rippings

[jodilin65]

It’s over!!! Yay!!! No nausea. No acid reflux. I can even cough once again because my stomach muscles are no longer so sore. My voice is still a little hoarse but slowly returning. The only thing is that I’m still so drained.

I’ll be able to have coffee when the timer goes off. Couldn’t have it before because coffee is acidic and also because I like it with cream, which is bad for upset stomachs.

I’m now down a total of 4 pounds. In 3 days I ate half of what I eat in a day if even that. It’s a reminder of how incredibly little I have to eat to lose weight and then continue eating to keep it off. Dieting leaves me feeling so drained, and when I’m not sick, hungry as well.

Yesterday’s chicken soup and saltines really hit the spot. It was amazing how such ordinary foods could taste so good and make me feel so much better. Wish I’d had these things sooner.

We also aired the place out and the fresh air was so nice. It happened to be the perfect temperature, was breezy, and there wasn’t much humidity in the air. One thing I miss from the West is having an evaporative cooler.

Tom finally found what was wrong with the dishwasher and if he can’t fix the clogged sensor himself, he can replace the part for about 30 bucks.

I was hoping the redneck would get the hint about the uptick in barking when I asked if everything was OK over there, and he did. I always knew he could control that dog’s barking more than he does at times. I would still rather Happy’s barking than the motorcycles. Fuckers down the street were annoying yesterday.

Back again to work on this entry after taking a break to eat and shower. Played with the rat for a bit and Tom and I even played a round of VR golf.

The honker has company. Looks like a younger couple. Probably his other daughter and her husband. They all arrived in his truck and then they left me with his howling dog. I thought for a minute I heard another dog and thought, Oh fuck, his visitors brought a dog and now they’re both going to go crazy every time they go out.

I think it was just a dog passing by, though. I’m glad he has company since that usually keeps him off the motorcycle as long as he doesn’t let them use his truck for the day.

Really wish he would have the decency to at least close his windows when he leaves. I really don’t want to say anything to anyone unless they cross the line from occasionally annoying to downright maddening because I know what wimps people are when it comes to being complained on and how poorly they tend to handle that. His being kind enough not to rev the motorcycle is one thing but I don’t know if I could get him to close his windows if this or any future dogs of his became an issue or if I could get the park to help me with it either.

Ray is still quiet for the most part. Tom said he did hear the TV a week ago but only when he was outside waiting for Walmart to deliver groceries. He said he looked and none of the living room windows were open so he suspects the door to his lanai may have been open.

Anyway, how did chicken soup become like such a drug? I totally see why it’s recommended for sick people. I still can’t eat normally and I don’t want to push it either but I’m eating more than I have been little by little. I just can’t handle anything rich like dairy. Might be able to have a piece of fish and a sweet potato later with a side of veggies but I don’t know.

I didn’t drown in my dreams but I got a 7-month jail sentence for telling a company online to fuck off. I don’t know what the company was or why I told them to fuck off but it was weird because instead of being sentenced in a courtroom, they posted whatever your sentence was going to be online. I was horrified but hopeful that we could go on the run. If there was any message in this dream, I’m sure it was to remind me that my bed sentence isn’t over. I still have a lot of fatigue even when I’m not sick and have to rest a lot.

I feel bad for those negatively affected by the insane IVF ruling in Alabama. So many people are being put out by these delusional and crazy extremists that no one seems to stop voting for. If you don’t know the difference between potential children and children then you’ve got a serious problem and I’m seriously embarrassed for you too, if you can’t see it.

[lululawrence]

It’s currently 18C in Manchester so it’s definitely warm but not too hot!

18c is 64f. WHAT I WOULDNT FUCJING GIVE. I’m moving to England what the fuck I am not MADE FOR THIS WEATHER FROM HELL WE ARE EXPERIENCING IN OHIO WTF 😭😭😭

[sorryimanon]

A Bit Stir Crazy: Pt 1

Summary: You’re bit of a hot head, so is Bakugou. So what happens when the two of you have to quarantine together for 30 days?

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, sexual tension, inevitable smut, slow burn.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!Reader

Spring finally makes it way to the city of Musutafu, which also means spring break is about to commence. There was only two days left of school before the students endure a week break of relaxation and the possibility of illegal drinking. However, the sudden outbreak of a deadly virus isolates you and your best friend of five years , Katsuki Bakugou, to quarantine together. Tensions are high, and so are both of your sex drive.

<<<

It was your second semester here at Hero University, and so far everything was smooth sailing. You’ve been on top of each of your classes, and most of your classmates are pretty much family by now. Of course, no one can replace Kirishima and Katsuki. Those two have been in your life since the second you stepped into Aziwa’s classroom. 5 years of friendship gave them the role of being your protective brothers. Every guy you’ve dated over the past 3 years had to face the wrath of both Kirishima and Katsuki. In most cases, some would find this possessiveness tedious, but you found it quite comforting knowing they are looking out for you. They were also hard on you and your studies, but only because they care for you. Both of them know about your dream of being a combat medic for pro-heroes, considering your energy restoration quirk, so they were extra tough on you.

However, everything came to a halt the day before spring break. You were currently in Advanced Hero History class when the announcement happened. The teacher, mid lecture, put her textbook down and glanced at the speaker above the door.

“Testing...1 2 3... this thing is working right? AHEM, attention students of Hero University, we’ve been told there’s recently been a sudden outbreak of a virus that’s described as deadly as the plaque!” The speakers voice reverberated across the whole academy. He continued,” We want to make sure that everyone is safe and sound and takes precaution of this virus. The board of admissions at HU have decided to cancel classes and all events at the university tomorrow-”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of the announcement. Everyone in the classroom was busy celebrating and screaming at the top of their lungs. Seems like the issue with the deadly virus evaporated immediately. The thought of getting out early for spring break was more important apparently.

Ms.Leech informed the class to still read the assigned chapters and be ready for a test the first day after break.

You quickly shoved everything your messenger bag and made a beeline to the door. The hallways were far from deserted. Usually classes don’t get out at the same time, but today every student occupied the cramped halls in the building.

“Y/N!” Someone yelled amidst the crowd of loud students. You overtly looked around and spotted the all too familiar spiky red hair and angry looking blonde by the exit. You giggled and maneuvered your way over to them.

“Did you hear the announcement! We get an early spring break!” Kirishima giddily said as you guys all walked side by side on the strip to the apartment complex.

“No shit Sherlock, the announcement was broadcasted across the whole school.” Bakugou responded while rolling his eyes.

“I’m so excited though! That means I have more time to study for my exams!” You jumped with excitement.

“Exams? That’s not for awhile you fucking nerd-” Bakugou was cut off when you grabbed a handful of his hair and aggressively pulled it. “YOU SHITTY WOMAN DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!”

-

Spring break flashed by quickly, leaving only a day left before classes begin again. Thankfully, you seem to have checked everything off your list of things  needed to be accomplished during break. The only thing you had left to do was finish your reading for adv.hero history. 

After an endless hour of reading, you decided to make a hot pot of coffee. When you walked into the kitchen of your shared apartment with Kirishima and Katsuki, you noticed a sticky note hanging from the fridge.

It read, 

Went to go pick up Kirishima from the airport. Get take out plz. The usual

-B.

You smiled and immediately dialed the noodle shop to go. Kirishima used his spring break wisely and went to visit an exotic island with his family. He would FaceTime you and Bakugo occasionally telling funny stories about his time on the island. Although the thought never occurred at the time, you now felt like you wasted your spring break doing boring mundane things. Yes you had Katsuki to accompany you, but he was gone most of the time hanging out with his other friends. Which hurt, granted, but you understand that he has other friends besides you. Needless to say, you didn’t do that much “relaxation” during spring break.

Suddenly, your phone started going off on the countertop. Katsuki’s name flashing on the screen. Confused, you answered his call anyway, not thinking much of it.

“Y/N turn on the news now,” His said with urgency.

You didn’t argue back, knowing something is off, and raced to the living room. The tv was already on, so you just changed the channels till it reached the local news station. With the volume at its maximum, you sat still and listened to the news anchor.

“This just in, Japan has issued a nationwide lockdown due to the spread of the deadly virus. We’ve been told to report for all citizens to please stay in your homes till further notice. And as for anyone who has left the country, you’ll be permitted to stay within the country you’ve flown to and wait till further instructions...”

Oh shit

-

“Hey hey guys don’t worry I’ll be fine. I mean, isn’t this great news! We don’t have to go to our scheduled classes till further notice! Plus, I think I can score my shot with the maid here at my hotel for the time being,” Kirishima gloated with pure positivity.

“Baka. You do realize there’s a fucking virus going around right? Not to mention there’s a possibility you could die from it.” Bakugou said, trying to throw some common sense at Kiri.

“Right right right. Yes I do know...but that’s not going to stop me from getting laid bro.”

That was one of the few FaceTime calls you got from Kiri. After the third, he stopped calling all together. You grew worrisome for your best friend. Even though he doesn’t show it, Bakugou was worried sick not hearing from Kiri either.

