked away as well. She had never felt so cold and alone in her entire life, which, honestly, was impressive.

There was a gasp from the door, a deadly silent pause, then shouts echoing in the hallway. The EMTs needed assistance urgently from someone able to support a stretcher. Another nervous voice spoke up in the distance, but she didn’t bother trying to hear anything anymore. Her calm was rapidly evaporating. It was gone.

Five shaky inhale-exhales, one shallow, uneven breath, five shaky inhale-exhales.

She wasn’t going to be okay, was she? Her eyes weren’t working. Her legs weren’t working. Her hips weren’t working. She hadn’t tried to use or move her arms in forever, but she was too exhausted to try now. They probably weren’t working either. She tilted her head back and tried to breathe through her nose, but the snot was clogging it again. Good god, she was probably a hideous salt and snot-covered mess.

She was sobbing now. Full, heaving sobs. She was still barely drawing in breath though, so at least they were silent sobs. 

Damn, she hated sobbing like this. Yeah, she was an over-emotional mess on a regular basis. There was no denying that. But just sitting here crying? That wasn’t her. She blinked, despite her eyes never really opening, took another deep, shuddering breath, and shouted for her roommate. Someone appeared at her shoulder, standing over her and trying to soothe or shush her. She thought she recognized it to be the second EMT’s voice as it joined her in calling her useless, so-called friend.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” she heard her roommate saying.

“Call my dad,” she demanded. She could hear the EMT saying something as well and doubted she was heard, so she took another deep breath and repeated, “You need to call my father right now. Tell him what hospital we’re going to. Call him now. Please.”

“Of course! Right!” There was a pause. “What’s his number?”

“You should have his goddamn number!” she practically screamed. A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she forced herself to take more deep breaths before reciting her father’s cell.

“Okay, got it.” She felt vaguely bad for being so harsh on her roommate, but seriously. They had purposely exchanged their parents’ numbers when they first moved in together in case anything drastic happened. Like this. Exactly like this.

The EMT was mumbling soothing nothings in her ear again, but she blocked it out, preferring to sit in her anger. It was so strong it almost felt tangible, like stress-relieving silly putty in his clenched fists. At any rate, it was the only thing keeping her awake.

“Hey, you got any the extra gloves?” The other EMT was back. His presence felt far more hulking, overbearing than before. She lifted her head and took in the shadows she she couldn’t see that leaned over her, turned her closed eyes slowly left and right, realizing he had at least two new people with him. “This is Chris and Alex. They’re gonna help us get her on the stretcher. And possibly down the stairs.”

“I, uh,” a new voice stopped, sounding hoarse. She worries he was going to vomit on her. Was there that much blood? Or did she just really need to learn how to apply makeup? “I’m still not sure how you think you’re gonna get her down those stairs. Two people can barely walk up them next to each other. And I mean skinny white girl types.” There was a pause. “Uh, sorry?”

“I may be a white girl, but I ain’t skinny, bud,” she muttered. “I’ve been worried about the same thing.” 

“It won’t be comfortable for anyone, but it’s going to happen,” the second EMT said fiercely. “This young woman needs to get downstairs and into the ambulance right now.”

“How can we help?” another new voice asked, much clearer than the first. She liked him more than the first one.

“Here,” the second EMT said as if the question wasn’t even posed. “Put these on. You’re going to help me stabilize her shoulders, and you’re going to lift her legs with my partner, once he gets the stretcher set up here.”

There was movement over her and the sound of snapping latex. She braced herself for waves upon waves of pain.

“Yeah, this is as close as I can get the stretcher given the space.”

“Christ on a fucking cracker!” she burst out.

Silence followed.

She took a deep breath and punched her numb thigh. She assumed she did, at least, because of the stiff material that met her fist. Her jeans, probably.

“Just.” She stopped to take another deep breath. “Please just start moving me. Can you turn me sideways and roll me onto it? I assume there’s something sticking out of my lower back, and given how long it’s been in, I’m never gonna play tennis or soccer or swim again at this point anyway. So just fucking get me out of here.”

Fresh, warm tears fell, and her next shuddering breath turned into a cough with how much snot clogged her nose and throat. Gloved hands gently wiped her lower eyelids before she had a chance to blindly flail her fists at her face.

“She makes a good suggestion,” the second EMT said, still radiating calm authority. “You’re still on her legs. You’re still on her shoulders. Alright, Eric, go help him with her legs, too, please.”

There was shuffling movement all around her and a buzz of nervous conversation forcing its way into the apartment, like the steady press of blood oozing out of a paper cut.

“Okay,” the first EMT said. “Very slowly, we’re going to push her onto her left shoulder toward Debra and pull her legs out so that her body is straight. It’s very important that she stays as straight as possible. Keep her ankles and knees together. Keep her shoulders flat.”

“She’s going to want to hunch in on herself, so it’s very important that we keep her body straight, flat like the board we’re moving her to,” the second EMT agreed.

