#Yes she has a mask now

[konoa-t]

Masked.

#silly little doodle comic about how Yumi got her mask #Yes she has a mask now #no longer peeled #Still figuring out designs for her so this mask might not stick #It’ll work for now tho #Yumi n Reuben #<— tag for any new Yumi and Reuben interaction

[bet-on-me-13]

Steph's Year of Recovery

So! Danny noticed that a new face had made it's way into town. Two new faces actually, an older lady known as Dr Leslie, and a girl about his age called Steph.

He first met them when he was at the hospital for one of his parents. They had stood too close to an explosion again, and he met them while he was in the waiting Area.

Dr Leslie was a strict but obviously caring older woman, who seemed to be the one taking care of Steph as a kind of maternal figure, or maybe more like an Aunt. She greeted him simply and then walked away to talk with the Secretary, leaving him to talk to Steph.

Steph was a blond girl in a Wheelchair, and he could see bandages piking out of her clothes as he talked to her. She explained that she had been in an Accident a few weeks ago that left her wheelchair bound for a while, and that she had come to Amity for their surprisingly good Medical Centers.

He and Steph got along really well, and by the end of it he asked her for her Number so they could continue talking later. They stayed in touch, and when she was finally permitted to leave the Hospital, he introduced her to his friends. They all got along like a House on Fire, both figuratively and in one memorable case very literally (Vlad had pissed them off okay!)

Eventually Steph recovered enough that she moved from a Wheelchair to Crutches, and their shenanigans got even more chaotic (Vlad hadn't even pissed them off, this time was just for fun)

The only thing Danny could complain about was the fact that Steph was hiding something from them.

She said that she had been in an Accident a while ago, which was why they had come to Amity in the first place. But Danny knew it was more than that.

He could sense lingering traces of Death coming from her after all.

...

Steph honestly loved her current life.

Sure she had lost everything, her home, her health, her friends, her life, but she had gained new things too! Like Danny and the Gang! They were honestly some of the best friends she had ever had, and for some reason they just clicked with her instantly.

Danny was interesting and funny, Sam was vegan and a badass, Tucker was smart and witty, they all fit with her personality perfectly! It almost felt like she bad been friends with them for years. (She ignored the way her heart skipped a beat when she saw them)

But she still couldn't shake the sense that they were hiding something from her.

She knew it had something to do with the Ghost Problem in the town. And wasn't that a kicker, there was a whole Supernatural Ghost Outbreak in this Town and nobody knew about it. Dr Leslie had said that Amity was off the map enough to hide from Bruce, but she hadn't mentioned it was hidden from the Justice League itself!

Danny, Sam, and Tucker definitely knew more about it than they let on however. Whenever a Ghost Attack would happen, at least one of them would rush off with some practiced excuse and return after the Ghost Attack was over all dirty. She could guess what was going on, and she really didn't like it.

(This had killed her, she had died doing what they were doing, she didn't want to lose them)

Eventually she had to confront them, coincidentally on the same day they decided to confront her.

"Are you Vigilantes?" / "Did you die?"

"..."

"What?" / "What?"

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Stephanie Brown #Stephanie Browns Death #Steph actually did die to Black Mask #Dr Leslie didn't manage to save her but did manage to bring her back #How she did it is up to you #But because if that Steph needs Physical Therapy and Treatments only found in Amity #Amity is also secluded enough that Batman won't find them there #Steph knows she died but is willfully ignoring it to the point of almost repressing it #Especially because she doesn't know how she came back to life #She doesn't like that her brand new friends are also Vigilantes because being a Vigilante is what got her killed #She doesn't want them to die like she die #She doesn't want to lose her new friends #Trauma #Steph is Traumatized #Also all of them are 17 in this #Stephs age when she died is very vague but 17 is the most reliable middle ground #So the Trio has been Vigilantes for 3 years now #They know what they are doing and have a system so they can share the workload #Sam and Tucker still have their powers #So they can help Danny with the workload #Idk if Steph would develop Powers from the Treatment or her Resurrection but I kind of like the idea #Also yes this is Poly Eternal Trio + Steph cause she deserves happiness #I NEED more Steph Ships cause she deserves more attention

[impossibledial]

you hate clara in series 7? not a clara stan.

you hate clara in series 8? not a clara stan.

you hate clara in series 9? not a clara stan.

you think clara’s farewell in hell bent is bad? not a clara stan.

in conclusion, if you can’t take the time to understand her arc then you are not a clara stan.