It’s been 5 days since the initial lockdown. So far, you and Bakugou have been doing each of your usual routines at home. First thing in the morning you always prepared breakfast and read a few chapters from your current book. Bakugo did laundry duty and did the dishes after breakfast. Afternoon was just recreational duties. Both you and Bakugou would reside in your rooms doing whatever to ease off the bordem. Evenings were mainly for eating dinner and watching movies.

However, after 10 days, you couldn’t keep up with the routine anymore. You skipped breakfast and didn’t dare to open up another book. Your bedroom became a reminder on how much you’ve spent cooped up in there. Not to mention how easily angered you’ve become.

One day you got angry at how Bakugou was chewing his food. Usually it never irritated you, but now the sight just made your blood boil.

“Who the fuck taught you how to eat?” You spat abruptly.

“Says the person who forgets to clean the tub after they shave their whole entire jungle of a body,” he retored back.

A faint gasp left your mouth, uaware that you completely forgot to clean the tub last night after your feminine duties.

“Don’t know who you’re trying to look presentable for. It’s not like you got a boyfriend, not with all that hair, tch.” he hit you with one last punch to the gut.

You got up from where you were sitting at and begrudgingly walked to your bedroom, locking it in the process. Not daring to leave your room, you open your laptop and started a movie without Bakugou.

-

Out of all days, day 15 by far was the worst. The air conditioner unit stopped working, causing y’all to wake up with drenched bodies. Your room especially was humid, since you had no access to a window. The colored coordinated folders from your book bag had to suffice, using them as makeshift fans. Eventually your arms grew tired of constantly doing the same motion repeatedly, so you finally left your room in hopes for the living room to be much cooler.

You stopped immediately when you caught a glimpse of Bakugou slumped on the L-shaped couch. Not to mention, he was shirtless as well. Heat flushed to your cheeks, making you glow a crimson red. You couldn’t stop staring at the view in front of you. Yes you’ve seen Bakugou shirtless before. Countless of times in fact. The boys would practically walk naked around the apartment, not caring about how you’d react. You were deemed as one of the guys.

But this time it triggered something within you. Something you haven’t quite felt in a long time. Maybe it was the quarantine getting to your head, but you couldn’t help but to wonder how it would feel to be flushed against his naked chest right now. Or if he was the type to snake his hands around your waist and pull you even closer. The thought excited you for a second, but quickly realized this was Katsuki you were thinking about.

Katsuki shifted uncomfortably in his spot, eliciting a whimper during the process. The noise alone made your lower stomach tense with a warm sensation. This was creepy. Watching Bakugou shirtless while sleeping would surly make him go ballistic, but the sight of sweat glistening on his abdomen made his abs more prominent. An image of you being underneath him kept flashing in your head like picture show. A crude and undeniably satisfying picture show. More explicit thoughts kept trying to barge into your brain. So, you ran back into your room and planted yourself headfirst on the floor. Hopefully these thoughts will go away by tomorrow

The thoughts never went away. In fact, they were the reason you didn’t get any sleep last night. A half naked Bakugou Katsuki kept interrupting your innocent dreams, filling them in with dirty scenarios involving the both of you. You knew you were fucked once you heard the faint sound of Katsukis footsteps in the kitchen. You’ve been up all night, with no pure dream in mind. There’s no saving your sleep schedule now. Maybe if you apologize to Katsuki for acting irrational the other day, the thoughts would go away.

Defeated, you got up from your comfortable bed and treaded into unsafe territory. There sat Bakugo, criss cross on the kitchen island eating cereal. It wasn’t an unusual sight, he was the embodiment of a fucking cat.

“Morning shit head,” you playfully teased.

Bakugou raised his head and looked expectingly at you.

Even just looking him dead in the eye raised the temperature throughout your body. This is going to be a nightmare.

“You alright Y/N? Your whole face is flushed...” He paused, eyeing you suspiciously. “You’re not sick are you? If so, I’m kicking you out. I don’t wanna fucking die because of you”.

How charming.

You scratched the back of your neck. “Uh no Katsuki, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. My behavior towards you was unacceptable. This whole quarantine thing has really made me-”

“Shut up. No need to apologize for some stupid quarrel we got into. Besides, we’ve gotten into worse arguments right?” 

You nodded your head, agreeing to how truthful his statement was. It was true. 5 years of friendship and not one time have you guys stopped being friends because of a heated argument. 

“Exactly, don’t sweat about it. I’m just glad you finally came out of your hole. I missed my movie buddy.” He gave you a lopsided grin, to which on cue, your stomach tied itself into a knot.

“Great, because I found a movie last night on my queue that I think you’d like” You beamed as you started making yourself a bowl cereal. Katsuki grunted as a response and leaped off from the island. 

You were too busy focusing on making the cereal that you didn’t hear the faint thump of footsteps behind you. Then, almost as some sort of harsh punishment, Katsuki rested his head between your right shoulder blade. He hummed once he felt your body tense up. His lips were merely inches away from your outer ear. Any other movement from him and you wouldn’t hesitate to throw the gallon of milk at his head. But what he said next caused your whole face to turn pallid. 

“Also, its kind of rude to watch someone sleeping don't cha think?” he whispered before throwing his bowl into the sink beside you. 

At that moment you knew, you were completely fucked. 

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [bonus]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–nudity boobies! w.c; 2.2k a/n; why did a week go by so stinkin’ fast? i’m not ready to let go of this couple! that being said, i wouldnt mind posting some drabble babbles about these two or four. im utterly thankful for the love and passion my readers had for this, i had so many kind readers that kept me afloat through all of. i can’t wait to see you in the next one, and i hope you enjoy this little glimpse💕

[final] [bonus] -> masterpost

“You’re not Jimin.” 

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he takes note of the change in air. Chalk it up to the open window or the fact that the rain’s evaporated, but he can’t help the pinch of pain in his heart as he realizes that you’re far, far gone from this world. 

And in your place, is you. Not quite you, but it’s almost scary how easy it is to regard your visage and simple conversation. 

“Jimin,” he repeats, as if he heard you wrong. “As in, Park Jimin? Tiny guy with a big ego?” 

“Yes,” you reply blandly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes are sparkless, flickering between your state of nakedness and his state of nakedness. “I know I wasn’t exactly sober last night, but I distinctly remember telling him he’d be in my bed tonight,” and you regard Jungkook with a sort of pointed look, unable to decipher your situation, “but here you are. Still cupping by boob.” 

Out of reflex, he squeezes his palm. Yep, that’s yours. 

A little part of him also wants to yell to the heavens because you failed to tell him you were hooking up with Park Jimin before all of this. 

Okay technically you didn’t, but the person in front of him did. 

His heart is fresh and stinging like a hot cut on the asphalt. He watches you take in your surroundings, humming when you notice the new clothes on the rack and the way your desk has been rearranged. Jungkook is trying very hard to be patient, after all you’re a stranger and suddenly he feels like he’s the one that’s known you all his life. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

You stretch, testing out your limbs as they pop and crackle at your command. You run a hand through your strawberry-smelling hair, and Jungkook has to grip the sheets to not go by instinct and take you right then and there on this mattress. With a shameless groan of satisfaction, you flop against your bed. Jungkook tries, emphasis on try, to not watch as your breasts bounce and the way your hair flows around your pillow like the angel you are, but he’s rendered smitten. 

“Uh,” boobies boobies boobies. 

You pointedly ignore his piss-poor attempt at coherent conversation, staring up at the ceiling.  “Ho—ly shit,” you curse freely, heaving an exhausted sigh, “I feel so sore.” 

“S-sore?” Great, he found his voice. 

“Yeah, like I’ve been in a coma or something,” but you think nothing of it, summing it up as a crazy dream from alcohol poisoning. You sit up straight, reaching for your phone. It’s not on your desk, but instead you find something far more interesting. 

You reach for your Midnight Blue Citrus candle, frowning at the contents. The wax is nearly burnt to the end, the tips of the wicks charcoal black and frayed. Waving your used candle in Jungkook’s face you blame, “What the fuck, did you use all of this last night? I just bought this like, literally yesterday!” 

His face falls, “What? You’ve had that candle for forever—”

“And why the heck it is so hot in the middle of February?” 

Oh. 

Something dark and sad creeps up Jungkook’s stomach, and he hates to be the one to tell you. February was when it all started, and his life changed with the presence of you. Jungkook tells himself repeatedly that the woman in this room is simultaneously the person he’s loved since winter and the stranger he feels that he’s meant to love with time. Considering everything’s happening all at once understanding it is still hard, but he’ll try for you. 

It breaks his heart to see how you look lost and confused, like a child woken up from a debilitating nightmare. Your lips are bitten red and purple, trying your hardest not to show fear in front of him, a stranger. You’re frustrated as you try your hardest to shut the windows to block the incoming humidity from last night’s rain. 

He says your name, sweet and soft. “It’s almost summer,” he says, his voice calm and collected. 

“So are you telling me, that wasn’t a dream?” 

The two of you stare at each other, unmoving. He tries not to squirm under your gaze, you watch him intently, scraping at the edge of your brain for any ideas. You’re hugging yourself, arms wrapping against your breasts as if you’re trying to hold your body together in a way that alludes to any brokenness you felt over these past two months. 

Neither of you break the silence, and there’s a bang and a crash. Jungkook flinches at the tell-tale signs of the unwanted intruder, the fling of keys across your wooden table and a shrill call of your name. 

