#Tw c19

[lettherebemonsters]

I've been feeling like absolute dogshit since yesterday and thanks to home tests, it looks like I caught Covid. Yay me.

Still need to get an official test done for work but man....I freaking hate this.

[ayukoitakura]

私たちの水に何が起こっているのでしょうか?プラスチック製のティーバッグはお茶の中に数十億のマイクロ粒子とナノ粒子を放出します - 地球工学により、ポリマーマイクロプラスチックは水道水やボトル入りの水、そして雨の中にも存在します

アナ・マリア・ミハルセア医学博士

3月26日

プラスチック製のティーバッグは数十億のマイクロ粒子とナノ粒子をお茶の中に放出します

私は、老化と病気の加速につながる、人類の生きた血液汚染の一因として、食品や飲料を介したナノプラスチックやマイクロプラスチックによるナノ汚染の影響について議論してきました。

2019 年のこの研究論文では、お茶のナノ粒子汚染に対するプラスチック製ティーバッグの影響が調査されました。興味深いことに、発見されたナノ粒子の化学組成は、ポリアミドタンパク質であるナイロンとポリエチレンテレフタレートでした。これらは現在血液中に見られる化学物質と同じであり、Moderna C19 注射特許のステルス ナノ粒子で言及されています。

____________________________________________________________________________

私たちは、プラスチック製のティーバッグ 1 つを抽出温度 (95 °C) で浸すと、カップ 1 杯の飲料中に約 116 億個のマイクロプラスチックと 31 億個のナノプラスチックが放出されることを示しました。

ティーバッグの包装から放出されるナイロンおよびポリエチレンテレフタレート粒子のレベルは、これまでに他の食品で報告されているプラ​​スチック負荷よりも数桁高いです。環境および食物連鎖におけるマイクロおよびナノサイズのプラスチックの存在が増加していることへの懸念が高まっています。意識の高い消費者は使い捨てプラスチックの削減を推進していますが、一部のメーカーはプラスチック製ティーバッグなど、従来の紙の使用に代わる新しいプラスチック製パッケージを開発しています。この研究の目的は、一般的な浸漬プロセス中にプラスチック製のティーバッグからマイクロプラスチックやナノプラスチックが放出されるかどうかを判断することでした。私たちは、プラスチック製のティーバッグ 1 つを抽出温度 (95 °C) で浸すと、カップ 1 杯の飲料中に約 116 億個のマイクロプラスチックと 31 億個のナノプラスチックが放出されることを示しました。放出された粒子の組成は、フーリエ変換赤外分光法 (FTIR) と X 線光電子分光法 (XPS) を使用して、元のティーバッグ (ナイロンおよびポリエチレン テレフタレート) と一致します。ティーバッグの包装から放出されるナイロンおよびポリエチレンテレフタレート粒子のレベルは、これまでに他の食品で報告されているプラ​​スチック負荷よりも数桁高いです。最初の急性無脊椎動物毒性評価では、ティーバッグから放出された粒子のみへの曝露が用量依存的な行動および発達への影響を引き起こしたことが示されています。

最近、ナノおよびマイクロプラスチックが多くの消費者向け食品および飲料製品に使用されており、これらについてはここに書きました。

水筒には1リットルあたり25万個のナノ粒子ポリマーが研究で示されている - 新型コロナウイルス感染症の予防接種、モルゲロン線維、血液、ゴム状の凝固に対するモデルナの特許と同じポリマーが見つかった

マイクロプラスチックがどのようにして食物連鎖を容易に登っていくのかを研究が示す

マイクロプラスチック (別名ナノテクノロジー自己集合ポリマー) はどこにでも存在し、私たちの生物圏、食糧供給、人間を汚染しています。

最近の消費者報告書では、すべての食品カテゴリーに高濃度のプラスチックが含まれていることが明らかになりました - 地球工学による生物圏汚染が本当の原因なのでしょうか?

昨年私が有機肉と非有機肉の食肉供給が汚染されていることを示した場所を覚えているかもしれません。その後、多くの人がmRNAを含まない肉を主張し始めました。しかし、私が心配していたのはmRNAではなく、自己組織化ポリマープラスチックでした。

汚染された食品供給がワクチン接種を受けていない人の生血分析結果の一因となるか？食料品の肉製品の暗視野血液分析

そして、野生のリスの血液は人間の血液と同じように汚染されているように見えることを示したことを思い出してください。

すべての生命はナノテクノロジーと合成生物学に感染している - 野生リスの生き血画像

____________________________________________________________________________

この記事では、水道水とボトル入り飲料水の両方の飲料水を再度評価しました。

水道水とボトル入りの水におけるマイクロプラスチックの発生：現在の知識

飲料水中の MP の発生に関する現在の知識を説明するために、ナラティブレビューが実施されました。レビューされた研究 ( n = 21) では、水道水 (TW) およびボトル入り水 (BW) にマイクロプラスチック (MP) が存在することが示されており、そのポリマー組成物、添加剤、その他の化合物に関連する毒性の可能性により公衆衛生への懸念が高まっています。表面に微生物が吸着しています。

