#if you are a person who knows about these things please hit me up i am very curious

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[jpitha]

Hospitality

Meandering River and Q'ari sit in the canteen during midday break chatting and drinking some herbal tea. The Humans introduced both the drink and the meal. They call it 'Lunch' and while only the Humans seem to need the calories supplied by the meal, the break and the tea has proven to be a big hit among the other sapients...so long as they stay away from the poisonous teas. There are a lot of poisonous teas. Most everyone can have chamomile though.

The conversation meanders as they do, and eventually, they both come to talking about things they've noticed about the humans, one of the more recent additions to the Coalition. Everybody has their own cultural and biological quirks, but the conversations has been steering towards the humans lately. Everyone is a little too quick to point out that It's not that they're... weird, it's just the differences.

Q'ari puts her tea down with a clink on the small porcelain saucer. "Did you know that the Humans have a whole thing about being nice to visitors? It’s called 'hospitality' and they have almost entire religions about it!"

"What? They have religions about being nice to people you meet?" Meandering River said, as her feathers rustle, reflecting shimmering colors.

"Pretty much! My guess is that living on their world is so hard that they just felt obligated to help people who were passing through their village or peer group or whatever. The idea was that no matter who shows up - even their enemy - you give them a meal and a bath and let them have a nap and point them towards where they need to go if they're lost." Q'ari took another sip of tea. "You weren't even supposed to ask them questions about who they were or what they were doing!"

Meander was baffled. "But that makes no sense! What if the person was going to hurt you or your group? You had no way of knowing. Better to just let them pass by, and not interact."

"Yes, but the idea is the next time it was you traveling, you'd get help from others too." Nancy said from behind them.

Q'ari fur poofed out and Meander's feathers rippled in surprise and they both slid their chairs back to jump away before stopping themselves and sitting down, tea spilled everywhere. Predator/Prey reactions were deeply ingrained in Innari and Sefigans, and Humans were exceptionally good predators, even when they didn't mean to be.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nancy said, seeing their reaction. "I didn't mean to startle you! I just heard you talking about hospitality. People everywhere don't treat it like the religion it used to be, but it's still a common thing that people do. Here -" she said gesturing on her pad "Let me buy you both another Tea to say sorry for spilling yours. Chamomile, right? I feel so badly about startling you."

"I-It's all right, we know you didn't mean to." Meander says, smoothing their feathers automatically. We were just fascinated by the concept of hospitality. Please, join us." She gestures towards a chair.

Nancy sits down, and wipes away some of the spilled tea with a napkin. "Being polite to strangers is just something that's taught from an early age. It's not done everywhere, and it's not done the same way, but it's still done. It's... complicated though." Nancy said, as a serv platform came over with two fresh cups of tea. After it had left, she continued. "Codifying being nice to strangers and offering them a place to stay and food to eat is a way that people could travel in the time before money and hotels, but also, it could be used as a shield against forming real friendships."

"What do you mean by that? If you're inviting strangers into your house, wouldn't that help make friends?" Meander said, blowing on her tea to cool it slightly.

"Well, it could. But if the whole process is ritualized and formal, then you could use it to keep 'foreign' people at arms length. Sure, you'd invite them in, let them sleep, bathe, eat, but you'd send them on their way in the morning and that would be it. There would be no connection, no friendship. There is a long, long history of being nice without being friendly."

"It's all very confusing." Q'ari said. "There seems to be a lot of implied connections, and ritualized actions that on the surface appear kind, but may - or may not - be, depending on thousands of different things."

Nancy nodded. "Hey, things are never black and white. There is always nuance. I'm sure it's even the same way between you and your people. Q'ari, you're not originally from Sef, the homeworld, right?"

Q'ari's teddy bear shaped ears waggled. "That's right. I grew up on Llamanian, one of our middle tier colony worlds."

"And even though you are a Sefigan citizen, when you go to Sef sometimes you get treated like an outsider, right?"

"Well, I suppose a bit, yes." Q'ari's finely laquered claws slid out of their sheaths, just a centimeter. "They say that my gelbin isn't the same as on Sef. Er, that's a traditional vegetable dish." She adds, for their benefit.

Meander's crest slides up and then back down. "I've had your gelbin Q'ari, it's delicious! What could possibly be wrong?"

She shrugs, a decidedly human gesture. "The spices are wrong, they say. We have different versions due to the ecology and soil of Llamanian, even if I were to use the exact same spices in the exact same proportions, it wouldn't taste the same."