“Crawl not butterfly, got it,” she mumbled to herself, forcing her shoulders back. The EMT to her left must have noticed because a gentle hand returned to her shoulder.

“On the count of three,” the second EMT said.

She squeezed her eyes, fists, and jaw even tighter and willed herself not to start screaming again as four sets of hands grabbed her with various degrees of gentleness. At least one “oh, god” was stated. At least one person manipulating her choked back disgust. Then her chin bounced into the floor and she bit her tongue. She couldn’t say she was held perfectly straight and flat like the stretcher board the whole time, but she felt herself land halfway on the board, then fully on it. Her face was pushed into a cushioned hole, and straps were pulled across her shoulders. There was some new pressure added to her lower back, and she just imagined one of the EMTs was applying pressure to the wound as every medical moment of every television show ever suggested. She tried to focus on that one spot and the minimal comfort it offered.

“Um,” her roommate’s tiny voice shattered the moment. “Her parents want to know if they can talk to you?” 

“No,” the first EMT said. “We finally have her situated. We can’t waste more time getting her down those stairs. Tell them we’re going…”

His voice faded as the pressure in her back and semi-comfort of being laid out rather than hunched over lulled her in a calmer darkness than she’d felt all day. Distantly, a voice that might have even been her own told her that she had to stay alert, but she just couldn’t focus on it. She couldn’t focus on anything. God, she was exhausted. Who knew sitting for so long could be so tiring? Was it even that long? She revisited her initial pondering as to how long she had been on the floor. Surely, the EMTs hadn’t been working on her that long. They were trained for dramatic situations and triage, after all. Speed was key. She knew that from the many medical shows she loved, too. Alright, so she wasn’t a casualty of the Korean Conflict. That didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some speedy, sassy, gorgeous doctor though. Hell, she’d even accept a cranky, old guy with a drug addiction so long as he took the whole episode to fix her up, good as new. Or an autistic doctor who played with her muscles and bones in his mind, mapping out the best, uh, procedure. Yeah, that. Procedure…

#erin wont shut up #writing #writeblr

[simariahs]

Finally posting part two of my last build, you can watch the renovation here! I had so much fun renovating this base game home and as always, the CC will be linked under the cut. Happy simming! 

Buy:

[entryway]

Wall Letters by PlatinumLuxeSims

Mirrored Side Table by PlatinumLuxeSims

Mirror from the KERV Collection by Greenllamas

Heart Rug by Aira

Cloud Ottoman by MyCupofCC

[living room]

Sofa + Bookshelf + Lighting by Harrie 

Fireplace + Coffee Table by Pierisim

Living Coral Rugs by TaTschu

[kitchen]

Kitchen Island by Pierisim 

Kitchen Counters by LittleDica

Kitchen Cabinets by Peacemaker

Munch Oven by CharlyPancakes

Functional Bar Cart by Ravasheen

[bathroom]

Painting by GoddessGamez

Marble Bath Set by SIXAMCC

Nora Shower by Eniosta 

[main bedroom]

Millennial Bed by Syboulette

Half Moon Headboard by Peacemaker

Headboard by Severinka 

Neon Flower Light by MechtaSims

Painting by DesireLuxeGaming

Sleek Desk by PlatinumLuxeSims

Desk Chair + Cork Board by MyCupofCC

If your CC is linked in this list and you don’t want it to be, message me! 

#the sims 4 #sims 4 house #sims 4 cc #black sims #the sims cc #sims 4 build #black simmer #build

[orlamount]

Research into the 90s

I already had a basic understanding if the 90s, however I wanted to delve deeper and understand the era further.

The 1990s is often remembered as a decade of relative peace and prosperity: The Soviet Union fell, ending the decades-long Cold War, and the rise of the Internet ushered in a radical new era of communication, business and entertainment. However, the decade was not without violence and tragedy, including the Bosnian genocide, the Rodney King beating and subsequent L.A. Riots, and the bombing of the World Trade Center. The Columbine High School shooting marked a solemn chapter in gun violence, and the devastatingly deadly Oklahoma City bombing by a domestic terrorist followed lethal standoffs between federal agents and armed civilians at Ruby Ridge, Idaho and Waco, Texas.

I looked through this website as it bulletpointed what made the 90s great in sections.

Culture:

The rise of environmentalism and eco-consciousness The popularity of grunge and alternative fashion The emergence of the internet and the beginning of the digital age The influence of hip hop culture on fashion and language The popularity of coffee culture and the rise of Starbucks

I also found these interesting

Parenting:

Encouragement of creativity and self-expression Encouragement of independence and problem-solving skills Promotion of outdoor play and exploration

It was the start of Gen X being able to work in a more creative industry.