最も一般的に見られる MP は、ポリエチレン テレフタレート (PET)、ポリエチレン (PE) (低密度 PE、直鎖状低密度 PE、高密度 PE)、ポリプロピレン (PP)、ポリスチレン (PS)、ポリ塩化ビニル (PVC) でできています。 )、ポリ乳酸(PLA)、ポリアミド(PA)、ポリカーボネート(PC)、ポリウレタン(PU)、アクリロニトリル・ブタジエン・スチレン

これらは有害な影響です。

しかし、いくつかの研究では、培養中のヒト細胞における原始的な MP の影響を調べています [ 49 ]。これらの研究では、動物モデルと同様に、検出された主なエンドポイントは活性酸素種 (ROS) の生成を伴う酸化ストレスでした。他の毒性効果には、脂質代謝、微生物叢、神経毒性、炎症反応および免疫学的反応、細胞毒性効果、ミトコンドリア膜電位の破壊、細胞膜 ATP 結合カセット (ABC) トランスポーター活性の阻害が含まれます。

飲料水の汚染は世界中で発見されています。米国では、水道水とボトル入りの水の両方にナノプラスチックとマイクロプラスチックが含まれていることが示されています。



もちろん、科学者たちは雨水からも金属やフィラメントを発見しました。これらは地球工学活動によって散布されているためです。これらの結果はここで確認できます。

空気中の危険 - ルーマニアのゲアニナ・ハギマ博士による雨水分析研究では、磁性ナノ粒子とフィラメントが示されています。 Clifford Carnicom の雨水分析との比較

私たちは金属、酸化グラフェンを吹き付けられているということも知っています。

ナノ粒子汚染隠蔽 - デーン・ウィギントン氏への重要なインタビュー - 4,000万トンの金属ナノ粒子と酸化グラフェンが世界中に散布されている - 人間がそれを吸入している

マイクロプラスチックポリマーが飛散し、生物圏全体に汚染されています。



高高度の雲水中の浮遊親水性マイクロプラスチックと雲形成におけるそれらの役割

マイクロプラスチック汚染はほとんどの生態系で発生していますが、高高度の雲におけるマイクロプラスチックの存在や、雲の形成や気候変動への影響はほとんど知られていません。今回我々は、標高1300～3776メートルの日本の山々の頂上で採取した雲水中のマイクロプラスチックを、全反射減衰イメージングとマイクロフーリエ変換赤外分光法によって分析した。ポリエチレン、ポリプロピレン、ポリエチレンテレフタレート、ポリメタクリル酸メチル、ポリアミド 6、ポリカーボネート、エチレン-プロピレン共重合体またはポリエチレン-ポリプロピレンアロイ、ポリウレタン、エポキシ樹脂を含む9種類のマイクロプラスチックを観察しました。マイクロプラスチックは断片化されており、平均濃度は 1 リットルあたり 6.7 ～ 13.9 個の範囲であり、フェ��ット直径は 7.1 ～ 94.6 μm の範囲でした。カルボニル基や水酸基などの親水基を持つマイクロプラスチックが豊富に存在しており、それらが雲氷と水の凝縮核として作用した可能性があることが示唆された。全体として、私たちの発見は、高高度のマイクロプラスチック雲が雲の形成に影響を与え、ひいては気候を変える可能性があることを示唆しています。

ミズーリ州セントルイスで行われた2つの別々の調査で、研究者らは数十年にわたって人間の立ち入りを禁止されてきた洞窟の水と堆積物から大量のマイクロプラスチックを発見した。