"It's not just humans. Everyone has things that are different, and people - no matter which sapient group they are - will use those differences against them sometimes." Nancy said, taking a sip of tea. "Knowing that it happens, and keeping an eye out for it, and having some understanding, can go a long way. But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't be nice to strangers when we meet them. After all, they might be the Gods in disguise!" Nancy's eyes sparkle when she said that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see a people called the Greeks believed that..."

[asuyaka]

Hiii, it's kind of a weird request so I totally understand if you ignore

Would you mind writing fluff with some comfort for Dazai with a trans male reader (ftm), when the reader is very transphobic (only) towards himself, because he doesn't want to be this way cause it's not something 'socially accepted?' the reader is rather chameleonic n generally cares a lot about how he's seen and if he fits in, going as far to change his whole way of acting based on who he's talking with or when he can't mirror someone's personality putting on a charismatic, playful, talkative facade. (Basically a social3 in detail but not manipulative if u know that term) because of his desire to climb social ladder and massive fear of lacking social acceptance, he tries to gaslight himself into thinking he's cisgender most of the time, which only makes him feel worse?? The 'all I want you to do is give me all of your love&applause and for return I'll be whoever you want me to be' type of performer.

Sorry for being picky but please don't write the reader as a submissive scared little thing that can't be assertive at all I hate that in comforts I beg u

★ - this hits so close t'home cause 've always struggled with my gender identity n'stuff then I realized there's a buncha labels, too many f'me to care about ! *^__^*

☆ - Dazai Osamu x FtM Reader!

♡ - really hope I wrote him well f'ya anon ! O(∩_∩)O | CW: copious amounts of misgenderin' (she/her & terms like 'girlfriend are used for the first half, please be warned !!) & transphobic language !

[Name] looked at his her the outfit in the mirror, a black body con dress with a slit that ran up [Name]'s thigh.

The longer [Name] stared at the reflection the more an urge to throw up formed. Dazai would be the door for their date, and every dress [Name] tried didn't sit right.

They were either too tight, not tight enough, too short, too long, or too boxy— the point was nothing worked.

It didn't matter if [Name] put on a skirt or a crop top, they made everything feel worse to the point [Name] wanted to call the date off, but that would make her a bad girlfriend, and she wanted to be good.

The doorbell rang. "Babe? You haven't answered your phone, are you okay?"

[Name] groaned and opened the door. Dazai glanced over her outfit with wide eyes. "Wow. Uh, nice dress, but what's the occasion?"

[Name]'s eyebrow raised. "What do you mean? I always wear dresses."

Dazai walked into [Name]'s apartment and plopped onto the couch. "No, you don't. You told me you hate dresses and skin-tight clothes."

She glared at her boyfriend, a deep frown on her face before scoffing. "Okay, well, I like them now. Girls like dresses anyway."

The brunette paused his actions and stared. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

[Name] rolled her eyes. "What did I say?"

"You're joking, right? You aren't a girl— I asked you out because you're a man, and I wanted a boyfriend."

Boyfriend.

The title made [Name]'s heart well, like a warm blanket draped over her body. It didn't cause that sick, gut-wrenching feeling like 'girlfriend' but they weren't a boy.

They couldn't be a boy.

[Name] gulped thickly. "...I'm not a tranny, Dazai. What would my coworkers think? My parents? I can't— I was born a girl, Dazai, I shouldn't... feel this way."

Osamu gently holds [Name]'s hands. "Baby, what are you talking about? You've always been my boyfriend, you being born a woman doesn't change that."

"But I... it's— Osamu, it's not right. If I act too masculine, I could lose my job and have my neighbors hate me, but I fucking hate having to act like somethin' I'm not." [Name] sniveled, wiping his cheeks at tears that began to form.

Dazai guided his boyfriend to the couch and cupped his cheek. "You shouldn't have to change yourself to make other people happy. You're my boyfriend, the only boy in the world I've genuinely loved, and I don't want to see you destroy yourself for the better of someone else—people who don't even know you."

"If you lose your job for being you, then you could work with me. I'm sure Boss wouldn't mind having a new employee."

With a gentle kiss, Osamu chuckled. "And I'd finally get some work done so I can relax with my perfect boyfriend in the world."

[Name] sniffed as his boyfriend pressed another kiss on his wet cheek. "...is it 'cause you're lazy?"

"Eh... not lazy, just... working smarter and not harder!"

"Not working at all doesn't count, Osamu."