“Who’s that?” 

“Probably Hoseok,” Jungkook answers reluctantly, his thumb rubbing between his brows. 

He ignores the extra cool air against his naked bits when he throws the blankets off his lap. Ignores the way you pointedly, shamelessly check him out as he throws on his sweats and a t-shirt. To his dismay he can’t ignore the burn in his cheeks when he knows how you’re scrutinizing him like a one-night stand, trying to recollect any type of concrete thought that would seem plausible enough to explain why you woke up in bed with him. 

Throwing open your bedroom door and leaving you there, he cards a hand through his rogue bedhead to face a frantic Hoseok. 

“It’s so early,” Hoseok warbles to himself, impressed that he’s managed to cop fresh donuts and coffee at nearly 7AM. 

Jungkook sees nothing but an orange blob and Hoseok’s head, bleary and vibrating. Rubbing his eyes he says, “You just realized how early it is? Couldn’t you have stopped by a little later?” 

“No, I couldn’t!” Hoseok’s now invading Jungkook’s personal space, as if you weren’t the bridge between their threads of a relationship, as if he and Hoseok could be friends. “I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt it, Jungkook. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. The air shifted and I felt like I was between two parallel universes—I swear on my bad knee that I’m not going through a drug trip—and I felt the world turning and changing and it was so fuckin’ weird I had to come here as soon as Dunkin’ opened. Didn’t you feel it too?” 

���Yeah,” Jungkook exhales, not bothering to hide the disappointment. He smiles sadly, “it’s definitely not her.” 

Hoseok’s expression and excitement over the world’s converging falters, and he pulls Jungkook into a hug. They’re not particularly close and Hoseok’s smaller in size compared to Jungkook, but for those five seconds he feels comforted as he hugs him back. 

“Why don’t you go home and chill out, I don’t mind explaining things to her,” Hoseok offers, “and I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook replies, voice slow, “that sounds like a good idea, actually.” 

The situation is royally messed up, and he hates that he can’t blame it on anyone. Jungkook is a practical man, and he knows that he has no use when Hoseok is here with donuts and coffee. More importantly, there is no use torturing himself by letting his heart break in the presence of  you. 

“What is this, a party?” Taehyung’s bare feet smack against the hardwood, and he plops himself in the chair next to Hoseok, “did you get me coffee this time?” 

The two of them bicker good-naturedly, with Hoseok explaining a little kindness goes a long way and Taehyung muttering that kindness doesn’t happen without caffeine. Jungkook excuses himself, feeling very much out of place as he moves to your bedroom to pack his things. 

“You’re leaving?” you’re standing in the middle of your bedroom, now dressed in a long t-shirt and your hair tied clean and away from your face. You look pretty. 

“Yeah,” he says shortly, stuffing his jeans in his bag and making sure all traces of him are gone from your bedroom. “Need to sort things out,” he excuses, and while you may not buy it, he really does. He feels heartbroken, angry at the world. Maybe he could visit Yoongi today and get a demo in, put all this pent-up emotion to good use. “But Hoseok brought you breakfast, he’s a good friend, he’ll explain everything.” 

“But I don’t know Hoseok,” you mumble, picking at the hem of your band shirt. You’re pouting, stubborn. 

“But you don’t know me either,” Jungkook retorts, not unkindly, but not exactly gentle. “I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

There’s a hard rip at his zipper, putting in a little too much force as he seals away all his things into a compact backpack. Heck, he even went as far as to take back the hoodie he lent you last month, making sure the fabric is crisp and folded so he can stow it away from your curious eyes. He shoves on his denim jacket from last night, still lingering with the scents of sand and saltwater. It makes him sombre, and the selfish part of him wishes to bottle up that scent and tuck it away forever. 

“You’re wrong,” you blurt when he moves toward the door. His hand lingers over the knob, “I do know you.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, taking in your honest expression, “At Jimin’s job, maybe? I did a couple interviews in the beginning of February. Maybe we passed each other while you had lunch with him.” 

“No. You sang to me, talked to me, as much as you could up until this moment.” 

He remembers the stories you fed to him last night under the stars, shameless and full of love as you explained to him of his other self. The life where he’s a renowned singer, a Golden Boy, one of the most revered in his industry. A life he could only dream of, yet somewhere out there he’s living it in another body making that dream come true. 

Thoughts are running through his head, memories that aren’t his own. He could only imagine what you must’ve gone through, recovering in a hospital bed for two months, unable to move but actively aware of the pain and anguish. How confused you must’ve been, aching to figure out what the hell is going on, acutely aware of the voices constantly chattering about your well-being. 

One of those voices being Jeon Jungkook, who was probably taking care of you night and day. 

His head is starting to throb, and he feels like he’s five seconds away from spiraling. 

“I’d… I’d feel more comfortable around you, Jungkook,” you confess, reaching for his hand, “but if you need to, you can go,” you bite your lip, folding in on yourself once more, “if it hurts too much to be around me right now.” 

He gladly takes your hand, rubbing his thumb between your palm. The familiar sparks he feels when he holds it return, but tamps it down for the sake of your vulnerability. It’s not your fault you’re in this situation. “No… I’m just gonna go home for a bit, clear my schedule,” he gives you a little smile, and he inflates a bit when you give him one of your own. “I’ll come back for you after breakfast.”

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” 

You pull him into an unexpected hug, suddenly fearing he may never come back. 

“I always wondered what the man looked like behind the voice,” and you’re suddenly melting, feeling a sense of familiarity as you let your heart run faster than your brain when you let him hold you in his arms. He smells just like him, too. 

His embrace is tight, and his arms fit in all the little curves and spots that make you feel warm and safe. “And am I living up to your expectations?” it’s a half-joke, after all the both of you are  going simply by feeling and there’s no way in hell would he even attempt to compare himself to well, himself. 

You pull away to look at him, really look at him. Honest, clear eyes. Jungkook thinks he sees the world in your gaze. “Only if you eat a donut before you go,” you reply with a shy smile. 

At your defiant mention of food he can’t help but grin like a maniac, letting you tug him back out to sit at the counter with him and have breakfast. Like he said before, he can’t wait to fall in love all over again. 

[alloveroliver]

Mousse x Alice (MC) “Are You That Type of Girl?”

Fluff; Mousse Atlas

A Valentines Day Kiss Event: Bonus-Bunch Winner!

WC: 1,995 Prompt: Kiss in the rain.

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡  ♥ ୨♡୧ ♥  ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥

Mousse spots Alice ducking into the cafe across the street. The sprinkles of rain stain the dull concrete filling the air with the scent of grass and wet dirt. He marvels for a moment how cute she looks even with water messing up her carefully crafted curls. Smiling to himself, he takes one last swig of his coffee. The coins chime on the wooden table, the payment he leaves for the bill, while he darts away from the cover of the restaurant.

He pulls up his shirt collar and hides from the sprinkles as much as he can while crossing the narrow street. Alice runs her fingers through her moist hair, trying to tame the frizz, and sets down her large shopping bags at an open table. The patio wasn’t packed, but there were a few people still out enjoying their morning brunch.

“Hello there, Alice. Got caught up in the rain I see?” Mousse beams a kind smile at her, tucking his shirt collar back down under cover of the patio’s plastic awning.

“Oh! Hello!” Alice spins around to see him making the bottom of her dress form a bell shape. “I did, unfortunately. I was hopeful I could make it back to the headquarters before it really started to pour.”

“It isn’t pouring yet. Just a few sprinkles, but you never know when the sky will open up.” He stands next to the empty chair and watches her take a seat.

“True, but the bags I’m carrying seem to be getting heavier by the minute.” Her laughs chimes like a bell.

“May I join you?” He gestures to the chair.

“Oh, sure!”

“I figure if we wait together maybe time will go by quicker.” Mousse states, scooting his chair closer to the table.

“Talking to someone seems to have that effect, huh?” She glows, even after being misted with the rain.

“It does, especially with you I find.” He smirks, wiping off the droplets on his sleeve.

The rain falls heavier, then lighter in waves as they sit and chat. Alice pulls out a small notebook she purchased from a nearby vendor and examines it.

“I was worried some of my things may be getting ruined from the water.” She uses an available napkin at the table and wipes down the small diary.

“That is a legitimate concern. Did you purchase anything that you could cover your other items in?”

Alice pauses for a moment, tapping her finger to her lips. “Oh! I did! I found a thick peacoat just around the corner.” She digs through her other large bag and begins to arrange things on the table. “I can take things out that may soil and wrap them in my coat while I walk back. Then the coat can simply be washed.”

“That’s a great idea. You’re so clever.” His mint eyes rest on her smile.

“Well, it was your idea. I just went with it.”

“True. However, you took my words to heart. Only a wise person would listen to others the way you do. I always feel like you really hear me when I speak.”

Alice stopped rolling items in the coat and cut her eyes up to him. “Of course I hear you.”

“I don’t think you know how well you hear me though. Most people pretend to listen and respond, but you internalize my words and respond with profundity.” His voice is soft as it floats over to Alice’s ears.

