#applies to many different militaries

[jade-curtiss]

Jade doing the buffon thing of joining the military because out of ressources lol: what a dedicated thing to give up and move on. War crimes happen.

Dist doing the very opposite of just that and make this whole shit his very lifestyle: problematic, he should have been scammed too. Well he was scammed (or scamming) but not the way we like here.

[txttletale]

Can you elaborate on what you think would be the minimal needed changes to fix what you see as an issue in Civ? Civ has done fairly large shifts in some mechanics before, and "civ like" is still an interesting game space that can scratch certain itches

yeah i mean as i said, the baked-in racism arises from a certain set of core assumptions that i think lock it into that position, which are that civ is a

1) symmetrical

2) 4X

game about

3) 'real world civilizations' (deeply loaded terms ofc but that's how civ envisions them)

4) trying to 'win the game'

5) with a global

6) and transhistorical

scope

so, in its role as a symmetrical (1) game with victory conditions (4), civ as a text has to take positions on what constitutes a 'successful civilization'. as a (2) 4X game this definition also has to include some variation on the profoundly loaded eponymous Xs, 'explore, expand, exploit, and exterminate'. furthermore, as a (1) symmetrical game with a global, transhistorical (5, 6) scope, it has to necessarily create a model of what 'a civilization' looks like and apply it to every 'civilization' it wants to include, at all points in their history.

this all kind of naturally leads into civ being a game in which the colonial european imperialist powers are the default 'civilizations' and all other cultures are basically just like them -- a game where technology progresses linearly and innovations are made in the order they were in european imperial history -- a game where all cultures fundamentally work in the same way and hold similar values, a game where all religions are based on christianity (i mean, just look at civ vi's system, where every religion has a 'prophet', 'apostles', 'missionaries' and 'inquisitors'), a game where not only do cultures have teleological overarching 'goals' but where these goals are shared and these goals are fundamentally based on imperialist visions of 'victory'.

to drill into some specific examples: you can't play a game of civilization without founding cities. you will constantly be founding cities. when you're playing as 'the mongols' or 'the cree' or 'scythia', this makes no sense! these were peoples who historically had rich culture, science, arts, and certainly a notable military history, but were (to varying degrees, at varying times in their history, i don't mean to create a new and similarly heterogenous absolutist category here) nomadic!

similarly, to advance in civilization you must invent 'the wheel'. 'the wheel' is necessary to many later innovations, while of course the andean peoples represented by the playable 'inca' never made significant use of the wheel because the lack of suitable pack animals and environmental factors meant that it did not, in fact, prove a suitable tool for transporting large quantities of heavy goods. for an even more glaring example, a lot of early military technology is locked behind 'horses', which is pretty absurd considering that several of the game's playable civilizations, in the real world, developed plenty of military technology despite living on a continent without any horses!

so having established what i mean by 'the issue', which is that the game's core assumptions lock it into imposing a eurocentric, imperialist vision of 'civilization' onto cultures where it doesn't make sense, here's a few different jenga blocks you could pull out to resolve it:

SID MEIER'S EUROPE

the pillar you knock out here is #5. keep the game engine and core assumptions just as founded on eurocentric imperialist societies as they are now, and just make it about european empires doing imperialism. now, i think we can immediately spot some problems in there -- how are we going to represent the rest of the world? after all, this kind of just creates a situation where, either as NPC factions or as outright exclusions, all other cultures in the world are deprived of any meaningful agency in "history". this one just kind of gives you a new problem and also from a gameplay standpoint results in a game that just Has Less Stuff On It. i think this is a bad one

SID MEIER'S ELYSIUM

now here's one you can get if you knock out pillar #3. keep the same assumptions and gameplay and transhistorical global narrative scale, but remove the 'real-world' aspects. you can get real silly with it and add fantasy stuff to it, or you can be a relatively grounded 'our-world-but-to-the-left' situation. now to some extent this already matches a lot of the features already in civ games: after all, unless you specifically load in a 'true start location earth' map, you're usually playing on a strange parallel world with semiplausible but wholly original continents! now, you also need to get some fucking Nerds and Geeks working at your company to build out your fictional world, or you'll just end having pointlessly pallette swapped a bunch of factions that are now just Schmance, Schmina, and the Schoman Schempire, and not really have avoided the issue. but if you do that, and invent a deep and rich fictional history to riff on, then you could create something really cool and incorporate alt-tech or fantasy or retrofuturistic elements or all sorts of cool shit.

the downside of this is that it makes your game less accessible and appealing to a lot of people. a big part of (at least the initial) appeal of civilization is pointing at the screen and saying 'hey i recognize that thing!'. it is instantly more accessible to someone who isn't super invested in strategy or fantasy dork shit to say to them 'you can be BRAZIL and nuke FRANCE while at war with CHINA and allied to BABYLON'.

more importantly than that, i think some parts of the historical theming (because let's be honest, it is ultimately theming, i don't think civ is interested in 'history' in any serious way) serve a pretty load-bearing role in the game's information economy. it's a pretty tall order to ask a player to remember the unique abilities of dozens of factions and unique wonders, and the historical background makes it a lot easier. e.g., it is a lot easier for a player looking at wonders to remember 'the pyramids need to be built on desert' or 'broadway will help me make more culture' than it would be for them to remember the requirements/effects of 'under-eusapia' or the 'wompty dompty dom center'. i think this is one of the number one things that, if subtracted, would meaningfully create something that is no longer 'sid meier's civilization'.

SID MEIER'S ALPHA CENTAURI

now if you cut out #3 and #5 and #6 on the other hand... sid meier's alpha centauri is not technically an entry in the civilization franchise, but i think most people correctly consider it one. it has similar 4X gameplay to the series, and its (very bad) spiritual successor beyond earth was an official entry. instead of 'civilizations', the playable factions are splinters from a colony ship that fell into civil war as soon as it landed, each one representing a distinct ideology. now, y'know, this doesn't mean it's free from Some Problems (the portrayal of the Human Hive in particular is some of the worst apects of 90s orientalism all piled together) but i think they're problems it's not at all locked into by its design!