ここに消費量の推定値がありますが、特に米国では水道水も汚染されていることがわかっているため、これらの数値はさらに高くなります。

人間によるマイクロプラスチックの消費

抽象的な

マイクロプラスチックは生態系全体に遍在していますが、人間への曝露リスクは未解決です。アメリカの食生活に焦点を当て、一般的に消費される食品に含まれるマイクロプラスチック粒子の数を、推奨される 1 日の摂取量と比較して評価しました。マイクロプラスチックを吸入する可能性と、飲料水源がマイクロプラスチックの消費にどのような影響を与えるかについても調査されました。私たちの分析では、26 件の研究からの 402 個のデータ ポイントが使用され、これは 3600 個を超える処理済みサンプルに相当します。アメリカ人のカロリー摂取量の約 15% を評価すると、マイクロプラスチックの年間消費量は年齢と性別に応じて 39,000 ～ 52,000 粒子の範囲であると推定されます。吸入を考慮すると、これらの推定値は 74000 と 121000 に増加します。さらに、ボトル入り飲料水のみで推奨水摂取量を満たしている人は、年間さらに 90,000 個のマイクロプラスチックを摂取している可能性がありますが、水道水のみを摂取している人の場合は 4,000 個のマイクロプラスチックです。これらの推定値は大幅に変動する可能性があります。ただし、方法論とデータの制限を考慮すると、これらの値は過小評価される可能性があります。

以下は、地球工学目的で私たちが吸入するポリマーについてデーン・ウィギントン氏が話しているものです。

まとめ：

マイクロプラスチックの摂取を制限するためにできることを行うことは、すべての人にとって考慮すべきことです。雨水に地球工学によるマイクロプラスチックが含まれている場合は、温室で食料を栽培し、可能な限り井戸水を使用することが重要です。プラスチック製のティーバッグやペットボトルなどのプラスチックの使用を制限します。米国の都市水道水にはマイクロプラスチックが含まれていることが判明しているので注意してください。水道水中のマイクロプラスチックを除去するための緩和戦略に関する最近の記事をご覧ください。

沸騰した水道水を飲むとナノプラスチックとマイクロプラスチックの摂取量が減る

アナ・マリア・ミハルセア医学博士

3月4日

さまざまな条件における付着物の形態と組成。 (a) 裸のポリスチレン (PS、1 μm、1 mg L–1) とさまざまな温度の水道水中で形成された付着物共沈殿物の走査型電子顕微鏡 (SEM) 画像 (180 mg L–1 の CaCO3、40 mL、25– 100℃）; (b) さまざまな状態でのベア PS (1 μm、1 mg L–1) と付着物の共沈物の SEM 画像。

[rank-sentimentalist]

Origin of the Delta Variant

I am pretty sure The Delta Variant was a Tom Clancy novel.

Or maybe one of those Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell [colon] The Delta Variant.

[readyfreddy]

I am currently functioning on 137 minutes of sleep, 2 diet cokes, and a whole lot of jelly beans

[romecardoso]

WHERE: the honey trap CLOSED for @august-specter​

The club has become such a second home to Rômulo, that he forgets a strip club can be considered something so taboo. The pounding music has become background white noise to him, the dancers are nothing more than incredible professionals doing their job, he's no more entertained than if he were watching a bunch of dentists perform root canals on the floor. And for the most part, customers are regular patrons who show up often enough that they, too, feel like they own the place. Then there's also the odd kid or two that walks into the door, clearly seeing a half-naked body for the first time in real life, and Rome makes sure to check their IDs a dozen times before he serves them. Then there's the guy that walks in tonight.

He stands out like a sore thumb, if only because something about his demeanour screams uncomfortable. Rômulo has a good eye for this sort of thing, so when he squints at the man to get a good look, familiarity hits him. He remembers that face -- a uniform, chaos, a lot of yelling. He was the paramedic. Several weeks ago, some stupid little human had decided they could take more of a dose than they should, and when Rome stopped by to collect his payment, he found his client unconscious. Calling an ambulance had been the right thing to do, which he did (begrudgingly) only because saving this idiot meant he didn't have to lose a client. It was a funny coincidence that the same paramedic who answered that call would end up here -- too big of a coincidence, perhaps, to be true.

He makes sure to slide right towards the familiar stranger, as soon as he reaches the bar. "So we meet again," he greets, neutral. He's unsure of what this encounter will shape up to be -- if the paramedic is here to give him shit about that client, Rome will have to scare him off. "The city's feeling pretty small tonight, huh."

[shadow-warren-whump]

Every time someone on Facebook says that they would rather do anything else (e.g. die), I just want to post some along the lines of "want to know how suicidal thoughts actually feel? Talk to a clinically depressed person, like me!!!!"

You bring moderately uncomfortable does not give you the right to put thst somewhere where it could trigger am actually suicidal person, like me!!!

And no. You don't want to die or kill yourself. You're just bored.

EDIT: I posted something and I might make people mad, but I'm proud of myself.

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less Chapter Navigation

Title: Love Me A Little Less

Genre: 3rd person pov, arranged marriage au with juyeon, angst cause is it a dana fic if there’s no angst, fluff, comedy

Featuring: Kim Younghoon (OC’s brother) | Kim Sunwoo (Juyeon’s friend) 

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, *TW Character Death(s)

Synopsis/Quote: “i didn’t think it’ll hurt so much, seeing you in pain.”