“I see.” She bites her lip while going back to her task. “Well, I’m always willing to talk with you.” He watches her hands fumble with the coat for a moment before someone can be heard clearing their throat next to them. Mousse jerks his gaze away from Alice, while Alice peers wide-eyed at the interloper. The women holds her hand on her hip, wearing a teal apron and a slight frown.

“You can’t sit out here without buying something. This cafe is private property.” The employee speaks in an annoyed tone.

“Can I get a pot of green tea for us to split then?” Mousse takes out his wallet and removes a coin to hand to the worker. 

She takes the payment and drops the coin into her front pocket. “Anything else? We have a lunch menu on now.” She adds. Mousse looks over at Alice and perks up his brows with an unspoken question. “Oh no, I’m not hungry. Thank you.” She bows her head sincerely. The waitress nods and walks back into the establishment. “Hogwash.” Mousse whispers with a smirk. “I’m sorry?” She cocks a brow at him, unable to wipe the smile off her face. “You’re always hungry.” “Maybe…” She chuckles. “I’m hoping the rain will stop soon and I can rush home at a moments notice.” “I can help carry your bags for you.” “You don’t have to do that. It’s not that far of a walk from here.” Alice plays with a strand of her hair, twisting it around her fingers. “It’s no trouble. You said the bags were heavy so let me help you take a load off.” “Okay… If you insist.” He catches her smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. The waitress returns with a piping hot teapot along with two teacups, cream, and cubes of sugar. “Let me know if you two need anything else.” The woman nods to Mousse and retreats back inside. Alice places the large coat wrapping all her valuables back into the larger shopping bag. She rearranges other items she purchased and turns her attention back to Mousse. “How many sugars do you like?” Mousse asks, snapping the mini tongs used for holding the cubes of sugar. “One or two? Or more, I really won't judge if you like it sweet.” “Um, three?” She bashfully states, moving her empty teacup towards the tongs. The minutes pass while they chat. The pot of tea slowly empties as they both drink their fair share of the warm liquid. With the rain finally letting up, the sun peeks through the clouds, spilling rays of gold over the wet ground. Soon the awning they sit under becomes humid. The warm sun evaporates the rain giving the plastic walls a coat of fog. “I think now is our chance.” Mousse takes one last swig of his teacup and stands to his feet. “I think you’re right.” Alice joins him, gathering half her bags in her hands while Mousse gathers the other half in his. They take off at a quick pace towards the bridge to the black army barracks while the thick air taints their skin in a wet sheen. “Thank you for the tea, Mousse.” Alice tries to set a quick pace. “Anytime. I really enjoy my time with you.” He relaxes his face and lets the happiness in his heart radiate through his body. “I also… enjoy spending time with you. It’s very fortunate we keep running into each other like this.” She laughs, scratching the back of her neck. “It is. I hope next time it can be a planned date.” “Date?” Alice gulps, slowing her pace to a normal stride. Mousse copies her as not to surpass her as they walk over the bridge. “Would you like to go on a date with me? In two days time, there is a monthly market full of foods and pop up restaurants. We could sample some of their cuisines and eventually have dinner at our favorite one.” His hands tighten on the bags he carries, but he keeps a confident smile on his face. “I think-” The sky grows darker while small droplets begin to fall on their cheeks. “I’d love to.” “Great! I will pick you up then.” His heart rate speeds up along with the falling rain that splashes the ground around them. “That could be date number two.” “Two?” She shouts. “When was the first one?” She uses her shoulder to nudge his arm while pink stains her wet cheeks. “Just now, if you wish to call it that.” Alice presses her lips together in a thin line trying to hide her smile. “Okay, then It’s a date- was. Then it was a date.” Their strides slow down further, unconcerned for the rain beginning to fall in droves around them. Mousse’s fingers brush against the back of her knuckles as they walk. Alice looks up at him expectantly and splays her fingers open for him. Sliding his warm hand against her cold one, their fingers weave together perfectly. In a comfortable silence, they finally make it to the headquarters courtyard hand in hand. Mousse drops her bags on the steps to the front doors, and Alice does the same. “Well, thank you for that. I really appreciate it. And, your genius idea to wrap the items in the coat.” Alice faces him, not letting their hands part. “You are very welcome.” His voice is quieter than before. Mousse stands tall, watching the falling rain drip off the ends of her hair. “Why are you looking at me like that,” She pushes her hair behind her ear and hits the tip of her shoe on the ground. “Because I have a question.” He swallows thickly trying to keep his face relaxed. “Yes? Go ahead and ask.” A moment stretches between them as the rain patters on the ground set a calming rhythm. Mousse shifts his weight to the opposing leg, gripping her hand tighter. “Are you the kind of girl to kiss on the first date?” He smiles playfully and squeezes her hand. Alice’s cheeks deepen shades of red while her whole body warms a few degrees. She gazes into his crystal clear jade eyes and takes the smallest step towards him. He moves closer as well, like a magnet drawn to another, and cups her cheek in his hand. “Then, Alice, May I give you a farewell kiss?” His wet nose brushes hers while droplets roll off his face.   She nods a few times before breathing out an affirmation “Yes.” Their lips meet right as a roll of thunder booms in the troposphere. Inciting warmth between them, Mousse kisses her without bounds. His hands moves over every part of her which was appropriate, fueled by his simple desire to know her. What would she feel like in his arms after a long strenuous day? Would Alice want him even when his mood proved foul and frigid? Alice would be the one to save him from his monotonous life, Mousse was sure of it. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and she invited him in at once. With her in his arms, the stress of the week melted away revealing his true self, playful and silly. She allowed his tongue to roam past her lips with infinite curiosity. Mousse took her farther into his arms, slowly deepening the kiss. Emotions bubble up in his chest, feelings that he’d long since forgot he could feel. The quickened pace of his heart was addicting, she was addicting. Her powerful aurora intoxicated him. The rain that was once a hindrance was forgotten. Their soaked state became the new normal while they let go of their inhibitions. Her fingers tangled in his dripping hair and a content sigh past his lips. His heart was full, love and yearning splashed the walls of his mind, and he couldn’t tell which was stronger. It was almost too perfect how they fit together, like puzzle pieces coming together flawlessly. The last kisses were dangerously feverish. The chill that the rain dared to coax him with was kept at bay from her closeness alone. He continued his gentle touch, moving down her back holding her tight in an embrace he prayed would never cease. .

.

.

Thank you to everyone that voted for Mousse Atlas in the kiss event!!! 

I hope you enjoyed this fic, thank you for reading!

𝔸𝕤𝕙 - 𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣

[humidifiermentorblog-blog]

Air Purifier vs Dehumidifier: Which Is Right For You?

A question we receive frequently from our readers is: "I'm comparing an air purifier vs dehumidifier. Which should I get?" Air purifiers and dehumidifiers are both excellent options for anyone who suffers with asthma, allergies, dust sensitivities, and other such disorders. An air purifier circulates air through a filter, trapping dust and dirt and other bothersome contaminants. A dehumidifier removes humidity from the air and, along with it, mold and irritants that grow and spread in moist environments.Let's cut to the chase: air purifier vs dehumidifier, which is better? Both an air purifier and dehumidifier are useful for creating cleaner, fresher air inside your home or office, but understanding their basic differences can help you decide on the best choice for your needs. In some cases, you might determine that both an air purifier and a dehumidifier are needed for improved air quality and better breathing!

Air Purifier vs. Dehumidifier: for Mold

Many homeowners fail to realize that mold is present in the air, and not just behind walls or clinging to the shower curtain! A certain amount of mold is harmless to humans, as its spores are filtered through the lungs as you breathe.However, excessive mold in the air can lead to breathing difficulties in some people and especially those who are allergic to mold in particular, and an overly humid environment might allow or encourage mold to grow on drywall, along wood framework, underneath carpet padding, and elsewhere.Air purifiers will trap and lock some mold from the air, but a dehumidifier is a better choice for removing mold from your home or office. Since mold needs moisture to thrive, pulling excess humidity from the air removes mold spores and, at the same time, makes an environment somewhat inhospitable for future mold growth.Keeping the air dry will then result in easier breathing and less chance of mold developing along a room’s walls, underneath your carpets, and on other such surfaces.

Air Purifier vs. Dehumidifier: for Air Quality

While a dehumidifier will remove some airborne contaminants clinging to excess humidity in the air, an air purifier is designed specifically to improve a room’s air quality. An air purifier typically has a fan or pump that pulls air across or through a filter and then blows that air out the other side, circulating it throughout the room.An air purifier’s filter will trap and hold many bothersome contaminants, including:​Dust​Smoke​Fumes​Residual cigarette ash​Pollen​Pet hair and dander​Human hair and skin cells​Bacteria​Some virusesThe number of contaminants removed by an air purifier will depend on the quality and type of filter you choose. A high-quality filter will trap microscopic irritants, while some air purifiers will use UV light to kill airborne bacteria and germs.

To decide if you need an air purifier vs. a dehumidifier for improved air quality, consider the contaminants in the air around you. If you’re in a very humid environment or your home has poor ventilation, chances are there is excessive mold in the air. In that case, you might need a dehumidifier for easier breathing. Removing trapped humidity and moisture will mean cleaner, fresh air that is free of that mold and other similar irritants.However, if the air around you seems dusty or dry, if you have pets or a smoker in the home, or if you work in an office near a busy highway or production facilities, an air purifier is probably the best choice. An air purifier will remove dust created by nearby manufacturing companies or that gets kicked up by traffic, as well as residual smoke and whatever a pet might shed!