Generation X young people often bonded over musical tastes. Humor in television and film was often marked by ironic self-reference mixed with popular culture references. Alternative music movements like grunge, Eurodance, and hip-hop, became popular with young adults worldwide, aided by the rise in popularity of tiered pricing satellite and cable television, and the internet. New music genres such as drum and bass, post-rock, happy hardcore, denpa, and trance emerged in the 1990s. The computer game industry began to boom again, the rivalry of music and film markets. Video game popularity exploded due to the development of CD-ROM supported 3DCG on platforms such as PlayStation, Nintendo 64, and PCs.

The 1990s represented continuing social liberalization in most countries, coupled with an increase in the influence of capitalism, which would continue until the Great Recession of the late 2000s/early 2010s.

Youth culture in the 1990s responded to this by embracing both environmentalism and entrepreneurship. Fashion of the Western world reflected this by often turning highly individualistic and/or counter-cultural, which was influenced by Generation X and early millennials: tattoos and body piercings gained popularity, and "retro" styles, inspired by fashions of the 1960s and 1970s, were also prevalent. Some young people became increasingly involved in extreme sports and outdoor activities that combined embracing athletics with the appreciation of nature.

Music in the 90s

Music marketing became more segmented in the 1990s, as MTV gradually shifted away from music videos and radio splintered into narrower formats aimed at various niches. However, the 1990s are perhaps best known for grunge, gangsta rap, R&B, teen pop; Eurodance, electronic dance music, the renewed popularity of punk rock from the band Green Day and their 1994 album Dookie (which would also help create a new genre pop punk), and for the entrance of alternative rock into the mainstream. U2 was one of the most popular 1990s bands; their groundbreaking Zoo TV and PopMart tours were the top-selling tours of 1992 and 1997, respectively. Glam metal died out in the music mainstream by 1991. Grunge became popular in the early 1990s due to the success of Nirvana's Nevermind, Pearl Jam's Ten, Alice in Chain's Dirt, Soundgarden's Badmotorfinger and Stone Temple Pilot's Core. Pop punk also becomes popular with such artists as Green Day, Blink-182, Weezer, Social Distortion, The Offspring, Bad Religion, NOFX and Rancid. Other successful alternative acts included Red Hot Chili Peppers, R.E.M., Nickelback, Creed, Radiohead, Gin Blossoms, Soul Asylum, Third Eye Blind, Faith No More, The Smashing Pumpkins, Live, Everclear, Bush, Screaming Trees and Ween.

The rise of industrial music, somewhat a fusion of synthpop and heavy metal, rose to worldwide popularity with bands like Godflesh, Nine Inch Nails, Rammstein, Ministry and Marilyn Manson. Groove metal was born through the efforts of Pantera, whose seventh studio album Far Beyond Driven (1994) was notable for going number one on Billboard 200. Another heavy metal subgenre called nu metal, which mixed metal with hip hop influences, became popular with bands like Korn, Slipknot and Limp Bizkit selling millions of albums worldwide.

#year2 #cvl

[lonelyleliel]

Are you a notebook planner person or an app planner person? Technically, I use both, but writing things down stays in my head more than app planners. It’s the best way for me to counter being so scatterbrained 😝 Being a writer+musician+artist has a creative and business side I’ve spent years trying to master, and I’ve accepted that I never will master it in a digital world that is constantly changing. I can’t keep up with TikTok trends. I can’t catch up to the new ways to write copy and do social media marketing. When I’m more wealthy, I’d love to have an assistant. However, I do think chasing trends, scheduling content, building a “brand” and all that jazz is a hassle that’s an essential part of the hustle. I think we talented introverts find it so easy to hide or stay anonymous when we try to share our work. We cling to privacy as much as possible. I’ve done that for years and it gave me more time to learn how the business side of my passions work, but now I’m at the stage of my life and career where I must put it into action. It feels a bit forced. Do you feel the same? I’m not necessarily chasing fame, but if I want to be known for my work, I have to get out there. And thanks to the years I’ve put into knowing myself and my fields, I’m finding the balance between my love for offline writing/working. My main tech addiction is gaming lol, but the relief I feel when I’m not looking at a screen for hours is weirdly euphoric. When the start of my day is without screens, it’s a good start. I do have to market myself, but I don’t have to be a slave to tech or social media. It’s important to see tech as tools for progression rather than soul sucking things that spy on you lol. I’m just so over it. I want to be more responsible with my time and energy without being watched and tracked all the damn time damn it! 😂 Why is so HARD nowadays? (I sound old don’t I? Well, I am a millennial with back pain sometimes lmao). Was this a reflection or a rant? Lol… ✍️📘🖤 #writing #writers #planner #notebookaddict #songwriter #artistlife #writerlife #musicianlife #offlinework You can add music to regular posts now? Lmao see? I’m so behind! https://www.instagram.com/p/Co5g5KQOels/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#writing #writers #planner #notebookaddict #songwriter #artistlife #writerlife #musicianlife #offlinework