COMPLETED

Frankenstein

Auction

Her Father’s Daughter 

The Guest

Hera’s Princess

Misogynist

Golden Chains

Hypocrite

Obligation

Pudding & Champagne

Tulips

Honey & Tea

Blue Paradise

Luncheon

Doctor

Artemis

Due Debt

Fate

Hera

Epilogue

Bonus Features

Location Fixtures Part 1 | Location Fixtures Part 2 | Trailer | Cast, Face Claims and Fashion Inspiration [Female's Edt.] | Cast, Face Claims and Fashion Inspiration [Male's Edt.] | Playlist (Collected from C19-20)

[firespirited]

Hair curling didn’t work out so I saved what I could of the hair I’d curled, gathered together all the nylons scraps I had and put it in this fairytopia doll from the “hell bundle” (the one with the petrol like substance inside the dolls and gluehead for days).

There’s some lilac from the Bratz really rock Jade commission, a smidgen of blonde from the Bratz bahama beach Jade, some black and purple from Mel’s Wonder woman reroot, the leftover mauve from aliexpress and a thermal blue to white hair clip in extension. I’m calling her Scintilla because she’s a scrapling. I was going to go with Miette but everybody knows by now that I have personal beef with Victor Hugo (like most french ex-high school students, there’ll be a long line to fight his horny detail obsessed corpse if ever he comes back to life LOL). She’s still a little thin on top so I’ll either add from nylon I have coming in the next few weeks (?months? who knows at this point) or what’s left of the glow in the dark blue.

tw: death, tw: body fluids, tw: ethical dilemmas

This is 100% a distraction doll because I can’t bring myself to write special exceptions for Covid19 to our living wills for me, my sis and mum to review and reject or approve. In a nutshell: in any other case intubation would be off the table but intubation is short term with c19. On the otherhand, if you code while intubated for c19, CPR/defib is an extreme risk (very messy, contaminated fluids flying everywhere) and traumatic event to medical personnel if they don’t know your specific wishes. Balancing wanting to live and not wanting to contaminate healthworkers. Knowing that my family’s quality of life would be considered insufficent in a triage situation even though we are very much alive and finding ways to enjoy life. Knowing my mum is currently ‘meh’ about whether she stays or goes. I don’t want to make it real by putting it in writing.

I’m not even sure if living wills are being applied in peak periods where they’re making triage decisions (which is an appalling human rights abuse in itself) but I’ve got to word it w/r/t survival chances and the other night I had it all perfectly expressed in my head but the next morning: big blank and since, good ol’ avoidance. My scared brain is saying wait for information about mortality rates for folks with autoimmune disorders to come out before even starting to write. Of course, eventually I’ll get over it and do what’s required, preparedness is something that’s deeply reassuring to sis and I’m good at thinking ahead and having options/scripts ready. We’ve had to have some very difficult and draining conversations already and I still have this bad cold, fighting infection = low blood pressure & exhaustion = physical induced anxiety. SAD is usually over by now. You can know that there’s a logical explanation and still be unable to move forward because mind over matter is bullshit. If mind over matter were real, I and most of the chronically ill people I know would be able to levitate.

[rank-sentimentalist]

Follow-Up, for the record

I do not wish the Coronavirus on anyone.  Not to have it.  Not to suffer from it.  Not to experience complications from it.  Not to die from it.

No one.

I feel empathy for the President of the United States and for his wife, who are now living with Coronavirus and the fear of its effects.  I wish them well.  I hope they make recoveries.

As I do for any person who experiences this.

Much as I loathe the man’s actions and wish to see him removed from office and prosecuted for his crimes, I feel for the concern that he and his family are likely to be experiencing.

I also grieve for all of the other families and souls who have not had this public attention, especially for those who have suffered in silence and alone.  Especially for those who contracted the disease while attempting to help and to help heal others.  Especially for those who ‘did everything right,’ at least to the extent that they could.

Words like “pandemic” or “global health emergency” cloak just how much this disease has destroyed, in human life and in human wellness.  Our collective failures to act and failures to take this disease seriously only compound the suffering and the loss.

The fact that diseases like this one affect certain populations disproportionately is a social travesty, a matter of human rights.  We in America often privilege “liberty” and “the pursuit of happiness” over that first one in the series: “life.”

And one more terrible thing?

Climate change is the pandemic we can all see coming, those of us with eyes to see and ears to listen to science.  It is not sneaking up on us.  It is not coming from a province in China.  It is already here.  It is already worldwide.  And the cliche about the iceberg?  Yeah, that too.