SID MEIER'S THERMOPILAE

by cutting out #5 and #6 -- making a civ game about a particular time and place in history you could achieve something much more richly detailed in mecahnics while also being able to handwave a lot more homogeny into it. giving the same basic mechanics to, say, every greek city-state in the peloponnesian war is far less ideologically loaded than giving them to every 'historical civilization' someone who watched a few history channel documentaries once can think of. it also lets you get really into the weeds and introduce era-and-place-specific mechanics.

the scale needs to be smaller conceptually but it doesn't really have to be smaller in terms of gameplay -- just make maps and tech trees and building more granular, less large-scale and more local and parochial and specific. this also gives you the advantage of being able to do the opposite of the last two options and really lean hard into the historical theming.

if this sounds like a good idea to you, then good news -- old world does something pretty similar, and it's pretty good! worth checking out.

SID MEIER'S LOVE AND PEACE ON PLANET EARTH

what if we take an axe to #2 and #4? instead of putting all these civilizations into a zero-sum game of violent expansion, make it possible for several civilization to win, for victory goals to not inherently involve 'defeating' or 'beating' other factions. now, that doesn't mean that the game should be a confictless city-builder -- after all, if you've decided to be super niceys and just try and make your society a pleasant place to live, that doesn't mean that the guy next to you isn't going to be going down the militarist-expansionist path. hell, even if all you want to do is provide for your citizens, a finite map with finite resources is going to drive you into conflict of some kind with your neighbours in the long run.

to make this work you'd have to add a bunch of new metrics -- 'quality of life', for example, as a more granular and contextual version of the 'happiness' mechanics a few games have had, or 'equality', game metrics that you could pursue to try to build an egalitarian, economically and socially just society where everyone is provided for. after all, why shouldn't that be a goal to strive for just as much as going to mars or being elected super world president or whatever?

SID MEIER'S DIVERSE HISTORICAL CONTEXTS

ultimately, all cards on the table, if i was made god-empress of The Next Civ Game, this is the option i'd go for: jettison #1 as much as practically possible, introduce as much asymmetry into the game as you can. some civilizations keep the established settler-city model -- others are nomadic, building their units in movable 'camps' -- maybe the 'colonial' civilizations, your USA and Brazil and so on, can be like the alien factions from the alpha centauri DLC, only showing as NPCs at the appropriate point in the timeline when other civs are colonizing other continents, or putting you into an accelerated-forward version of the game if you choose to play as one.

you could combine this with a more interesting version of humankind's civ-choosing system, where you lock certain civilization choices behind specific gameplay events. this would let you do crazy shit with the balancing -- imagine an ostrogothic kindgom civ with crazy strong abilities and units that you could only choose to play as if your capital is overrun by barbarians, or a hungarian civ that requires you to have started as a nomadic civ and invaded somewhere, or a soviet union civ that requires you to lose a revolution, or a usamerican civ that requires you to split off all cities on a foreign continent from your original civ -- you could add so much variety and so many new and bizarre strategies into the game with this!

as for the universal aspects of tech and the narratives of linear progression contained within, there are lots of approaches that already solve this! stuff like stellaris' semi-random branching tech paths, or endless space 2's circular tech web, could allow civilizations to take tech paths that make sense for them, rather than imposing one single model of 'technological progress' on the wole world.

obviously there's limits to this, right -- civilization isn't going to be a detailed historical materialism simulator any time soon. but i think abandoning the idea that every faction has to play fundamentally the same and introducing some severe asymmetry as well as choices that you can make after starting the game would work wonders to wash out some of the racist and colonialist assumptions built into the game's foundation, while also (imo) creating a more fun and interesting game.

[xan-izme]

"Bad Guy" (Dad!jake x Villian Daughter reader)

Summary: Jake didn't just leave you on a rotting planet, he did so much more. He barely showed his fatherly side to you, he was on Marin mode 24/7. The night before he left was what pushed you to the edge, after years of him not returning, was your braking point. He left you, his own daughter and betrayed his own race. If he can do that, what's wrong with leaving behind your own humanity?

TW: Death, mentions of death, child neglect, drinking, manipulation ect.

tag list: @kkkmm @myh3artttt

How far can you push a child's love and loyalty. Till they no longer can tell the difference between the two?

Raising children is known to be a very complicated task. But it was a part of life. Parenting is tricky, anything you do or say will affect your child's behavior.

Jake didn't think like that. You were his first child, a girl at that. Your mother was just a one night stand, but he did know her. She was a friend from before he lost his legs.

When you were born, he was already in a bad spot. So a child being dumbed on him in his situation wasn't the best.

So, when raising you, he tried his best to show you that the planet they were on was cruel, and that you need to fend for yourself sometimes. He might have been harsh with his words, but you had some sort of understanding that it wasn't out of meanness. Jake was strict. Set up curfews, schedule for all classes and hang outs. Knowledge of your whereabouts was a must.

But all of that understanding and balance you two had, was quick to shatter. The night before Jake was to leave for Pandora, he was drinking. Yes, Jake drinks a lot, and you know that.

But his twin brother just passed, for the paper he had in his pocket. Sadly, you came back home 15 minutes late.

So, when you tried to get Jake to bed, he was just complaining about you coming late.

Jake was grumbling something while you were trying to clean up the bottles that were laying around.

He complained about the military, about his parents, the people and his twin.

"And you, Y/n"

You stood in place, watching your father point at you, bottle of alcohol in hand. "You killed your mother . . . and now, you're killing me."

Those words hit you like nothing before.

Jake threw the bottle towards you, it missed, but you wish it did hit you and just killed you.

The next morning, you locked yourself in your room. You refused to open the door. No matter how many times' Jake apologized, no matter how hard he begged.

His words of promises to come back and make it up to you, were probably the only thing that made you feel some type of sympathy. And hey, if he did come back, the two of you might have had a decent father and daughter relationship.

You just had to wait for 6 years or so.

Then 6 years turned into 8. 8 years turned into a decade. Then you got word of what Jake had done.

Betrayed his own race, fell in love with a native and started a whole new family. And on top of that! he got legs! isn't that lovely, good for him. And all Jake had to do was leave his pathetic, no-good daughter on a rotting planet to get the life of his dreams.