#clara oswald #yes i’m gatekeeping #the transition from series 7 to 8 is a bit wobbly because of matt smith leaving when a plan for another series with him was being considered #but clara is still clara. #clara in series 7 has just begun travelling with the doctor. clara in series 8 is experienced in travelling with him. #that’s the difference. #and as for clara being a lot more bubbly in series 7 #she admits that’s a way of masking her bossy control freak nature in time of the doctor #AND SHES STILL VERY BUBBLY AND CUTE AND CURIOUS IN SERIES 8 #okay this isnt well thought out so excuse any typos or over dramatic use of words but #i’m tired of people acting like clara’s character did a complete 180 after series 7 when she’s still very much the same in my eyes #that’s not to say i have no problems with the transition from series 7 to 8 but that’s nothing to do with clara’s personality #i’m just disappointed we didn’t get to see her family as much and i think that’s one of my issues with danny. #i like his character but i think some scenes with him would have been better if they had been with clara’s family instead #okay i’m rambling i’ll stop now.

[curseofbreadbear]

considering an au where cassie is the hw2 protagonist...

#{ yes this mostly because of the vanny mask } #{ OH (edit) THERES ALSO THE CANDY CADET STORY THAT KINDA RESEMBLES THE ENDING OF RUIN } #{ but its ALSO because the protagonist knows how to use a faz wrench + } #{ this mimics (ha) the ending where cassie goes to that one poster and gets a fake happy ending } #{ maybe somehow she wound up in the old pizzeria (maybe its as far as she could go) and now shes just kinda stuck } #{ she keeps the mask on bc its the only way she can feel happy and safe but then theres reality which- } #{ -is likely meant to resemble ruin (especially bc of the mini games) } #{ im just having thoughts ok. } #hw2 spoilers / #{ im still not done so theres a high chance that fnaf canon will spit in my face again skdnsjnd } #{ (hw2's candy cadet not the ruin one skdndj) } #{ IM JUST??? } #🎬 || time for bear. (ooc.) || 🎬

[soldier-poet-king]

I am going to be SUCH the bigger person about this I saw a post that not only was wrong and annoying and a little mean spirited, but it was about something I am specifically knowledgeable and passionate about and which affects me directly, AND I kept my damn mouth shut and out of the replies despite the fact that it's killing me to do so

#rose i am taking a page out of ur book #truly i am going to get a mediocre but passing grade in not being a huge bitch #smthn that is normal to want and possible to achieve #its just like. actually. when i am not actively depressed and working toward my own self effacement out of guilt #ACTUALLY im incredibly smart and right about almost everything and almost everyone is stupid and annoying and I'm tired and angry #i am NOT a kind person by nature!!! thats the depression and guilt talking #deeper fran is just. why am i not the world's benevolent dictator. i think they should allow me to be in charge #entering my villain era #yes i AM tired of being nice and yes i DO want to go apeshit #fully just admitting to being an awful person on main now. no more pretending my kindness is anything more than a mask #i wear it because its right and good and i ought to. but ohhhhhhh shes fake and unfortunately #years of practice has not made it my true self #if anything the less chronically depressed i am the meaner i am. bc i have less navel gazing #and more mental energy to direct outwards. in my natural sharp tongued quick tempered opinionated meanness #i think ive finally reached the parentified eldest child point where im allowed to fully snap and be a littke evil #people pleasing is OUT