[caitofcaithall]

Wasteland

[TW: unhappyish ending, implied suicide, implied murder. This is effectively prologue to a series though; the happy ending is on the way! Also, this was written about a year ago, so before C19 - I just didn’t feel right starting to post the series without it.]

So it’s like this:

The world fell apart on a Tuesday. While happy, unassuming people were eating their morning pig in a poke and rushing off to the office, a rather special, rather deadly virus was escaping a military lab somewhere out in Missouri. 

Perhaps it could have been contained, if they’d realized it in time. 

But the doctor in charge of the specimen was due for his vacation. The other scientists in the lab had no initial reason to think that procedure wasn’t being followed to the letter. 

The apocalypse had begun, and no one noticed… for another eight hours, anyway. 

 It seemed to take scarcely any time at all before the world was in ruin. World leaders fell. Governments toppled. Society as we knew it came to a screeching halt, and what was left were the remnants of those who adjusted and fought to go on. 

*

Gavin grew up poor. 

It’s just how it was. His parents died at the height of the plague. His elder brother held on for a few years, shielding him as best he could. He was probably the reason that Gavin survived. But then he, too, succumbed to the harsh scrapyard that had become their life, and Gavin was a young alpha alone. 

He was determined to survive, so he scrambled and he scrapped and he scraped for every drop of water, every hard-earned crust of bread. It made him strong and it made him fierce and it made him lonely and he decided, one night when the sun dropped below the horizon and the earth was blanketed in darkness and starlight, that when he was old enough and strong enough he would make something of himself. He would be bold and he would live fully and he would have a mate and a family of his own. 

This is not that story. 

This story is much darker. 

This is the story of the universe where Gavin’s dreams went up in smoke.

Farmer. Builder. Hunter. Shoemaker. 

Esteemed professions all. Gavin worked with all of their masters, trying to find his place in the world, a spot he could settle in and be proud of. 

He was good at them. He had a way with the grapes on their trellises. He could fix roofs and bring down deer to feed his patrons for weeks at a time. The shoemaker he studied under wanted to keep him on, admiring the small artistic touches Gavin assigned to the leathers they worked. Told Gavin he could be more than good, if he got more practice in him. The man would be happy to name Gavin his heir in place of the boy he lost long ago. 

But Gavin couldn’t settle. It wasn’t so much ambition as it was a thirst - a desperate need to know more and more, to be learnèd for its own sake. But ambition came snaking in, anyhow. The world might have changed, but it was still ruled by the wealthy. 

If Gavin were wealthy himself, he reasoned, then he’d never have to go hungry again. He wouldn’t have to hope for the best, that an omega might look beyond his threadbare clothes and his blunt manners, in order to see to the heart of him. He’d be accepted just about anywhere he went. He could have a voice, an influence. He could be of service to those who needed it in a way that he was limited from, now. 

He knew that the only way he’d reach that ideal was to be educated. 

So he studied. 

He worked all day with the shoemaker, or with the farmer in his fields. And he studied all the night, sleep taking a backseat to the quest for more information, more polish. He never noticed the omegas who did hunger for him, saw beyond his patched clothes to the heart of the man beneath, the man who always had time for the wee toddling children and the old men and women without families. Never saw that his own striking good looks and hard-working disposition was enough to get him the life he wanted, just as he was. 

When the day came that Gavin purchased his first proper suit, he nearly didn’t go through with it. The suit cost as much as he would make in an entire month of work - maybe more - with no options for trade or barter. But when he took a bath and slipped the fabric on, staring at himself in the mirror, he felt a surge of confidence take up habitat in his bones. 

It was time. He was ready. 

*

His first two interviews for positions that utilized his hard-earned book learning didn’t bear any fruit. But he rationalized it to himself, remembering his brother’s favorite phrase as they would scavenge for food and glean from the edges of the fields - third time lucky. 

So he interviewed for the position of a tutor to an omega son of a local aristocrat. The advertisement made it seem as though his charge would be younger, needing a firm bit of polish before being introduced to the upper crusts of society. 

Gavin met with the boy’s father in a wood-paneled study with large windows, in a house that had a maid to answer the door. He must have made some kind of good impression, because after the man finished smoking a cigar, he leaned back in his chair and told Gavin what his salary would be and that he would be required to begin lessons the next day. 

Gavin could only agree. 

This was it. This was his chance. This was his way out of poverty, his way into being a powerful man in his own right. Maybe he would even find a mate of his own. Maybe he too would eventually own a big house with paneled walls and villagers who admired him for the abundance he brought to their area. 

His dreams lasted precisely as long as it took for him to walk out into the fields with his new employer, that he might meet his charge. 