Dramatically, Dazai held a hand to his chest and rolled on the floor. "Woe is me! My boyfriend keeps bullying me even after I call him perfect! What do I do?"

He lightly laughed and placed a soft hand on Osamu's hair. "Maybe take him on a date?"

The brunette immediately sat on his knees with sparkles in his eyes. "He still wants to go with me?"

[Name] kissed Dazai's forehead and smiled. Even with the thoughts swirling in his head, Osamu always had a way to make him feel better. "He'd be delighted to go on a date with you."

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Keith Howell (part 1/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. 

The twittering of birds stirred me from my slumber.

(Mmm…I ended up falling asleep)

(Huh, but I was waiting for Keith in his room, so how did I wind up in his secret room…)

When I sat up and rubbed my sleepy eyes, I felt something hit my hand.

It was Prince Keith’s diary, with its neat script unfinished.

(It’s an old diary. Was I reading this before I fell asleep…)

I stared up as I tried to remember—the sight that greeted me had me jump to my feet.

(No way…Half of Prince Keith’s diaries are missing…What in the…)

The shelves looked so empty, but I couldn’t find the missing diaries anywhere.

While I tried to wrap my head around what happened, I heard the door open.

Alter!Keith: …

Emma: Prince Keith! The diaries—

Alter!Keith: …

(Huh…?)

I suddenly felt a painful tug on my arm and found myself pinned against a bookshelf.

He held my wrists above my head and glared down at me with cold eyes. 

It’s the first time anyone's been this hostile toward me.

Alter!Keith: Who’re you? Why’re you here?

Emma: Huh, who…I’m Emma.

Alter!Keith: Emma? Sorry, but I don’t remember anyone with that name.

(It doesn’t sound like he’s joking. Does he really not know me…?)

(...Calm down. Panicking won’t change things)

I was trembling in confusion and fear, but I took some breaths to calm myself down.

~~ Flashback ~~

(It’s an old diary. Was I reading this before I fell asleep…)

(No way…Half of Prince Keith’s diaries are missing…What in the…)

~~ Flashback end ~~

(If the diaries never existed in the first place rather than just suddenly disappearing front he bookshelves…then Prince Keith’s reaction is “justifiable”)

(Am I…in the past?)

Emma: …

A large hand touched my neck and a chill went down my spine at the feeling of my life being in his hands.

Alter!Keith: You thinking about something? You’re underestimating me just ‘cause you’re dealing with a failure. Some damn noble told me I shouldn’t be nice to trespassers just ‘cause they’re female.

The grip around my neck tightened slightly.

(I don’t know if he’ll believe me. But at this rate, he won’t be just threatening me)

The wicked Prince Keith in front of me was way more like a beast than the one I knew.

Emma: …I have no idea why I’m here.

But one thing I know is that I’m not from this time, rather, I’m from the future.

Alter!Keith: Haha, your skills at deception suck so bad that it almost sounds true. You got proof?

Emma: …I know who “you” are. You’re a Prince Keith with an alternate personality…I know why you were born.

Alter!Keith: …

Emma: Please, believe me.

His golden eyes wavered, as if doubting reality.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded on the door in the other room.

Liam: ……Excuse me?

It was Liam, Prince Keith’s butler.

He stared at me in surprise and raised a brow.

Liam: Prince Keith…What is the meaning of this?

This pressure he’s exuding…He must think that wicked Prince Keith snuck a woman in.

Prince Keith gave an irritatingly wicked smile.

Alter!Keith: Found her in the study. Our guest says she’s from the future.

Liam: ……Huh?

(He furrowed his brows…That’s a valid reaction)

(But even I’m surprised)

Emma: You believe me, Prince Keith?

Alter!Keith: It’s not that. But “my” existence is also improbable. So someone coming from the future isn’t impossible either. You said your name’s Emma? Tell me the reason why I was born.

Emma: Well…

(Though it’s something that happened to the nice Prince Keith, it’s still a painful past for the wicked Prince Keith)

I stuttered as I recalled the pained look on Prince Keith’s face when he told me.

Alter!Keith: …You actually know. Liam, you believe it a little more now, don’t you?

Emma: Did you just ask him to verify?

Alter!Keith: I said I didn’t believe you. 

Liam: The reason is as absurd as ever. …However, I don’t believe you’re lying. Besides, you’re the first to not freak out about Prince Keith acting differently from usual. But even I…didn’t believe you in the beginning.

(Liam and Prince Keith have known each other since they were children)

(Maybe it took him a moment to come to terms with reality because he was too confused)

Those furrowed brows and look of regret broke my heart.