Air Purifier vs. Dehumidifier: for Allergies

To decide between an air purifier vs. a dehumidifier for allergies, first consider your allergies themselves! Some people are allergic to mold, as said, so that a dehumidifier is the best choice for better breathing and less irritation for your skin. A dehumidifier also removes dust mites and mildew, which can also alleviate your allergies.Other people, however, are allergic to dust, pollen, pet dander, and the chemicals used in perfumes, paints, coatings, and other such materials. These irritants also tend to trigger asthma attacks, coughing fits, and the like.A strong air purifier with a high-quality filter will remove these bothersome contaminants from the air, making it an excellent choice for those with allergies and asthma. An air purifier is also recommended for those who have skin sensitivities and allergies, trapping and locking bothersome airborne debris in a filter so that fewer irritants land on your skin throughout the day!

Air Purifier vs. Dehumidifier: for Humidity

A high-quality dehumidifier is the best choice for removing trapped humidity in the air, and for creating a more comfortable environment in tropical areas or during summer months when humidity levels increase. A strong dehumidifier can also remove excess moisture created by steam and boiling water, something to consider for restaurant owners or even homeowners who tend to boil lots of water on the stovetop!Some dehumidifiers also work with a refrigerant unit so that air is cooled while humidity is removed. This added cooling can create a more comfortable atmosphere in summer months or in stuffy, overly warm homes with poor ventilation. 

​Choosing the Right Air Purifier

Now that you know a bit more about the differences and uses of an air purifier vs. a dehumidifier, you might consider some vital tips on choosing the right air purifier for your home. While you might have a certain budget for your air purifier, remember that you don’t want to shop based on cost alone! Consider these factors when opting for a high-quality air purifier:​Room SizeAn air purifier can only circulate and clean so much air, based on its size and filter capacity. Be sure you choose a purifier with the right capacity for the size of the room in which you’ll place it.​Noise LevelMost, if not all, air purifiers will make some noise, but for bedrooms, living rooms, or your office, be sure to choose a model that is advertised as being “whisper quiet” or that has a noise-muffling feature.​Electricity CostsIf you plan on using the air purifier for an extended time throughout the day, check it’s needed volts and amps or wattage. The higher the watts used, the more you’ll pay to run that air purifier!​Type of FilterChoosing the best type of filter for your new air purifier can be confusing, so note some essential features of the most common filtration systems on the market today:​HEPA filters are designed to remove the smallest airborne particles, making them an excellent choice for those with allergies or asthma. The one drawback to HEPA filters is that they may not neutralize odors or kill airborne viruses.​UV lamps are effective against living organisms, such as germs and bacteria. Some commercial kitchens even use UV lights to kill contaminants on countertops and other surfaces!​Carbon filters trap and remove fumes, smoke, and other pair articles that might get through a HEPA filter. Carbon filters are also most effective at eliminating odors.When choosing a filter type for your new air purifier, note its expected lifespan and replacement costs as well as the contaminants it will trap and eliminate.

​Choosing the Right Dehumidifier

As with an air purifier, it’s vital that you take some time to shop and compare dehumidifiers and then choose a model that will work for your needs in particular, rather than simply buying a cheap piece of equipment that isn’t effective for your home or office. You also want to avoid simply choosing the most expensive model, assuming that it will work better somehow.​Types of Dehumidifiers​A refrigerative dehumidifier run the air it circulates around a refrigerated coil, cooling it. Since moisture doesn’t evaporate well in warmer temperatures, that cooled air will be less humid as it circulates around the room.​Heat pumps pull warm air from a room and replace it with cooler air. This natural circulation will keep the air inside a space less humid overall.​Ionic membrane dehumidifiers use a type of pump that removes humidity at the molecular level. These specialty dehumidifiers are typically used in warehouses, production facilities, and industrial settings.​SizeAs with an air purifier, a dehumidifier can only circulate so much air, based on its own size, strength of its fan, and the like. Be sure you choose an appropriately sized model for your office, living room, or your entire house, as needed.​Water CollectionHumidity removed from the air is then collected and drained from the dehumidifier. Note the type of drain when choosing a dehumidifier model; some residential models will have a tank or pan that needs emptying on a regular basis. Check the size of this pan and consider how often it would need emptying.Some dehumidifiers will have a drain hose attached to the unit; note if you can hook that hose to a nearby sink. Otherwise, these models are more appropriate for basements, warehouses, or other rooms with concrete floors and a built-in drain.

What if you need both an air conditioner and dehumidifier?

You may have just read this article and realized that you actually need both of these appliances! After all, they provide different benefits even if they somewhat overlap.Thankfully, there are new portable air conditioner dehumidifier combo devices on the market now to solve for exactly this problem. They are ideal if you cannot (or choose not) to install a permanent, ducted air conditioning unit in your home. They are powerful enough to cool and dehumidify very large rooms, and could be the perfect fit for you. Just click here to read our entire review of these incredible inventions. Read the full article

[caffeinated-muse]

To Be of Two Worlds

Chapter: 1

Word count: 1971

It was almost 11:30 as I checked my phone for the fifth time in the past two minutes. God, Hank was an insufferable old coot who apparently can't be bothered to at least text me. It doesn't even have to be case related by this point, just a "hello I'm not drunk off my ass" or even an update on his damn dog. Hell, I can almost believe that I care more for his dog than the man himself. But I know that'd be a lie, Hank has been there for me for a long time an old family friend doesn't even come close to how close we were before the accident. I did all I could think of to help him but nothing I tried seemed to do much good. Guess I was too closely tied to the before to help him deal with everything.

"LaChance, he still ain't here yet?" One of the other officers at the scene had tapped me on the shoulder.

"No, not even a text back. He'll show up on his own time however inconvenient it is for us." I sighed and pulled my phone out again. Shooting off another text.

"God dammit Hank, I'm tired of waiting for you to show up or even respond. I know you've seen these and yet no response. If you and your scruffy beard aren't here in five min I'm going in without you."

Shortly after hitting send the familiar dancing orbs that meant they were typing showed up. Just as soon as the orbs had appeared they were gone and I was left with this: 'Sorry for taking so long Lieutenant LaChance. It took me a while to find Lieutenant Anderson. I am replying for him as he is driving we will meet soon.'

"Shit, Fowler wasn't pulling my leg when he said that earlier." Staring at my screen in disbelief this was going to be a trip. 

Hanks car pulled up on the other side of street with a honking of its horn. His park job was a tiny bit off, he must've been at a bar. My suspicions were confirmed when he stepped out, his stride lacking the usual I'm-too-good-to-be-here vibe. Another figure got out the passenger side of the vehicle. Hank grunted a greeting at me.

"I take it this interrupted a fabulous night of booze and comatose napping?" This received a slight glare.

"Damn straight kid, if plastic here hadn't found me I would not be here. Let's just get this over with." 

"As you say all mighty Hank Anderson your word is god." With a mock bow I gestured for him to lead the way. "I take it you're the one who sent that text earlier:" I stated matter of factly.

"That is correct Lieutenant LaChance. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by Cyberlife." He was tall, probably had a full foot on me, seeing as I've never been very tall. Those brown eyes of his held something in them. Something I wasn't used to seeing in androids but there would be more time to puzzle him out later. After all, there was a homicide to solve.

The air inside the house hung heavy. It reminded me of roadkill left on the side of a road in the oppressive hot and sticky feeling of an overly humid summers day. Laid over that was a certain sourness almost like that of spoiled milk, curdling the air growing stronger the closer you got to the body slumped against the wall. The room itself was a nightmare furniture either toppled or destroyed, blood pools and even a pretty picture painted on the wall above our not so endearing cadaver. I am alive, it said a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth while a giggle clawed at my throat. And I, like the giddy fool I am gave in. This earned a few uneasy looks from the few officers around, Hank however was less than pleased with this outburst.

"Ember you blasted idiot get over here!" He hissed at me, Connor didn't seem to care he was simply taking in everything there was to see I guess. I walked away from hank toward some red substance spread out on a table.

"Naw Hank, there's drugs over here, I like drugs," I waved to Connor. "Connor darling be a dear come look at the drugs, I'm pretty sure it's Red Ice but I'll consult the walking database before confirming."

He walked over to me, side stepping around a fallen chair he kneeled next to me. As he stared at the pile of red crystals the led blinked a shade of yellow, I guess this is what analysis was, just staring at stuff. "Lieutenant LaChance is correct this is Red Ice." It was so matter of fact, it held almost no emotion but that was to be expected, he was an android after all. Connor stood up and went over the knife while I waddled over to Hank and the body.

"Don't be so smug Ember, come have a look at this I'm going to check out the kitchen." Hank stood slowly. "Less bending over in there." 

"Whatever you say pops." I chimed.

"Ugh, Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" Hank's voice held a tone of disgust. 

I stood up and walked up to them by the knife. "Hank please tell me the android licked the evidence." 