This was no young omega who needed a firm hand to keep him in check as he grew up. 

This was a full grown man, eager and ready, his scent calling to Gavin like the bouquet of a fresh baked apple pie to a starving man. 

*

Gavin went to purgatory every day for six hours - the amount of time allocated for him to instruct Jay in science and literature, etiquette and history. He learned things, too, like the shape of Jay’s mouth when he frowned at the ‘useless essays’ Jay’s father wanted him to complete, and the way the sunlight burned gold into Jay’s dark hair when Gavin had to track him down in the fields. 

For the most part, Jay was a good sport about the tutoring. It was obvious he didn’t want it; he was most at home among the rows of corn and squash, or wading in the creek that cut across the backside of the property. But every time Gavin would come to collect him, he’d give up the hoe or the fishing line or the moment of snugging his fingers into his favorite dog’s scruff, and walk back to the house with Gavin, his gait loose and easy as he peeked up from the sides of his eyes. 

It took three weeks for Gavin to break. 

“Why don’t you have a mate, then?” Jay asked, the corner of his mouth tilted up like he had a secret he wasn’t keen to share. 

Gavin swallowed. “Never did find the right person, I suppose,” he answered. 

“Hmm.”

They walked in silence for a moment longer. Once they crested the hill, they’d be in sight of the house. 

Jay stopped abruptly. “Do you believe in the old ways?”

Gavin wasn’t a man used to floundering, but he wasn’t sure how to answer Jay’s question. Not honestly, anyhow. Not without opening a box of worms that was sure to see him thrown out on his ass with no references. 

When the silence hung in the air a little too long, Jay shifted his weight and ducked his head. “I do,” he murmured. “My mam does. My father’s not my real father, you know. My mam’s true alpha died when I was a child.”

Christ. Gavin scrubbed his hand across his face. He wasn’t ready for this. It was the very definition of standing between a rock and a hard place. There was even an outcropping a few feet away, and his feet took him there without his consent. The stone was hard against his backside as he sank down to sit. 

When Jay joined him, Gavin sighed. “I do,” he said. “Believe in the old ways, I mean.” How could he not, when every moment since he’d met Jay, the sight and scent of the younger man called out to him like a beacon? 

“Then you know what I’m about to say,” Jay said gently. 

Gavin wanted to be a better man. He’d had a plan for his future, a plan that involved making nice with these people, and investing his wages, and building a name for himself. Settling down with a nice omega. Having a family. 

He never dreamed he’d find his omega. The person the gods themselves chose for him. The son of a man with wealth and power, who’d made it abundantly clear that Jay would be seeking a marriage of stature in the city the following spring - if he wasn’t married off to support a business alliance, first. 

“Where you are - ” Jay started, but Gavin moved quickly, placing a finger across his omega’s lips before he could finish the start of his chant, the ancient rite to take one’s own fated in marriage. 

“You hardly know me,” Gavin said, but it came out weak. 

Jay shook his head. “I know you by the scent of your sweat,” he said. “The pine resin and woodsmoke, the earthy loam that leaves me so scent-drunk I can hardly stand it.” Gavin opened his mouth again, but Jay hurried on before he could speak. “I know you by the way you stopped to carry my mam’s baskets for her last week, and how patient you are when I don’t understand the questions you put to me in the schoolroom.” He reached out, his fingertips ghosting along Gavin’s palm, ever mindful that they were not truly alone. “I know you by the calluses in your hands, that you’ve done hard labor - by the muscles in your arms as you tossed and played with the children on Sunday last.”

Jay looked at him boldly, defiantly, a bright flush spreading across his cheeks and over his ears, down his neck and under the cover of his shirt. “I know you as an omega knows their alpha, Gavin. Or at least, I’d like to.”

And what could Gavin do, faced with his own feral omega, Jay’s scent heady in his throat, Gavin’s own skin tingling where Jay brushed against it?

Everyone knows that an alpha surrenders to their own heart. 

*

It was hard to keep a secret in Jay’s household. They felt like Romeo and Juliet, that famous alpha-omega couple whose forbidden love was doomed to failure. They realized it would be easier for Jay to aver any questions that might come if he was found wandering in the night or the early morning; therefore he was the one to creep quietly along the corridors in search of his alpha. 

They were quiet. They had to be. Gavin agreed with Jay when Jay told him that his father would never accept them, and that he needed a few more weeks to prepare before they came clean with their deception. They knew they’d have to leave quickly in the aftermath. 

Which is why it was a surprise when Jay’s mother pulled Gavin aside one morning, looking carefully up one way and down the other, before pressing a bulging cloth bag into his hands. 

“I’m expecting you to do right by my boy,” she said softly. “I just want him to be happy.”