Alter!Keith: We can throw her into a cell and torture her if she acts suspicious. You don’t look like you’re good at running away.

Emma: I won’t. Rather, I won’t leave your side no matter what. Because I personally don’t want to.

Alter!Keith: Oh? You care a lot about this failure. A guy without any merit.

Emma: What, yes he does. He has a lot.

Alter!Keith: Fine, he has a lot. Pardon me.

(...He just brushed me off)

(At least I can stick around as long as I don’t act suspicious…That’s a relief)

Suddenly, what happened in the study came to mind.

(Now that I think about it, I wonder what Prince Keith was going to say)

Alter!Keith: …So, did you bring it Liam?

Liam: Yes. Please be careful with it.

Alter!Keith: It’d be better to spread them out. That way, they can wreck each other and resolve this immediately.

He snickered, took the documents, and looked over them.

He was smiling, but his eyes were surprisingly cold.

Alter!Keith: Reliable as ever. Good boy. For now, I’ll go pay the guys here a visit. Prepare a carriage.

Liam: On it.

After bowing, Liam left the room.

My eyes drifted to the documents and some of the names on it caught my attention.

(If I recall correctly, they’re all nobles that support the king’s brother)

I remember coming across them while I was reading books to prepare myself for my official duties.

Emma: Um, what exactly are these documents?

Alter!Keith: …Wanna come along?

[trippinsorrows]

I feel like this is another multiverse type question. But say Solana wasn’t in the situation she was in and Roman was very much so attracted to her as he is now. How do you think Roman would have approached her ?

this is such an interesting question!

hmmm.

under the read more cause this got longer than i intended lol

roman was bored, ready to go. functions were never his thing. he always attended out of obligation and necessity. never want. and considering he's been present for an hour, he more than feels he's done what he needed to do.

he pulls out his phone to text paul to have the car pulled for him, ready for his wise man to foolishly try to convince him to stay when a body collides into him.

soft is one of the first things to hit him followed by a sweet, vanilla almond scent that's more than pleasing to all of his senses. his arm naturally reaches to brace the person who collided with him, a person he right away knows is a woman, both by the soft curves of her body but also the fragrance.

"oh my god." the voice. so soft and sweet, almost too sugary, too angelic for such a function, full of the world's most dangerous people. such a stark contrast. "i'm so sor---"

she's silenced, and roman is momentarily taken back as the two of them lock gazes. beautiful, big brown eyes widened in alarm that's most likely due to her recognizing who he is. "mr. reigns...."

roman is partially paying attention to her words but mostly taking his sweet time taking all of her in. her face is absolutely stunning, and roman can tell it's not just because of the beautifully done makeup. he can see natural beauty beneath that. her hair is pulled up into a fancy updo, but her full lips snatch his focus before he rakes his eyes over her body, even curvier than he realized. cleavage on full display in her red dress that hugs her perfectly. she's a tiny little thing. a good foot shorter to him, but there's no denying it.

she's fucking stunning.

and she's still fucking apologizing. "i'm so sor---"

"it's fine." anyone else, and it wouldn't be. but there's something about this woman with the soft voice, light eyes, and alluring body that has him not as irritated as he normally would be. "it was an accident."

she nods, clearly nervous, when she looks over her shoulder, as if looking for something. or someone.

suddenly curious, he asks, "who are you--"

"oh no," she interrupts him, an unintentional thing, as she offers what looks like an apologetic look. she holds up the bottom of her red gown to move past him. however, roman finds himself moving his arm to bar her, holding her. he has to stop himself from thinking too much about the almost natural feeling he experiences in and with touching her.

"i---"

"there you are."

roman breaks his stare with the woman to see none other than ethan fucking page. he scoffs. no wonder she's running.

this bastard is insufferable.

page clears his throat and gives roman a nod. "mr. reigns, i apologize for the interruption." his gaze falls on the woman who almost moves closer to roman, practically holding onto him. it's obvious she's uncomfortable as hell. has to be for good reason too. "just need to speak to---"

"she's with me."

it comes out without much thought, both page and the unnamed woman looking at him with equal surprise.

page removes his glasses, looking at her, "solana?"

solana

unique. pretty. fitting.

she swallows. "i---" and just like that, she seems prepared to ruin this save roman has provided her, though he hasn't the slightest idea why he's giving her a save. yet, here he is.