The amount of anger you felt could not be explained. Wanting to take revenge, wanting your old man to feel unexplainable pain you had been suffering. You applied for a spot in the RDA. Specifically, in the Daja blue group.

It took a lot of training and strings pulled for you to get in that program. But you got in, and once you showed your skills, you were immediately welcomed in.

"Ms. Sully-"

You held back the urge to give the operator a look, not liking being called but his name. But his name is a part of your plan. You want people to know that you're his, that you came from the same Jake Sully.

"Your Avitar is ready."

You hummed and followed the woman. You two passed many other avatars. Then finally came to a stop at one that oddly looked like you. You stared down at the young body.

You were currently in your mid 20's, but avatars are made to be way younger than you currently were. This one looks about 18 or 19. You didn't mind. As long as the body was capable of handling her plan for Jake.

You must say, Pandora was more beautiful than you expected. Such beauty shouldn't have been wasted on Jake. You honestly didn't care for Quaritche's reasons or his mission in general, all you wanted was to install fear and dread into Jake.

Thankfully, Quaritche seemed to not mind what your little mission was. The only thing you two had in common, was to put Jake down. Break him in unimaginable ways.

"Your one of his" Quaritche mumbled. But you heard what he said. Your ears perked as you slowly made your way to the small Na'vi boy. Now seeing by his fingers and looking closely at his face, he held a close resemblance to Jake, that caused you to stare rather hard.

You kneeled down and looked your half-brother in the eyes. You then heard a voice, a voice that you could never forget. You grabbed the innercom that was still connected to the boy's neck and tossed it to Quaritche. As the older man spoke to Jake, you grabbed your half-brothers face, examining it.

The boy growls and roughly moved his face out of your hand.

"Let us go you demons!" The boy hissed in his native tongue. You scoffed in amusement and took hold of his hand, roughly putting it in front of his face, then put your hand against his. Matching all five fingers.

"We are more similar than you think boy." Your words shocked the boy. Leaving him silent and confused.

You turned to go back to your original position, giving a glance to Jake's daughters. You glared at the smallest one.

When Jake brought the fight to them. Quaritche let you have a little time alone with Jake.

Your tail swished from side to side before pouching on Jake. Your fighting style was sloppy, but in a way that was nearly always unpredictable. Almost like you were some kind of; savage.

Jake threw you off him, causing you to land on all fours against a nearby tree. You hissed as you stood up slowly, your tail flickering side to side, your eyes had never left him.

"So mean papa. That really hurt" You licked the blood from your lips as you gave the man a toothy grin.

Jake frowns, that voice, was for some reason familiar to him. His eyes squinted as the figure stepped closer into the moonlight. Once you were in the light, it took him a second, but even in Na'vi form. He recognizes his own daughter.

"Y/n . . . ?"

Jake dropped his weapons as he slowly approached you.

"Y/n, my baby! how-" His hands hovered over your skin, before you stepped away.

The two of you stared at each other, in compleate silence. Suddenly, the sound of a helecopter came. You sighed

"Oh well, guess our time is up." You say in a disappointing tone, you turned to walk off and get back to the group.

"Next time, I won't go easy on ya!" You say with a playful tone, but the noticeable sadistic look you had said otherwise.

Chaos unlashed itself upon the Sully family. The children of Jake demanding to know more about the Avitar woman who claimed to also be a Sully. That night, Jake and Neytiri had to explain that Jake had a daughter back on earth, and the moment he betrayed his own race, he lost privileges of trying to bring his daughter to Pandora or at least try and contact her.

Jake thought about you every day, every second. Every time he treated his sons like soldiers, he was reminded of you, and what he had said that fitful night.

Lo'ak laid awake that night. Your words spinning in his mind. That small talk of how his father truly was. How Jake treated her worse than he was with them now. Lo'ak can barely tolerate how their father is now, so just thinking about how strict or harsh he was with you. He understood you were probably hurt, but he thought of some way to make you see what Lo'ak saw when Jake spoke about you. How much love he had with each word for you, speaking about you like he would for any of his children.

When Jake first saw you again, it was like a dream come true, but now, he feels like he sees you everywhere. You're becoming a nightmare for him, all because of that first interaction you two had, if you knew of this, you would be laughing at how pathetic Jake was to easily be this way.

Even though Neytiri saw you as a traitor and a threat to her family, Jake still saw you as his little girl. His sweet baby girl that he left. The little girl he had the nerve to treat like a soldier. Guess this was Jake's harsh reminder that he was raising a daughter back then.

The Jake now can never imagine treating Kiri and Tuk the way he did with you, it hurts him.

You didn't want to hurt anyone but Jake. That doesn't mean you care for the life around you, no, if killing the ones Jake loved the most would drive Jake to the breaking point like you wished? you would have done that long ago.

You kneeled down to Lo'ak and made sure he was tied properly.

"Why are you doing this! aren't you, our sister??" Lo'ak was trying to reason with you. Trying to make you see what you were doing was wrong. You sighed and gave him a small smile while caressing his head.

"Oh, sweet little brother. You are too young to understand."

"I wan't daddy . . ." Tuk mumbled out a small whine. You shifted your eyes to her.

You stepped back and examined the two. "you two think our father is such a hero. A noble man who loves his family more than anything. But your wrong, the moment you slip up, he turns on you. . . . Did you know what he said to me before he left?"

Lo'ak and Tuk stayed silent as they kept their eyes on you.

"He said that all I had to do was wait for 6 years, then he'll be back, and make up for what he had done to me. Then 6 years turn into 8, then it turned into a decade. . . . It took 10 years for me to realize I didn't need him. And that he didn't want me." You never told your small sob story to anyone, and you surprisingly didn't feel that shitty about what your life had become.

"Your wrong."

Lo'aks words brought you back. You tilt your head a little.

"Oh?"

"Dad loves you! He told us what happened and he's sorry. He regrets everything and all he wants is you to be with him again! h-he loves you and always did." You hum in amusement

"He loves me . . . . How interesting."

Your plan just changed, and in the best way possible.

Jake didn't mean too. He didn't mean to shout at you that night, he didn't mean to leave you behind like he did, he didn't mean to turn you into what you had become now.