"I'm analyzing the blood. I can check samples in real time. I'm sorry I should have warned you." Connor stated.

"Ok, just don't put anymore evidence in your mouth, got it?" Hank waved his hand around gesturing to as much of the crime scene as he could.

"Oh my god, he licked the evidence," at this point I couldn't contain myself and started to laugh. Which prompted Hank to shove me out of the house and order an officer to not let me back in til I had calmed down. 

Needless to say it took several minutes for me to calm down. It had been so long since there was a really good honest to god homicide and to top it off we got paired with an android. An android who analyzes evidence by licking it. Oh, this would not be a dull case. I decided to try and make myself useful by examining the outside. 

It was a bit of dump to be honest. Garbage piled up on the front porch, the front lawn dying from neglect. Nothing too interesting out front, so I picked my way to the back. It was sadly even less interesting out there. Only thing of note was that the type of dirt back here was special, I remembered it as the kind that holds an impression for several weeks. So if you walked out there, everyone would know until you either waited the several weeks or purposefully raked it smooth. This was extremely boring so I poked my head in through the back door.

"Hank, I've taken my chill pills can I come back in?" He grunted with a nod and I hopped back in. It appeared that Connor was in the middle of wrapping up his theory on how the murder happened.

"I'm sorry for interrupting go on Connor." I squeaked clearly interested.

"The android stabbed the victim." He continued.

"So the android was trying to defend itself, right?" I asked trying to get a mental image of what happened.

Connor nodded. "The victim then fled to the living room."

"He tried to get away from the android." Hank added. "That makes sense.

"The android then murdered the victim with the knife."

Hank raised an eyebrow slightly. "Your theory isn't totally ridiculous, but it doesn't answer where the android is right now."

"It was damaged by the bat and lost some thirium, the fluid that powers androids biocomponents." Connor explained. "It evaporates after a couple of hours and becomes invisible to the naked eye."

"Let me guess you can still see it can't you." Connor nodded at my statement.

"Well from my poking around in the dirt out back there's no way android murderer could've left the back way, so it's still here somewhere. That means you get to follow the splotchy thirium road, have fun." Hank opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "Dirt out there is like wet cement, you step in it you leave a trace visible for several weeks unless you go out and erase it, also witnesses ruled out anyone leaving by the front door so only option left is its hiding out here."

Hank sighed in annoyance, "Okay but then why haven't we found the damn bucket of bolts yet? We've only what had a dozen or so men out here looking and poking at stuff."

"Connor!" I yelled and he poked his head into the living room from the kitchen.

"Check if there's an attic, I bet you a whole cheesecake it's in the attic." With a curt nod our friendly resident android was off on his hunt for that thirium trail while the old man and myself made our way to the kitchen away from the body.

"Ember of all the things why a cheesecake? You know those aren't good for you." He sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Neither is all that alcohol you drink but do you see me complaining about that?"

"All the fuckin time kid, half of your damn texts are about it. Wish you'd get off my case."

"Alright ya got me there pops, cheesecake is less damaging to my liver than all that booze you force into your body." There was a crash from the attic, I jumped a bit. "Connor what the hell is going on up there?"

"It's here Lieutenant!" Was what we got in response from the dark spooky attic. Hank then took charge and ordered everyone to get in there to extract the robomurderer. Once they had the android down Connor hopped out of the attic.

"Thank you for the tip Lieutenant."

"Hol' up there my dude, first off you don't need to thank me for shit, it's part of my job to contribute to all this murder solving. Secondly, let's get out of here. I may be a sucker for a nasty crime scene but the smell does get old." 

Outside the rain had let up a bit and aside from the mild squabbling of the officers shoving the android into the back of the transport vehicle it was quiet.

"So, I was thinking, now that that's over it's introduction time. Our initial meeting was a bit rushed after all. My name is Ember LaChance, lieutenant with the DPD and long time partner of grumpy guts Hank Anderson." I extended my hand toward Connor.

"As you know my name is Connor I am the android sent by Cyberlife. I am here to help resolve this issue of deviancy among lower level androids." He took my hand and we shared a curt handshake.

"It's a pleasure Connor, see you back at the station." I turned toward my damp motorcycle and shook off my helmet before pulling my hair back and putting it on.

"Lieu-Ember why don't you ride with Hank?" Connor asked.

"It's a simple reason really, I don't always like to listen to heavy metal on full blast. But he always hits me with this 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole' bullshit." I flipped down the eye shield on my helmet. "I'm my own driver, that means its my music and no shotgun rider to keep their cakehole shut." With that I started up my bike and flashing Hank a quick wave sped off through the rain toward the station nothing but the rumbling of my bike filling my ears.

[harrietjinjur]

This was originally posted on October 31st, 1997, so some of these things may be consider dated on what I thought was scary back then!

Howdy-ho, webringhborerinos! I’m Harriet Jinjur, welcoming you to a special DEADline of the Moment! (CRYPTKEEPER LAUGH)

Sorry. Got Tales from the Crypt on my mind. Finally got a chance to watch some thanks to some VHS tapes I got recently from the post, but I’m not talking about that during my first Halloween HEADline. (I’ll stop now.)

No. Instead, let me tell you the tale straight from the horrors of Aloysius Spinks! Don’t worry, all you Spinks addicts. I’m not going to make fun of him on here again, but that doesn’t mean I’ll bring some comments into his SCARY STORY! Yep. You heard that right. Next you’ll be thinking, he told me near a campfire or something. No, it’s much more terrifying than that. He told it to me INNNN…A HOSPITAL AFTER WE WERE INJURED!

{imitates thunderbolts despite nobody can hear me)

Now, how we got to this mess is a different story entirely and much more hard-to-believe than what I’m about to tell you. So, let me just cut to the chase and tell to you deadheads!

The year was 1990. The Hubble Space Telescope just launched into space, FOX and Disney started a cold war full of Saturday Mornings, and a young boy visited Egypt to discover a quite chilling sight.

The boy travelled with his parents a lot to exotic places, promoting their family’s rich lineage of bottled water. Since they went from place to place, the boy never had any friends to stay in touch with. He wasn’t miserable. He was just lonely. And I know the difference between miserable and lonely. One is when you feel like nobody’s sticking up for you in this cruel world and the other is just the feeling of being alone.

However, things changed when the family arrived in Egypt, home to one of the great wonders of the world: warm humidity. Throughout the ages, while many came and went and civilizations were built and destroyed, the feeling of scorching heat always made its mark! So, it was perfect for selling bottled water.

But not just any bottled water. No, this was made in a mystical spring where the Garden of Eden used to be, before it became a war-torn third-world country. This spring only opened to this family and required annual life-threatening journeys to get a fresh shipment to share to the world. It was the one activity the boy didn’t look forward to doing.

And the other activity he didn’t look forward…was when the inevitable happened. As if the sun decided to humanity for peeing in its oceans, all the water disappeared. No spillage, nobody even drank it. It just…VANISHED!

The modern Egyptians (which are different than ancient Egyptians, since they use cars and letters to form words) were devastated and nearly collapsed from the lack of hydration. It went on for weeks and weeks, many perished and some remain as mummy-like people, limping for even the most convincing mirage.

But the boy’s family isn’t like other families. While they do care about everybody’s thirst, they also care about strict scheduling that was planned from months in advance. So, they packed up and decided to move to Siberia, but not the young boy. No, not Walter, which is his name now because…anonymity’s a bitch. So, once his parents were fast-asleep in their tent, the boy snuck out to search for the source of their drought.

Now, you might be thinking, “Isn’t the Earth made of water?” Well, yeah, and to answer your next question, they weren’t effected in the bottled water evaporation, but the thing you have to remember is that those were MODERN Egyptians. They knew that drinking from the Earth would be a death sentence with its plankton and dead bugs. They would’ve used spells to purify it, but those who disturbed it would still make their presence known to them…and it takes too much time for them. They were pretty picky.

And soon, the boy would be face-to-face with something fantastical, mystical, and looking for a cheap laugh. Walter discovered multiple times before he went to sleep that the sound of running water came to him and then, a big slurp silenced it until the next night. Only he could hear it and nobody would believe him when he told his tale. So, he decided to go looking for the sound and where that slurping came from in order to stop it!

He ran to where the slurping was at its loudest and stopped in shock to discover that it wasn’t animal, mineral, or vegetable that was drinking it (Al’s words, not mine), but UNKNOWN! Just UNKNOWN! Aloysius didn’t give me a description or how big it was, but it was just UNKNOWN! However, he did provide me an explanation…which didn’t help matters to me, but I’m sure you’ll pick something up.

OK, so there’s these four elements: water, fire, air, and earth, and they went to a bar. They were the only four at the bar and they always order the same thing, which is annoying because the bar’s menu happens to be pretty diverse and they also sell chips and tater tots. And then one night, a fifth element came barging in and he was screaming like Chris Tucker, “YO! YOU OLDASS ELEMENTS BETTER MOVE OUTTA MY WAY! THIS IS MY TURF NOW!” And then water, who sounds like if Bruce Willis drowned Kevin Costner, says, “Nuh-huh. This bar is for everybody. All four of us!” And then, this huge fight happened and it’s like friends were against friends. Air was blowing on Fire, Earth was shaking Fifth Element, and Water wet himself because deep down, he only acts tough ever since he was a…

OK. This wasn’t how Al told me, but face it, my way sounds more entertaining to you.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. So, Walter came face-to-face with UNKNOWN as it sipped the water with its tentacles, which Aloysius was clear about, but not clear on the other…SIDETRACKED AGAIN! So, UNKNOWN spoke in this weird garbled language as if it was gargling and Walter didn’t understand him, but that didn’t help matters after UNKNOWN spitted out all the water at Walter.

And it created the deepest ocean ever imagined, so Walter almost drowned. And he would have if he didn’t have the one thing he had all other people didn’t: an understanding on what the hell that thing was. He was part of a cult, which his father regularly participates in, and they worship this UNKNOWN by giving him what it wants. However, they didn’t have the right idea what to give it, but Walter does because it was just a hunch and you know this story’s going all over the place, so let’s make a long story short, shall we?

So, Walter pointed at a cloud in the night sky and told UNKNOWN about that it creates rain and then it soaks it back up and so on and so forth. UNKNOWN had an unlimited light source that helps it guide through the night and if it cranked it up just enough, it’ll create perfect rain-soaking light. It also uses that light source to store all that water, hence why it looks like it’s dried up. So, if you didn’t get this, he has a see-through stomach that acts as a night-light and a canteen. Yeah, I was confused too.

And so, UNKNOWN got his cloud, never bothered Egypt again, and all of their citizens got their bottled water, but still died of thirst since they learned it was inside of a monster.

THE END!

I don’t know if that’s true or not, but that’s still a bit scary! A mysterious element that can get rid of one element to survive? Now, that’s what I call UNKNOWN!

Well, I hope enjoyed this little tale and not disappointed there were no vampires or werewolves or anything. Ooh! I got a good one about a vampire! Maybe next time. There’s no way I’m keeping this until next Halloween!

So, you all have a nice Martin Luther Day and eat plenty of candy! I’ll do the same and eat myself to a coma to arise once again when I see you all in the next Moment!

[drewkatchen]

That’s great it starts with an earthquake/Birds and snakes, and aeroplanes

Years ago, another lifetime now, when college was cruel and began wrapping up on me and when that dreaded C-word of career loomed just on the horizon, waiting to deliver me a full, bitter slap, I wrote a short story. In between the drinking and dancing and panicking. And the story began with the above lyrics, an evocative staccato string of beautiful nonsense. Not for class nor peer review, the story was mostly for me, some self-indulgence to wile away time and take the edge off graduation and knowing that life would be upended for good in a matter of weeks. The drama.

Just a few double-spaced pages printed and basically a glorified diary entry, my little piece to my surprise turned out to be entirely concerned with another molting period, one from years before: a fateful summer at the beach when I left behind adolescence and swam upstream a bit to become a hapless teenager. Why that subject and why then? Where was this even coming from? I think the theory isn’t a beautiful one, to be honest. It has everything to do with the near total breakdown of the relationship I had with my family, the one institution I thought was always there for me, one in which I believed I could find endless succor. That bond basically evaporated when I was still in school, and now I was clinging to something, turning over stones, hoping that my entire narrative wasn’t built just on pain.

---

When I think about that time in college, four years at a massive state school in South Carolina, I think I was a good student in an alright student’s body. But like friends of mine, I relished the life mostly for the freedom it finally granted me, an illusion of freedom of course, because I was still chained to my parents’ finances, but a liberated feeling I hadn’t previously experienced. All-night study sessions and paper writing were fine, but it was all to maintain an average to keep everything afloat. There was no big plan beyond that. School was a puzzle that didn’t always lead to a coherent picture, but still I plugged away. With friends in abundance and a hundred miles between me and home, gone was the paranoia and hiding and in came a real sense of possibility, an unclenching and looseness that was both intoxicating and discomfiting just given my inability to know what to do with it. I was a kid about town. The ability to socialize at whim, whenever with whomever, proved transformative, turning me for the first time, I think, into a real person. It was a concept wholly foreign to me, and it was something I needed...badly.

In all that, I also knew that words did it for me, so I experimented with them, whether it was in Lit class or in my journal. Really, I didn’t see any future for myself in academia, and often discussion classes and research papers proved something of a challenge to my attention span. But honestly the only thing I believed I knew how to do was write, even if what I was pumping out was unadulterated dreck. And, it was mostly that. Well-intentioned, but naive. I also don’t think I harbored any real delusions about being an actual writer because I also knew them and they were my age and already published, but I understood that I liked trying to organize my thoughts on paper, something I’d been doing since I self-published my own magazines in high school. Lamentable journal entries about life really not yet lived and gaunt poems ripping off E.E. Cummings or Yeats were the few weapons in my expository arsenal back then. And I had no money and everyone was in their own state of panic leading up to finals and graduation, so what else to do but mope in the park and haunt campus cafes at night? I was a cliche, and I was alone, but I was my own cliche to make better or worse.

So I kept at it. And in this story that tumbled out, I guess I wanted to know how I felt in my twenties about one formative experience -- less an experience and more an impression, really -- and why did I think about it at all. What did it mean to me? What would have happened if the world were a bit different? Was there any part of me now that held any resemblance to that sad kid? When the story was done, I remember feeling like it was the first thing I’d written that wasn’t total crap; it was a lived moment albeit embellished a bit, and it kinda leapt off the page to my surprise. At least it did to me. In a fit of rare confidence, I showed the story to a professor friend of mine, who seemed to not mind my musings; he offered ideas on gussying it up a bit in the interest of maybe getting it published in a small quarterly. That never happened, but the idea that he didn’t dismiss it out of pocket was encouraging. It was nice to have some minor recognition for some honest soul mining. Maybe I was more astute in school than I thought.

So now, in 2017, with my youth wholly in the rear view, I’ve been thinking about this one story again -- or the time captured in the story -- and its place in my life. As a student and immediately after, I pushed out into the world very few pieces of fiction. It just wasn’t my strength and I knew it, but did this qualify as fiction since it cut so close? I didn’t know. And little of what I wrote back then had to do with coming out of the closet or even just an awareness of who I was becoming, because I came out young, to friends mostly, and I didn’t have time for reflection because much of that time had to do with real pain and shame. It’s a story many of us tell, unfortunately. To be sure, there was great friendship and acceptance in that period of middle school and high school, but there was fear in abundance too along with a whole lot of hiding and nary a relationship. That would have been impossible.

College is such a time long gone, and I really don’t know what happened to the story because I never backed it up or saved it, maybe on purpose or maybe it’s just because that hard disk is gone for good. I can’t even find one of the versions I printed. All I can do is ruminate on it without having the exact copy to discover again.

There is very little I can look back on from that time -- from being in classes, the trenches -- that I can say is enduring in any way or really defining of who I was and who I became. The friendships, sure. I have those. But the work? Where is the work? I cherish my plaque from a poetry award I once won in 1998, the Havilah Babcock Poetry Contest Award, but I also marvel at it given I never went on to an esteemed poetry career. There’s a lot of didn’t and a lot of never so far, but that isn’t the point. I’m still here and still writing in my way. And it took me years to know who Havilah Babcock was.

I also have this story that no longer exists in any real way, but I know I was proud of it, and I know that it was one of the first times I was truly onto something. And for the most part, I remember exactly what it said and what it felt like to write it. I remember the feeling of liking someone and what that meant.

---

“Duck, North Carolina is the northernmost incorporated town in Dare County and the Outer Banks' newest town, incorporated on May 1, 2002,” according to the town’s Wikipedia entry. The area is only 3.72 square miles, and in the off-season has a scant 369 residents, according to the 2010 census. In the summers, the time I used to show up, pale and doughy with my walkman and boogie board, the population swells to over 20,000. 

For a few years spanning the late-eighties into the nineties, my parents and family friends were part of that coastal vacation migration, a whole congregation of minivans, aerobics Reeboks and Hawaiian Tropic headed to a tiny spit of land and the vast sea. For us, there was no other vacation spot. And Duck was truly for the adults -- the place you went because you had a bit more money now and it was near enough to bustling Nags Head but also far enough away for you to enjoy an unspoiled beach in a quiet hamlet of summer renters without the massive crowds. It was scenic and calm, but as a kid I wanted action. If Nags Head was Lost Boys then Duck was The Big Chill or something equally droll. Not cool. I wanted water slides and spray paint and roving gangs of skater kids hanging out in 7-11 parking lots, so genteel Duck didn’t suit me. For my mom, it gave her the chance to plug back in with the relatives she’d left behind years before when we beat a path out of our New Jersey motherland. Two weeks of kvetching and guilt over white Zin and snapping peas, basically. 

“Because she’s crazy,” my mom in the galley kitchen, talking to my godmother about some other lady while fussing over cucumber chunks for a salad in one of those big wooden bowls. My godmother fidgeting with a pack of cards and watching over her child. That sort of thing.

“She is, Jo, but she’s still your mother.”

