#Effective decision-making tips

[lifestyle-hub]

9 Ways to Combat Decision Fatigue in a World of Endless Choices

Image credit: Cottonbro||

It’s the end of the day, and you’re staring blankly at your phone, unable to decide whether to order pizza, noodles, or maybe just cook dinner.

It’s not laziness, it’s decision fatigue. We live in an era where choices are everywhere, from what to wear in the morning to which Netflix show to binge at night. While more options may seem like a good thing, they can lead to mental exhaustion, leaving us drained and overwhelmed.

So how do you take back control and reduce this daily stress? Let’s dive into 9 simple, actionable ways to combat decision fatigue.

1. Simplify Your Routine

Ever heard how some of the most successful people like Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg stick to the same wardrobe every day? They do this for a reason, by reducing minor decisions, they save their brainpower for more important choices. You don’t have to go full uniform mode, but simplifying daily routines can go a long way in cutting down decision fatigue. Whether it's meal prepping your week’s lunches, choosing a go-to work outfit, or setting up an automatic morning routine, having fewer decisions to make will lighten the mental load.

2. Limit Your Options

The more choices we have, the harder it becomes to decide. This is the classic paradox of too much choice. To avoid this, set boundaries for yourself. For instance, limit your entertainment options to just three choices: one movie, one show, and one documentary. The same applies to your daily tasks. Prioritize the top three things you need to accomplish, and ignore the rest until they’re done. Less is more!

3. Batch Your Decisions

Imagine having to make a hundred small decisions throughout the day, it’s exhausting, right? Batching similar tasks together is a powerful way to minimize the number of decisions you make. Instead of figuring out what to eat for dinner every night, plan your meals for the week on Sunday. Instead of checking emails all day, dedicate two specific times to respond. By batching decisions into a single timeframe, you free up mental space and reduce the constant barrage of choices.

4. Create Decision-Making Habits

Habits can be your best friend when it comes to fighting decision fatigue. The more decisions you can turn into habits, the fewer choices you have to actively make. For example, if you always work out at the same time every day, it becomes second nature, eliminating the need to constantly debate with yourself about when or whether to exercise. The beauty of habits is that they automate your decisions, leaving your mind free for other things.

5. Know Your Decision-Making Peak

Your brain doesn’t operate at the same level all day. For most people, cognitive function is at its peak in the morning. This means your ability to make sound decisions is stronger earlier in the day. Schedule your most important decisions whether they’re about work, finances, or personal life for when you’re most alert. Save the less critical decisions (like what to watch on TV) for later when your mental energy is lower. By aligning your decision-making with your mental stamina, you’ll make better, more thoughtful choices.

6. Embrace “Good Enough”

I wouldn't say the term “perfect” is not possible or bad, but perfectionism is the enemy of decision-making. We often get stuck in analysis paralysis, trying to find the perfect solution when “good enough” would suffice. The truth is, in most situations, there is no perfect answer. Accepting “good enough” speeds up decision-making and reduces the stress that comes with overthinking. Whether it’s choosing a restaurant or making a work decision, ask yourself, “Is this good enough for now?” More often than not, it will be.

7. Make Use of Tools

We live in a time where technology can help ease decision fatigue. Apps like Todoist, Trello, or even simple to-do lists can help organize your tasks and priorities. Decision-making templates can help narrow down your options. For example, if you struggle with choosing a new book to read, create a shortlist based on recommendations, then use a decision matrix to weigh your options based on criteria like length, genre, and reviews. These tools act as shortcuts for your brain, giving you a framework to make faster decisions.

8. Delegate When Possible

You don’t have to make every decision yourself. Whether it's work-related or personal, delegation is a powerful tool to reduce decision fatigue. Trusting others with some choices allows you to focus on the ones that matter most to you. At work, this could mean passing tasks down to a coworker or team member. At home, it might involve letting your partner or kids make dinner choices or weekend plans. Don’t be afraid to ask for help it’s a sign of strength, not weakness.

9. Take Regular Breaks

Our brains are like muscles, they get tired from overuse. Taking regular breaks throughout the day can help reset your mental energy, allowing you to make better decisions. Whether it's stepping outside for a quick walk, doing some stretches, or practicing mindfulness for a few minutes, these small breaks can prevent decision burnout. When you feel overwhelmed, don’t push through, pause, reset, and come back refreshed.

Fewer Decisions, More Clarity

In a world filled with endless choices, the secret to clarity is cutting through the noise. It’s about making fewer decisions so you can focus on the ones that count.

So, take a deep breath, start with one small change, and watch as your decision-making power grows stronger.

Kad

References

Baumeister, R. F., & Tierney, J. (2011). Willpower: Rediscovering the Greatest Human Strength.

Schwartz, B. (2004). The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less.

Iyengar, S. S. (2010). The Art of Choosing.

[theluckygirlblog]

How to Overcome Indecisiveness and Make Confident Decisions

Indecisiveness can be paralyzing. Whether it’s choosing a career path, deciding on a business move, or even picking a restaurant for dinner, overthinking can drain your energy and prevent you from moving forward. High achievers know that decisiveness is a key skill that fuels success. Here’s how you can cultivate the ability to make clear, confident choices without second-guessing yourself. 1.…

[fogaminghub]

🚨 New Blog Post Alert! 🚨 

Are you ready to navigate the twists and turns of Until Dawn? In our latest post, we break down a crucial moment at the Washington Lodge Grounds where your choices as Ashley can change everything! Will you mislead or encourage Matt? Discover the impact of every decision in this hauntingly engaging game! 🏞️👀 

[directsellingnow]

Network Marketing Tips: ये 14 नियम बदल देंगे आपकी जिंदगी; Dr. Debi Prasad Acharjya

Network Marketing Tips: जिंदगी challenges और opportunities की एक complex picture है, जो अक्सर uncertainties के साथ आती है। सफलता और happiness की हमारी खोज में, हमें countless obstacles का सामना करना पड़ता है जिनके लिए effective problem-solving, critical decision-making और personal growth की आवश्यकता होती है। पूरे इतिहास में, मनुष्य ने अपने collective knowledge को timeless laws में बदल दिया है –…

[marilynslove]

the face bsf!rafe first made when he saw the bikini picture you posted from your day at the beach

“fuck,” he whimpered softly, jaw slack as he desperately rutted his aching cock into his fist, angry tip leaking with pre-cum as his eyes flickered over the phone screen.

he felt like such a fuckin creep, getting off to his own best friend’s instagram pictures. he couldn’t help it though; not with the way your ass was hanging out of the bottom of your suit, tan lines clearly visible. and most definitely not with the way your tits were spilling out of your bikini top, the wet material clinging onto the soft curves of your breasts.

he couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like to fuck them; his tip coming to barely brush between your lips after every thrust, how he’d make you part your lips and lick at the stickiness that would string off.

“sh-hit,” he moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and brows furrowing as he picked up his pace, tightening his hand a little - trying to imagine it as you fluttering around him instead.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck, mmmh shit-” he whined, biting down on his lip to quiet himself.

his hand moved frantically for more friction, the cool of the ring on his index finger only bringing more effect to the warm pool in his stomach.