You coughed up blood, holding your stomach tight, where the stab wound was.

And most of all, he didn't mean for this to happen. Not to you . . . not by him of all people

"Y/n- I didn't . . . please come with me. Your hurt!" Jake pleaded. You stumbled back and hit the metal wall. You laughed as you slid down to the ground. You slowly looked up to Jake with teary eyes.

It really hurts. The burning pain was like nothing you felt before.

Jake rushed to your side and tried to lift you up. You stopped him and gripped his shoulder. "Hey, you love me . . . yeah?"

Jake didn't hesitate to answer "Yes! I love you. I love you so much." Jake held back a sob as he moved strands of hair away from your face. You sighed and slowly looked back up to him.

"Then, if you truly love me. You should take responsibility for this." Jake's ears slicked back.

"W-what?"

Your eyes were stone cold. Void of any emotion.

"Finish what you started--" You grabbed onto Jake's hand, the one he still had his blade in. Your blood stained with the sharp object.

"-- And if you truly loved me, you'd end it for me already."

Jake shook his head "no, I can still save you! you still have time-"

You cut Jake off "Look, Jake. My time is up. No use for pity now." You were rather done at this point. Just wanting it to be over with.

Jake took a long moment. But it happened. You held eye contact with your father as he stuck the blade in you once more, finishing you off. His salty tears mixing with the blood on your face.

Jake Sully lost his daughter that day. By killing her with his own hands.

So, in short, remember parents that children can be quite fragile in their early stages of life.

They can and will remember everything.

[mandoalorian]

taste of heaven

Joel Miller x F!Reader [smut]

Summary: You and Joel leave the quarantine zone in search of some medicine, when you come across a variant of the Cordyceps, taking life in the form of a pretty red flower. Whilst exposure to this mutated fungus doesn’t prove fatal, it does have some lasting effects.

Warnings: explicit, no minors. Sex pollen fic, exhibitionism, f!masturbation, fingering, tit play, degradation, jealousy, lots of begging, yearning/pining, implied age gap, mention of drugs/reader being drugged, cursing

Authors note: Please reblog to spread this fic around and it’s not showing up in tags! My requests & commissions are officially OPEN again! If you have any questions drop me a private message.

Masterlist / Want to support me further?

'Nature vs. nurture' has been a discussion which had dominated centuries of wonder, and even in the year 2023, when the world had been wiped clean from humanity and only the hardened walked the streets, it was something that still preyed on your mind. The theory could be applied in many aspects; but one that you couldn’t quite navigate no matter how hard you tried, was how you had lasted this long living in a war-torn world. You often reflected on how you had kept yourself so clean and away from infected and bad people. You figured that for the first few years you had just gotten lucky. Your state was notified of the Cordyceps Infection before it hit and so you were given the opportunity to escape your city early. They were already building Quarantine Zone’s and conscripting Fedra military in August.

Until Christmas 2003, you stuck by your family. They were with you, alive, for the first three months of the outbreak. By this point, the Cordyceps infection wasn’t exactly seen as a ‘permanent’ thing and the government had yet to give up on finding a cure. One by one you lost your parents, grandparents and siblings, but not before you found solitude in a Quarantine Zone northwest of Rhode Island.

Those fragments of peace and liberty lasted a whole three years before Fedra wiped the town clean, and you had no choice but to evacuate. You headed towards Massachusetts, stopping by different QZ's, meeting new folk along your way.

But nothing was permanent. Ten years ago you found a home in Boston Quarantine Zone.

It wasn't a nice place, full of selfish people doing what they needed to do to get by. Rats on every corner, literal and personified, and so you did your best to stay out of trouble.

You’d take on little jobs and run errands to earn ration cards, and you would follow Fedra's orders to a tee. If there was such thing as a 'golden girl' in this world... well, that would be you.

And then you met Joel.

Joel wasn't a good guy, and he made sure you knew that when you first laid eyes on him. He was ruthless; a killer, and the type of person you should’ve stayed away from. You’d survived this long by keeping away from guys like him and yet, you found yourself drawn to him. There was something about his rugged handsomeness and dedication to survival that appealed to you. When you first met him, you noted that he was a man of a few words. He rarely offered you even a glance and if he did give care to give you his time of day, it would be nothing less than to mumble a warning to you.

It took Joel a while to warm up to you. The man seemed more than satisfied with his partner, Tess, than to even want to give you even just a bit of the minimal attention that you craved. You were unsure of Tess. She was very beautiful, with shoulder-length wavy hair and bright green eyes. You wondered if she and Joel were anything serious, or if they were merely just friends, or perhaps something in between. The pair were inseparable and often participated in smuggling runs together, or were hired as bounty hunters.

It was a smokey grey morning when Joel entered the makeshift QZ pharmacy where Fedra had you working. His dark eyes appeared sunken in and tired, a deep frown crossed his lips.

“I need fentanyl, morphine, oxycodone... something to take away pain.”

He was avoidant of eye contact, looking uncomfortable to even have to ask you of this. 

Your jaw slackened slightly and you furrowed your eyebrows together at the man's request. “Are you- are you okay?”

Joel scoffed and rolled his tongue over his lower lip. “It’s not for me.” He snapped back, already becoming irritated that you were questioning his request. It had nothing to do with you. 

Unamused by his attitude, you decided on shutting him down immediately. “I don't. We don't sell opioids here.” you glanced away from the man, feeling your cheeks become hot under his stern gaze. Now he was making eye contact and he knew exactly how to intimidate you. If Joel was anything, he was determined and if Joel wanted something he made sure he’d get it, no matter the means or consequences. 

“Fedra don't permit anything as... strong as that to be traded in the QZ.”

Joel grunted and slammed his fists on the cashier desk. “Don't play coy with me, girl,” he sneered, hissing through his teeth. “can’t have been the first person to come in and ask for this. You have to know where I can get it from.”

You swallowed, looking around the empty pharmacy for answers. “I know someone,” you said timidly. “Well, know of someone.”

“Take me to them.” Joel demanded, without missing a beat. His desperation was becoming clear. 