"get lost, page." roman's tone shifts into something darker, something that's very reminiscent of the reason that he's easily the most feared man in the room. "i won't repeat myself."

i.e. get lost, or i'll snap your neck. an unspoken threat that's clearly understood, because page murmurs something that's probably an apology. and then he's gone, leaving roman alone yet again with this solana.

looking back at her, she gives him a small smile. roman is quickly realizing she's even prettier when she smiles. "thank you."

roman nods, asking, even though he doesn't know why, "what's the story?"

her smile drops into a frown that roman finds himself wanting to wipe off her face. "ethan....he doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer." she shakes her head, scoffing quietly. "he shows up to my store at least once a week just to ask me out, even though the answer is always no."

"where do you work?" it's not that roman necessarily wants or even needs to know this piece of information, but there's a thought of breaking both page's knees and providing specifics when he does as such, such as the name of the place he's never to step foot in again, which could be....helpful.

roman is thankful when the smile returns, not as bright but still present. he'll take it. "i own a bookstore in town. nina's." his curiosity must be visible. "my mother's name. we share a love of books."

he makes a sound. everything he's learned in the less than twenty minutes he's known about this girl makes all the sense in the world. of course, her name is different, unlike any name for a woman he's heard of. of course, she has trouble fending off an asshole like page. and of course she likes books.

she clears her throat, finally breaking away. roman didn't even realize he was still holding her. "thank you again, mr. reigns."

"roman," he corrects. "call me roman."

she swallows, voice softening, "roman...."

he's not sure he's ever enjoyed hearing his name as much as he likes hearing it on her mouth. he'd love to hear it even more if she was screaming it, moaning it as he fucked her, kneading those beautiful, soft breast of hers.

fuck

"why are you looking at me like that?" she asks in that same sweet, almost innocent voice.

his eyes twinkle with mischief. "do you really need to ask?"

solana shifts bit, playing with her hands, hinting at some nervousness. "i'm not like that."

roman is almost certain he knows what she's saying, but he makes sure, regardless. "and what is that?"

her mouth shifts into a small smirk. "do you really need to ask?"

and for the first time tonight, roman smiles.

this girl is unlike any he's met before.

continuously intrigued, he asks, "what's your last name?"

she answers, "miller."

recognition dawns after a couple seconds for him. "xavier and nina...you're the daughter?"

he's always heard they had another child other than wesley, but he'd never seen her at one of these functions. didn't even realize it was a daughter.

a beautiful daughter at that.

she nods. "i don't typically attend these sorts of things."

"you should," he finds himself suggesting. roman isn't the biggest flirter, doesn't need to. women flock to him like moths to flame, but there's something about this woman... he steps closer to her, hand reaching out to run his finger along her cheek. "how else am i going to see you?"

she seems taken back, cheeks turning pink, but she takes him by surprise with her reply, "you could come see me."

his chuckle is dark and his tone suggestive. "oh, i don't think coming will be an issue."

and her cheeks deepen in color, as she announces, "i should go find my brother."

eyes falling to her chest, he asks, "should you?"

solana smiles and diverts her gaze, slightly disappointing him when she steps back. "goodbye, roman."

he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his custom suit pants. "not goodbye," he correct. "just goodnight."

because there's no doubt in roman reigns mind that this was the last time he'll ever see solana miller.

far from it.

[lync-lay]

my cute barista

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - barista jake! x coffee hater reader!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - word count: 2.1k

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - not proofread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - genre: fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - synopsis: your best friend, jay, drags you out to the local coffee shop on campus for a study session. the catch is, you hate coffee and no barista has ever successfully made you something you actually enjoyed. until, one does. as each day passes, you return to the shop, not only for the drink, but the cute barista who makes it.

summer has just recently ended, marking the official start of comfy sweaters and ugg boots on campus. the leaves are starting to change colors and the weather is much colder. this is the time of year that calms you down and keeps you in bed all day. and i love it.

its morning, and as i'm laying in bed casually watching a movie, i feel my phone begin to ring next to me. rolling over to grab it off the charger, i see that my best friend, jay, is calling. jay and i have been best friends since elementary. we are inseperable and were lucky enough to be accepted into the same university.

"hello?" i say into my phone.

"goooooood morningggggg y/nnnnnnnn!" jay says, on the other line, accentuating his words. ever since we were kids, he has always been a morning person. me on the other hand, is not.

"omg jay why are you so loud its like 8 am right now." i expressed.

"its a great morning. im honestly surpised you're even up at this time."

"yeah same but i woke up like an hour ago and couldn't fall back asleep. so im just watching a movie and admiring this very calming weather."

