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gettingfrilly · 8 months

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Out chapter 2

Hello! Here is chapter 2 of this fic! Beta'd by @fish-bowl-2! Read it here or on ao3!

The Logical Ed

120 days, 14 hours, 32 minutes.

120 days, 14 hours, 33 minutes.

Deep breath. He rubs his eyes.

120 days, 14 hours, and 34 minutes.

Edd finally tears his eyes away from the digital clock on his bedside table, staring up at the ceiling instead; a marginal improvement, he’ll be more motivated to actually get out of bed if he’s not being held captive by the slow march of time. Now he just has to keep his eyes off the clock and focus on building momentum. Curse Newton’s first law of motion.

His eyes burn. His fingers twitch. He glances to the side.

120 days, 14 hours, 36 minutes.

“Gah!” Edd lets out an exasperated cry, spurring himself into motion and raising off the bed, keeping the kinetic energy flowing until his feet hit the floor and he can stand. Once he’s up on his feet, he quickly tucks himself back into his pants and places his dirty tissue into his trash bin, then fast walks out the door of his bedroom and into the hallway. He keeps his eyes trained straight ahead, staunchly refusing to look at the layers of unexcavated sticky notes lining the walls, marching through his own home like a horse with blinders on. He keeps those blinders on in the bathroom as well, ignoring not just the sticky notes within, but also the mirror, unwilling to see his own reflection. It gave him quite the fright last time.

Turn on faucet with elbow. Wet hands first. Dispense soap. Scrub for 20 seconds.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” He mumbles the lyrics under his breath as he scrubs his palms and then cleans each digit, gets under each nail, brings the soapy water all the way up to his elbows. He’s gone through the song twice now.

Satisfied, but not really, but almost, he rinses and dries, then quickly absconds back to the safety of his bedroom. Predictably, irritably, his eyes immediately turn to the clock.

120 days, 14 hours, and 39 minutes since he last saw either of his parents.

Not that they haven’t been home—they clearly have if the ever thickening layer of sticky notes clinging to every surface of his house is anything to go by. Edd assumes they must come home during the night, maybe grab a nap or something to eat before rushing off to their next destination. No reason to wake up their only child to say hello. Places to be, things to do. All very important. Far more important than him, in any case.

‘Their work truly is important ,’ Edd reminds himself. His father is an anthropologist, and a renowned one at that. The work he’s done to research and preserve cultures on the brink of extinction under the hands of imperialism is admirable and necessary, and Edd often imagines himself doing something similar. His last published research on the Gamilaraay language of Australian Aboriginals was an enlightening read, and he couldn’t help but feel jealous of his father’s freedom to travel the world and meet people from different cultures. His mother travels, too, often as a guest speaker on her years of medical research into Lou Gehrig’s disease. Sometimes her talks get uploaded online, and he watches each one with rapt attention.He’s proud of the work his parents’ do. He’s proud to be their son. And soon, he’s going to use the financial support they’ve graciously blessed him with to educate himself in a field of equal import; willing and eager to stand alongside his parents in their quest to better the world.

It would just also be nice if they had any interest in having a relationship with him at all.

It would also be nice of him to obey his parental sticky notes and keep the house they let him live in tidy, but tit for tat and all that.

He still cleans his bedroom, the upstairs bathroom, and the kitchen , but the rest of the house can go to rot for all he cares. This place has been rotten for a long time, anyway. He feels a fool for never noticing it before. Especially when Eddy tried so hard to convince him of it.

Loneliness creeps up his spine like a winter chill, and he hugs himself tightly in an ineffective effort to stave off the cold. Desperate for some form of connection to the outside world, he walks over to the warm glow of his computer monitor and takes a seat in the same small wooden chair he’s had since he was a kid. Most of his bedroom hasn’t changed much since then, though a few modernizations have been made to his . Everything still has its neatly labeled place, from his socks to his Legos to his chemistry set; an old salve on the ever fraying nerves within his skull. The one major change he made was moving his drafting table under the window and putting his steel pedal guitar in the garage to make room for the desk he borrowed from the auxiliary bedroom. That’s where he and his computer sit now, under his cork bulletin board and butterfly collection, pressed neatly behind the glass, dead and dry and stuck through with pins. The only other change of note is the empty plant pot labeled ‘Jim’ whose resident died months ago once he outgrew the confines of his small soil home and had nowhere else to go.

Looking up, he sees the acceptance letters he pinned to his cork board. Cornell, Columbia, and the University of Pennsylvania have all sent praise for his grades and SAT scores. Using excessive flowery prose about how their own school will be the best to assist him in making an impact on the world. Offering full rides in a bid to snag him first. He supposes he should feel happy about all this adult and academic approval; it used to be what kept him sane, after all. But now he just feels paralyzed with indecision, worrying his lip as he clicks through the folders on his desktop, neatly aligned and organized and labeled and filled with .html files leading him to relevant web pages of the different programs offered by each school. He’s torn between the humanities, sciences, and a pre med track. Re-reading all the same course offerings he’s been reading for the past few months. Etymology, climatology, biology, archeology, geology, and all the other ologies rattle around in his head, pinging mercilessly against the bruised sides of his skull. What would best allow him to join his generation’s greatest minds in saving our dying world? What would take him the farthest away from home? What would carry him a few rungs higher on the always unraveling ladder between him and his parents?

He exits all applications and pinches his eyes shut. Holding the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep, frustrated breath, as if he could blow that last thought out of his head if he filled his lungs deeply enough. After some irritated mumbling and pinching the skin of his nose tighter between his fingers, he allows his eyes to drop towards the top desk drawer, leering at it wearily. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he reaches forward to open it, pulling out the opened envelope within, taking out the letter and letting his eyes settle on the header at the top .

UB interlocked together in giant blue text. Neatly typed next to it in the same shade of blue, University at Buffalo.

He still remembers just how morose he had started to feel when the three of them started their freshman year in high school. Adulthood was fast approaching, and with it decisions that he couldn't see not fracturing their friendship, considering the very different paths they all were on. It wasn’t until fall break that Eddy was able to pry out what his ‘pissy mood’ was about . He can recall the smell of decaying leaves mixed with Eddy’s cologne and Ed’s joint easily, as if he were still there under the oak tree, sweating and tearing up and trembling in the tight grip of Eddy’s fists. It came out of him mixed with choked sobs, panic finally reaching its peak as he blubbered about the inevitable dismemberment of their found family once it came time for higher education. Cardigan sleeves soaking through with the salty deposits of his lamentations. Once he had calmed enough to show his snotty face again, all he found was his two best friends giving him equally bewildered looks.

‘What the hell are ya talkin’ about? Me n’ Ed are just gonna come with you, ain’t we?’

The relief was so powerful, it took all of his strength to prevent himself from grabbing his straight best friend’s square face and smashing it into his own.

Well. Presumed straight. It’s one of the few things he was thrilled to be wrong about. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have been. Just look where pursuing a relationship got them.

Before his and Eddy’s break-up, SUNY Buffalo had been his top choice . It’s not Ivy League , but it is an R1 research school. Besides, these are his undergraduate studies. As long as he's in the Ivy League for his graduate studies, an undergraduate degree at a state university is perfectly adequate. The real advantage is that it’s only an hour drive away from Peach Creek. It seemed the easiest location for the three of them to move into together out of high school, and even if Ed and Eddy couldn't come right away, the short ride to and from made it ripe for weekend visits.

SUNY Buffalo holds no allure now. If anything, its close proximity to Peach Creek has become a disadvantage. He tastes something sour at the very idea of staying in a place where people he knows might see him.

A bell chime rings from his speakers, the sudden sound combined with the red flash he sees on his monitor startles him into dropping the letter and choking on nothing, throat closing in panic. He relaxes marginally when he realizes he just got a notification, moving his mouse down to the trillian application in his taskbar and clicking on it. Relaxing even further, a small smile graces his lips when he sees who is messaging him.

sn@zzyn@zzy: hey dd! can u help me w/ smth?

Edd.Mar.Eid: Certainly, Nazz. What do you require assistance with?

sn@zzyn@azzy: cool ty dude! my final paper for this smmer course is kiiiiiiiillin me

sn@zzyn@azzy: can i email it 2 u 4 editing

sn@zzyn@zy: i ttly kno what i wanna say but figurin out HOW 2 say it is bleh

sn@zzyn@zzy: u kno how it uslly is w/ me -_-

Edd.Mar.Eid: I do indeed. Not a problem, Nazz. Attach it to an email and send it to my hotmail account and I will get to it as soon as I am able. :)

sn@zzyn@zzy: ur da best!

sn@zzyn@zzy: hey hav u picked a school yet?

Edd.Mar.Eid: Not officially. I am getting closer to making a decision, however.

sn@zzyn@zzy: awsum :D hooooow aboouuut SUNY buffalo??? :D :D :D

Edd.Mar.Eid: The State University of New York at Buffalo is still one of my top considerations, I assure you.

sn@zzyn@zzy: gud! i miss havin u as a study buddy lyk bad

sn@zzyn@zzy: alot of freshmen here r soooo immature

sn@zzyn@zzy: its not all that diff from PC high

sn@zzyn@zzy: PLUS ill b a junior next year and ill be ur cool junior friend and then ull be the coolest freshman on campus B)

Edd.Mar.Eid: All very good points in favor of me attending the same university as you, Nazz. Don’t forget, I still have my senior year to get through. Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch, shall we?

sn@zzyn@zzy: pssht as if itll be a prob 4 u

sn@zzyn@zzy: ull breeze thru senior year lyk u did evry other year

Edd.Mar.Eid: Your continued faith in me is invigorating and much appreciated.

sn@zzyn@zzy: just picture me followin u around school w/ a pair of pompoms ^_^

sn@zzyn@zzy: hows evry1 doin btw? gotta admit 1 of the reasons ive been pesterin u bout comin here is that im a lil homesick

sn@zzyn@zzy: could use a familiar face round here @_@

Edd.Mar.Eid: I am delighted to inform you that everything is peachy keen over here in Peach Creek. Kevin and Eddy still work at the candy store together. Last I heard from Ed, he was adjusting well at his new school. He misses home, but is “soldiering on” one might say. Sarah and Jimmy are still tight bedfellows, and recently went to some extravagant event called “Aaron Carter’s Jukebox Tour” in Michigan. They’ve been in quite the tizzy about it since. Rolf is the same as always, reliably working away on his family’s farm. Him, Kevin, and Eddy gallivant about on occasion. No one’s moved into Jonny’s old house yet, but the neighboring cul-de-sac is almost finished being constructed and has quite a few new families. The Turner twins miss you and ask about you quite frequently. You had quite the impact on them as their babysitter.

sn@zzyn@zzy: awww

sn@zzyn@zzy: gr8 glad evry1s doin gud

sn@zzyn@zzy: wbu? i hope ur not just in ur room mumbling 2 urself about school all teh time

sn@zzyn@zzy: the*

Edd.Mar.Eid: I am touched by your concern as always, Nazz. Not to worry, though. Eddy would never let me fall too far behind in my “social cred” as he puts it.

sn@zzyn@zzy: gud im glad the 2 of u have each other

sn@zzyn@zzy: NE way ive got debate club

sn@zzyn@zzy: l8er!

Edd.Mar.Eid: Adieu, Nazz. Just picture me there with a pair of pom poms, cheering you on. Laughing out loud.

sn@zzyn@zzy: XD

“Filthy, filthy, filthy.” The smile on his face has long since been replaced by a scowl, blunt nails digging deep as he scratches the top of his hand. Filthy liar. Cowardly cur. What did dear, sweet Nazz ever do to deserve his mouthful of empty words? Empty like him. Emptied out then filled with filth. He reaches for his bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting some in his palm in what he knows is an irrational attempt to kill the deceit on his guilty hands, rubbing to distribute it evenly over them. Air hisses sharply through his teeth when he feels a sharp pain, looking down to find that the scratching had broken his skin, stinging alcohol and small specks of blood mixing together in a pink hue. He swallows and looks up at the ceiling, eyes closing as he rubs his hands together through the pain.

“Filthy, filthy, filthy…”

He doesn’t stop until his hands are bone dry. His scaly, over-washed skin rubbing together unpleasantly. After taking a deep breath and clearing his throat one, two times, he bends over to collect the letter and envelope he dropped earlier. It brings him to eye level with the bottom drawer of his desk, squinting his eyes and frowning when he notices it’s crooked.

“Oh for goodness sake.” He complains, tucking his acceptance letter away in the appropriate drawer before getting down onto the floor (the floor where his feet go and now his knees are there where his feet usually are but he’s trying not to think about that) to better assess the problem. After uselessly jiggling the hunk of wood, he gives a frustrated grunt and opens it, full pill bottles rattling inside as he lifts the drawer off of the rails and removes it completely from the desk. He mumbles a ‘darn it’ to himself when it’s too dark inside for him to see the problem, getting up and returning quickly with the small flashlight he keeps in his toolbox. Neither track is bent or blocked, so hoping the drawer simply fell off the track at some point, he carefully places it back in, making sure everything is aligned. He sighs in relief once he’s able to slide it in and out smoothly a few times. He does it a few more times for good measure, listening to the wheels glide along the metal track. Frown carved deep into his face, he lifts up one of the orange plastic pill bottles and reads it.

EDDWARD EID

215 RETHINK AVE PEACH CREEK, NY 14273 (716) 7491736

TAKE 1 TABLET BY MOUTH DAILY

SERTRALINE 25MG TABS

Jaw set, he puts the bottle back in its place, neatly lined up with all the other unopened bottles in the drawer. ‘ Sedatives. That’s all they are ,’ he thinks to himself sourly as he slides the drawer shut.

DING DONG.

He jumps, forever easily startled as he clutches his chest and lets out a garbled squeak. He doesn't move from his place on the floor, breathing shallowly as he waits to see if he was just hearing things or not.

BANG BANG BANG. DING DING DING DONG.

There’s only one person Edd knows who tries to enter other people’s homes that rudely.

He’s up on his feet and out his bedroom door in a matter of seconds, tunnel vision guiding him to the stairs and the front door . He glances at the phone in the hallway, confirming it's there and plugged in, just in case it’s not who he thinks it is and he has to call the police. He’s sure, though. He’s so sure. With a twist of his gut, he realizes he’s been waiting for this.

There’s no sense of smug satisfaction at being right when he sees who is on the other side of the peephole; just deep seated pain from seasons of yearning coiling in his chest like thick thorny vines, wrapped tight around his heart and lungs. His sweaty palm slides uselessly against the doorknob before he’s able to get a decent grip and pull the door open, calling the name that hasn’t touched his tongue in months out into the muggy evening air.

#gettingfrillywrites #eene #ed edd n eddy #eddeddy

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mariacallous · 3 months

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Anna Kai believes in self-gaslighting. On TikTok, as @itsmaybeboth, she markets beauty products for Garnier, Nivea, and Nexxus Hair Care while dispensing relationship advice to her 1.3 million followers. “If you can gaslight yourself into believing the man that doesn’t love you actually loves you, then why can’t you gaslight yourself into believing you will find a man who actually does?”

For Blaine Anderson, finding the right partner is all about savvy marketing, which “great guys often SUCK at,” a note on her website exclaims. She has hacks for every possible scenario that can, and will, arise during the dating process: how to text like a “high-value man,” what first-date mistakes to avoid, how to make women obsessed, and the best ways to attract them without talking. In case you were curious, it starts with good posture and grooming. “If you haven’t been shopping since the Obama administration, it’s time,” she says in a video uploaded to TikTok in May.

“As a relationship therapist, I’ve literally spent my career studying the art of attraction and human psychology, so I know that these things work,” Kimberly Moffit, a Toronto-based psychotherapist, said in a TikTok video from 2022. Maybe your crush is shy and you want to know if he is “micro-flirting” with you? One tell-tale sign: dirty jokes. “An aggressive guy is just gonna hit on you,” she said, “but a shy guy is really gonna test the waters first.”

If you haven’t heard, it’s boom times for dating influencers. According to a new survey of single adults aged 18 to 62 conducted by the app Flirtini, one in four people rely on TikTok as their primary source of relationship information, and almost 50 percent of people surveyed turn to social media for dating advice.

This phenomenon has created an ecosystem of thoughtful, overzealous, trend-chasing dating influencers who think they know what’s best for you. The marketplace is now overrun with gurus offering up romantic hacks and how-tos to anyone who will listen. Everyone from credentialed therapists and life coaches to that annoying friend who just discovered bell hooks’ All About Love and wants to share everything they learned brands themselves a dating influencer these days. The effect has been seismic. On TikTok, the hashtags #datingadvice and #relationshipadvice have upwards of 16 billion views.