[simstoyourdismay]

baby august do NOT look at me like that you demonic fuck

#i'm genuinely terrified of him like i'm aware he's a sim baby but still #good thing ea removed the hissing when changing infant teeth #because if it was still there i'd be pissing myself right now #i need to make some minor tweaks to him but he's like mostly done #like i forgot to convert his eyelid mask so now he has both white and black lashes #it's fine.. it's an easy fix i am just sooo incredibly lazy #anyways i took some pics with him and olive (yes i finally made her and she's no longer a mere concept YAY) #oc: augustus #equi/cholia: extras

[waitingawhile]

Before I watched toh when I saw ppl drawing emperor belos online I thought it was an older woman and I was hype to watch the show from the art of this woman and hunter. Then I start watching the show and the cast members are like “he.” And I’m like. Oh so characters don’t know it’s actually a woman behind the mask pog little twist I will pretend I don’t have this spoiler knowledge haha yes “he” mr belos haha playful wink of dramatic irony. Imagine my surprise—

#toh #the owl house #belos #idk how I got it into my brain that belos was a woman I could’ve sworn I saw someone say she #but even after my dumbass was literally presented with the canon info I did not understand LMAO #even when hunter is like “yes uncle” I was like damn even he don’t know it wasn’t until the mask came off and no one reacted strangely that #i finally understood that I was wrong and had misunderstood stuff before I watched the show #<- aiden is a dumbass for over 20 episodes of a cartoon #also u don’t understand how much my brain now has to work in reverse to remember belos is a man they’ll be like there he is and I’ll be lik #*she fuck wait #aiden.txt #edit: this is an old draft from when i was first watching toh i totally forgot about this omfg

[1800duckhotline]

I should probably put this here in the meantime. Girl who also is a boyfriend

#youve heard of malewife. now get ready for a revolutionary concept: the femalehusband #also yes she has shirt AND sock garters #she gets more masks as a treat #wips

[orbdog]

more progress on my girl!! REALLY glad i went with fabric for the horns instead of paper mache. finally found a use for that shitty gray fabric too hee hoo

#snarf #wip #fursuit #skull fursuit #yes she has horns #keep scrollin #shes probably just gonna be a head also #this is more of an art project than it is a fursuit lmao #but her jaw still works #ill probably replace the elastic with a spring #its not very sensitive :( #this is also making me wanna try out a dino mask one of these days #im not really sticking to my own standards for this since its just a silly passive side project but im having a lot of fun! #so i think a dino mask would also be fun. plus they have some other shapes out now :]

[picklewednesday]

transfem donatello

#ok hcs real qucik #she has ALWAYS liked feminine things #she has matchjng bracelets with all of her friends and sibligs. she used to have one for karai but she accidentally lost it #i iust forgot to draw it #raoh paints ALL of his sisters nails. so like leo april donnie karai #she only realised ahea teans bc leo came put and she didnt relasie yoh cpuld just. be trans #YES those are painted claws #she loves trying out makeup even though she cant actuslly. do it prpperly :( #karai and april trh their best to help their sisters though #SHE AND MILEY PRACRICE DIFFERENT BOW STYLES #her favourite is a butterfly shaped one #if she ties her madk tails normally though she ends up tripping over them bc she forgets she uses longer masks now <//3

[epicfirestormer]

Okay so I have no idea if anyone has pointed this out before or not, but I haven't seen anyone talk about it, so I guess I'll do it.

In Chapter 944, Kid says thay Killer wears a mask because he would beat up people who made fun of his laugh and decided to hide it by wearing a mask one day. Which is like, the weirdest reason I've ever heard.

How exactly does wearing a mask meant to hide his laugh?? It's not soundproof, we know that for sure, because 1. He talks normally and doesn't sound muffled at all, and 2. We can still hear his laugh. We see this in the raid during Act 3, multiple times. So, what's the point??

Is he functioning on the logic of "if no one can see me physically laugh, they can't make fun of me for it"? Which is like, I guess makes some sense, but still feels like a stretch.

Technically speaking, covering his face has close to nothing to do with stopping his laugh. Because it doesn't. It's to hide his face.