“need it y/n, shiit, wan’ to cum.” he groaned under his breath, his blue eyes opening to look back at your picture. but this time, a small glint in the sun caught his attention.

sitting beautifully on your neck was a gold necklace he had gotten you on your birthday, a little ‘r’ pendant hanging just out of reach from your cleavage. how the fuck did he not notice it before? a flare of possessiveness bloomed in his chest, n he felt the familiar rush of heat course through him.

he came hard, the spurts of slick painting his chest and stomach; his hips stuttering and abdomen flexing.

as he slowly came down from his high, body spent and limp against his mattress, he silently made a decision - he was definitely gonna make you take that post down.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🧪 Character Arcs 101: what they are, what they aren’t, and how to make them hurt

by rin t. (resident chaos scribe of thewriteadviceforwriters)

Okay so here’s the thing. You can give me all the pretty pinterest moodboards and soft trauma playlists in the world, but if your character doesn’t change, I will send them back to the factory.

Let’s talk about character arcs. Not vibes. Not tragic backstory flavoring. Actual. Arcs. (It hurts but we’ll get through it together.)

─────── ✦ ───────

💡 what a character arc IS:

a transformational journey (keyword: transformation)

the internal response to external pressure (aka plot consequences)

a shift in worldview, behavior, belief, self-concept

the emotional architecture of your story

the reason we care

💥 what a character arc is NOT:

a sad monologue halfway through act 2

a single cool scene where they yell or cry

a moral they magically learn by the end

a “development” label slapped on a flatline

─────── ✦ ───────

✨ THE 3 BASIC FLAVORS OF ARC (and how to emotionally damage your characters accordingly):

Positive Arc They start with a flaw, false belief, or fear that limits them. Through the events of the story (and many Ls), they confront that internal lie, grow, and emerge changed. Hurt factor: Drag them through the mud. Make them fight to believe in themselves. Break their trust, make them doubt. Let them earn their ending.

Negative Arc They begin whole(ish) and devolve. They fail to overcome their flaw or false belief. This arc ends in ruin, corruption, or defeat. Hurt factor: Let them almost have a chance. Build hope. Then show how they sabotage it, or how the world takes it anyway. Twist the knife.

Flat/Static Arc They don’t change, but the world around them does. They hold onto a core truth, and it’s their constancy that drives change in others. Think: mentor, revolutionary, or truth-teller type. Hurt factor: Make the world push back. Make their values cost them something. The tension comes from holding steady in chaos.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎯 how to build an arc that actually HITS (no ✨soft lessons✨, just internal structure):

Lie they believe: What false thing do they think about themselves or the world? (“I’m unlovable.” “Power = safety.” “I’m only valuable if I’m useful.”)

Want vs. need: What do they think they want? What do they actually need to grow?

Wound/backstory scar: What made them like this? You don’t need a tragic past™ but you do need cause and effect.

Turning point: What moment forces them to question their worldview? What event cracks the surface?

Moment of choice: Do they change? Or not? What decision seals their arc?

🧪 Pro tip: this is not a worksheet. This is scaffolding. The arc lives in the story, not just your doc notes. The lie isn’t revealed in a monologue, it’s felt through consequences, relationships, mistakes.

─────── ✦ ───────

🛠️ things to actually do with this:

Write scenes where the character’s flaw messes things up. Like, they lose something. A person. A plan. Their cool. Make the flaw hurt.

Track their beliefs like a timeline. How do they start? What chips away at it? When does the shift stick?

Use relationships as arc mirrors. Who challenges them? Enables them? Forces reflection? Internal change is almost never solo.

Revisit the lie. Circle back to it at least three times in escalating intensity. Reminder > confrontation > transformation.

─────── ✦ ───────

🌊 bonus pain level: REVERSE THE ARC

Wanna make it really hurt? Set them up for one arc, and give them the opposite. They think they’re growing into a better person. But actually, they’re losing themselves. They think they’re spiraling. But they’re really healing. Let them be surprised. Let the reader be surprised.

─────── ✦ ───────

TL;DR: If your plot is a skeleton, your character arc is the nervous system.

The change is the thing. Don’t just dress it up in trauma. Don’t let your character learn nothing. Make them face themselves. And yeah. Make it hurt a little. (Or a lot. I won’t stop you.)

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // plotting pain professionally since forever

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[tsuyalovebot]

you're a catch 22.

explicit sexual content (minors & ageless blogs will be blocked.)

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, ignore typos, i wrote this in one sitting). afab reader. unprotected sex. doggy -> prone bone. collar & leash. implied multiple rounds. creampies. yes this is based on the recent teasers for the valentines banner. enjoy.

it's rough and dirty and completely irrate, the way your bodies move together in the journey for gratification. it's difficult to discern if he's seeking his own, or yours, with how those unhinged beads seem to seek out your own with every little motion he makes.

slick coats your inner thighs, splatters onto the floor, and wraps his girth in a shimmery gloss of desire. it mingles well with the pearly, creamier dollops of his own cum that he's intent on fucking back into you right now. as if caleb was content on marking his territory like this.

on all fours, the floor is cold and dirty beneath your fingertips. yet nothing compares to the way he's rutting into you from behind, clumsy and animalistic. no technique whatsoever. and no, the way his balls were harshly slapping onto your clit with every dragging motion doesn't count as stimulation, no matter how arousingly filthy it is.

the warm, charged atmosphere that seems to accelerate the pace in which he's thrusting, patience is thinning as well. so, reaching back, you wrap your fingers around the thin, corded chain attached to his collar.

you're yanking before you could think it through, before you could weigh in the consequences and the benefits.

the effect is immediate. he gasps, a garbled sound of shock that would've been cute in any other context. it's hard to find it endearing now, when his body is practically engulfing you — nothing like how you're engulfing him, however — and he's trying to not crush you with one palm slamming onto the ground to halt his fall. how considerate.

his dick slides an inch or two deeper, and noises fall from your lips like waterfalls. like a siren call, his shaft twitches in response, responding to the rhythmic contractions of your core in kind.

your grip tightens on the chain as you angle your head to look at him. it's hard to not sound whiny when he stuffs you so perfectly, the tip snug against that spongy part inside.

but, you manage, and bite out a venomous, "behave."

the disbelief on his face mingles with a hazy lust in his blown pupils. a red-hot flush decorates his skin, glistening with pearls of sweat that trace his jaw and land on your lower back, his lungs working double time to make up for the exertion and his hair tousled like a masterpiece.

it's so sensual and utterly riveting to see the effect you have on him. you're sure you're just as wrecked as he is.

his adam's apple bobs against the thick leather collar and his brows knit together. there's a more prominent darkness to his gaze. "are you serious?"

and it takes a moment for it to register — that he wasn't replying to your command.

it's a bit too late though, before that crazed look in his eyes returns in time with your survival instincts kicking in. you're moving before you know it in an attempt to escape, scrambling forward.

doesn't matter because your stupid decision to hold onto the chain draws him with you. before he's maneuvering you to his pleasure, at least. he's baring his teeth like a rabid dog, malicious satisfaction swimming in those violet irises.

"bad decision." voice low, taunting. gloating. "so, it's gonna be like that, huh?"

you choke out faint noises of protest as you're laid flat. the chill perpetual on your sticky, heated skin. chest flat to the floor, you're still stubbornly holding onto the chain, wrapping it around your digits in the scenario he tries to break free.

caleb's presence is daunting as he settles over you once more. still balls deep in you, his length sits still like some a behaved dog. contrary to the very owner as he snickers to himself.

