Great news for uninsured adults in the USA who want a COVID-19 booster! It now appears that ALL CVS locations are now active participants in the Bridge Access Program. The Bridge Access Program gives out free Covid-19 vaccinations to 18+ adults who otherwise can't afford one, so if you have a CVS near you, please go get one! For others who don't have a CVS near them, please go to vaccines.gov, click on "Find Covid-19 vaccines", fill out which vaccines you prefer (you can mix different vaccines if you have to so i reccomend just marking all of them for the age groups you need), and when the next page loads mark the "Bridge Access Program Participant" option to see only locations that are Bridge Access Program participants. Hopefully, other places that aren't CVS will start participating soon, so just check back every so often to see if there are any updates. The CDC Bridge Access Program website also has more details on what locations will be participating, but only CVS is appearing as an active participant on the vaccines.gov location finder at the moment.
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i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.
most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.
it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.
and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).
i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.
grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.
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doctors are so fucking funny; if you go in like "based on my extensive research and corroborations i think i have this Disease" they will immediately go on the defensive and ask you demeaning shit like "how do you even know this Disease exists?" but if you go in and play stupid and say "gee whiz i'm just a silly little bimbo who doesn't know a thing but i have symptom, symptom, symptom, and symptom" they will very eagerly be like "oh wow, that sounds like Disease!"
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Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.
Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.
She'd never not remembered, is the point.
Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.
Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.
Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.
But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"
Grian stares at her a moment.
"You know, I guess not?" he says.
"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."
Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"
Good enough.
She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:
She moves on.
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Wait a damn minute Merlin is an actual nightmare of a servant. Imagine you're the Prince and all of a sudden and only two seconds after surviving an assassination attempt you're stuck with this scrawny, clumsy fucking dude with a really shifty air about him who spends literal days in the tavern with zero notice, steals your food, tried to spy on a guest, doesn't let you hunt, can never fucking be found when you need him even though he is the literal manservant to the prince, which you would think should be a priority but apparently he has better things to do, and is always talking like he's the only thing standing between you and certain death???? Then he gives you attitude? Literally I would throw things at him too. Arthur is misunderstood he's actually being too nice
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priest guy sending mixed signals, what is he up to?🤨🕶🤏
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[Image Description: A warm-toned comic featuring Trigun98 characters. It opens with Vash shouting "YOWCH!!" as a half-eaten donut flies through the air, a bruise on Vash's tongue. Meryl, editing papers, is annoyed as he complains: "Ow! Ow! I bi'e my 'ongue..." "What's the rush?" Meryl asks, "They're all yours." Vash, still hurt, tries to explain: "They're jus' sooo good!" Meryl argues back, "Well, savour it then!" Wolfwood has been watching the scene unfold as Meryl continues, "Satisfying your sweet tooth doesn't come cheap, unfortunately." Wolfwood clicks his lighter open and closed, again and again. Without a word, he leans closer, his thumb on Vash's lips. "Wolfwood...?" Vash trails off. Then, Wolfwood opens Vash's mouth and knicks his thumb on one of Vash's canines in one fell swoop. "Wah? Huh??" Vash says as Wolfwood pulls his bleeding thumb away. He licks the blood off the wound then snickers at Vash. Meryl looks disgusted, Vash has lit up in an embarrassed explosion, and Milly remarks, curious: "Those are surprisingly sharp, Mr. Vash!" Question marks float around Vash, and his donuts lay discarded on the table. Each panel is signed by raepliica. End ID]
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