“Mrs. Adams,” he started, but she shook her head. 

“My husband is a good man,” she said. “But he doesn’t understand. You take Jay and you leave, you ken? Give him a day or two to make his peace with it, and then you go.”

He opened his mouth again, but the creak of a tread on the staircase had her jerking back, stepping away from him quickly and hurrying down the hall to intercept the maid, come up to do the cleaning. 

Gavin lifted the flap of the bag. Dried beans and jerky, some travelers biscuits, a small block of hard cheese. Some jewelry - more than suitable for a good trade. He sucked in a breath, glancing back the way she’d gone, before moving back to his room to secrete the bag amongst his things for safekeeping. 

*

Jay wasn’t ready to go. It was obvious, from the drooping line of his shoulders to the crease that took up roost between his eyebrows. But he drew in a breath anyway, and reached down to fumble his shirt between his fingers where the fabric met his stomach. 

“Alright, then,” he said firmly. “I’d like to leave now.”

“Now?” Gavin had intended to give him more time. A day to rest up for the journey and finish saying his goodbyes to his mam and the land he ran wild over, but Jay’s jaw was set. 

“Mam wouldn’t have approached you if she weren’t worried,” he said. “That means it’s probably best to go now.”

“You know what this is about,” Gavin mused, and Jay nodded. 

“We can stand here talking about it, or I can fill a pack,” he offered. 

Gavin leaned down to press a kiss to Jay’s lips. “Go on, then,” he said. But as Jay stole from the room, Gavin resolved to ask again later. 

*

The house was silent as they slipped down the stairs, avoiding the treads that creaked and groaned, and out the back door. Jay’s dog was asleep on the stoop, and he rose to his feet with a whine of greeting, wagging his tail and pressing his head against Jay’s legs. 

Gavin’s stomach sank. It was clear the pup would wake the house in his excitement if they didn’t hurry things up. They didn’t have the provisions to care for a dog, but a single look at Jay’s face had Gavin whispering, “Keep him quiet and you can bring him along.”

Jay didn’t bother to hide his grin. 

“Hush, Samson,” he murmured, and the dog grew calm, falling into place beside them as they crept through the courtyard and down the road. 

They were well away from the town before Gavin spoke, still careful to keep his voice soft and even, the slightest rumble on the balmy night breeze. “What was it that made you want to leave tonight?” 

Jay didn’t answer for a long moment, and when he did, his voice was sharp and ugly. “A suitor,” he said. “Father wants me to marry him.”

“You know the man, then,” Gavin realized. 

Jay shuddered. “Yes.”

Gavin reached up to secure Jay’s hand in his. They didn’t speak for a long time.

* 

The sun rose red in the morning, it’s crimson shadows dark like blood. Gavin’s feet were sore in his boots; he’d no doubt that Jay’s were the same. 

They could stand to walk farther. A few miles more would bring them to a small town where they could have their marriage officiated in a church and trade for transportation; there’d be no separating them once they were legally secure and well away. 

They stopped anyway, weary from their trek and lack of sleep. They’d no reason to suspect anyone yet knew of their departure; a few hours nap wasn’t likely to hurt. 

They found a sheltered spot beneath a willow tree to hide them from prying eyes. Gavin intended to stay away to keep watch while his beloved slept - but as the long night and day before caught up to him, he too succumbed to the succor of sleep. 

*

The growl of the dog jostled them awake; when they were roused enough from their slumber to understand the danger they were in, there was no retreating from it. They were surrounded. 

There was nothing to do for it. Behind him, Jay shivered in fear. Ahead, men circled the tree, the willow vines offering scant protection. Their leader called out, crooning, his voice sickly and dead, his eyes fixed on Gavin’s mate. 

“You didn’t think you could run away from me again, did you, little omega?”

The land was silent; all that could be heard was the deep thurl of Samson growling in defense of his master. 

“You’ve no business here,” Gavin said, his voice loud enough to carry. “Let my husband and I go in peace.”

“I’ll see you shot for your impudence, whelp,” the strange alpha declared, and then they were out of time, out of choices, out of peace. They pulled Jay one way; tore Gavin the other. Samson’s yelp echoed, Jay’s screams heavy behind it. Their bags were shaken out and emptied onto the ground; the glittering gold of Mrs. Adam’s jewelry the last thing Gavin saw before it all went black.  

* * *

Jay woke up alone in bed. The sun shone brightly through the windows. Samson lay bandaged on the bedcovers beside him. His mam gave a sharp gasp of surprise before she began to fuss over him. 

“What happened?” Jay winced, and his mam’s face grew dark and weary. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grew and grew until he could no longer contain it. He bolted from the bed on unsteady feet to be violently ill in the room’s attached bath. 