Seeing your hesitation, Joel brought his fingers down to the pistol that he'd stuffed in the back of his jeans, having been used to being able to make a sufficient threat. But then, before making any rash judgement, he stopped himself and placed a hand on the desk in front of you. He couldn't hold you at gunpoint. You were sweet, kind, and soft. In the many years of knowing him, you had been nothing but nice to Joel. It would be wrong to scare you like that.

Adjusting his composure, Joel took a deep breath and let his body relax. He could ease up around you. You wouldn't even hurt a fly; let alone pull any stunts on someone like him.

“Please." he said quietly, his brown eyes now appearing to be more pleasing than harsh. He could read you like an open book and he knew exactly how to wrap himself around you. You huffed out a sigh and contemplated giving him the information that he so desired. 

“There's a guy I've heard Simone talk about. He's housed up on the outskirts of Boston, about a three-hour hike from here. He's her dealer. He'll have what you're looking for, but Joel…" you reluctantly placed your hand down on top of the desk, next to his. “It's in Fairmount. But I don't feel comfortable leaving the QZ. I could get in trouble. And if this is for you— or your own personal dealing, then—”

And for the first time in weeks, Joel's lips curled into a small smile. He moved his hand over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You'll be okay,” he promised, and from the longing look in his eyes, you believed him.

“Can I ask, who is the medicine for?” you interrogated shyly after a few moments of silence. Joel's rough hands were still atop yours.

Joel broke eye contact with you. If he wanted you to be fully on board, then he had to start being honest. “Tess.”

“Is she okay?” you became alarmed, moving your hand away from Joel and already beginning to grab your supplies for the journey.

“She got into a fight with Robert and his men, she's badly beaten up. She just needs something strong to help her fight through it. She'll be okay. She's tough.” Joel wanted to curse himself for offering you so much information, knowing that Tess would've been mortified if she'd learned that he was telling you all of this. But he really needed your help.

“We best get going then,” you said, grabbing your rucksack from behind the countertop.

For a brief second, Joel admired your dedication to helping Tess. It bewildered him a little, knowing that Tess didn't exactly care enough about you to help you the same. Tess often muttered snide words about your inability to shoot a gun or your law-abiding attitude. She hated the way you would sink under authority, but Joel understood it. He understood that everyone had their different ways of surviving, and as long as it was working, then he wasn't one to judge. But right now, that didn't matter. Joel was just thankful that you'd agreed to go with him.

———

Somewhere along the journey, you noticed a shrub peppered with four-petaled flours, painted red with golden pollen in the centre. You’d never seen anything like them before, and you had studied horticulture a few years back in Rhode Island QZ. You found yourself magnetised by their beauty, and with Joel a few yards back from you, you decided to take some time to analyse the plant. Picking one from the bush, you rubbed the soft petals between your fingers and let the grains of pollen sink into your skin. When Joel got nearer, you stuffed the flower in your jacket pocket and continued walking alongside him.

You were about an hour away from Fairmount when you started to get dizzy. You weren’t hallucinating but your perception of your surroundings had certainly changed. The road ahead seemed short and thick and upon the horizon was a glowing pink line. 

“Do you see that?” You asked Joel, squinting your eyes as you extended your hand to point to the horizon.

Joel tried following your moving index finger but shook his head. “You’re pointing at everything and nothing. C’mon let's keep going.”

It started out with a burning sensation, your loins ignited and blazed inside of you. You tried to regulate your breathing and found yourself slowly losing concentration on whatever Joel was saying. You wanted to pay attention, you really did. You loved his voice, it was like honey and velvet and there was something about that damned Texan accent of his… you didn’t notice it before, but you were certainly noticing it now. Your nipples felt tender as they hardened and poked out from underneath your shirt and you silently prayed that they weren’t visible through your denim jacket. The air around you was suddenly humid and thick and moist. Moist… you let out a small whimper and stopped dead in your tracks.

Joel stopped too. “Are you okay?” he asked, observing your sudden reaction to the forbidden flower.

“I just need a second to catch my breath.” You exhaled, closing your eyes and desperately trying to cling onto oxygen. Joel glanced back at the trail you’d both been walking along. There had hardly been an incline.

Joel gave you a few moments and when you finally opened your eyes, you offered him a queasy yet confident smile. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled. “Let’s keep going. Nearly there now. What were you saying about the—ah, fuck.” You stopped again, feeling a sudden wetness in your panties. Bolts of electricity were shooting up and down your body and within just a matter of seconds, you felt the primal need for something to fill you. 

You looked at Joel and then looked away.

Joel said your name softly, drawled it out slowly like he was trying not to spook you. You refused to make eye contact with him, looking down at your feet. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Joel said. He placed a hand on your arm and you flinched away from him. “What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, pressing your thighs together hoping for some kind of relief to the ache between your legs. You’re looked around your surroundings, finding a large rock just a few acres away. Ignoring Joel, you sat down and he followed you on your tail. 

This was embarrassing. This was so embarrassing. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you admitted, dabbing at the beads of sweat that laced your hairline. “I feel hot and heavy and it’s hard to breathe, I feel like my clothes are constraining me and I’m… I feel…”

Joel crooked his head to one side.

“Joel,” you whispered. “Fuck Joel, fuck…” you hissed through your teeth. “Joel, Joel…” you panted his name like it was a sacred prayer. Joel would’ve been lying if he said hearing you chant his name like that didn’t turn him on.

Extending your arms, you reached out towards the man. He obliged, coming closer and kneeling down in front of you. He placed both of his hands on your thighs to illustrate comfort and gazed into your eyes. 

“What is it?” he quizzed further. 

You nervously swallowed and reached into the pocket of your denim jacket before bringing out the now crumpled-up flower you’d picked earlier. The pale yellow pollen slipped between your fingers and you dropped the flower on the floor. Upon seeing it, Joel’s dark eyes widened and he leaned away from you. 

“No, no, no,” you begged him, opening your legs and pulling him back into you, this time holding him as close as could be. “Fuck Joel, I— I don’t know— I don’t know what’s happening,” you squeaked, tears filling your eyes.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he shushed, but there was no denying the slight air of worry sprawled across his face. “What have you done?”

“I think it’s the flower… I just picked it up earlier because I thought it was pretty and, figured I could make a hair clip out of it or—“

“I’ve heard stories about those flowers,” Joel shook his head. “They’re a mutated form of Cordyceps… a variant that’s been growing like ordinary fungus, in environments, masking themselves as plants. I’ve never seen them before but… that’s what I’ve heard they look like.”

“Holy shit,” you whispered. “Am I infected?”

“No! No, no girl. You’re fine. You’re gonna be fine. These plants… they’re known to have a primal effect on their host. They want their host to reproduce so they release endorphins and, I… don’t know the science behind it but,”

“Joel,” you whispered. “Joel…” your voice trailed off, bringing your hands up to his cheeks as you cradled his face. Your thumbs brushed over his stubble which adorned his jaw and you admired the little missing patch of hair there that you’d never noticed before. “I’m fucking horny.” you breathed into admittance.

If you weren’t so worked up right now, you would’ve barked out a laugh at how ridiculous those words sounded leaving your lips. Joel swallowed, his adam’s apple bopping up and down in his throat. You licked your lips and waited for him to say something— anything. But he stayed quiet, only the slightest movement in his hand as he brought it to the inside of your thigh.

You tossed your head back at the gesture and Joel felt his cock throb in his pants at the sight of you coming undone over him. He noted the vein in your neck and the way your perfect lips parted in an O shape as he trailed his other hand up your waist and along your torso to the hem of your jacket. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to… I’ll be okay if you just give me some privacy and I can… I can… you know,” 

“You need me and you know it,” Joel said gruffly, peeling back your jacket and letting it pool into a discarded pile on the floor. You already felt an air of relief wash over you as you lost an item of clothing. You hummed and leaned in closer to him, pressing your breasts which were now tight against your shirt into his face. “Say it.”

“I need you Joel,” you obliged. “Fuck, I need you so bad.”

“Tell me what exactly you need, baby girl,” Joel requested, bringing his hand to your breasts and massaging them through the material of your shirt. He pinched his finger over your protruding nipples and circled around them. He imagined nibbling it and sucking on them, and his mouth began to water.

“I need you, need your cock to fill me up. I want to wrap myself around you, tight, oh God, please,” you begged, grinding on the rock beneath you. The friction between the rock and jeans have you something, but it wasn’t enough. Joel discarded his jacket and unbuttoned his flannel shirt, throwing them to one side on the floor. 

“You want me that bad huh?” Joel chuckled, reaching down to his belt and unbuckling it. With a clink, that was on the floor too. 

“Need,” you corrected him. “This— this is fucking— fuck— I should be embarrassed.”

“But you’re not, because behind that sweet, good girl persona, you’re just a dirty, unfulfilled whore.” Joel seethed. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought that was an insult, but his degradation only spurred you on more and you let out a moan. 

“Your whore,” you told him with a smile. You stood up and pulled down your jeans so you were now sat on the rock wearing nothing but your t-shirt and panties. Your legs still open, you dropped your hand to your crotch and started to rub yourself through the material of your panties. 

“Ah-ah,” Joel chastised, taking your hand away from your aching pussy and interlocking his fingers with yours. “Look how wet you are. From now on, only I’m allowed to touch you, okay?”

“Mm, sounds like you want me just as much as I want you,” you teased him, even surprising yourself at that little comment which escaped your lips. 

“I do,” Joel answered, bringing your hand down to his own crotch, allowing you to feel his bulge that was straining through his jeans. As if that wasn’t proof enough.

“What about Tess?” you couldn’t help but ask. Even while you were in heat, you found yourself thinking about what Joel and Tess got up to. What exactly their ‘partnership’ amounted to.

Joel smirked and pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. “You jealous?” he mumbled against your skin. The low octave of his voice sent vibrations through your body. He licked a stripe down to your collar bone.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head. 

Every touch of his left a stain of fire.

“I think you are,” Joel teased. “You get jealous thinking about me fucking Tess— bending her over and taking her from behind.” 

You groaned. “Fuck you,” you whined, running your fingers through his greying brown hair. 

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Joel chuckled. 

Then, something caught your attention. You were drugged— ‘under the influence’— if you wanted a nicer way to put it. You wanted Joel but you had that damn mutated flower to blame, and yet Joel… this was raw. This was all him. He had nothing to blame other than himself because the truth is, he’s wanted you from the moment he laid eyes on you. 

“I fuck Tess,” he announced and you felt your face sour at his declaration. “But I wish it was you every damn time.”

You huffed as you let him take off your t-shirt. His eyes widened when he saw you weren’t even wearing a bra.

“Somehow I doubt that,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. 

“Let me prove it to you.” Joel replied, this time his words holding the utmost meaning.

Joel unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his knees, alongside his boxer shorts, revealing his long, thick cock. It was perfect, the dark pink head already leaking with milky white trails of precum. 

“You’re huge.” you couldn’t help but gasp out, making Joel laugh. You immediately eased at the sound of his chuckle. It wasn’t teasing or fake, but it was genuine and authentic. Dare you say, cute. 

But the little butterflies that fluttered in the pit of your stomach were short-lived. Your loins ached even more just at the mere sight of him and you eagerly ditched your panties within seconds. Leaning back, you made yourself as comfortable as you could be atop of the rock and spread your legs for him. What a sight to behold, you were. 

Joel admired your glistening folds as he eye-fucked your entire naked body. You brought your hands to your tits and began to play with them as you let him observe you.

“Please Joel,” you begged. “Let me feel you.”

Joel hovered over you and pressed his cock between your folds, rubbing the tip up and down, separating you. Obscene and lewd wet noises filled the quiet atmosphere as Joel gathered your juices on his manhood. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” Joel sighed, before bringing a thumb to your clit. He began to draw circles over the bundle of nerves, causing your body to jolt with the overbearing rush of pleasure. You knew you wouldn’t last long and you could feel your orgasm begin to creep upon you. But you needed more.

“Fuck me Joel, I need you inside of me.”

“Like this?” Joel asked and with one smooth motion, Joel thrusted his cock inside of you, your wet walls squeezing around him. “Oh shit.” he croaked out, taking a moment to adjust himself to the ethereal feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“Yes, just like that,” you praised. “Move now, please.”