"tellin' me to behave, as if your touchy-feely hands didn't get you into this position to begin with," he sneers, straddling the back of your thighs. its rasp makes your heart and cunt flutter, and he moans in approval at the pulse.

the way your body jolts when he shoves his wrist beneath your pelvis is unintentional, but your gasp when his fingers find your clitoris is nothing short of exquisite. another heady mewl exits, in time with another tug of the chain and the slippery slide of his cock in your guts. the tip shoots a generous amount of precum along your velvet walls, milking him in desperate pulsations.

"as if you aren't practically singing for some more down here, isn't — that — right?"

he punctuates those last words with expert thrusts, rendering you boneless with every sopping wet squelch that claps against your butt — that reminds you of your own sick, twisted pleasure in this situation.

the angle is so, so much more penetrative than before when you're positioned like this. your lungs were going to collapse at this rate.

but caleb is fresh air when he lowers himself, sandwiching your body to the ground. the weight, hard and muscular and toned, makes you gush around him. the little hum he makes tells you that he noticed it, and you clamp down.

his breath is hot and humid against the shell of your ear, amused. one large palm settles on the ground in front of you for balance, the other on your ass.

when he speaks, his tone is deceptively light. "for every time you tug, i'm cummin' inside. seems only right."

his next laugh is a little breathless, disbelieving, delighted. like he was talking to himself, the mutt. dread settles in your stomach, mingling with the delicious tendrils of arousal that soaks your folds and lubricates his entry.

you tug on the chain once. toes curling in anticipation.

"yeah. i know it sounds good," he mumbles absentmindedly, a quiet promise to himself. his hips draw back, and he's moving again.

[us-enviro-comments]

The Public Comment Process (+ how to write effective public comments)

The US federal rule-making process is founded around the right to comment: the public's opportunity to publicly address the agency responsible for a decision. This right is enshrined by the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) of 1946 and reinforced by the National Environmental Policy Act of 1970, which both require that citizens be able to take part in pre-decision communication with a federal agency.

Public comments are important for a number of reasons:

Agencies must consider all new information received during the comment period and address that new information before publishing the final rule; this includes revising the proposed rule.

A good comment can be the basis for a court challenge. If the agency does not adequately address the new information in the comment, they can then be sued and the rule placed on hold until the issues raised by the new information are resolved.

Advocacy groups and journalists often scour public comments to get ideas for their own comments and campaigns, and to contextualize proposed rules.

Submitting a public comment on proposed federal rules and regulations is not like commenting on social media, though. Substantive comments that require agency response are those that contain information pertinent to the actions proposed in the regulation, such as community impacts, scientific evidence, or other data. Non-substantive comments ("I don't like this!") don't require any response beyond maybe a "Comment noted."

Here's a brief set of tips from the Public Comment Project:

“The most valuable public comments are unique, fact-based, and succinct. The agency will have to sort through many identical form letters and expressions of personal opinion.  

Your comment can report on scientific evidence that opposes or supports the theory behind the regulation. Providing additional supporting evidence helps strengthen the agency's position by creating a stronger scientific foundation for their action.

Use an opening sentence to establish your credibility. State who you are and summarize any of your experiences that are relevant to the topic of the proposal.

You do not have to come to a conclusion or judgement regarding the entirety of the regulation, but you do have to clearly communicate the implications of the research you present. Avoid leaving it up to the agency to infer how research or data relates to the regulation. 

Check out the agency's mission statement and any statutes relevant to the regulation. Federal agencies' actions are driven by their mission and held to the standards dictated by statutes, so make your comment stronger by explaining how your information contributes to their mission.”

You can also find templates here: https://publiccommentproject.org/comment-templates

Sources:

The Public Comment Project https://publiccommentproject.org

Democracy in Practice: Public Participation in Environmental Decisions, Beierle and Cayford 2002

Union of Concerned Scientists https://www.ucs.org/resources/participating-federal-rulemaking

[3hks]

How to Write a CHARMING Villain

Everyone loves a good villain, and they especially love a charming one. If you want to write an antagonist who's both evil yet irresistible, look no further!

1. Show Their "Kindness"

Kindness? Wait, I thought you said we're writing a villain today.

Yup, I mean it--make your antagonist appear kind. Realistically, someone who's polite and friendly is often considered more attractive than someone who's rude and judgmental, so make them kind. It doesn't have to be honest kindness, but you want your readers to doubt the malevolence of your character, if that makes sense.

You can show this kindness through small, daily actions; they don't have to have a lot of impact on the story. Something simple like leaving a big tip, granting a minion a vacation, letting someone go first in the line, and holding open the door all contribute to this image.

2. Smooth Talker

Effective communication is everything. If your villain is eloquent, they seem more capable and intelligent! However, if you're looking to expand further, explore what they can do with their speech.

Does everyone pay attention when they start speaking? Are they able to calmly resolve conflicts verbally? Are they really persuasive? Do they speak elegantly?

Show the effects of their communication skills!

3. Good leader

Make them a good leader. Make them consider how their subordinates might feel. Make them choose good decisions. Perhaps they give their workers days off when they need it. Perhaps they engage with their followers often. Perhaps they're more down-to-earth.

A solid leader looks respectable while a poor one looks ridiculous.

4. Intelligent + Logic

I say this all the time, but make your villains smart, make them logical, make your readers understand where they're coming from. Some of the best antagonists I've ever seen are not the ones that seem excessively evil or unhinged, but rather the ones that seem logical in their actions. And knowing that they're well-aware of their actions and the consequences makes things that much scarier.

if you want a charming villain, you have to start with someone who is competent.

5. Conflicting Moments

At the end of the day, your character is still the antagonist. Yes, they might appear kind, but that's not going to last forever. There will be times when they act unnecessary cruel, and that's okay.

Your audience might be unsettled and confused from the whiplash, and that's okay. Don't force your character into being someone else to satisfy the readers. Embrace the difference.

6. Backstory

Backstories matter for all different types of reasons. From establishing the basis to one's goals, morals, and values to providing the foundation for their character, an effective backstory can do a lot.

However, I want to specifically talk about how the backstory demonstrates someone overcoming their obstacles. If they made it to the present, then they really defied all odds to be here, and honestly? That's admirable (and attractive), no matter what kind of person they turn out to be.

Now, if you're thinking "what if I don't give the antagonist a painful backstory?", I'll address that real quick. You don't have to give them a super depressing past, but there will always be pain and hurt in their past, even if it isn't something "lifechanging" or there 24/7. There is no such thing as a perfect, happy past.

CONCLUSION

To quickly conclude, a charming villain is often not one who appears visibly evil, but one who appears compassionate, intelligent, well-spoken, and acts like a good leader.

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[fogaminghub]

✨ Dive into our guide for the thrilling Cable Car Station Adventure! 🚠 Whether it's meeting new friends or facing tough decisions, each moment is packed with fun and surprises! Ready to see how your choices change the game? 🌟 Click here to explore the adventure!

[wickedzeevyln]

Are You Okay with This?

"Navigate the world of parenting with ease! Discover practical cleaning tips, effective time management strategies, and insights into fostering quality family time. From stress-free parenting to teaching responsibility.