"well im glad you're up because i was wondering if you would want to go to the cafe on campus with me and study?...please?" he asked.

i hate coffee. the taste is bitter and unpleasant and occasionally, the smell gives me a headache. jay knows this so to say that i am surprised he even asked is an understatment.

"jay i-"

"look y/n i know you despise coffee but please. you don't have to get that, theres so many other options. and i also need my study buddy with me...please?" he pleads.

jay isnt aware of how many times ive been to a coffee shop, ordered something other than coffee, and hated it. so i doubt i will be ordering anything but he's my best friend so, i agree to go.

"fine, i'll go with you but i can't guarrantee ill have a good time." i say with a sigh.

"be so for real y/n...it's a study session, you won't have a good time. but ill be there, so you will have a good time." he explains.

silence hangs over the call for a few seconds.

"jay...im gonna hold your hand when i say this...that made no sense" i confess.

"mhm i know. ill be at your dorm in 15" he hangs up.

jay arrives when he says he will, 15 minutes. and next thing i know were off to the campus coffee shop. i'm kind of dreading going because i don't know what i'm gonna get. probably just an ice water. at least i can try and get some work done.

on our walk, jay tells me about a girl he's trying to impress and i give him advice per usual. he then goes on to explain how he really needs to study some form of math formula. im too busy admiring the autumn weather to respond. suddenly, we arrive at the coffee shop.

walking in, the aroma of coffee hits me immediately. the sound of cups shaking, ice, and brewing machines reminds me why i stopped coming to coffee shops.

"what are you gonna get" i ask jay.

"im gonna get an iced americano" he responds.

"what is that..."

"it's like cold black coffee poured over ice water"

"that actually sounds terrible. how do you enjoy that?" i ask, my facial expressions scrunching.

"it wakes me up niceeeee and gooooood." he taunts me.

"next" the barista yells.

oh my gosh. the barista is hands down, the finest man i have ever seen in my entire life. as jay and i walk up, i have suddenly lost the ability to speak. my legs feel like jelly and my heart is beating out of my chest.

"what can i get for you guys" the barista asks. my eyes suddenly make a b-line from his face to the name tag on his apron. jake, his name is jake. while jay places his order, my eyes are glued to jake. the way his hair is slicked back with a strand hanging by his forehead, the way his veiny hands type in the order, the way he flashes that perfect smile. i'm so entranced, i didn't even realize that he asked me a question.

"im sorry what did you say?" i apologize.

"i asked what i can get for you" jake asks me, flashing that deadly smile of his.

"um, i actually really dislike coffee. so i don't really know what i want."

he shakes his head slowly and places a finger over his mouth, obviously thinking of an alternative to my problem. wow, he is beautiful.

"this is gonna be a little risky but i'm gonna recommend that you try a matcha latte. it's kind of a hard drink to describe but i really enjoy it and its nothing like coffee." he explains.

"okay, i'll try that." i respond with a smile, my cheeks heating up from our small interation.

"alright perfect, so just an iced americano and an iced matcha latte. and because its your first matcha, it's on the house. so the total is $4.50" he states.

"omg really? thanks bro. this girl has hated coffee for so long so hopefully she'll like this." jay says with gratitude.

"no problem! i hope she likes it too." he flashes me a warm smile.

"whats the name for the order?" jake asks.

"jay".

"alright, that'll be done here shortly".

we walk over to find an empty table and take out our school stuff to start studying. all i can think of his jake and his charm. i turn over to see him taking orders and working on drinks. the way he moves around to different stations is so attractive.

"y/n will you please stop making googly eyes at the barista?" jay says, snapping me back to reality.

"i can't help it. he is actually so cute jay." i expressed with a sigh.

only a couple minutes pass when jake suddenly calls for jay, notifiying that his order is ready. jay grabs the order and the entire time im looking at jake. jay grabs the drink from him and jakes eyes pan over to be, giving me that smile once again. he's so attractive.

"here, he says he made it extra special in hopes that you would like it". jay hands me my drink and sits back down.

i'm a little nervous to try it. the green color is very offputting and i almost don't want it. but nonetheless, i gain some courage and take a sip. jay eyes me very seriously as i do so. i can understand why jake said it was a hard one to describe. i contemplate about the flavor, going back in for another sip.

"do you...like it? he asks me.

"suprisingly, yeah i do. a lot actually" a smile forms on my face as i continue to drink it.