Killer wasn't made fun of because of his laugh. It was because of his face- or more accurately, his third eye. In this essay I will-

#okay. joking aside I do truly believe that that's the real reason why Killer wears a mask #we know that people made fun of Pudding for having a third eye which is why she has her bangs so she can cover it up #who else hides a part of themselves because people ridiculed them for it? Killer #we also have never seen his forehead before. and that even as a kid he had his eyes covered by hair #now where have we seen that before #correct me if I'm wrong but Killer is one of the few characters who have a big emphasis on hiding their identify #who else has a big emphasis on hiding who they are which the series has constantly tried not to show their face? #fucking. Im. #yes that might be a bit of leap but that's not the point #I'm saying that every time any character is meant to hide something #it becomes relevant later on in the story #because think about it. the kamazo is killer twist would still work even if we saw his real face #so yes. I'm absolutely convinced that Killer's face/identity will play some sort of role in the story later on #don't know what it will be but it'll be sure be something #considering what happened in chap 1063 cover story #one piece #the fire burns #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #op killer #one piece theory #op theory #one piece spoilers #i mean i guess #depending on if you finish wano yet or not #look I just want Killer to get the attention he deserves #a girl can dream

[taviokapudding]

This year my dad found & gave me the Montblac my mom misplaced in 2016 that was supposed to be my deceased grandpa’s uni graduation gift; yesterday I got to draw for the first time in 3yrs without pain & inked a Diluc with the $500 pen

I ordered normal pens right after, it’s okay to laugh and cry

I know my old man is upstairs probably cackling because he used to doodle with his fountain pens. And also I’m relieved I can still draw & didn’t lose all my skills but the numbing in my shoulder has now evolved to soreness so I’ll try to draw once a week to build those muscles up again. Tldr my dominant arm is low key fighting the urge to slide outta my arm socket because in 2019 I fell and tore my trapezius muscle next to my spine with the hold the size of my hand. Tbh I only have a functioning right arm purely out of spite & self recovery since then & only until recently don’t suffer from the debilitating pain anymore but anyways.

The way I just 💀 upon realizing the ink refills are $20 & I bought 30 pens for the same price. And like y’all don’t understand, I re-inked the drawing 3 times to build up the depth between the Five & Below $5 color pencil layers. That’s like $4-$8 in total

I knew it was expensive but I never looked into it until my dad saw what I was doing and busted out laughing because apparently he did the same mistake when he graduated law school.

My first drawing in 3 yrs accidentally turned my sketchbook into an physical asset because of the fucking pen and I gotta save up to buy the refills down the road because THE INK WAS SO NICE TO DRAW WITH *punches air* I HATE THAT IT WAS A GOOD EXPERIENCE OH FUCK ME

#mun post #When I wake up I’ll take pictures because it’s 4:30am right now #you guys can see the moment I realized on tiktok #there’s no jokes here #it’s the Meisterstück Platinum-Coated LeGrand Ballpoint Pen either in midsize or le grand I need to measure it tomorrow because it’s a full #sized pen and the difference between the 2 sizes is $25 which isn’t much but with taxes is CRAZY #OF COUSE IT WAS FUCKING #diluc ragnvindr #THAT I DREW OF C O U R S E SHIT That’s really funny #also I don’t have red color pencils apparently so I used pink and orange to mix in the red #and yes I used a glitter gel pen with the fucking $20 black ink I am SO STUPID #capitalism wins this round fellas because goddamn it’s a good fucking pen and it didn’t smear or bleed through at all and is a comfy weight #but fuuuuuuuck #also my mom misplaced the pen because she had been masking her dementia and schizophrenia since probably 2010 when I think it #so yeah shout out to my dad for never stoping to search for the pen #also it has this little case with a fancy black fabric #also fun fact if my dad never came to the us he would be a lawyer in Costa Rica #artists of tumblr