“Where’s Gavin?” he croaked as soon as he could speak. 

“I don’t know,” came the honest reply, and those words would echo in his head in the time to come. 

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. 

“Mam?” he started, and hated how soft and small his voice came out. 

“You’re going to be okay,” she promised, and drew him into her arms, rocking him like he was a child again and not a man standing a head taller than she did. “You’re going to be okay, Jay.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

*

“Your tutor! What were you thinking?!” his father raged, and Jay stood there, dumb and stony-faced, his back straight and tall. 

He wasn’t ashamed. 

“It doesn’t matter,” his mother’s husband said finally. “Jessup will still take you. Has a bit of an obsession with you, poor bastard.”

“I won’t marry him,” Jay said. “I’m already mated.”

“That ridiculous ancient rite?” The man who had raised him, sheltered him, sneered, his face ugly. “At any rate, not for long.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. 

*

There was a knock at the locked door. Jay looked to it listlessly; it wasn’t as though anyone needed his permission to enter. That had been made abundantly clear to him. He had been locked inside for weeks, seeing only his mother, the maid Celia, and the doctor. After he heard the shouting the other night between his mother and her husband, she hadn’t been back to see him.

He placed a hand on the light, increasing swell of stomach. He expected Celia again; it was a bit early for his nightly meal but it wasn’t as if his comfort was anyone’s priority.  

A key rattled in the lock. 

It wasn’t the maid. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, but even as the words left his lips, he knew the answer. 

Witch. They said she was Jessup’s mistress - a slender, evocative thing with ink-black hair and enough presence to command an army. The look of anxiety on her face appeared unseemly, somehow. 

“I can’t be found here,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her with a quiet snick. 

“Why are you here?” Jay asked. 

“To bring you this,” the witch said, and produced a small vial in her hands, setting it down atop his dresser. 

Jay swallowed. “What is that?”

“I think you know.”

Jay said nothing for a long moment. Then - “Do you know what happened to him?”

The witch regarded Jay calmly. “Not for sure,” she said, cautious, but then her tone turned bitter. “I only know that my own beloved came back one night gloating, and that he still has plans for you.” She gestured to his stomach. “After.”

“You have to know I want no part of him,” Jay said, and the witch snorted. 

“I know. Believe me. Your soul fairly reeks of the love you have for your husband. It’s… overwhelming.” 

“You’re here for another reason,” Jay guessed, and backed away as she strode forward, catching his shoulders in hands of steel. 

“I’ve come to warn you,” she said. “And may your souls find peace.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. 

* * *

The witch was a canny sort. She could see for herself the light that shone between the two lovers - perhaps she had seen it before they had, on a dusty summer’s day, when she’d spied the two of them cooling off in the creek. 

When Jessup came to her, teeming with rage and a viciousness that scared even her, she knew that she would do his bidding. It was for the good of her own survival that she had laid the curse, that each life lived in each other’s company would be full of toils and trials, that their mistake of loving only each other might haunt them through the many worlds. 

But she was not without a heart. And when she brought the curse to bear, she writ in a failsafe: that if they found their way back to one another, again and again, their love might burn apart the bindings of the curse, so that each time they encountered it, the curse would be weaker than before. 

In this life, Gavin was lost, no trace of him to be seen, leaving only agony in his wake. 

But in the next life, and the life after, and the many worlds as they were writ parallel throughout the universe, there were other Jays - other Gavins. 

And the misery of her curse did take them, twisting their circumstances and their hopes and sometimes their very natures - but with each incarnation, the pain eased, and lessened, until all that was left was their very own 

Happily ever after. 

[The next episode of the Find You series is about 30k. I’ll be posting on Tuesdays and Fridays until it’s finished! For other fics, you can find my Tumblr masterpost here or check me out on A03!]

[zoomin-playful-hyper-kid]

well hello. i guess this is gonna be kind of a vent. tw c19 mention

i haven't logged on this account in a few months bc i just haven't been able to regress. and by that i mean more that i haven't been able to regress to younger ages like under 7 which is my usual range. but i think I've actually been regressing to 14-16 lately. it'd make sense bc im about 6 months on T so i literally do feel like a teenage boy going through puberty. but i do miss regressing to a younger age. its just no matter what i do to trigger myself to regress to a younger age it doesn't really work. I've tried eating kiddie snacks/foods and watching cartoons and drawing with crayons. i don't have my toys with me tho bc im stuck in another country due to c19. which is making me so stressed and usually i regress p much involuntarily when I'm stressed and to an even younger age than usually, like under 2, but for some reason now i can't regress even if i try to.