For the first time, Joel followed your instruction without any tormenting or teasing. He’d wanted this just as bad as you did. Joel rocked his hips into you, building up a rhythm that you just couldn’t resist. His movements began to set out a pace but in time he quickened himself, focusing on getting closer to his high as he felt your own body quiver and shake underneath him. You knew he was close when his thrusts became sloppy and he chanted your name under his breath. 

Joel delved his face into your neck and you screamed as your climax came crushing down. Joel felt it too— the effect of your orgasm and what it had done to your body. Without any warning, Joel shot ropes of his cum into your pussy before slowly pulling out of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was enough to help you come down from your high. 

Joel rolled off you and laid next to you, atop of the rock.

The sky was growing dark now and nightfall was approaching. 

“Thank you.” you whispered when you regained your breath. You let yourself have a few moments to try and come to terms with what had just happened. By far, the best experience of your life. 

Joel leaned over onto his side and looked at you, feeling completely enamoured with your beauty. You were still flushed and sweating but the effects of the flower had worn off now, and you were doing much better.

“Before, when I said I thought of you when I was with Tess… I wasn’t lying,” Joel admitted. “I don’t want you to think…”

You smiled, tangling your fingers into his hair and pushing his face down to meet yours. You offered him a soft, tranquil kiss and Joel moaned at the affection. Your lips were so soft, exactly how he’d imagined. If he could, he’d kiss them forever.

“Is she your girlfriend?” you asked after pulling away.

“It’s not like that at all,” Joel replied. “We just… we’re there when we need each other, y’know?”

You nodded your head silently.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” Joel announced, feeling a rush of nerves and anxiety race through his body. “I mean, not the Cordyceps flower. And not just the sex. But I want to see you again, after today. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way— I know, we’re so different and I ain’t a good guy. Maybe a girl like you would be better on your own, but damn it, I like you and—“

“I like you too,” you cut him off. “Maybe when we get back to Boston, you can take me out on a date?”

Joel grinned, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. There was those butterflies again.

“Alrighty then.” Joel beamed and you pressed another kiss to his lips. “It’s a date.”

-------

taglist: @januarycolor @anapnovo-blog @pardebellesnuits @mi0o@supervengerslock@alitaar@bigpepperpicker@pedrostories@pedroprinces@

[redley-of-many-noodles]

Rule One of Spotting Genocide

If you’re debating the semantics of what does and does not constitute genocide, you’re in the middle of a genocide.

Rule Two of Spotting Genocide

In the midst of debating the semantics of genocide, you can tell where a news outlet’s underlying bias lies by checking the headline to see whether ‘genocide’ is in quotes.

This also frequently applies to individuals.

Rule Three of Spotting Genocide

Use your fucking eyes. When shit like this goes down, it will be heard on the internet. Even a competent military will struggle to hide the evidence of an ethnic cleansing.

To uphold the integrity of Rule Three, ensure you strike down any and all internet censorship laws with extreme prejudice.

Rule Four of Spotting Genocide

Word of mouth and community service are your friends. During a genocide, protests will break out in public spaces, and political discussions may seem divided to an abnormal degree. Keep an ear to the ground, and both eyes on the streets.

Rule Five of Spotting Genocide

Check news sources from more than one country. In fact, check from as many different countries as possible. Even the ‘developing’ ones. Especially the developing ones.

I’m talking to you, ‘United’ States.

Rule Six of Spotting Genocide

Posts like this will be in heavy circulation across the web.

Open your eyes.

[shineemoon]

TAEMIN ✨ NME Interview (Full → HERE)

“A lot of my songs carry words that could be considered negative and although positive words have power, I think it’s more attractive to make the negative look beautiful.”

Taemin’s definition of love: “There’s different forms. There is love that you receive from your parents, the love from your girlfriend or boyfriend, and the love from fans. But there’s always a sacrifice, and pushing someone to sacrifice is also love. There are a lot of things I gain from being a singer but, at the same time, there are lots of things I have to give up, and these are the ones I emphasised in this single.”

“I learned to be careful to trust someone, because it really hurts when someone suddenly disappoints you. It’s very important in relationships to be careful about what you talk and what you do.” These words reflect Taemin’s growth since he released his previous mini-album, 2020’s ‘Advice’, shortly before enlisting in South Korea’s obligatory military service. During that break from music, he realised that people learn from experience. “I found out that I’m interested in different hobbies, different food, different restaurants, different vacation spots. Having moments to relax were an opportunity to feel like the person Taemin, instead of the artist Taemin.”

“I like to separate the personas. It’s like actors, who separate the person and the character. Off stage, I think I’m more playful and simpler, like a little kid.” While reminiscing about this dichotomy, he goes as far as to compare his life to the 1998 satirical drama The Truman Show. “In the movie, Jim Carey realises that everyone has been watching him at the end. I came to SM [Entertainment] when I was 12 years old, and the period of time when I was training, my debut, all the moments where I was growing up were shared and seen by a lot of people, so I relate to that.”

“The music video was [also] inspired by this book called Eroticism, by George Bataille. It covers a lot of topics about breaking taboos, and I thought about how this can reflect on my music and the perspective I put into it. For example, showing skin is still a taboo, so when a male performer rips their shirt and the crowd goes wild, I wanted to understand and incorporate the concept of breaking that taboo.” He describes his albums as ways into himself. “I always learn something. Like when you’re writing a journal, you can organise your thoughts [there], but I find that I’m able to organise what I learned and what I think through the albums that I release.” And then, in order to apply his lessons, he pours all his “energy and passion” into performances, to the point of no regrets. “Because there’s some wear to any image, I always think of how to change and show different sides of myself.”

“I have a very different lifestyle than most people, and I realised that, because of my career, I receive a lot of love and support. I knew it in my head, but now I feel it in my skin. Many people my age are still finding their way, so I feel very fortunate to have found out what I love to do.”

[akookminsupporter]

JIMIN AND JUNGKOOK AND THE HATE THEY DON'T DESERVE.

Being part of this fandom when your biases are Jimin and Jungkook is not easy. Forget about whether you believe there is something more between them; being a fan of them in this fandom is difficult. Every day is a new reason to feel helpless, upset, disappointed, and afraid that they see all the hatred they receive. Hatred they don't deserve, particularly Jimin.