[pepprs]

literally the only reason i am not in as bad a mental health place as i was in in december is bc i’m done w school now and i never have to go back or deal with being a student again if i don’t want to and also bc i know there is a high likelihood that there are some big important helpful highly desired changes on my horizon in the next few months and years. but i am really not doing good right now

#purrs #scotus leaked draft + buffalo shooting + dallas shooting + uvalde shooting + monkeypox + covid cases rising + losing my last 3 weeks of #college and graduation + losing my freedom for who knows how long and moving back home + friends and family getting covid + pushing myself #to the limit finishing my capstone + watching my loved ones suffer with the situations in their own lives = is it ethical to bring children #into this world is it reasonable to think that i will one day live with autonomy again and find a romantic partner and have a pet and enjoy #my life and see all the people i love doing the same. all ive been able to do this week outside of finishing school my job application etc #is doomscroll about the shootings and covid and monkeypox when i really should be doomscrollimg through my fucking save tag that i curated #specifically to counteract these situations and give me reasons to find hope but i don’t have the strength or see the point bc im only gonn #lose the hope again. but i know there’s a point but i can’t get myself to see it and maybe it’s bc km just so exhausted but idk. and one of #the WORST parts of this is that if the job works out i am going to have to understand that people will look at me differently part of which #means that people — STUDENTS like i just was 2 days ago!!! — will look to me expecting that i have answers or at the very least hope and i #literally do not have hope right now and after national events this month i don’t know if i’ll ever feel hope again. so it’s like fuck i #wont be able to do my fucking job that i feel called to do and want to do more than anything lol. but i already won’t be able to do it bc t #the chances that i can go to [insert convferwrnce] when it involves being on a plane and navigating people who won’t wear masks are so low #and * already snarked about it to me yesterday which really hurt my feelings like i don’t think she was trying to be mean but it’s like yes #the fuck i can hide in the van forever i do NOT want to get covid. but i also do not want to miss [conference] and it’s just so stupid that #im going to have to keep making these choices because this nightmare country has decided covid doesn’t exist anymore. idk lol #i know everything in my life could be a lot worse and also that it is objectively WORLDS better than it was very recently bc i graduated an #im done now. but this month has sucked so unbelievably bad and June is also going to be hard and im just scared i will never be happy or #hopeful again or that every time i am something new will knock it down (which is a given living in the usa lol) and that it would be #unethical to try to do the BASIC bare minimum things i have always wanted to do in my life. lole #negative tw #ask to tag #abortion tw #shooting tw #mass shooting tw #monkeypox tw

[femininominon]

there is the agony of living in America (contributing to its global acts of cruelty simply by living and working and feeding and clothing yourself) and the agony of living in America today when it has become so clear that even if every politician making these choices on my behalf were killed, it would make no difference and they would be swiftly replaced by their ideological twin

#I can't even fantasize about politicians being murdered anymore #there was always an oh well! maybe someone will just assassinate them #you guys can ignore me but #I'm just. really fucking sad right now #sobbing in my parents kitchen while my mom made me ramen #and she kept asking oh what's wrong #are your friends upset? did something happen at work? #no. nothing has happened to me. but yes. everything is wrong #every day I go to work and ask “having a good day?” while I'm scanning their items. #or the more tragic “any fun plans this week?” #and. I know I probably seem the same #and I don't know what they look like when they go home and take their masks off #but I just. #I don't get how they seem so unconcerned #“oh sure let me buy this Israeli feta. no flags popping up in the back of my head!” #I just don't get it #I'm so tired #I don't think I remember what it was like to not be depressed #but there's a difference between depression and despair #and this is despair #I need to learn to be angry #I can choose to be sad and turn the switch and be cheerful at work #but I think if I let myself be angry I won't be able to do what I need to to maintain my own life #as if I'm doing anything a normal person would consider maintaining my own life and well-being #but I go to work #and I collect my checks #and that's all I can really ask of myself right now

[autismserenity]

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.)

#covid isn't over #covid 19 #disability rights #disability advocacy #wear a mask #covid conscious #covid cautious #mask up #wall of words #public health #health care

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader