#compression packing cubes

[monostravel]

Monos Luggage Reviews

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[monosusa]

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[retireyoungtravelsmart]

Mastering the Art of Budget Travel: 30+ Hacks from Savvy Globetrotters

Traveling on a budget doesn’t mean sacrificing experiences. As someone who spends about half the year on the road, I’ve learned a thing or two about maximizing adventures while minimizing expenses. Combining my own tips with those from our savvy community, here are 30+ tried-and-true budget travel hacks to make your next trip a breeze: Packing Hacks: Roll, Don’t Fold: Save space and prevent…

[itmeansalot]

Frog and toads would actually be really good at smoking cigarettes because they have big wide mouths that could hold so much smoke when they inhale and their eyes would compress it tightly into pack shapes like cube or spherical objects to more effectively concentrate into their lungs. And we know they'd look cute doing it

[uzurimisery]

this time. / shoei baro x reader

Very rare BLLK piece from me

w.c: 0.8k

Written for the @pixelcafe-network Friday Challenge #5

It’s strangely easy to pack your bags. It should be harder you reckon- you can still remember moving into his apartment. Putting your stuff away, tucking in pieces of yourself into pieces of him. The mixing of yours and his becoming ours.

A sort of languid sadness has been settled in your bones for the past three days but has contorted, and hardened into anger. Or maybe it has sucked up any other emotion you might have felt towards him, chewed it up, and left you void of feeling. Apathy. That’s what you’re feeling. 

The sweaters take up the most room so you pull them out and put them into one of those vacuum bags to shrink them down. Some things are too big in the compress cubes, so vacuum bags. Stuff them full, zip them up, suck the air out, and hope you haven’t shoved too much down that it doesn’t burst at the seams. 

That’s the point you were at. Too much shoving things down, down, down, that they melted under pressure and now you felt like a volcano about to burst when you first saw the lipstick on the collar of his shirt. It erupted out of you in a screaming match with him that resulted in him leaving the apartment, telling you to “cool off.” 

But again it’s no longer anger, that burned out after the first night. Now it was just apathy. 

Apathy to how easy it was for him to continually lie to you. Apathy to how he always promised change. Apathy to how you’d take one step forward and five steps back with him. Apathy to how everyone looked at you with pity. Apathy for how much you’ve struggled to try and change yourself to better fit his tastes again.

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

You supposed it’s better this way, stops the cutting edge of the knife of failure from stabbing too deeply. 

“You actually leaving?” Shoei has just come into the apartment, still wearing his coat with a dozen roses bunched up in his arm. His version of an apology you suppose. You don’t even like roses. 

“Yes. I am.” 

He leans against the door frame and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “That’s what you said last time.” 

“This time I mean it.”

“Sure you do.” It's careless, light, dismissive, the same way he’s always brushes it off. It's impressive how he always does that. It’s depressing that he treats you like this. 

You slam the suitcase shut. “I do.”

Shoei comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Surprising, just how much has changed in the past six months. You never thought that him touching you would make you feel disgusted when it used to feel like home. “Let me make it up to you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on your neck and it makes you squirm. 

How many other women has he kissed the same way?

“Don’t touch me.”  You slide out of his arms and yank the suitcase from the bed. 

“C’mon, doll, why are you acting like this? Let me make it up to you.” He scoffs as you shrug him off again. The mask slips just a bit and you can see his complete disregard, how he really isn’t sorry for what he’s done. “Jesus okay I’m sorry, it was an honest mistake. I was drunk and she looked like you. Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you?”

“No Sho, there’s not making it up to me. I’m done this time. For real.” It sounds like it doesn’t come from your body.  Like it’s an outside source talking. So final. 

“You said that last time. And the time before that.” There's anger brewing in him with the sharp draw of his brown and how his voice picks up in volume, how it gets sharper. “Reality is you’ll come back here crawling, crying, telling me you’re sorry, I’ll forgive you, and then we fuck and were good for a couple of months. Why don’t we just skip the drama, get to fucking, and then go to breakfast? I’ll even buy you those new earrings you’ve been eyeing.”

You don’t move but your shoulders tense. How many times have you done this dance with him to where he thinks it's okay to talk to you like this now? Where is your self-respect? But he’s not wrong. Every time you did come back on your knees and beg for him to love you again.

“Hate me all you want. You know I’m right.” He’s behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head like he always has. 

“No,” You pull forward, unlock the door and open it. “Not this time.”

It slams shut behind you.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[edgessunflower]

Can I request The Judgement Day with a s/o who has ADHD?

Absolutely! 😘

Finn

He would always keep things around you that don't overwhelm you in anyway especially if you're fixing to or just had a bout of overstimulation

He always tries to talk calmly but loud enough for you to understand when he can see that you're having a rough day

He will make sure that there are snacks, drinks, a fan, blanket, and a few other things in his locker room when you're not in the audience or ringside watching his match

He always waits to touch you in case you're overwhelmed and not to be touched or talked to in order to calm down but still wanting him with you

He makes sure that if you're in his locker room that one of his friends or someone you trust knows you're there especially if you're having a bad stimulation day

He never yells around or at you when you're overstimulated even when he's frustrated he makes sure to bite his tongue and help you

Damian

He would pay close attention when he gets to know you and picks up on your patterns whether you tell him about the ADHD immediately or after knowing each other for a while

When he knows you're starting to get overstimulated, he will hand you cold water and put a rag on your neck or wrap you in a blanket and have you eat when he sees the nausea look in your eyes and after asking when you ate

He would whisper softly to you when everything around you becomes too much and you start hearing the dull ringing in your ears and will take you outside for air and away from everything happening

He would gently tap you before covering your ears if music was fixing to play loudly or yelling would happen and hold you to him after as long as you wanted to be touched

He will get you different things to help occupy your mind when he is in a match from a weighted blanket, small weights, and a stress ball to a sensory band, a fan, and cube to squeeze in your hand

He would also have extra pairs of clothes in case you needed to change into something more loose and comfortable when you were starting to get overwhelmed

Dominik

He would immediately get you things you liked and he knew that would keep you calm and occupied when he would start seeing the first signs of you being overstimulated

He would always ask to touch you before pulling you in his arms or lap just to whisper in your ear and hold you which helped calm you down sometimes and even have you fall asleep

He will put headphones on your ears to play soothing music when you start getting frustrated from the overstimulation starting and especially if everyone else outside would be yelling

He will always put his hands over your eyes when any type of flashing effect would happen knowing how it hurt your eyes and over your ears when anytime of loud effect or music would blare loudly

He will pack things for you in his bag that will help you when you're overstimulated in any way and always brings you to the locker room where you felt safe

He would write a sign on the door telling everyone else not to knock loudly or yell and put a symbol for ADHD on the door and as soon as everyone found out why they would always be sure not to scare or upset you

Rhea

She would know immediately after noticing your patterns and would pay attention to know what triggered your overstimulation

She would have an ice pack or warm compress ready depending on how overstimulated you were and what your body temperature would be due to it

She would bring you food and drinks from catering before she would have her match to make sure that if you hadn't eaten in a long time that you did

She would make sure that she was allowed to touch you before gently massaging your shoulders and back to relieve the tension out of your body which helps you fall asleep and calm down

She also makes sure that you are not alone when you're in their locker room having Liv or Rey with you since they were the two people that you trusted other than her, your shared three friends, Edge, Solo Sikoa, and the Usos

She would definitely have you lay in her lap when you didn't want to be touched but wanting her to be with you and when you felt okay to be touched she would gently run her fingers through your hair

[avesindustries]

Chapter 8 - The First to Speak

Not empty. Not quiet.

The opposite of quiet.

Pressure—wrong, artificial pressure—flattening in all directions, as if his body were packed into a space meant for nothing, then told to remember what “body” meant. Every cell boiled. Every bone hummed. He wasn’t born. He was compressed into being.

Then the crack— Not sound. Not really. A high, insectile frequency, like a glass scream from inside the skull, slicing clean through the dark. Not heard—felt. Behind the eyes. Under the tongue. Deep in the meat of the jaw.

Colors poured through the wound.

Not visual. Not symbolic. Sensory compression artifacts. Magenta like infection. Green like chemical burn. Shapes with no edges. Images that bled.

The boy—Subject 3—tried to breathe. There was no air. Just static. Taste of copper. Then movement.

Not gravity. Not space. Something deeper collapsed and pulled him sideways through his own sense of self. The pressure folded, turned sharp, became a spasm that wasn’t pain but wasn’t not.

Information surged. Blinding. Meaningless. Too fast to parse. He felt languages open and close like flowers. Equations. Shapes. Screams. All of it raw, like input with no receptor.

He felt everything—but understood nothing.

And just when the overload seemed infinite, it wasn’t.

Then—

Sunlight.

Real. That’s how it felt. Not processed. Not simulated. Not interpreted through a lens of data compression and nervous system latency.

Real.

Warmth bloomed across his skin like he’d always known it—like it had never been lost. His eyes were closed, but he knew the shape of green above him. Leaves. The texture of bark against one cheek. Wind on skin. A hand in his hair. Steady. Parental. Gentle.

“…my brave little explorer…”

He knew the voice. Safety.

Not a feeling. An architecture. A world constructed around the assumption that he could never be harmed.

The memory didn’t belong here. That’s what made it feel cruel. It didn’t rise like a flashback or dream. It was injected. Pulled forward. Lit up and displayed like a sacred relic. Like bait.

The warmth didn’t fade.

It ripped.

One instant, the world was trees and skin and sun. The next: rupture. A hard yank. Like something cold had seized the thread of his spine and reeled him backward, up through the memory’s throat, out of the lungs of comfort and into something dry and high-frequency.

And something broke.

Not just within the moment—but within him. The boy’s response was not a scream. It was a split. A division between the thing he was and the thing he had been promised he might become.

He did not cry. There was no time. No mechanism. But some part of him, the deepest part, made a vow:

This place would never see his joy. Not ever again.

When the tearing ceased, there was no return—only aftermath.

Silence, yes. But not peace.

Subject 3 hovered in that void, not suspended, not falling—just there. A central knot of awareness within an unrendered space. There was no ground beneath him. No body to hold. No breath to catch. But he was present, and presence, here, was everything.

He didn’t know what this was. He only knew what it wasn’t: the forest. The voice. The hand.

And somehow, knowing that was enough to make this feel like a punishment.

Then—flickers.

Points of otherness. Distant. Faint. Not like him, but not unlike him either. Not memories. Others.

Signals without shape. But they pulsed. Glitched. Stabilized.

Twenty-three of them.

The realization struck with a cold weight: he was not alone in this place. Not singular. One of many. One of the taken.

And they were moving—reaching. Not through words, but through instinct. Through want.

A ripple of blue. A flickering cube of shifting surface. A shape like a beast made of oil and teeth. A child of glass, hollow and lit from within.

They were building themselves.

Constructing avatars from the formless digital substrate. Not because they understood how—but because something in the system permitted it. Encouraged it.

The boy—Subject 3—didn’t move. Didn’t sculpt. Not because he lacked the ability, but because he still remembered.

What they had taken. What he had lost.

Let the others make monsters, totems, symbols of self. He would remain unreadable.

He listened.

And in that silence, where selfhood was still malleable, still being chosen—

Someone spoke. A voice, thin and human and unbearably hopeful:

“Hello?”

He didn’t answer.

Not yet.

It echoed.

Not as sound, but as pressure—as displacement within the void. The word rippled through the unstable fabric, drawing attention like a flare dropped in ink. All at once, the others turned toward it, their newborn shapes fracturing slightly under the strain of response.

Not everyone had words yet. Most didn’t.

Some flared brighter. Others dimmed, shrinking back. One collapsed entirely, its avatar folding into itself like wet paper.

The question wasn’t who spoke. The system knew. Subject 6. A girl. Young. Maybe younger than him. The voice carried nothing distinct—no accent, no defiance. Just hope in its most vulnerable form. A single attempt at contact. A thread cast into the dark.

"Hello?" she repeated, softer. A test. As if even she didn’t believe she had spoken the first time.

No answer.

No one knew the rules here. Not even the ones pretending to.

The system didn't intervene. Didn’t punish. It watched.

Subject 3 said nothing. Not because he was afraid—he wasn’t—but because he understood what words did. Even now. Especially now.

Words bound. Invited. Promised.

He watched the others fumble toward expression. Shifting forms, hesitant gestures, a bloom of color like a child’s drawing smeared across static.

And still: "Hello?"

Three times now. Not for dominance. Not to lead. She simply didn’t want to be alone.

He understood that too well.

But silence, for him, was safer.

She waited. Then dimmed. Folded slightly inward. Not retreating, but… conserving. Preparing for the possibility that she would not be heard.

Subject 3 almost spoke.

[monostravel]

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[xiaq]

So kind of an off topic question I suppose, but do you have any trip-packing tips? Your outfits always look so cute and put together, and I guess I’m wondering how you plan and make space for it?

Thank you! I have packing cubes that help to compress clothes and they let me keep things well-organized and save a little space at the same time. I also have a travel clothes steamer that I use if I'm worried a hang-the-blazer-in-the-bathroom-while-I-shower situation won't work, which I find far more useful than trying to iron things. When traveling for work I NEVER check a bag just to be safe. I bring mini skincare products and wear a comfortable but professional outfit, pack the outfit(s) I plan to wear, and get them out and hung up as soon as I arrive to my hotel. Then if I spill something or lose or button etc. I can always use my travel outfit as an emergency fallback plan.

When I travel for fun, this all mostly goes out the window. I check a bag. I bring way to many things. Like, I brought 6 hats for a 4 day beach vacation last year. I make terrible vacation packing choices.

[monosusa]

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