And it’s not all bad advice per se. Kai’s self-gaslighting tip is actually quite clever. (Kai and the other influencers mentioned in this story did not respond to messages seeking comment.) There’s just one problem: Relationship misinformation is spreading fast.

A growing number of young adults now get their news from TikTok, according to a 2023 Pew Research Center study, “so it makes sense that they’d turn to the app for relationship advice too,” says Liesel Sharabi, a professor at Arizona State University who specializes in the effect technology has on interpersonal relationships. The increased reliance on the platform as a go-to source for romantic guidance has led many users to form parasocial relationships with advice-giving influencers. Unlike face-to-face, IRL relationships, these tend to be one-way. But emotionally, they feel like the real thing.

“Someone might feel like they’re getting dating advice from a trusted friend because they’ve developed such a strong sense of familiarity and connection with that person,” Sharabi says. “The problem is that when it comes to dating, there are plenty of people who call themselves experts on TikTok without any sort of training or qualifications, which can make it difficult to separate fact from opinion.”

Not all advice is created equal. As dating influencers gain more traction across social media, the proliferation of relationship misinformation becomes harder to contain. This, Sharabi describes, is “false or misleading information about relationships that can’t be evaluated using scientific data and which may perpetuate harmful stereotypes.”

The increased spread of questionable dating advice is having real-world consequences. According to the Flirtini study, 46 percent of people faced relationship struggles after following TikTok advice, with 23 percent saying it led to a break up. It begs the question: Has our need to be plugged in all the time—let's face it, many of us are hooked on the booze of social media—outweighed our rationale as humans, leading people to look for advice from the wrong people?

“Relationship advice that is attention-grabbing may not always be the most sound or accurate to people’s actual relationship needs,” says Aparajita Bhandari, an academic at the University of Waterloo who’s conducted research on TikTok. “The way our current online attention economy works breeds content that is outrageous or tends toward misinformation because it is what goes viral and gets views. Unhealthy ideas or advice can spread so quickly on a platform like TikTok that it can be difficult to even trace back to one specific source.”

For some dating influencers, love is not actually the endgame—status and comfort are. There is a dedicated core of influencers who can teach you how to marry rich, live comfortably, and never work again. For them, it is all about “high-value” dating. Love is simply the icing on the cake to a life of worry-free, jet-setting luxury.

Shera Seven is a household name among this contingent of dating influencers, beloved for her matter-of-fact approach to modern partnership. In her eyes, love is nothing more than a business transaction. “Make sure the second date is a money date. The faster you get him to spend money, the faster he attaches to you,” Seven recommended in a recent video. “You’re seeing him as a provider, a baller—and he might not even see himself that way—but now that you are perceiving him that way, he’s going to start acting that way. Drag him into your delusion.”

Influencers with large followings like Seven, Cam Donnez, and Niko of The Daddy Academy carry an impression of social authority, and therefore credibility, says Makana Chock, a communications professor at Syracuse University. But something else is also at work. More and more, TikTok is being used as a search engine in the same way many of us use Google.

“Relationships are areas where people often feel the greatest insecurities and need advice. We are sometimes, however, reluctant to turn to personal contacts for help,” Chock adds. “We may be reluctant to reveal weaknesses, concerned about close others’ conflicting motivations, or skeptical about their relationship skills.”

But relying too heavily on TikTok’s algorithm has repercussions, especially in matters of the heart. “The algorithm isn’t necessarily incentivized to recommend the most scientifically sound advice,” Sharabi says. “It’s going to prioritize content that leads to engagement in terms of likes, followers, and views. What makes something go viral on TikTok isn’t necessarily that it’s good advice—in some cases, it might even be the opposite.”

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16woodsequ · 8 months

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Sunday Steve - Day Twelve

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Twelve: Soap

One day I was looking at a bottle of dishsoap and I wondered, would Steve have used this? So I looked it up. Liquid soap was patented in 1865 but "despite its popularity throughout the early to middle 1900’s, it wasn’t until 1980 that liquid soap became mass-produced for domestic use." (Link)

From what I've found liquid soap was not that commonly used. There were liquid shampoos in the 20s but many people used shampoo powder or liquified grated soap bars.

It's the same for other soap. Laundry soap and dishsoap came in powders and soap bars. Below you can see a box of soap flakes shown to be used for both laundry and dishes.

Soap flakes sold for 10 cents circa 1929

Here are some more laundry soap options we covered in the laundry post.

Laundry soap options in 1927. They included purchasing flakes, chips, or powder; liquifying your soap ahead of time(right); and (left) grating your own laundry soap from a bar. Fels Naptha soap, which came in a big bar, was rubbed on difficult stains and rings around the collar. (Link)

Liquidizing the soap entails taking soap shavings and dissolving it into boiling water. The liquid would then be poured into laundry water to be used. If left over night the soap re-solidifies.

For dishes another option besides powders or flakes is a soap shaker. This blog discusses early 20th century dishwashing, showing things like soap shakers and dish scrapers. Looks like one could use a soap shaker to more easily get suds from a bar of soap.

Modern soap shaker reproduction (Link).

But what about public bathrooms?

Most public bathrooms nowadays use liquid soap, and if liquid soap wasn't so common, what did they use?

It's possible some bathrooms used bars of soap it's not very easy to find information about that online. What I can find that is soap dispensers that dispensed powdered soap!

There's this one that had a crank to push the soap forward to an opening. Another type of seemed to have a lever/button press to dispense soap. Some styles shave off soap bars inside the canister as well.

I've never experienced these types of dispensers but looking online a lot of people seem to remember them growing up.

1940s era bathroom experienced in the 70s:

They were very simple -- white plaster walls with a wooden partition painted dark green, a painted concrete floor, and a plain white wall-mounted toilet. The sinks had cold water only, and over each sink was mounted a metal Boraxo dispenser -- Boraxo was a dry, gritty, powdered soap, and the dispenser was a sort of mechanical sifter with a lever that hung down below. You'd bang on the lever and a small amount of the powder would sift out. The towel dispensers gave out rough folded-red-paper towels

Circa 1936 powdered soap dispenser with crank handle. Note is says "pure dry cake soap ground into powder as you use it without any waste". So this dispenser seems to ground soap cakes (bars) into powder itself.

The video below is an example of push button powdered soap dispenser. Some dispensers have labels suggested to wet the hand first before using the soap. (37 sec video).

youtube

I have also seen people talk about soap leaves being available in women's bathrooms. The soap leaf booklets could also be carried around in a purse and used by the owner at their convenience.

You can see in this accessory pack that at least some soldiers were provided with soap leaf packets to use during World War Two.

In conclusion

It is unlikely Steve would be used to using liquid soap. From what I could find liquid soap, and especially the liquid hand soap dispensers, were not popular until the 80s (this seems to be partially because of the difficulty of developing a pump soap dispenser for liquid soap, so that would also be new for him.) I think the prevalence of liquid soap would surprise him as soap is so basic you don't really expect it to change but basically the whole experience of soap has changed for him.

Also, fun fact! Soap operas are called that because when they rose to popularity in the 20-30s they were regularly sponsored by soap companies!

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vividentropy · 2 months

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Entry #1

The Entries Catalog | Monday, July 8, 2024

12:36 PM

I finally got my ass out of bed. Today, Hurricane Beryl decided to make its way here. We have no electricity, so I have no idea when this will be posted.

At least I charged my laptop so I can at least write what’s been going on. The back door suddenly opened from the wind. I ran over there to close and lock it. Figured my dad could just knock the shit out of the door when he needed to go in, but mom said to leave it unlocked and just make sure it was closed well. So, I did that. Then I told my cat he was a good boy for not running outside when the door was wide open. See, he’s a retired veteran from the outdoors. Usually, he would sprint the moment he sees his chance to relive his younger years but not this time. I take it the wind was too intimidating for him. I still called him a good boy for not running out.

My family got lucky. All we’re getting is high winds and no electricity. Some areas north and west of ours got flooding and worse damage. Don’t even want to think of the areas south of us. My far neighbor’s tree got split in half with some of the branches on top of the car. Three small parts of the fence in our backyard got toppled down. Those won’t be repaired until my parents come back from their trip. I can hear the rumble of a generator from a neighbor in another street. I wonder how they got their generator set up. It always powers on immediately when there’s no power and off when there is. I’ll ask my dad one day.

Currently, my mom is making homemade chili. We have a gas stove, so we can still cook food. We also have plenty of water. My family uses this water service this for our water dispenser thingy upstairs. They send several three-gallon things of water. I have some right now. My dad is working on our generator, wondering when my brother will get up. My mom is back to crocheting a shirt and my sis is reading this book on seeds. My cat is just laying on the floor all cute and stuff.

I’m not gonna lie, it is a tad humid in here. Thankfully, the sun is covered by the clouds, so we aren’t dying of the heat, but we do have light to see. I do have a handheld fan that I’ll grab in a second. That and more water since I’m thirsty as fuck.

Off in the distance I hear someone using a chainsaw. Probably to cut down the tree branches they can cut off. That’s wild, to be honest. The wind is strong enough to push me aside like tumbleweed. I have to use force to push the door shut. It’s not as bad as Harvey or Ike (I do recall with Ike that the wind being so strong I could see the wind punching the door partially open). But I know there’s still others less fortunate out there than I.

Anyways, to better things.

Yesterday, I downloaded FFXIV Online. I downloaded the free trial. Definitely did not expect it to take over six hours to download, but it did. I spent all that time waiting watching YouTube videos from AstralSpiff and Chickeninja42. The moment everything was done downloading, I hopped on the game. I only got as far as character creation. Which is not far, to be honest. But I did finish the character! I customized her the same way as I do in every video game that I own that has character customization - white hair, red eyes, fair skin, and some muscle. Her hair had to pulled back. Funny enough, choosing the voice I wanted for her took longer than anything else. It was great having my sister helping me out though. Not that she plays the game, but I like having her input. If I have time and electricity, I’ll put a picture of her below this paragraph.

[I am absolutely not in my computer to screenshot. RIP.]

I hope we get electricity back soon, but my gut tells me it’ll be a good while before it comes back. Maybe tomorrow morning. Will I even work tomorrow?

Eyyy, my brother finally made it downstairs. I’ll take it as my cue to go write or do something else. Cause, to be honest, I can only type as long as this laptop battery will last me.

5:41 PM

Electricity isn’t back yet. I’ve spent the last several hours napping my life away after I ate. For some reason the tiredness washed over me. Could keep my eyes open. So far, my phone is on 80% because I haven’t been using it. I need to remember to call my boyfriend later because I want to hear his voice. We won’t be able to FaceTime today which sucks but that’s okay. I need him to know that I’m alright. I mean, he knows I’m okay, but I want him to hear it out of my mouth.

The sky is blue. Like nothing ever happened. My mom stuck her tongue out at it.

I did finally wash my hair. I didn’t put conditioner, just leave-in. My lower back pain flared up which made me cut my wash time in half. Let’s see how long my hair lasts. For now, I’ll just sit here and talk to my mom and sister.

7:10 PM

My dad and brother got the generator working. It’s working upstairs for sure. Got my phone charging. I think they’re trying to get the refrigerator and freezer to turn on. I’m just saying, we can do without the TV. And we could just keep the power downstairs instead of both. I can sleep on the floor that’s chill.

For now, my mom is going to find something for us to eat. I am going to try to cool down some more. All I want is to cool down. At least the A/C is on so the upstairs can cool down. There’s nothing much else to say.

I did talk to my boyfriend on the phone for a little bit, but the call dropped. It was nice hearing his voice. He’s more freaked out than me, but in his defense, I’m used to this.

Just talked to bro. He said the freezer and fridge are working. He’s going to turn off the A/C because we don’t have enough gas. That’s cool, to be honest. We can survive the heat for a little while. It could always be worse. I have my handheld fan, it’ll be okay.

8:11 PM

WE GOT POWER BACK, BABY! Wifi isn’t working but honestly, I don’t care.

I’d like to thank the hard workers who oversee the electricity shit because I know they’ve been working nonstop. I also like to thank my boyfriend for being patient with me. Honestly, just give it up to the electricians who were working honestly all-day getting shit done.

Now, I have to be real, I’m probably one of the lucky ones. While the storm was only during the day, there’s probably still well over a million people without power. I hope they get theirs soon. For now, I’m going to finally relax, maybe take a cup of decaf coffee, and continue playing minesweeper for the rest of the night. Hey, I might even get on YouTube. I’ll see what I’ll do.

Until next time,

Vivid Entropy

#the entries catalog #blog #journal #hurricane beryl

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zerofuckingwaste · 1 year

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Hey y'all, here's my suggestion for a great low waste, healthy, flavorful alternative to soda: kombucha! Not the stuff you buy at the health foods store that costs like $6 a bottle, no- the stuff you make at home.

Materials: a large glass container with a decently wide mouth (a pitcher, a jug, etc), a cloth (linen or cotton or whatever, a tea towel works), rubber bands, a wooden spoon, a ladle, green tea leaves, sugar, water, and a Scoby; you can buy the latter online, or you can find one locally with a little sleuthing, or you can make your own- just use an unflavored or 'original flavor' premade kombucha from the store.

Boil 4 cups of water, let cool 1 minute, and steep 3 tbsp green tea in it for 7-10 minutes. Remove the tea (don't press on it, you'll release tannins) and mix in 1 cup of sugar. Add in 8 cups of ice water to cool it, then pour that into your glass container. Ensure that it's room temperature, then add your Scoby. Seal the container with the cloth and rubber bands, and let sit 7-30 days, depending on how you like yours to taste.

You can drink it as is, or you can do a second fermentation to add carbonation; get some swing top or otherwise resealable glass bottles, and leave 1 inch of headroom when adding the booch. You can flavor it with a few tablespoons of whatever you want. I just did a batch of pinecone booch this week. I did lemon and charcoal last week, and hibiscus rose passion fruit the week before. The more sugar, the more carbonation. Seal it and let it sit for a few days at room temperature. Don't open them at room temp though, refrigerate for at least 3 hours before opening so you don't have an explosion.

To make your next batch, simply reserve the pellicle (the weird white thing that will appear on the top of your brew) and a cup of the liquid, and that's your Scoby for next time! You don't technically even need the pellicle- if it gets too thick, you can always toss it in the compost and just use the liquid, or you can make a fruit leather out of it, or even dog treats.

Anyhow, the cost of having a constant supply of kombucha flowing is simply the cost of water, green tea, and sugar, and about five minutes of your time every so often. It's easy, it's fun to experiment, and it's a great way to avoid soda while drinking something technically good for you.

But hey, kombucha isn't for everyone. And things can go wrong, it can be frustrating sometimes. All this is is a suggestion if you're looking for a more sustainable alternative to kick a soda habit!

PS- if you're disabled, look into getting a glass punch dispenser, it negates the need for a ladle, just ensure that the spout is not a reactive metal. You can find them at thrift stores, and they're always on sale at big box stores!

#zero waste #sustainability #anti consumerism #anti consumption #eco friendly #sustainable #environment #cooking #food #kitchen #drinks #drink #soda #kombucha

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atlantisplus · 7 months

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#atlantiplus #atlantisplusnoida #atlantis #water dispenser #water dispenser tips #buying guide water dispenser #water dispenser price #water dispenser online #water dispenser machine #water dispenser price online #water dispenser affordable price #water dispenser model #best water dispenser

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dreamlandsystem · 1 year

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Nintendogs + Cats + You!

(a game concept for a Nintendogs release on the Switch)

Hardware:

- included with the game is a wireless microphone with a Bluetooth chip

- insert with breed info

Amiibo Compatibility:

- different amiibos award the player with themed treats and single use toys (ex: kirby car cake, inkling/octoling toy that pops, power up mushroom treats)

- using Nintendogs-specific Amiibos for the first time gives a specific dog or cat plush/figurine toy

Animal Breeds:

- starting off with 8-12 breeds, with the original 27 unlockable through friendship

- introduce 3-8 new breeds for a total of 30-35 breeds (possible suggestions: borzoi, pitbull, malamute, newfoundland, Australian cattle dog, Airedale terrier, border collie, rottweiler)

- introduce 1-2 new cat breeds (possible suggestions: sphinx cats, maine coon)

Competitions:

- bring back agility trials (for a total of 4 competition types: agility, obedience, lure coursing, and disc throw)

- new competition ideas: birding (train your dog to locate and flush out bird toys from trees and retrieve them from bodies of water), best in show (points system based on grooming, physique, and style)

- let cats learn tricks and compete in obedience trials and best in show

- remove the AR function from obedience competitions (or make it optional)

Walks and Outings:

- add swimming (at the ocean, lake, or pool)

- introduce rotating stock at BARC shops

- chance to be invited to NPC’s homes for pet play dates

- rare chance to encounter and adopt a stray dog or cat

- print shop where you can design your own accessories

- pop up shops with rare or hard-to-find items

Home Interactions:

- toy overhaul with lots of additions

- toy ideas: a puzzle toy that dispenses a treat when solved, slinky, paper airplane (single use), Poochy toy (from the Yoshi series), instruments like a kazoo, xylophone, drums, and flute

- improved home customization with more furniture placement options (including wall mounts for cats)

Grooming:

- add pet-safe dyes in fun colors

- receive a friendship bonus for brushing your pet after bathing them

- unlock Groomer with enough friendship where you can pay to have your dog bathed, brushed, and dyed

General Improvements:

- autosave after competitions and walks, after teaching new tricks, making purchases, and getting a new dog

- add an event for your pet’s “Gotcha Day” with a party hat and pet safe birthday cake

- log-in bonus (of biscuits, supplies, or toys) for playing with your pets every day

- pets have visible mood stats (anxious, restless, content, calm, excited, cheerful) which change depending on the quality of their care

Nintendo Switch Online features:

- play dates: invite other players to your house, the park, or café

- compete with other players in special competitions

- send gifts and notes to other players

- pedometer portion of the Switch Online mobile app

- community board where friends’ pets’ achievements are displayed

DLC Opportunities:

- add a few more breeds (possibly including an alien/fantasy breed)

- DLC exclusive toy pack, accessory pack, and home remodel designs

Suggested price point: $60 USD base game, $75 including DLC

#sys.txt #nintendogs #nintendogs + cats #nintendo hire us to make this game challenge #long post

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cleanjalwater · 1 year

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#Buy Automatic Water Dispenser Online At Best Price

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drinkacefahz · 2 years

Photo

Do you think any amateur could handle a drink like this?

Amour-propre Effervesce | Fizz, Floral, Fandom

Suletta wouldn’t drink, but Guel Jeturk would despite, imo, probably not enjoying the taste of alcohol. However, there’s a classic cocktail that's PERFECT for that -- the Ramos Gin Fizz, which I retemplated to include both an interesting purple sweetener and several layers of floral flavors including rose, with a glorious fluffy crown worthy of the Dilanza’s feather. The floral layers and variety of aromatics feels distinctly appropriate in G Witch, especially for a character like Guel.

However, the Ramos Gin Fizz isn’t for the Miorines of the cocktail world; it requires some careful prep, and takes a lot of upper arm strength and time shaking. So much like Guel had some... mechanical assistance imposed on him, we’re going to use a great hack established by famous cocktail bar Death & Co. We are going to use a whipped cream dispenser and force-nitro the cocktail to emulsify and foam up, without the hellish amount of shaking. However, it’s important to follow these instructions carefully.

Note: Alternate creams/vegan foaming agents may not provide the desired effect, due to the importance of the proteins in both the cream and the egg white. If you want to make this a mocktail, you can use your favorite tea in place of gin and omit the creme de violette.

SPECIAL EQUIPMENT: A Whipped-Cream Dispenser and Nitrous Oxide cartridges(8grm). These don’t need to be industrial grade, iSi whippers -- As long as its not the style marketed as the “Easywhip” with the spout right on top, look below for an example of the shape it should be. These can be bought online, or at culinary supply stores, or your local tobacco/vape shop or adult novelty store. Please DO NOT POINT TOWARDS SELF OR OTHERS WHILE SCREWING IN THE GAS CANISTER, AND ALIGN THE THREADING ON THE CANISTER HOLDER CAREFULLY TO MINIMIZE RISK OF VENTING COLD GAS FROM AN IMPROPER PUNCTURE.

Step 1: Place serving glass in freezer.

Step 2. Place the following ingredients in your whipped cream dispenser.

2 fl oz or 60ml Gin

0.5 fl oz or 15 ml Lemon Juice

0.5 fl oz or 15 ml Lime Juice

1 Dropper Bittermens Orange Cream Citrate*

.75ml Old Forester Hummingbird Rose & Citrus Bitters [or 2 dashes preferred floral bitters]

0.33 fl oz or 10ml Creme de Violette

1 fl oz or 30ml Blueberry Puree Syrup (I used Reál)

1 Egg White or 20ml liquid pasteurized egg white

0.75 fl oz or 22.5 ml Heavy Cream

1 drop Orange Blossom Water

1 drop Rosewater

*You can substitute 1 dash orange bitters[Angostura Orange preferable] and 3 drops vanilla extract if necessary or just omit

Have glass ready to receive.

Add a couple ice cubes and screw on cap tightly. Take 1 8 gram nitrous oxide charger. Common brands include Whip-Its, Bestwhip, and Leland. Insert charger into holder and screw in until you hear it vent into the dispenser. Give it a few gentle shakes.

Add about half an ounce of chilled seltzer or soda water to the bottom of frozen glass. Turn whip cream dispenser so spout is directly facing down and gently -- GENTLY -- press the lever to release. It should take about a minute or so to mostly fill the glass.

After filling or mostly filling the glass, let sit for 2-4 minutes, ideally in freezer. Then make small divot in foam and slowly pour in about .5-1 ounces or so of soda water. The foam should rise and not collapse if properly made and a straw inserted should stand up straight.

Lastly, if you desire, as a little nod to Guel’s iconic look, use an atomizer or spray bottle to spritz Peychaud’s bitters on top of the foam. Serve with a spoon to enjoy all the foam.

Credit is due to Death & Co for originating the nitro-Gin-Fizz, David Wondrich’s Imbibe for all I could ever want or need to know about Fizzes, and this Cocktail Contessa Mocktail for the blueberry syrup inspiration.

#fandom cocktails #g witch #mobile suit gundam #ramos gin fizz #nitrous #guel jeturk #mixology #cocktails #the color is more beguir beu but the vibes are pure guel #anime cocktails #fandom cocktail

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edupunkn00b · 1 year

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The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 9: Shoulder to Shoulder Around the Fire

Prev - Shoulder to Shoulder Around the Fire - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3913 - Rated: T, mild cursing, past injuries briefly referenced

Logan closed the washer door and stabbed at the buttons on the front of the machine before the cycle clicked on and the basin slowly filled with soapy water. With a heavy groan, he leaned against the basement wall and closed his eyes. He’d woken up a half dozen times in the night, plagued by dreams and nightmares and dreams until the thin pink dawn stabbed through his blinds and he gave up on sleep and dragged himself out of bed.

He’d stripped his bed and showered, then brought it all down to the laundry room. Eyes still closed, he worked through a breathing exercise he’d found online and scrabbled past the rocky ice filling his mind to find something, anything to be grateful for.

He was grateful it was Saturday. Grateful he didn’t have to plaster on a smile and rush into the day and off to work. Grateful he had time to get this done, grateful for the chance to wash another night down the drain. Grateful for the high capacity washer.

A screeching whine snapped open his eyes and he watched as the machine agitated one more time then stuttered to a stop, the lights on the front flashing an error code of F1E2.

“Fuck,” he muttered and pulled out his phone to look up the code. The manual had long ago been recycled, but the manufacturer was decent about keeping their documentation updated. Should that count as something to be grateful for? Sighing, he swore again as he scrolled down to the error. Not quite.

With some difficulty, he worked his way around to the back of the machine to reach the manual override and drained the machine while he waited for the service center to pick up. He was still the next caller after he’d dumped the sopping bedding into big blue Ikea bags and checked the hours of the laundromat he drove past each day on his way to the highway.

It turns out, it was the only laundromat within a ten mile radius.

He kept the call live as he loaded up the car with the wet laundry from the machine along with the load of lights that had already been waiting for him. It was a short drive and he was still on hold when he parked and the phone suddenly disconnected.

“Fuck,” he swore again and took a deep breath before he redialed. Unloading his frustration on some poorly paid customer service rep who was working on a Saturday was hardly the right choice. He took another slow breath and forced a smile onto his face before he dialed.

A different voice message picked up right away.

“Thank you for calling Maytag. We look forward to serving you. Our call center is open Monday through Friday, 9 am to 3 pm, and on Saturdays from 9 am to 12 pm,” Logan checked his watch. It was only 10 o’clock. The recording continued. “Eastern Standard Time.”

“Of course.” Logan sat frozen in the driver’s seat, staring down at the phone as the message repeated twice before disconnecting. He silently recited a new litany of things to be grateful for. There had been gas in the car. He had cash in his wallet for the machines. The laundromat was close.

Sighing, he pocketed his phone and hauled the laundry and a tote bag full of soap, softener, and hangers for his shirts. In his first real brush of luck for the day, Logan was pleasantly surprised to see the laundromat wasn’t crowded, with the only other occupants an attendant at the back folding laundry that had been dropped off and a young couple over by the dryers.

Logan fought to keep his attention on the machines in front of him as he loaded them up and added soap to the dispensers. He hadn’t been to a laundromat in decades, not since college, but it appeared the machines were at least that old, so it didn’t take much to figure them out. A bright bubble of laughter drew his attention and he watched as the couple worked together to pull a giant comforter out of the dryer. The woman giggled when her partner piled the comforter on top of her head and shoulders, then pretended she’d disappeared. Logan’s heart ached at the softness in his eyes as he laughingly bumped into her, and the way his hands went up protectively, sweetly , ready to catch her in case he knocked her off balance.

He would never begrudge such a sweet couple their happiness, but… that couldn’t make it hurt any less to have it dangled in front of him. After a few more moments of miming looking for her in the dryer and under a counter, the man lifted up the comforter and exclaimed joyfully at the sight of his partner underneath. Tossing aside the blanket, neither seemed to notice or care when it slipped off the folding counter and onto the floor as he pulled her into a kiss, right there in the middle of the laundromat.

Logan looked away and fumbled for his wallet to go and make change for the machine.

His movement seemed to have reminded them they were in public and, still giggling and whispering, they picked up the comforter and worked together to fold it before tackling the rest of their laundry together. They made chores look like just one more chance to spend time together. He supposed that, for them, that’s all this was. Just another sunny Saturday morning, full of laughter and dryer sheets. And love.

After he’d fed the machines almost twenty dollars worth of quarters, he set a timer on his watch and went out to wait in the car for the cycle to finish. He hated himself for it, but he was relieved when, ten minutes later, the door to the laundromat burst open and they left, hand in hand. Logan put down the book he’d been trying to read and went inside to wait for the timer to go off.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Logan to distribute the clothes and bedding between three dryers. While he waited, he leaned against a folding counter and tried again to get through his book. The Four Agreements. If it had been anything other than a library book, he would’ve tossed the damn thing forty pages ago.

“Lo?” a sweet voice from his dreams pulled him away from the page and he looked up, near-certain he’d simply imagined it.

“Roman?” Logan blinked. “H—how?” Roman smiled back at him, less than three feet away. Dressed in slim, bright white jeans and a crimson henley that hugged his chest like it’d been painted on, he could’ve just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Literally. One of his cover shoots in a Variety Logan had found in the periodicals section had featured a strikingly similar outfit. This… this couldn’t be real.

Logan brushed his fingers over the hot glass on the dryer door, hand jerking back at the searing heat. No, it wasn’t a dream. Roman was really here, smiling in front of him in the middle of the grimy laundromat. “Roman, what are you doing here?” he laughed as he stepped closer, a pleased smile pushing away his earlier dour thoughts.

“I recognized your car outside,” Roman shrugged, as though it was the most normal thing in the world for him to travel around this little suburban neighborhood. Pushing himself up, he sat on the counter next to him. “You weren’t in the salon next door, and,” he winked and bumped into his shoulder. “I figured if you were in the massage parlor at the corner I’d leave you in peace.”

“That’s some fine detective work there, Mr. Prince,” Logan laughed again, hoping the heat of the dryers disguised his blush at the kind of things that were rumored to transpire at a massage parlor that didn’t open until four in the afternoon. Logan nodded, “But how… How did you know it was my car? There are a lot of Pilots around here.”

“You live in Kirkland.” Roman rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the parking lot. “You were parked between a monstrously large pickup with a ‘thin blue line’ flag and a minivan with a faded Trump sticker. There aren’t a lot of Human Rights Campaign decals around here.”

“It’s getting better, but… you’re right.” Logan frowned and opened the dryer when it buzzed. He felt the clothes, flipping them around and checking the heavy seams on his duvet. He closed the door and added three more quarters.

“What did make you move out here, anyway?” Roman waited until Logan returned to his side, grinning when he catapulted himself up into the counter next to him. “It’s so far from work.”

Logan frowned, mouthing opening then closing as he worked out the best way to explain.

“Oh, fuck, I…” Roman shook his head, bumping his knee. “I didn’t mean to pry. That—”

“No, it’s quite alright,” he assured, bumping back. He tilted his head, watching the worry dissipate from Roman’s eyes. Logan smiled. It shouldn’t be alright, he didn’t like to talk about, well, any part of the divorce, but… it didn’t seem like Roman was asking because all he cared about was gathering sordid details or some juicy, gossip-worthy tidbit to squirrel away for a dull moment at a party. He… It just seemed like he cared.

“Patton wasn’t doing well in his neighborhood school,” he said at last. “They were unwilling to make even the most basic of accommodations. The Explorer school up on 6th was highly recommended.” He adjusted his glasses. “I… must admit, I used a bit of subterfuge to get the moving clause added to our parenting plan in the divorce decree. I added it at the same time I proposed a rather draconian vacation schedule.” He shrugged. “Her lawyer took the bait and called a special session to get me to update it.” He watched a yellow shirt tumble around in a sea of white oxfords. . “They never even noticed the other clause until after it had been signed. After it went into the plan, I found a place within the school’s boundaries and Remy and I moved here, with Virgil and Patton coming here every other week”

Logan realized he’d been rambling and he looked up but Roman simply listened, that same soft smile pulling up one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “Was it hard…” Logan looked away, fingers twisting in his lap. “I mean, moving with three boys?”

“Oh…” The cold knot in his stomach eased and a slow smile spread across his face. “The stove malfunctioned on our first night all together and the furniture truck had gotten lost in Yakima. The boys and I ate pizza and Taco Bell for the first few nights… “ He glanced up at Roman, searching his eyes for boredom or, worse, judgement at his poor planning. Roman just nodded, smiling as he leaned in, listening. Logan smiled back. “We ate together on a plastic table cloth in the middle of the living room floor. Patton still talks about how great it had been.”

He looked out at the bedding twisting in the dryer. “It’s not perfect. It’s a long commute and I’m responsible for coordinating extra-curricular transportation even when Patton is at Kelly’s place in Seattle, but… it’s a good place for Patton, despite the… au de MAGA. It’s worth it.”

“It sounds great,” Roman nodded, a wistfulness to his smile that Logan didn’t fully understand. “You know, the next time I’m negotiating a contract, I want you on my side,” he added. “That was brilliant.” Another dryer buzzed and, blushing, Logan leapt down from the counter. He fished around in the machine and nodded. Roman was at his side with a laundry cart.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling as he looked up at the hanging bar. “Perfect, in fact. How—”

Roman gestured to the shirt Logan had just pulled from the machine. “It’s best to hang them right away,” he explained. He grabbed one of the hangers sticking out from the canvas ACLU tote bag tucked under the counter where they’d been sitting. “May I help?” he asked, reaching tentatively for the shirt in Logan’s hands. “I spent three years as head of costume at the London Coliseum.”

“Thank you,” he said again, once more confounded by his answer. His hands moved automatically, shaking out a shirt as he watched Roman expertly flick then smooth the collar of the shirt he’d plucked from the dryer. Logan smiled as he reached for the next shirt, only looking away when Roman faced him again.

“Do you always come here?” He asked, hooking the first shirt on the rod, ready for the next. “You seem to have a solid routine.”

“Ah, no, actually,” he looked down, the morning’s frustrations churning in his stomach. Shaking it away, he pulled out another shirt. “I discovered this morning that our washer had broken overnight. The timing was… unfortunate. I’d fallen a bit behind and, well…” He looked out at the three dryers’ worth of laundry. The duvet bounced in its own dryer, the colorful paisley staring back at him.

“You’re a better man than I,” Roman chuckled, buttoning the top button of his favorite shirt before hanging it on the rod. “I would’ve moped for at least a day after that kind of morning.”

Logan glanced up as the happy couple hed watched, the reminder of his shameful jealously burning his cheeks. “Who says I didn’t mope?” he tried to laugh. Roman’s hand lingered when he reached for the next shirt, pinkie and ring fingers touching.

“You’re here,” he said simply, that soft, knowing smile curling up his lips.

“Yes, well,” Logan cleared his throat and looked away, hoping he hadn’t been staring as long as he feared he’d been. “So, you explained why you’re here in the laundromat,” he asked, eyes fixed on the last shirt from the dryer. “What are you doing slumming on the Eastside?”

Roman laughed, rich and resonant in the tiny laundromat. His whole body moved with it, curls bouncing around his face. “Your Costco is the least hectic I’ve seen around here,” he said around another laugh. “Once you get past the parking lot, that is.”

“You rented a car and drove all the way out here for the Costco?” Logan tilted his head, brow furrowed.

“That and the teriyaki place next door,” he chuckled, pulling the cart back so Logan could close the dryer door before moving to the next finished load. Logan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m serious! I’ll prove it to you!” He tapped the laundry cart and grinned. “When we’re done here, let me buy you lunch. You’ll see.”

Logan looked up at him over his shoulder and nodded before he pulled out the duvet, bundling it in his arms to keep it away from the dust bunnies on the dingy tiled floor. “Alright, Mr. Prince. Prove it to me.”

Bending over, Roman grabbed two corners of the duvet and stepped back, pulling gently to stretch the linen out flat before bringing his corners together. “You’re on, Mr. Sanders.”

~~~

“You have the neatest trunk I’ve ever seen,” Roman remarked as they loaded up the back of Logan’s Pilot with two baskets of clean clothes and bedding. He carefully laid the stack of cotton shirts over the top, crossing the arms loosely to prevent more creases. The carpeted trunk floor was pristine, a small travel vacuum neatly strapped in a side compartment the evidence of how a father of three managed to keep it looking so clean.

“Says the man who drives rentals all the time,” he chuckled, the sweet blush painting his cheeks. “Aren’t those detailed after each trip?”

“Exactly,” Roman laughed, stepped back while Logan lowered the hatch. With a chirp, he locked the doors and pocketed his keys. “Shall we?” Roman bowed, barely resisting an impulse to offer his arm. “I don’t know about you, but I find doing laundry always works up an appetite.”

“Lead the way, good sir,” Logan nodded, slipping inside when Roman held the door for him. Once inside, he reached for his wallet.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Roman winked at him. “Kirkland money doesn’t work in here.”

Laughing, Logan raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mm-hm, absolutely against the rules,” Roman said with his most serious face. “It’s not allowed. Only Seattle money is allowed. You’ll have to put away your wallet, sir.” Logan continued to stare at him, an incredulous smile spread across his face. “It’s my treat,” Roman finally said, dropping his stern expression. “Please let me treat you?”

Blushing, Logan nodded and put away his wallet. A twinge shot through Roman’s heart when he wondered just how long it had been since someone had taken him to lunch. From the way he acted, Roman would guess… never. “What would you recommend?” Logan asked, looking up at the busy menu.

“Definitely the miso soup,” he said. “Oh, and the spicy teriyaki chicken. All sweet, all spice…” Roman bumped his shoulder. “You’ll like it.”

“I defer to your judgement,” he murmured with a little nod.

“Famous last words!” Roman laughed and stepped up to order. “Oh,” he turned back, serious again. “Allergies?”

“None,” he nodded.

Tapping his fingers together like an evil villain, he laughed, a little thrill running up from his toes when Logan laughed back. “Perfect.” Turning to the owner working the register, he smiled more genuinely. “こんにちは、お客様、” he bowed his head. “Two number threes with miso soup, please, and two pineapple bobas.” Roman laughed over his shoulder at Logan. “For the heat.”

“Just how afraid should I be?” Logan said unseriously, stepping closer. Even over the scents of spice and umami swirling in the air, Roman smelled the clean, warm scent of the lavender and vanilla softener he’d spotted in Logan’s bag. It was nice.

“Very, very afraid,” Roman grinned, bumping his shoulder. “Mr. Masao takes the ‘spicy’ part of spicy chicken very seriously,” he winked at the owner.

The man laughed, shaking his head. “あなたの彼氏はかわいいです,” he said, smiling toward Logan with one eyebrow raised. “But your pronunciation needs work, Mr. Prince.”

“Doesn’t it always?” he nodded, blushing when Logan laughed along good naturedly. “私の彼氏ではありません。” Logan stood so close and he hadn’t missed the way his eyes had lingered over his shirt and his jeans… Perhaps… “まだ。多分？” Roman nodded at Logan, “Lo, this is Mr. Masao.” He bowed his head the way Roman had earlier, smiling. “Mr. Masao, this is my very good friend Logan Sanders.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sanders,” he said.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Masao,” Logan replied, eyebrows knit together in a sweet, perplexed expression. “You really do frequent here. How… How often do you make it out to Kirkland?”

Roman shrugged. “Whenever I come to Costco, really. Best place to restock the green room,” he grinned. “It was a bit of luck to get to see you today.”

“It helps that there’s only one coin-op laundromat on the Eastside,” Logan said dryly.

Was it Roman’s eyes that said he’d blushed again? Or his heart? “I suppose, it does.”

~~~

“So what did you do then?” Logan laughed, leaning forward, lips parted as he waited for Roman to explain how they continued the showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream .

“The crew got up into the box seats around the back,” he gestured behind his head.

“But you said it was a full house.” Logan’s eyes sparked, following the movement of his hands. “It must’ve gotten crowded in those seats.”

“The stage manager was quite persuasive.” Roman shook his head, another laugh bubbling up. “Promising they could sit on the apron of the stage to watch the rest of the show helped.” Another soft bubble of laughter burst from him and Roman stared. His expression was so different than it had been when he’d first spotted him in that stuff laundromat. Roman was certain he could live off that smile.

After a moment, he shook his head and continued. “Everybody turned on their phone flashlights and it was just enough to keep the fire marshall happy.”

Logan sat back, grinning as he took another sip of his boba. “The fairies’ blessing illuminated by flashlight.” Logan’s eyes danced over his face and he felt himself blushing, just barely resisting the impulse to dab at his mouth, checking for sauce. “That must’ve been something to behold. A throwback to the Globe.”

“Exactly! It was so much fun,” Roman nodded. “You know, I’ve been thinking about ways to incorporate more natural lighting in my shows.” Logan’s eyebrows jumped up, his eyes brightening to the same shade of the clear sky out the windows behind him.

“That sounds fascinating,” he murmured after a long moment. “Will you tell me more?” He gently prompted, and Roman blushed, realizing he he’d been staring again.

“Mmm, yes,” he nodded, wrangling his runaway thoughts. “I’ve been in talks with Seattle Storybook to adapt A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Much Ado About Nothing for their summer theatre series.” Roman leaned forward. “They have an outdoor Amphitheatre just a block from the big fountain and the playground.” He circled his plate and with his utensils. “Theatre in the round, outdoors…” Roman dotted his fingers around the edges. “The littlest kids could sit in the grass around the stage or run around the top if they need to get the wiggles out.”

“Wow,” Logan whispered, mirroring Roman’s position. “I’ve been to that amphitheater with the boys…” He grinned up at Roman. “They wouldn’t believe it was meant for plays. They would race each other up and down the steps,” he laughed, a soft, joyous melody.“ Remy would always let Patton win and Virgil used to get so mad.”

“I can almost see it!” Roman laughed, nodding. Logan’s face shone, lips full and relaxed as they spread into a wide smile. He looked down at the makeshift model Roman had built, eyes lingering where Roman was tracing the ‘steps.’ “We’re looking to create some roles for children from the youth theatre program.” Those brilliant blue eyes jumped back up at him and Roman nearly forgot what he was going to say. “I—I’ll be directing, too.”

“Oh!” Logan suddenly exclaimed, reaching across the table and touching his hand. “You’ll get to work with kids again,” he grinned. Roman just nodded, words gone. Logan’s hand was strong, and warm. Each nail had been cut—or bit—to the quick and sported the faint matte sheen of an anti-nail biting varnish. His fingertips were calloused but the inside of his hand was extraordinarily smooth. His ring and middle finger bent out at awkward angles, the bone thickened in places. Like old fractures that hadn’t healed quite right. Roman gently squeezed his fingers, stroking the back with this thumb.

Logan yanked his hand back and Roman tamped down on the instinct to follow, to hold on. “I—I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not, I…” He looked down and laid his hand in his lap, hidden under the table. He didn’t finish his sentence.