Do the toys your children leave around drive you crazy? Do you want them to learn the value of responsibility without the unnecessary fuss? Here is one useful tip to resolve that. One important tip that I have picked up is deferring decisions to my children when holding them accountable for cleaning after themselves. When they leave things unorganized, I don’t lose my cool as this is teaching…

[thydungeongal]

GMing doesn't have to be a chore and can in fact be extremely fun and rewarding but there are certain learned behaviors and attitudes that make things harder on the GM. Here are just a few tips on how to make the job easier on the GM which also may have the side effect of making the game more fun for everyone:

Everyone should make an effort to learn the rules. The rules are not there to make the game unfun and they are not a necessary evil, they are there to help carry the game so the group doesn't have to do all the work. And everyone taking part in learning the rules means the GM doesn't always have to be the one to remember how a rule works.

To that end, drop the "GM is the final word on the rules" attitude. This places the GM on a pedestal and can actually run counter to the idea of players learning the rules. If the GM has carte blanche to run over the rules it disincentivices players learning the rules because they can't actually rely on the text, and now you're right back to the GM having to carry the whole game. It is entirely okay for players to remind the GM how the rules should work and the group should agree on a method for dealing with rules disputes, and spot rulings should not rely on the GM making a unilateral decision but should rely on some kind of consensus.

Communicate your desires to the group and be willing to compromise; respect each other's prep. You may want a game that focuses on a long-form narrative but the GM wants to run an episodic series of largely unrelated singleton adventures. The GM is the one who is bringing the game, so ultimately be willing to compromise on your vision of the game and respect their prep. Ultimately, if the GM does not want to run the exact type of game you want and you can't see yourself having fun in the type of game they want to run, you will be doing everyone a favor by recusing yourself from the game.

Related to the above, communicating your desires should be an ongoing process. End each session by talking about what you want to do next and where you think the game should go. This will also make it easier for the GM to prep ahead.

This relates to learning the rules: pick a game that actually supports the type of game you want to run. Trust me, whatever time you think you will save by sticking to a game you already know you will make back by not having to fight the rules all the time and actually letting the rules take an active part in carrying the game.

You can literally just use prewritten adventures. Not every campaign or adventure needs to be custom-tailored for your specific group. Using prewritten adventures means that someone's already done a lot of the prep for you.

And finally, don't prep any more than you need to: there is this persistent myth that GMs need to have the entire campaign and world planned from the word go to begin with. While there is nothing wrong with expansive worldbuilding as such, you don't need to prep anything beyond what is strictly necessary. If you're running a wide open sandbox you can get by with a rough sketch of the world and only write things in as they become relevant. If you're running a megadungeon your players don't have to know that you've only prepared the first level for the first session, as long as you have a cohesive broad strokes plan that is perfectly fine. If you're running an episodic campaign, well, you don't need to have anything beyond the next episode prepped at a time, but of course having a rough plan can help.

Of course a lot of this is very opinionated and game specific: some games actively resist authoritative GM prep and want to involve each player equally in setting up the situation, and that's actually great, and in those types of games you should remember that the game is explicitly telling everyone to be involved in the prep. And once again, listen to what the rules have to say: they're there to tell you what the game wants you to do.

[dillydally6969]

Please bless my eyes with a Jackie fic🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙇🏽‍♀️🤰🏽🧏🏽‍♀️

GREEDY .ᐟ 𝓙ACKIE TAYLOR

♱ jackie wants more than she can have; but did you really have to punish her for it?

♱ cw; angst, toxic!jackie, jealousy, travis, long ahh fic ( 6k words )

“randy walsh? really?” you scoffed, “nuh-uh. no way.”

“come on! he’s not that bad,” jackie pleaded, watching you shove your books in your locker. “shauna’ll be there too.”

“then why don’t you get shauna to do it?”

jackie sighed, leant against the cool metal beside your open locker. her eyes raked across the frantic way your hands worked, her words choking in her throat for a brief second.

“y’know shauna’s too vicious for him… just one date.”

you laughed, much to her dismay. “my love for you is very conditional it this is the condition. sorry, jack.”

“i’ll take care of you… make it worth your while...” she murmured, her voice dropping to a smooth purr. “i promise.”

her hand crept up the side of your hip, the tips of her manicured nails grazing your skin. it was like just that tiny scrape of her touch could set your body on fire.

when two cheerleaders strolled by, jackie’s hand jerked away just as fast as it had settled on you. she waved, flashing them that picture-perfect ‘golden girl’ grin.

you hated how much of an effect she had on you.

you hated how much of an effect her reputation had more. maintaining it was jackie’s sole purpose in life.

she cleared her throat, scanning around before nearing you.

“please, l/n,” she whispered, her eyes darting down to your parted lips. her teeth gently tugged at her own. “for me?”

fuck, she was doing this on purpose, you thought.

how could you say no? god, you were so boneless.

you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. you really wished you had the willpower to deny this big-eyed princess whatever she wanted. because by the way you saw her lips spread into a grin, she knew she had, yet again, successfully gotten her way.

“fine. one date.” you sighed, holding up a finger. “one date. but if he grabs my ass, i’m leaving.”

“yay!” she squealed, her arms flailing around your neck in a tight embrace. “that’s perfect. i’ll let jeff know then.”

right. jeff. the sexist monkey-face jackie’s dating.

“i have ap world right now, you have… calc?” she pondered. you nodded. “great, i’ll see you outside after school.”

she gave your shoulder a quick squeeze, before leaving.

as she skipped her way down the hall, you shut your locker, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a regretful sigh.

fuck, i might’ve just made the dumbest decision ever.

“well, that isn’t a pretty face,” van’s voice chimed, her arm effortlessly slinging over your shoulder. “right, tai?”

the other shook her head, pouting. “it sure isn’t, van.”

“and here i thought lover girl ms. l/n can’t look at jackie with anything but hearts in her eyes.” the redhead teased, poking your rib with her free hand. you jumped with a yelp.

“that’s why she closed her eyes, right?” tai snorted.

of course, the running joke among the team about your loyalty to jackie, even when she treats you like a pet sometimes.

you rolled your eyes, shrugging off van’s arm over you as they chuckled at their own banter. “very funny.”

“aw, come on, y/n, we’re just kidding.” van nodded at your sour expression, then down at the calculus textbook clutched to your chest. “shit, so we have calc? now i’m depressed too.”

“no, it’s not that, i just--” you didn’t even know where to begin.

“are you worried about nationals?” tai questioned.

you imagined jackie’s face if she ever found out you told them. the way she would stare back at you with such disgust, with such disappointment, you felt your heart pound at just the thought. you couldn’t tell them, it felt like such a dirty secret.

“yeah. yeah, i’m just… nervous about it, i guess.”

“well, you need to relax, sweetheart,” van said, “and that, my friend, is exactly what alcohol is for. so tonight, i’m gonna make sure you body so many shots, you pass as a human keg.”

tai smacked her in the arm. “we have an early flight tomorrow.”

van whined, “fine! just beer.” when tai glanced away with a satisfied nod, van leant in to whisper. “then tequila chasers.”

“no tequila chasers, vanessa.” tai scolded, playfully shoving the redhead away before circling an arm around you. she guided you down the hall, with the goalkeeper tailing behind. “don’t think too much about nationals, okay? just relax and enjoy tonight, we can worry about it when we get to seattle.”

you nodded, but you were still plagued with your thoughts.

technically you weren’t worried about nationals anymore, so you kinda listened to tai’s advice… right?

“i don’t know, jack, this feels like a little too much.” you hissed, hands tugging at the bottom of the skimpy dress jackie dressed you in.

the fabric stopped just below your crotch, one gust and you would be flashing everybody. the cut was too low and your torso felt like you were getting the life squeezed out of you.

“i feel like my whole ass is out for the world to see.”

“and what a blessing that would be for the world,” she said coyly, her gaze shamelessly lining the curve of your ass.

it didn’t seem like she had given the comment much thought, but the way she said it so casually, paired with the way she was eyeing you down, you felt yourself heating up.

you stared back at yourself in the mirror; you looked unfamiliar.

“do you have anything a little more… conservative?”

“why? i think you look good in this dress.” she leant back on her bed, held up by her arms. “plus, this’ll get randy’s dick hard. i think you should wear this.”

eugh, you didn’t need that visual in your head.

“a tree could get randy’s dick hard if it had tits.” you scoffed, “i’m not really trying to impress him anyway.”

“what? then why did you agree to coming?”

was she really that dense? or was this, like all her flirtatious passes made on you or the way her hands would linger on you a little too long when nobody was looking, on purpose?

“y’know what?” she asked, hopping off her bed. she came up behind you, scanning your figure in the mirror.

her hands caressed the sides of your arms, her chin over your shoulder. you could feel her breath tickle your collarbone.

“eleven out of twelve months, you’re hiding this crazy body under all those jackets and jerseys.” she hummed, her lips grazing your earlobe. you swallowed thickly, praying to god she couldn’t hear the way your heart was hammering in your chest. “you’re starting to turn into shauna… i mean, if i looked like this?” she grabbed the sides of your hips, her plump lips parting in a gasp. “i’d be devastating guys left and right.”

you took in her words, the scent of her perfume. it dazed you; how could see say that with such ease? without seeing the way your knees were weak?

“come on, babe, it’s time to take this bentley out the garage.”

“okay, i’ll wear the dress.” you caved.

“that’s my girl,” she pecked you on the cheek, grinning. she scrunched her nose as her hands gently squeezed your hips.

you turned away, letting out a shaky breath.

she’s gonna be the death of me.

jackie always liked you better than shauna. she would never admit aloud, but she enjoyed how obedient you were, how compliant and willing you were when she tasked you with something. the reactions she got out of you were adorable, it was so empowering, having that effect on you.

she wasn’t stupid, even a blind man could see the crush you had on her, your best friend.

she found it endearing, the way you thought you hid it well.

but as long as you loved her, she had her own little minion.

“come here,” she ordered, pulling her vanity chair out. “let me do your makeup. i want to try this new lipstick shade on you.”

like the sheep you were, you obliged, sitting.

“sit still,” she said, standing over you, knees brushing yours as she uncapped it. her hand grabbed your jaw, locking your head in an upward angle, gazing up at her through your lashes as she dragged the tip against your lips.

the color looked warm and soft against your lips. you could feel her breath against your cheek, catching the flicker in her eyes when she looked at your mouth a second too long.

shit, were you... actually kinda cute?

her fingers lingered, and for a moment, neither of you moved--until jackie blinked hard and pulled away, sitting back so fast she nearly knocked over her perfume.

“looking good,” she said quickly, too brightly, avoiding your gaze now. you watched her back up away, turning her back towards you to grab the cap from her bed. that was the first time you noticed it--the way she looked at you like she wanted to stay close, but didn’t know how to hold it without breaking.

"you should let me do your makeup more often. i know all the right colours for you." jackie said, busying herself with her earrings, pretending not to notice how quiet you had gone. you still felt the ghost of her touch on your chin, the way her breath had caught--but now you felt silly sitting there. in her dress, dolled up by her, carefully placed like furniture in a room she didn’t want you to sit in anymore.

you shifted in front of the vanity, watching her through the mirror, hoping she'd say something, anything, that would explain why the air had changed.

“i think i’ll wear the gold hoops,” she said, like nothing had happened. “they go better with this jacket, right?”

you nodded, but it felt like she wasn't there.

a car horn blared outside, twice. you froze. jackie didn’t. instead, her movement quickened, scrambling aroudn the room to grab her jacket and do one final check of her hair in the mirror.

“that’s jeff,” she said quickly, grabbing her bag and brushing past you like this was normal. “he’s giving me a ride. you gonna get there okay? or should i call shauna?”

you stood up, lips still tingling, heart sinking.

“i'll be fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “i’ll see you there.”

"drive safe, l/n." she hesitated at the door, like she might turn around--but didn’t. you watched her leave, the sound of the door clicking shut louder than the music still playing in her room.

well, isn't this just great?

you don’t remember exactly how you had gotten there, or how you ended up with a bottomless red solo cup in your hand, but you were damn near about to pass out.

leant against randy’s truck with him hanging off your arm like you were some prize he had finally nailed.

you were tired of his alcoholic breath assaulting your senses, his rough hand groping and touching wherever he pleased.

from afar, you could see jackie twirl into jeff’s arms.

her expression looked so carefree, beaming from ear to ear.

she had forgotten her vow to keep an eye on you, inebriated, herself as she raged on with the party.

it was meant to be a send off for all the yellowjackets, including you, before nationals, but you had far forgotten the joyous occasion. all your ditzy brain has been fixated on was her.

except, hers was on him. his hands holding her like a trophy.

the sight twisted something deep inside you, it sickened you, churning in your stomach like a bad breakfast.

randy’s voice broke through your thoughts, but you barely registered his words. his hand brushed against your waist, a little too familiar. you stiffened, uncomfortable, and tried shifting away, but he was persistent, leaning in too close. you swore you could punch his lights out.

“hey, why don’t we take this somewhere private,” he raised.

you didn’t respond, your gaze still fixed on jackie, the way her hair caught the firelight as she laughed at something stupid jeff had said. the jealousy gnawed at you, but you didn’t care.

all you could think about was her, the way she looked when she smiled, the way she looked when she was happy, and how that should’ve been you standing there with her.

his hands inched down her hips.

past the slit of the skirt she was wearing--

“y/n,” randy’s voice pulled you back, his hand creeping too far down your back. “what’s going on? come on, let’s go--”

--and over the curve of her ass, giving it a tight squeeze.

that was it. you couldn’t take it anymore.

you turned sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence, and stormed off toward the trees just before where the cars were parked.

you didn’t even look back when you heard randy’s voice calling after you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care. the only reason you had came had forgotten her vow to keep you company.

since that’s gone, why the fuck else would you stay?

as you walked further, the party’s noise faded, but jackie’s laughter still echoed in your mind. you could feel your heart aching, each step heavier than the last.

“y/n!” the voice cut through the fog of alcohol clouding your brain, and you froze. you didn’t need to look to know it was jackie; her voice was your soothing shell, and it carried an edge of concern you weren’t ready to face.

she was already out of breath, but her pace didn’t slow as she caught up to you. for an athlete, she had awful stamina.

“what’s going on?” she asked, her voice softer now, more genuine. “where are you going?”

“nowhere,” you muttered, not bothering to look at her. “i’m going home, don’t worry about it. have fun with jeff.”

jackie didn’t buy it. “y/n,” she said, her tone firm now, “you’ve been acting freaky all night. what’s going on with you?”

you glanced up with hooded eyes and tinted cheeks.

“i’m just tired of the party,” you snapped, feeling the bite of your words. one look at the hurt flashing across her expression, you wish you could be swallowed by the earth and die. you had no right to take it out on her, but the jealousy was noosed around your throat, and you couldn’t loosen it.

she frowned, stepping closer, her eyes searching yours, like she could read every hushed thought that crossed your mind.

“you’re lying.” she said, “i can tell when you’re lying.”

“i said i’m fine,” you bit out, turning away from her, your pace quickening. you didn’t want her to see the vulnerability in your face, or the way your eyes were blown wide.

fuck. you were so fucking in love with jackie taylor.

the soccer captain didn’t let you go. you could hear her footsteps rush behind you, and when she called your name again, her voice was tinged with evident frustration. “y/n l/n, stop walking away. you’re obviously not fine, and I’m not going to let you shut me out like this.”

you stopped, finally turning to face her, though your hand swung the empty red cup around as you gathered your words.

“jack, i just… i need some space, okay?”

your voice was harsh, but it was the only thing you could do to keep from falling apart in front of her.

you sounded so pathetic. you hated it.

but you hated the look she gave you more. the puppy-dog eyes, the pout, the arms crossing over her chest like it kept her heart safe and hidden from your cruel words.

you? her obedient little y/n wanted space? from her?

jackie stood still for a moment, then scoffed softly. she shook her head, sulking. “fine. if you want to be like that. but i’m not letting you drive home drunk.” she snatched the keys.

she turned abruptly, heading back to the car. you didn’t follow. you just stood there, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling like you were losing something you didn’t even have.

the ride back to her place was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of weight in the seat. you stared out the window at the streets in passing, your head pounding as the faint fruity aroma engulfed your nose. you didn’t speak. neither of you did. you were grateful jackie didn’t press you, you would!( know what to say if she did.

when you reached the driveway, she parked the car with an exhale, turning off the engine. you didn’t move to get out right away. the silence was thick, suffocating, but it sat between.

“y/n,” jackie said quietly, her voice much softer than before. “i’m sorry if I did something to upset you, but you can’t just ditch without an explanation.”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

you just got out of the car, walking toward the door. Jackie followed you, but you kept your back to her as you entered the house, hoping she would just leave you alone.

following you into your house, she stood in the doorway of your room, watching you in silence for a long moment, until finally, she spoke. “y’know, i’m not gonna take this personal, because you’re crazy buzzed, but just know you’re being a mega jerk right now,” she said. “still don’t know what you’re so fucking mad about, would be super helpful if you told me.”

you didn’t respond, trying to hide the ache in your chest.

jackie scoffed, shaking her head, and then left the room.

as you lay there, trying to push the thoughts of her out of your mind, you heard her footsteps outside, the sound of the front door opening and closing. you had no idea where she was going, but you were just glad she had finally left.

wow, that’s something you never thought you’d say.

then, just as you started to close your eyes, you heard the click of the door again. jackie was standing in the doorway once more, and before you could react, she was in front of you, her hand on your face, soft and warm.

“fuck you,” she whispered, her voice low. “i’m not playing this fucked little game. so stop shutting me out.”

though you were still very much drunk, you froze when she leaned in and kissed you--slowly, softly, as if testing the waters. for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating, the taste of alcohol on her lips bleeding into her cherry chapstick.

was this really happening? wait, no, this has to be the drinks.

when your fingers clawed at her jacket, she lowered a hand to place yours on her hip. where jeff had his.

but just as quickly as she leant in, she pulled away.

you looked at her, heart hammering. you gasped, catching your breath as you stared back with dark eyes. “jack…”

she laughed, too sharp, too bitter. “god,” she said, backing up like she’d touched fire. as if she was t the one who kissed you. “oh my god, i shouldn’t have done that.”

you stared at her, blinking blankly. “what?”

“i’m drunk,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “you’re drunk. that--that was just the drinks talking. it didn’t mean anything.”

your stomach dropped. gaining a brief moment of clarity.

like all good dreams, this one had to come to an end. and as sobriety washed over you, you awoke to the harsh reality.

“it was a mistake, y/n,” she cut in, her voice colder now. “don’t make it more than it was.”

you blinked, trying to steady yourself, but everything was tilting--your body, your thoughts, your heart. “right,” you whispered, though your voice cracked.

jackie didn’t look at you. “and don’t you dare mention this to anybody. i don’t need jeff finding out that i--!” she ceased her sentence just before she could finish. she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the door open behind her.

you stood there for a long time, swaying slightly from the alcohol, every inch of you numb except the sharp, bitter sting in your chest. all you could think about was her lips, the way they felt like everything, and then suddenly, like nothing at all.

you missed them already. you wish you had savoured her.

the next time you'd see her was when the team gathered to board the private jet lottie's father had prepared for their travels to nationals. blissfully ignorant to your glances and mild confusion, jackie kept her distance, sticking to shauna like her life depended on it.

how could so much change in so little time?

just before you boarded, you stepped towards her.

"jack, can we talk?"

the night prior's events weren't exactly the most sound and still memories, but, though you would prefer in this case, you weren't intoxicated enough to gain temporary amnesia either.

"about what?" she asked, feigning innocence.

what? "about last night?"

"phew, last night was a crazy one," she chuckled, one of those fake ones she only used on teachers or cheerleaders. the sound absolutely smashed your heart to smithereens. "jeff told me i called for him to get me at yours this morning. i don't even remember going back to your house."

was this her plan? to count on you being so drunk you wouldn't remember the best thing that could've possibly happened to you?

the look she gave you was so foreign, so guarded, so unlike jackie.

"hey, can we talk when we land? shauna and i are going over our pre-game traditions." jackie smiled, brushing past you.

that was your thing. the two of you would tie each other's hair before every single game. then, just as you jog on the field, you'd hook your pinkies together and kiss your own knuckles. now she was doing it with shauna? what the fuck?

the plane went down faster than you could scream, metal shrieking, trees tearing through the fuselage as the world flipped and buckled around you. you remembered smoke, blood, the sharp taste of panic, and jackie’s eyes form across the aisle--just before she turned away from you to pull shauna from the wreckage and carry her out the back. you crawled out on your own, lungs burning, heart heavier than the twisted heap behind you. the adrenaline died, and your anger came in place of it.

still, she hadn't spoken a word to you.

you never expected such a 180 from jackie, especially not when the girls were around. tai's been interrogating you for weeks, and you just had no explanation.

the days that followed was cold and cruel, the forest as silent between you and jackie as the gaping space at night where you slept beside nat. you kept waiting for her to say something--to explain, apologize, and acknowledge the kiss you'd shared like it hadn't just disappeared in smoke. but she never did, and you never asked, because you didn’t know what was worse: the way she left you, or the fact that she chose to shut you out when you needed her most. how ironic.

by the seventh day, the cold gnawed at your bones and half the girls had decided they would leave camp in search for water.

you all stumbled on a half-rotted hunting cabin hidden deep in the woods--shelter, finally--but even as everyone huddled inside, warming hands by the fire, you felt far from warmth. that night, with the others asleep soundly for the first time in a week, you caught her eyes across the dim room, and something inside you cracked.

you followed her outside when she slipped into the back room, your footsteps soft but determined. “are you done being a shitty best friend, or should i try again later?” you asked, voice shaking more from rage than the cold. jackie turned to you slowly, like she’d been expecting this, arms crossed like armour.

“we're stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere, i'd say this is the least of my priorities.” she snapped, jaw clenched. “why won't you just let it go?”

you took a step forward, heat rising in your throat. suddenly the memory of the last time you were this close surged through your thoughts. you dawdled on the ghost kiss lingering on your lips, how it felt to kiss her, how it felt to be jeff for a moment.

"maybe this is when i need you most, you thought about that?"

"i'm going to bed." she announced, but you stopped her.

"what the fuck did i do, jackie? why're you doing this?"

she silenced, unable to utter a single word.

“that night,” you continued, “you kissed me like it meant something--and then you started ignoring me like it never happened.” jackie exhaled, slow and uneven, eyes finally lifting to yours.

"it didn't mean anything,” she said, voice raw, “i was just... emotional. you wouldn't talk to me, i was just impulsive.”

you stared at her, wanting to believe that she was pushing you away because of fear, not regret. “i don't even care about the stupid kiss,” you said quietly. “if it's bothering you that much, then let's just forget it. i just want my best friend back.”

jackie reached out then, but her hand folded back into her chest.

she just couldn't. it was so shameful.

"just leave it. you're being a child." she sneered, before walking past you back into the living room, where everybody else slept. you closed your eyes, sighing. your eyes welled with tears, but after a deep inhale, you sucked it up.

after a long night of zero sleeping, you were first out of the cabin the next morning. you sat by the fire outside, organizing the dry wood from the last couple days.

it was late afternoon when travis strolled over towards you, his hands buried in his pockets. he sat beside you without asking, awkward but present, and after a few moments of silence, he picked up a block of wood and started helping. “this is the weirdest jenga game i’ve ever seen,” he said, and it caught you so off guard that you actually let out a tiny scoff of amusement, breaking into a smile.

he grinned, clearly proud of himself for breaking the ice.

“not that i'm complaining,” he said, shrugging. “but usually people don't play it alone, y'know."

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, the heaviness inside you lightened just enough to remember who you were before the wreckage.

"is that how you say, 'good morning'?"

"it wasn't really a good morning until i sat down," he replied smoothly, and you couldn't help the smile that spread.

across the clearing, jackie leant against the beam just by the cabin door, half-watching, half-hiding. her arms were crossed, lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes followed the shape of your laugh like it didn’t belong to her anymore. and for the first time, she realized what it meant to lose it.

walking out from the cabin with a large load of clothes, shauna nudged Jackie gently with her elbow, catching the hard look in her eyes as she watched you and travis laughing.

“you good?” she asked, half-concerned, half-curious, following jackie’s gaze with a small frown. “you’ve been staring at them for five minutes.”

jackie’s jaw tightened. “i’m not staring,” she snapped, louder than she meant to. heads turned--yours included--just as jackie shoved away from the cabin wall and took a step forward, eyes locked on you like it was your fault for smiling.

“jesus, jack,” shauna muttered, grabbing her arm, but jackie shook her off.

“it’s not a big deal,” she barked. “they barely even liked each other before the crash and now they’re acting like it’s cute.”

the clearing went still, tension humming in the air. travis looked confused, you looked hurt, and jackie, cheeks flushed, looked like she wanted to take it all back, but couldn’t stop herself from burning the bridge anyway.

shauna stepped in front of jackie, smiling at everybody, urging them wordlessly to avert their attention back to their own business.

“okay, maybe take it down a notch,” she said, “if you’re feeling some kind of way, maybe help me with the laundry--get out of your head a little.”

jackie scoffed but didn’t argue, arms still crossed tight like she was holding herself together by sheer force. “i don’t need a chore chart, shipman,” she muttered, but her voice had lost its sharp edge. the brunette just gave her a look, the kind only best friends get to give--the one that told her, you’re spiralling, and everyone can see it.

with one last glance toward you and travis, jackie turned and stormed off toward the tree line where the others were working. shauna sighed, rubbing her temples.

maybe the nice trip to the lake later will ease the tension.

she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. sure, she could have been a little more considerate with your feelings, but you were being a full on bitchazoid right now.

like, travis martinez? of all people? you just had to go let him do whatever he wanted like that, didn’t you.

first at breakfast and now, this.

yards away in the lake, you were deeply engrossed in a game of chicken with shauna and van. the brunette ushered you to get on tai’s shoulders, but you waved travis over instead.

the boy didn’t hesitate, lowering to let you hook your legs over his neck before he stood, hands grabbing at your thighs.

“what, scared you’ll lose, shipman?” you challenged.

the brunette scoffed, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth. “bring it on, rookie.”

why was he holding onto you for dear life? and you let him.

“mari?” jackie called, flashing the filipina a bittersweet smile. “i never get a chance to chat with you. how’re you doing?”

the raven-haired girl stared back, taken aback, before nodding skeptically. “stranded in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, but otherwise pretty good. we got lucky with the lake.”

you hollered loudly as shauna swung back and fell.

the water splashing into travis’ face made him flinch, his grip on you loosened as you both jerked back into the water.

as you resurfaced, your hands swiped the wet hair out of your dripping face, gasping for hair. travis ran a hand through his hair, chuckling before he paused to stare at you.

he was anything but sly with the way he checked you out,

jackie felt her blood boil when his grubby hand reached to lay on your waist, pulling you closer to pick a lash off your nose.

mari was droning on about something, but she tuned it out.

it was almost like a betrayal, though you weren’t in the wrong.

“but i wanted to get the pink cleats, ‘cause they were prettier, but the blue ones were on sale, and--”

“y’know what, mari? why don’t you come closer?”

she grimaced, averting her eyes. “what? why?”

jackie giggled, “to hear your story better, of course. come on, i want to hear all about your creams.”

“cleats.” the younger corrected, fed up with the captain.

“whatever,” jackie stated, waving her over.

past travis’ shoulder, you couldn’t help but catch mari shuffling towards jackie lying against the trunk. the fuck?

it wasn’t until travis’ face shielding jackie from your view did you snap out of your trance. “y/n? are you okay?”

you nodded, “oh, yeah, i’m completely fine.”

“i didn’t dunk you too hard, did i?” he chuckled, “if you want, i’ll kiss it better.” he joked, but you weren’t exactly engrossed in conversation. “come on, i think shauna wants a rematch.”

jackie didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day.

you really believed it was like dying from the air gradually leaving your lungs.

later that day, while everyone was lounging and cozying up after the lake, you sat on a fallen log near the edge of the clearing, turning over a charred piece of wreckage in your hands like it held answers. tai found you there, plopping down beside you with a grunt and a squint.

“alright,” she said, slapping her lap, “spill it, l/n. what the hell is going on between you and jackie?”

taken aback by her bluntness, you stuttered. "uh--what?"

tai blinked, a stern expression on her face. “oh, come on,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her jaw. “she's been in the biggest mood since we came down, it's driving everybody fucking crazy. ya'll ain't talking, so come on. what's going on?”

you scoffed. "didn't realize it was that obvious."

“it is,” she said plainly. “and look, i don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it is--it’s not worth letting her die staying mad over.”

you glanced at her, like she had struck a nerve. “who said anything about dying?"

“maybe not today, maybe not tonight,” tai replied, shrugging. “but out here? none of us know if we’ll wake up tomorrow with food or fire. if something happens, do you really want your last memory of jackie to be this?”

you didn’t answer, but the question stayed with you.

she was right, but you weren't giving in that easy.

the night of doomscoming draped the clearing in a strange sort of magic. someone--you couldn't remember it being van or mari--came up with the idea for a makeshift prom to take the edge off.

you lot went all in, needing a reason to feel human again. someone strung strips of fabric and seatbelt cords from the trees like streamers, and someone else started a fire that crackled with warmth, casting golden light across faces that had forgotten how to smile. whatever makeup you had salvaged was quickly put to use, clothes borrowed and repurposed into outfits that shimmered in the firelight like they belonged in another world.

you didn’t know why you let akilah braid wildflowers into your hair or why you bothered smoothing down the dress you found in someone else’s luggage, but when you stepped into the clearing and travis turned to see you, his face lit up.

“you look…” he started, then gave a shy laugh. “good. really good.”

you shot him a polite smiled, unsure of what to say because you didn't know what to feel--not entirely for travis. "you clean up nice, yourself."

he offered his hand and you took it, letting him lead you to the makeshift dance floor where others had already begun swaying to the beat of clapping hands and hummed melodies. when the two of you walked through the arch, hand in hand, a couple hollers and whistles were thrown your way.

though you couldn't help but steal a couple glances jackie's way, watching as she danced with shauna.

you moved slowly, steps light, arms around travis like they would at a normal prom, and for a moment, it felt that way.

but your gaze kept pulling away, like a magnet, to the edge of the firelight where jackie sat in the shadows, arms wrapped tight around her knees. she wasn't dancing anymore, and she wasn't by shauna either. she just watched. her eyes found you every time yours wandered, and each look was a tether--like a never budging game of tug of war.

travis leaned in, his hand moving to your waist, his forehead almost touching yours.

maybe this will help, you thought, it's about time.

his breath was warm, eyes searching yours, and you knew what was coming. his hand cupped your cheek, slow and soft, and as he leaned in, you ignored all the protests you felt in your stomach.

just before your lips could meet, a hand yanked at your arm.

“hey, y/n, can i talk to you? like over there?” jackie snapped. you stumbled back, eyes wide, as travis blinked, clearly thrown off.

“what? jackie--”

“stay out of this, annie,” she insisted, already dragging you away from the firelight, through the clearing, and into the dark cabin.

the second the door shut behind you, you bursted.

“what the hell was that?" you hissed, "did you make an orphan insult? what the actual fuck, jackie!"

she scoffed, "how about you tell me what the fuck that was."

"i was dancing with him, jacqueline. dancing."

“you were gonna kiss him,” she muttered through gritted teeth, stepping closer. “you were really gonna kiss him.”

“i didn’t know that was still your business,” you bit back, "since when has kissing been such a big deal to you, hm?"

“since i kissed you,” jackie whispered.

before you could respond, she closed the distance, grabbing your face in her hands and kissing you like she’d been drowning without it. the world outside vanished--no crash, no forest, no doomscoming, and certainly no travis martinez.

just the two of you and the heat of the moment, finally crashing into each other like the plane never could. you kissed her back, fiercely, like you were taking back every second she’d left you wondering.

fuck. you were fucking in love with jackie taylor.

an; omg this was so fucking long but i had to get it out, yall better engage w this one cuz i put my whole dillydallyussy into it. anyways your comments and requests always make my day

happy reading xx

[sunsbaby]

⋅˚₊‧ dean winchester x angel .ᐟ reader .࿐࿔ 　 　　 　　　　 　

! semi-public . finger fucking . suggestive . MDNI

You were Dean's sweetheart, his baby. The person he swore to protect with all he had. Especially when he heard about what they did to you in heaven—disgusting Angels. So, every chance he got, Dean showed you how much you meant to him.

Whether that be soft kisses, light touches, or fucking you senseless. He always had a way to show you how much he appreciated you. Today was no different except, you were in that tight little bikini. His eyes focused on your ass as you ran back and forth from the ocean. Twinkling eyes staring into his whenever you showed him a cool shell you found, yet his were glued onto the swell of your breasts that peeked from your top.

He had enough of the straining of his pants, so he took action. The next time you came over, Dean's hands were on your hips, pulling you against him.

"Baby, why don't you stay with me—hmm?" He asked, fingers making small circles on your skin. A pout formed on your lips, the shell in your hand dropping into the pile near him.

"But, Dean! I'm havin' fun." You whined, but you melted into his hold. Head falling onto his chest, body pressed against his. Suddenly the Sun was almost too hot, and there was a wetness that pooled between your thighs.

You didn't know he could have this effect on you, just from simple things like his large hands grasping your hips with enough force to keep you in place. Your fingertips grip onto his forearms. Small noises slipping past your lips.

"Shh, wouldn't want anyone seeing—now do we baby?" He teased, one hand moving to slip underneath your bottoms, lightly ghosting over and past your clit to gather your wetness. The tips of his fingers prodding at your entrance, until they slip into your tight heat.

Dean let out a groan, pulling you as close as you could be. One hand placed on your ass, gripping the flesh roughly. His fingers glide between your puffy folds, thumb working magic on your clit. It didn't take long for him to bring you to the edge, clenching around his thick fingers as you came. Panting and practically dripping.

"Y'think you can take my cock and be quiet, angel?—Hmm?" He asked, his fingers still deep inside. You hadn't heard him, your mind was too fuzzy.

"How about we pick this up later, yea?" Dean made the decision, he was going to pound into you until you couldn't walk. The night awaiting made him want to wrap things up quicker at the beach, yet he knew once you regained control you'd be back to your little hobbies. Not that he minded watching, he got to see your ass jiggle and tits bounce. That was enough for him to secretly get off on.

sunny yaps! HIII something short and sweet for deann!! I honestly think he'd be the type to do this during the day, leaving you wanting for his dick and then at night just HEISJEISM 😽 ANYWAYSS! COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!! I LOVE UU ALLL!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[luna-azzurra]

Tips for Fight scenes #2

When characters are in a fight, their adrenaline levels skyrocket, which can affect their perception of pain and time.

If a character gets punched in the stomach, they might momentarily lose their breath, making it difficult for them to retaliate immediately.

Sweaty palms can make it harder to maintain a grip on weapons or objects during a fight, adding an element of unpredictability.

Injuries such as cuts or bruises can throb with pain long after the initial impact, distracting characters and potentially affecting their performance in the fight.

Characters might experience tunnel vision during intense combat, focusing solely on their immediate surroundings and losing awareness of peripheral threats.

Loud noises, such as gunshots or explosions, can temporarily deafen characters or leave their ears ringing, impairing their ability to communicate or hear approaching danger.

Characters might experience a surge of aggression or fear-induced paralysis when faced with a life-threatening situation, impacting their decision-making and fighting effectiveness.

Painful injuries can trigger involuntary reactions, such as flinching or crying out, which can inadvertently give away a character's position or intentions to their opponent.

Adrenaline-fueled fights can leave characters feeling exhausted and shaky afterward, making it difficult for them to think clearly or coordinate their movements.

In the heat of battle, characters might not notice injuries or pain until after the fight is over, when the adrenaline wears off and their body's natural defenses kick in.

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.