"thank god you actually like something. now lets get to work".

unbeknownst to me, jake was behind the counter watching me. his heart began to be beat and smile creept on his face once he noticed that my drink was almost half way gone.

the sun rose slowly the next morning and the thought of going to class is killing me. all day yesterday, i couldn't stop thinking of that insanely cute barista, jake. his smile lingers in my head and that drink he made me was so delicious.

as im laying in bed, im suddenly hit with the craving of that drink and the cute barista who made it. i throw on my clothes for the day, grab my bag, and head to the coffee shop before my first class of the day. i have no idea if jake is working but i sure hope so.

as i walk in, i immediately see him. my heart begins to beat and my face is turning red. i realize that this time i dont have jay to hide behind and i contemplate if i should turn back. but it's too late because his eyes find mine, and he gives me the same sweet smile from yesterday.

the lines moves quickly and im suddenly at the counter, face to face with jake.

"hey, there." he smiles.

"hello." i smile back.

"no boyfriend today?" i give him a confused look. boyfriend? what boyfriend? oh, he must be thinking of jay.

"oh jay hahaha, he's not my boyfriend. he just my best friend who followed me to college." i laugh.

"oh okay i wasn't sure. it's not often a pretty girl like you walks in by herself." he tilts his head and winks.

oh. my. god. my cheeks begin to heat up and i can't help my smile from coming out. y/n get yourself together.

"well what can i get for you" he leans down on the counter, now being eye level to me.

"well i still hate coffee but i loved what you made me yesterday so that's what i would like." i say with a smile

"haha the iced matcha latte, you got it pretty girl. whats the name for order." he asks, eyes never leaving mine.

"y/n. and how much?" i ask.

"don't worry, i got this one."

"what? no, you got it yesterday jake. let me pay for it." i pleade.

"nope, like i said, i got it. it'll be done soon" he explains.

"thank you." i walk over to an empty table and immediately text jay. i explain to him how jake thought we we're together, then how he called me pretty twice, and gave me my drink for free. minutues pass and me and jay geek over mine and jakes interaction when i feel a soft hand being placed on my back.

"here ya go y/n," jake says with an endearing tone.

"oh thank you. i wasnt expecting you to bring it to me." i explain to him.

"well it's not busy so i thought i would come see you before you left." this man's charm is insane. his smile is something i could look at forever, and the way his aussie accent rolls off his tongue is so attractive.

"well thank you for the drink, im off to class now."

"will i be seeing you here again?" he ask, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.

"yes, i'll be back jake." i say with a laugh.

and i kept my word. everyday for the next two weeks, i went back to the cafe. i love my morning matcha (that he never let me pay for) but i also love seeing jake. his charm keeps me coming back for more.

this particular morning, i wake in the cafe to see jake already waiting for me with the matcha in his hand. the place wasn't busy so the boy walked straight up to me, and embraced me. his touch is warm and he smells of warm coffee and autumn spices.

"well isn't this a pleasant surprise" i say with a laugh as i reciprocate his embrace.

"we havent been busy and i was missing you so i made your matcha so you wouldn't have to wait." he confesses, cheeks turning slightly pink.

"aw well that's very sweet jake, i am actually in a rush so this is perfect" i smiled at him.

"well i wanted to ask you something, but you're in a rush so i wont keep you" he states, looking a litte disappointed.

"wait tell me, i can make some time for you." i expressed.

his eyes lock with mine and i can see a little bit of worry and nervousness in his expression.

"well, i know we havent known each other long but i really enjoy having you around. i come to this job everyday in hopes of seeing you every morning. i love making your matcha for you. and i want to get to know you more. what im trying to say is, would you want to go on a date with me?" he confessed, his entire face in worry.

"awww jake i absolutely would go on a date with you. i hate coffee but why do you think i come here everyday? to see your cute face" i explain.

he pulls me in for another hug. "oh my god, im so happy". he pulls away to look at me.

"it wouldve been really embarrassing if you said no cause i um, already wrote my number on your cup."

who wouldvr guessed that my hatred for coffee would turn into me falling for a barista who smells just like it.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ - a/n: hellooooo. hopefully you guys somewhat enjoyed this. this is my first fic after not writing since um...2020...so its definitely not perfect but i wanted to get something out there. nothing too long but i still hope you enjoyed.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Okay no one talk to me bc I haven’t watched the race yet but I just finished Nightbane by Alex Aster and am currently Losing It. I need the third book rn.

[faethfigueroth]

.

[aftermathing]

The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

[bringinghometherain]

This new OFMD season has me wondering more about how Hollywood treats actors' bodies, because just within this cast it's already striking me as inconsistent. CW for talking about body types, weight, body image, stuff like that y'all.

Just to start us off, we here at BringingHometheRain Blogging Inc. believe no body type is inherently good or bad. Fat, skinny, doughy, jacked, whatever. Bodies are bodies. I believe that, but obviously the people who make movies and tv shows don't believe that, or movies and tv shows would look a lot different in the year of our lord 2023.

OFMD started off, like, actually pretty progressive for a romcom in 2022. Your romantic leads are skinny/doughy guys in their late 40s! A fat Black man is also portrayed as a romantic interest, with no derogatory fat jokes! The other pairing is two gay guys who are not jacked dudes, they're just dudes! One of them has a speech impediment and it's never played for laughs! We're doing great!

And coming into this I had already noticed a divide between actors based mainly in the UK and actors based mainly in the US. My experience of British television is that the actors tend to look more like average people, and US-based actors tend to be skinnier and more muscular. Especially over the last decade-ish, actors in US films and tv have gotten noticeably more muscular, to a level that "normal" people don't tend to reach unless their main hobby is Gym (and even then). I haven't spent sufficient time watching NZ/Aussie tv and movies to really have a feel for what the general expectations for actors' bodies seem to be in that region of the biz. Also this is not, like, a hard-and-fast set of rules I'm proposing here, it's just a trend I've noticed from watching a lot of tv and movies.

So last year with season 1 we had our Stiddies moment and all that stuff I mentioned above and that was great for everyone. And I imagined to myself around the start of season 2 when Con started posting workout stuff on insta that they were making a good portion of the cast work out for season 2. I pictured it as some some beginning of the shoot all-cast meeting where they were like "yeah so uh, several of you are now sex symbols? In light of this we've written in more nudity and the following cast members now have workout plans:" and so on and so forth.

(Not really, but not not really)

And I didn't think much else of it until Con's birthday post on instagram and the trailer came out with Con shirtless, and then I thought as far as "ah, yes, Con sure did work out. He looks good!" (Note: That's a lie, I thought "OMG WHAT A BABE.")

And starting the new season yesterday, it looks like Nathan's lost some weight and/or put on some muscle. And again, that lined up with about what I was expecting. Vico and Madeline's arms are hella muscular, which makes sense given what the body norm is for AFAB people in tv right now. Most of the rest of the cast looks pretty similar to how they looked last season, which did not surprise me. Taika looks like he might've upped his workout routine a little, but he's a Real Hollywood Celebrity so he probably actually has a personal trainer and shit, he left average working actor/screenwriter life behind a long time ago.

But then!

We got our merStede fever dream come true, and Rhys's body type is almost exactly the same as it was last season. Which is fine! I'm not pointing this out to be like "how dare this man not make his muscles bigger for us." The man CLEARLY already has buckets of sex appeal without needing to work his pecs 4 days a week. He's doing just fine for himself, the proof is in the fan art.

So, because I am a person who loves thinking about process and logistics and all of the little moving pieces that go into something like OFMD, I am now wondering: why did Con have to build muscle if Rhys didn't? Or did he not have to, was he just told he would have some shirtless scenes and he was offered the personal training if he wanted it? How does this decision-making process work? Are there differences between UK/US/NZ studios on this? Is this all settled during contract negotiations? Do actors push back on this kind of thing ever? Is any of this being covered under the SAG-AFTRA contract negotiations? Should it be?

I understand why it's not really talked about, but given how extreme Hollywood likes to take their actors' body types I do wonder about the behind-the-scenes aspects, especially on smaller shows like OFMD where a lot of the cast are closer to middle class than the cast of Marvel movies.

[ereborne]

Shuffle Meme

@zahnie did one of these last week and I always enjoy them.  These are all out of the ever-evolving ‘laundry list’ playlist I keep on my laptop

I Can Only Stare by Sleigh Bells

Old College Try by the Mountain Goats

One Foot by Walk the Moon

Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight by Jennifer Hudson (from the Sing! OS)

Fire and Rain by James Taylor

Ship to Wreck by Florence + the Machine

I Ain’t Never Seen No One Like You by George Strait

Shame on the Night by Dio

Stop Me by Natalia Kills

What I Really Mean by Robert Earl Keen

Tagging anybody who wants to do the thing!  Please @ me so I can see your music, this is where I get maybe half my new songs

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[risuola]

I — NOT YET // When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

contents: smut, mafia!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm.

Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two