After a moment, he took an awkward bite of his food. With his right hand. Logan kept his eyes lowered, and Roman struggled to speak. Finally, he blurted out, “You should come with me.” A flash of joy brightened Logan’s face and he looked up, blinking in surprise. Roman nodded, words falling out in a jumble before Logan could demure.

“It’ll be fun, we’ll get to see some of what they’re working on, maybe go backstage afterwards?” He nodded again, caught in Logan’s gaze. “If… if you’d like…” Roman licked his lips, hesitating for a moment before he just dove in. Maybe his brother was right. Can’t get what you don’t ask for. “Please say yes.”

Logan’s tiny smile was the sweetest Roman had seen yet. He nodded, eyes widening as though he’d surprised himself. “Y—yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

~~~Translation for the bit in Japanese above

... Turning to the owner working the register, he smiled more genuinely. “Good afternoon, sir,” ... Mr. Masao laughed, shaking his head. “Your boyfriend is cute,” he said, smiling toward Logan with one eyebrow raised. “But your pronunciation needs work, Mr. Prince.” “Doesn’t it always?” he nodded, blushing when Logan laughed along good naturedly. “Not my boyfriend.” Logan stood so close and he hadn’t missed the way his eyes had lingered over his shirt and his jeans… Perhaps… “Not yet. Maybe?" Roman nodded at Logan, “Lo, this is Mr. Masao.” He bowed his head the way Roman had earlier, smiling. “Mr. Masao, this is my very good friend Logan Sanders.”

#The Uses of Adversity #ts logan #ts roman #logince #eventually #look‚ Logan's got a lot of stuff to figure out #Logan Sanders #Roman Prince #part of the Life Out of Order Series #the Logince happy ending for It Could Always Be Worse #sanders sides fanfiction

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lady-assnali · 2 years

Text

Set in the teacher au, It’s baby Marcia doing the first slightly bad thing she’s ever done. In an unexpected turn of events, mama Denali comes to the rescue.

“Hey, are you okay?” The small blonde at the mirror turns around and Denali’s eyes narrow, her mouth agape as recognition flashes across her face. “Marcia! What the hell are you doing here?”

The girl in question wipes the back of her hand across her tear-stained cheek, shaking her head and fumbling her words as she backs herself against the sink.

“It’s not, uh, I just’”

“Marcia,”

“I didn’t mean to-I mean I did, but I just, uh,”

“-Damnit, just-hold on! Take a breath, and then explain.”

Denali waits patiently, her need to pee vanishing to make room for her worry. Marcia turns to face the mirror, sucking in a deep, slow breath of air while staring at herself. Her eyes are puffy, her makeup smudged. Her hands shake as she runs them under cold water, patting her cheeks.

“I kind of came here to see someone.” She’s nearly whispering, no longer looking at herself but at the little puddles of water on the vanity. Her hands are fixed on the hem of her short skirt, rubbing the fabric worryingly between her fingers. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Denali insists. Then, backtracking, she interrupts her own train of thought. “If you met this person online and nobody knows that you’re here then it’s pretty stupid. Also, so is sneaking out with a fake ID but I’m not even going to comment or ask about that because honestly, the less I know the better.”

“Please don’t tell my mom. She…my parents don’t know that I’m gay. Actually, nobody does, really, only Jax. She knows that I’m here, she’s on standby.”

“You think I’m going to be a snitch? Listen, technically I should be doing something about this. You really shouldn’t have come out tonight. But the part of me that lived the baby gay experience and didn’t have the best time with it needs to make sure that you’re safe.”

“Safe? Yeah, physically I’m totally fine. Emotionally…?” She laughs, watery and cracking, before the tears start coming again. “I just feel so lame.”

“There’s nothing lame about shooting your shot.”

“But I didn’t!” Marcia rolls her eyes, pacing, energy picked back up. “The girl I came to see is someone I used to dance with at the studio until she graduated. She’s the first girl I remember really liking, even back when I didn’t know that the admiration could translate into actual feelings…I came all the way here knowing that Aura would be here, and then when I came in I saw her with all her friends and I just kind of froze. I never even said hi! . I mean, they know me! They all probably still think of me as that same little ballerina who used to try and boss them around when we were kids. I’m five years younger than her, but I feel like I’m eons away from where they all are.”

“So you didn’t-so you came here thinking you were ready, but you’re not. Marcia, you literally dove headfirst into this crowded, intimidating lesbian bar because you wanted to see if something was there. Was it your best idea? No, definitely not, and I think you knew that going into it. But you faced that fear and brought yourself here anyway. That was brave. But I think we should maybe get you home.”

Marcia hesitates. There’s a barrage of noise as the bathroom door opens and a group of older women walks in, chattering to themselves as they go into separate stalls. They keep their conversation going while they pee, Marcia and Denali standing silent by the sinks. Denali pulls a towel from the dispenser and holds it out to the younger girl, pointing to her eyes. It gives her something to do, staring at herself while fixing the smudge of mascara under her eyes. When the women leaves, she wraps her arms around her bare torso and nods her head.

“I was young and stupid once too, I just lived in Alaska and not New York City where there were queer experiences every other block. The only difference is that we had house parties where we didn’t need fakes.”

“Yeah, the fake…”

“Again, I didn’t see anything. I know nothing. My only responsibility here is to make sure you get home safe and stay safe. Let me just-I’m here with friends, let me find one of them and let them know I’ll be back.” Marcia trails Denali through the crowd with a watchful eye, knowing that Aura had been on the other side of the club when she’d first come in. There are more people now, dancing back to front with lips on cheeks and necks and fingers interlaced. She’s slower, wide-eyed, having only really seen something like this in a movie or on the internet. A women in chunky boots with a half-shaved head at the bar turns and acknowledges her with a wink, looking her up and down. Her face reddens and she picks up the pace, side-by-side with Denali as they cross the room. Finally, the older woman has her hand on someone’s shoulder.

“Hey, I need to leave for a second, I,”

“Marcia??”

“Jan!” The tiny blonde steps back in shock, eyes wandering the room so they won’t have to face hers.

“What the fuck-oh-nope. Nope! Absolutely not! You can not leave with this girl, D, she’s underage and she’s my cousin and she shouldn’t be here!”

“Oh my god”

“Ew, Jan, I wasn’t trying to leave with her, she’s my student. Well, she’s Rosie’s, but that doesn’t matter. I found her in the bathroom and she wants to go home, so I’m just going to make sure she gets there safe.”

“Is she here too?? I can’t let her see me, this is so embarrassing, I have to go now.”

“Try again, Mar. There’s no way I’m letting you leave until you talk to me. Or at least until I ask you if you’re okay.” Jan pats the stool next to her and her cousin reluctantly takes a seat, still scanning the room. Denali sits too, and it’s the first time Marcia has felt herself relax enough to steady herself all night. Her body has settled enough to let the rush of emotion sink back in, and suddenly her face is hot and wet again.

“I’m gay, okay? I mean, I’m pretty sure I am. I’m about ninety percent sure that I am.”

“Okay.” Jan scoots forward in her seat, puts her hand on Marcia’s back and rubs circles along it, letting the moment play out a bit before continuing.

“Don’t you have the internet?” Jan jokes. “You had to come here to find all this out?”

“Aura’s here.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Did you get to see her?”

“Nope. I think this was a bad idea.”

“I think you’re one of the guiltiest people I’ve ever met. You quite literally have never done anything wrong or even slightly risky in your entire life-I’d know, I’ve known you since you were born.”

“You’re not going to tell, right?”

“Are you serious?? If you were on drugs or doing something super dangerous I’d tell, but this? Mar, you’re almost eighteen. You’re a senior in high school. You’re on the honor roll, you have the lead in the musical…this is nothing, and honestly I’d be the worst person in the world if I told your mom. I will never out you. What I will do is remind you that you have people who love you who can support you through this so that maybe next time you go to a house party like the rest of us and not some random bar in the middle of the night. You have me, and if I weren’t so excited to be your little lesbian mentor I’d be offended that you’re coming for my gay theatre cousin role.”

It’ s enough to make Marcia laugh then, even swinging her feet a bit on the stool. Jan waves over the bartender and orders a Shirley temple, sliding it over to her cousin and grinning from ear to ear.

“So, Aura…”

“Oh my god.”

#The teacher au #but it’s not #it’s Marcia because that’s where we’re at this week #it’s just a lil thing because i wanted to break up the cr*gi posts a bit #Also because watching Denali and Marcia hang out that one time really said ‘put it in the teacher au right now’#Marciax3

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