It was mostly hell, each day the same dodging of tasks and running to the water to escape breaking bread with the weird adult friends of parents, most of whom regarded me the way they would a curious fungus. “So he likes what kind of music again? He doesn’t play sports?,” their curled faces said. If I didn’t escape before my younger brothers noticed -- they saw me as their permanent source of entertainment -- and got their claws in, I’d end up being the jungle gym for the day. As a kid, not being in lockstep with parents -- together a real picture of upper middle class vim and vigor who seemed to believe in Don Henley, Fresca and George Bush -- meant I was more the pasty boarder with a bad attitude, ready to run off and roadie for Black Flag or any band, real or not, that would have me. This extended to vacations. Punk cassettes and my skateboard magazines were my sports and toys, and I didn’t want to be harassed about being part of the family. I was crying for help, and I believed Youth of Today and Rollins heard my call. I was waiting for the van to pull up at any minute.

In Duck, there were a million kids all breathing the same humid, briny air. Armies of gawky adolescent expats were hopped up on snack cakes, and they roamed the dunes in Panama Jack and Ron Jon gear. They came from the vanilla burbs of Delaware or Pennsylvania or if they were really exotic Ontario, a location I probably thought was off the planet somewhere. I mostly observed. Some were more adaptable, luxuriating in their time away from lawn cutting and swim meets as they body-surfed with their lithe parents and jocular siblings and new friends. They showed off their orthodontic elastics without care while singing along to Huey Lewis or Boss tunes on the boom boxes. Every dad the suburban Tom Selleck and every mom a round-the-way Basinger or Roseanne in a sun visor. Everyone tanned and every parent chased after their babies on the sand. And while I did cherish my Morey Mach 7-7 yellow boogie board (classic) and the surf, others were more like me, making the best of it alone with music or they somehow bonded with other misanthropic kids in close proximity to their sprawling, sun-baked beach manse.

Why so surly? I just was.

Then I met someone.

Jason landed in my orbit that summer, but I’m unsure of how, only that he did. Twenty years removed, he’s little more than a mop of curly brown hair and long, sunburnt legs, but I remember well his sun-kissed essence. He was from Connecticut, of course, seemed to be for want of little and he’d already been there for a week and was set to head back not long I arrived. Just my luck. Tall, wiry and adept at scoring baskets off an uncoordinated me on his driveway’s basketball hoop, Jason was one of the kids I described above: No edge, no ax to grind. Just unaffected calm and cool, neither jock nor Robert Smith devotee, likely able to walk a high school hallway and nod to the quarterbacks and skaters without fear of reprisal. How we linked up for a few days has everything to do with the heady social experiment that was a transient beach community: This wasn’t dry land with the normal players in your world, so normal prying eyes wouldn’t know and you could be best pals for a week with someone you’d never see again, someone you might put in a headlock were you back in the real world. These bonds could be like taking a lesser date to a restaurant no one knows. To call it a friendship would be a misnomer, because maybe I knew him for less than a week, but for me, there was something profound in those few days.

On his deck we ate cheese sandwiches and chips with sand in between our toes. His mom offered us Capri Suns, and I enjoyed their artificial sweetness. His muscles glowed in the afternoon light.

---

“Show me what you can do on your skateboard,” I remember him saying in my driveway, pointing to my kicknose set-up. As a student of Jason Lee and Matt Hensley you know I ollied my early-nineties Gonz deck with aplomb over a large trash can, careful to avoid pooled rainwater and sand, and then I rolled into a railslide on one of the nearby benches before offering him a quick streetplant as a nod to my eighties roots. 

Right.

Really all I probably did was do a two-inch high ollie and a wan shove-it before getting winded and stopping. "Nevermind. What kind of tapes did you bring?,” he laughed good-naturedly at my technique.

Here was my time to shine. 

“If you haven’t heard the first Sepultura record, it’s so cool and crazy, you have to check it out. Look at the cover, man, it’s so scary. I got my M.O.D. tape and my S.O.D. tape and Anthrax and Metallica and WarZone and fIREHOSE.” I was really laying it on thick, convinced that I was impressing him with my vast knowledge of the most cutting edge extreme music. “I like punk and hardcore a lot.”

“Oh that’s cool. I’m really into the last two R.E.M. tapes,” he said while just kinda glancing at the prized collection in my duffel bag, not bored but not turned on either by my superior taste. Years later, I know what he meant by that was he liked Document and he liked Green, two era-defining alternative albums if there ever were any. Of course, I was a kid with a television and a radio, so ‘The One I Love’ and ‘It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" were everywhere and anywhere. Did I love them, too? I think so. It seemed more real than Pat Benatar or Madonna but less direct than Minor Threat, so maybe I didn’t hate it. I could learn to be into it.

I realize, there’s a lot of build up to this, but Jason is little more than a plot device in my larger narrative. Prior to him, I would look at Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark and have vague rumblings of a feeling. Jason collided with my life as my body began waking up. Somewhere beyond this sandy idyll, hard-nosed activists were marching on city avenues because they were dying and their friends had died and because city governments overturned ordinances and the federal government wasn’t helping. They were fighting Jesse Helms and Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell and the right to be in hospital rooms with their spouses. My parents were likely having very private conversations about my future, but I was spared from them. That summer, as a little kid on the Outer Banks, it was nuclear families as far as the eye could see, white ones mostly. I didn’t know then about religion and laws and organized efforts to draw boundaries around my being, but I felt the fruits of their labor locking me down, halting any natural inclination I may have had to reach for something. Those few days that summer, I could do little more than look at Jason with a true awareness in my heart, in my gut and simply wonder, wonder with my sweaty hands in my pockets and my mouth sewn up. I didn’t know in total what the awareness was, but I also knew in total what the awareness was, and I knew it would stay buried for years if not for my entire life. If he sensed anything, one ounce of feeling in my pleading eyes, he didn’t let on. Would my life be hell?

---

“What’s this guy saying? I don’t get it.”

“All I know is ‘Birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, BOOM’ and you got me on the rest. It doesn’t matter, man. It’s a good song,” Jason told me plainly as the cassette was blaring out of a boom box. I think his sister was with us, thumbing a magazine. He was doing pull ups on a deck beam, the humidity causing his head to dampen. It was early evening, and he was leaving tomorrow. The family was grilling burgers and dogs.

“I could come visit you sometime. My grandparents live in New Jersey, and it’s not far from you. It would be fun.”

As fast as it came out, I regretted it. Boys didn’t offer to go visit other boys, you dummy. It was my heart talking, and besides, even if I wanted to visit, who would take a fourteen-year-old to visit a strange kid hours away. I could tell he didn’t think much of the idea, and he just shrugged and kept focusing on increasing his upper-body strength. The brief reverie had passed. As a last ditch measure, I gave him my address in the hope we’d stay pen pals.

A short stretch of road, sheltered by live oaks and dotted with crape myrtles, separated Jason’s house from mine, and I knew it was time to be going. If I looked away from the ocean, slightly to the right, I could see the light on in our rental living room. My stomach doing cartwheels and my heart racing, but it was time to go. Jason and I shook on it. You know the rest.

And I feeeeellll fine (no you don’t)/And I feeeelll fine (really, you don’t)/It’s tiiimmee I had some tiiimme alone (no it isn’t)

The singer of R.E.M. (didn’t know his name at fourteen), sounded nervous and jittery and scared just like me. It sounded like he well understood longing. Did he know someone like Jason? 

I pictured myself singing at Jason and him understanding and feeling the same way.

--

So to pull back and end things, when I wrote about this in college, the words just fell out of me, as if they’d been bottled in a cellar and were ready to air out. That first feeling of some type of attraction, the quiet realization and maybe panic that I knew I was attracted to another boy, the feeling as if my chest were bursting. All of that is too much for any kid; just processing the new hormones in your body during puberty is enough but adding the weight of being gay and the pressure to keep it hidden from your family. That’s enough to drive anyone crazy, and I think it did drive me crazy. I wanted to convey all of that. It felt like the world was ending and beginning again because even though before meeting Jason I had felt something, I never had a crush until then. 

At the age of forty, there are no barriers of that regard in my life. I’m happily married; my parents attended my wedding. They bought bottles of champagne and glasses for drinking. But I’ll never again get an adolescence, and like many LGBT folk of a certain age, it’s now mine to dream about what an unencumbered youth would have looked like because that’s all I can do if and when I choose. If I didn’t have to misapply affection to male friends who couldn’t reciprocate. If I didn’t have to only think of romance in terms of Lloyd Dobler and Diane Court. If being open weren’t just tolerated, but nourished, understood and cherished. I didn’t have that with Jason or with any other kid my age.

But in the version of my short story, the one I wrote when graduating, the hero left Jason’s porch, but then he said ‘fuck it’ and turned around in the middle of the lawn, alighted the beach house stairs and grabbed the damn guy’s hand and kissed his cheek. And nothing bad happened.

It was the end of the world, and it had a happy conclusion. Did R.E.M. have a song for that?

----

It’s hilarious to admit now, but I don’t think I realized in college that the song’s chorus was a metaphor so glaring, it’s as if it were a locomotive coming right at me: It was the end of my world as I knew it; student life, the only thing I’d known for twenty-two years, was officially over and everything else that wasn’t campuses, classes and books was ahead of me, looming big and scarily. But at that age, I really didn’t have much capacity for self-awareness; I had only just started grappling with my past and with my family, and this story was a first step in learning about myself