I will never tire of saying how wonderful Jimin is and that, even though I don't know him, I can tell he is a good person, friend, and colleague. A respectful, affectionate, hardworking, dreamy person. One of those people who doesn't seem real, one of those people who are perfectly imperfect. And that's why I'll never understand why he receives so much hatred and why many in this fandom allow it.

Jimin has always been the number one enemy of Taekookers and many Solos, for different reasons but one in common: envy. These groups have always been able to say whatever they want about Jimin, and practically nothing, aside from his fans and Jikookers is said in response. And what's worse, when these fans say something to defend Jimin, they are labelled as Solos or reduced to mere shippers. Jimin cannot be defended, apparently.

The hatred they, particularly Jimin, have been receiving since their trip to Japan with Jungkook was announced is sad. What has happened since before the rumours that Jimin and Jungkook would enlist together in the army came out has crossed all kinds of limits. Jimin has been insulted in the vilest ways I have ever seen in my life, and virtually no one says anything—no one, except the usual ones, of course. When the rumours surfaced in the Korean press, the hatred intensified. Haters once again realized that they could say and do whatever they wanted, and nothing would happen to them because, once again, the fandom, in general, did nothing to defend Jimin, to silence the haters. Funny how that doesn't happen when it comes to another member.

After Big Hit confirmed that not only Jimin and Jungkook would enlist together but also that they would do it under a special program that guaranteed they would be together for the duration of their military service, hell broke loose. Disinformation became an everyday thing, insults, mockery too, and the target remains the same: Jimin.

You are guilty when you do something wrong, but you are also guilty when you do nothing when you see others doing something wrong. I believe even the latter is worse. Jimin and Jungkook decided to apply for a program that guarantees they will be together throughout their military service for reasons they only know and don't have to disclose, nor do they have to give explanations. That decision, which surely was not easy to make, must be respected by everyone, period. Not questioned, not belittled, not explained to fit into absurd narratives.

The way Taekookers always paint Jungkook as this manipulable person, incapable of making his own decisions, who always does what the company, according to them, tells him is deplorable, disrespectful, and further proof that they don't care about Jungkook. The way I've seen many diagnose Jungkook with different things, in treating Jimin as a helpless and weak being who needs a bodyguard with him to say that they applied to the program because they had to and not because they wanted to is insulting. And yet virtually no one says anything.

Jimin and Jungkook will never be the enemies that many want them to be. They will always be the two members who seem to be the closest. They will always be the ones who understand each other with just a look. They will always be the ones with the same sense of humour, who laugh in the same way, and who simply share more things in common. They will always be the ones who promised to go to the moon together and the ones who seem to have no secrets from each other. Those who comfort each other, who are there when one is sick etc.

JIMIN AND JUNGKOOK WILL NEVER BE THE ENEMIES MANY WISH THEM TO BE.

Reducing all the hatred they are receiving right now, and that they have always received, to a shipping issue is insulting, it's cowardly. If your conclusion is to blame Jikookers only, ignoring absolutely everything that Taekookers say daily, what Solos and akgaes say daily, let me tell you that you are a hater too. And you are, in a way, worse. YOU are the problem. If you are unable to stand up for them because you think it will make you a shipper, you are the problem because it goes beyond that. If you are afraid to defend the love, affection and trust that they obviously have for each other, if you are afraid to acknowledge that they are close, that they are great friends, you are the problem too. No one is asking you to accept that Jimin and Jungkook are married or anything like that, what many of us would expect from everyone who claims to be a fan of BTS, is to defend the members of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. If you are incapable of doing that, you are the problem too. You are also a HATER.

I hope the time the boys are in the army serves to clean up this fandom from so much rubbish. I hope they find a fandom that supports all seven of them unconditionally when they return. That respects them and only wants the best for them.

But in this life, nothing is that easy, right? I'm afraid to think about what they will say when the documentary is released and what will happen when whatever Jimin and Jungkook filmed together is released. In a way, I'm glad they won't be here when all that comes out because the chances of them not seeing any of that will be high.

[socialjusticeinamerica]

They don’t even know of a time when life was better in America. Actually Gen X was the first generation in America not to do better than their parents. The same being true for the last few years of the Boomer generation. Y also is struggling.

The lady Boomers and X’ers remember what it was like before Reagan took over and busted unions in 1980. Wages dropped, factory owners took their shops to the Deep South where unions had long since been busted or never allowed to set up in the first place. Then the oligarchs outsourced their work and shuttered factories nationwide.

Before Reagan one parent working 40 hrs a week at a union job could afford a mortgage, a new car, medical insurance, and college for their 2.5 kids. That also applied to “minorities” or marginalized people who benefitted from union protections and negotiated standard pay scales.

With Reagan a home went from two years salary to 10+ years salary. Tuition did the same. Cars that cost a month’s salary soared to a year’s salary. Wages have remained stagnant for about 40 years. The wealthy paid high taxes and we had everything. Now the remnants of the middle class pay the bulk of taxes while multimillionaires and billionaires pay little or even nothing. Credit card interest soared to over 20% in some cases while Republikkkans passed laws making it easier for those card companies to sue you whilst making it nearly impossible for you to sue them. Mentally disabled people were literally dumped into the streets causing widespread homeless which is criminalized in affluent areas and red states. Guns and drugs flooded the streets. Bigoted white nationalists became radicalized when Reagan granted Australian Rupert Murdoch citizenship so he could open Fox News and then shut down the Fairness Doctrine so propaganda could be spread under the guise of news.

All the societal problems we suffer today began with the birth of the modern RepubliKKKan party led by their racist Dotard Ronald Reagan in 1980. The GOP became an organized crime syndicate and the government became a tool for the rich. The middle class shrunk from a sizeable percentage of the population to a handful of areas in the north and along the west coast. Many foolish people believe themselves to be in the middle class but in fact they are just perpetual debtors.

If you’re young your first reaction might be to blame the Boomers because that’s incorrectly become a marketed belief. The Boomer generation fought against the GOP and its wars, racism, pollution, big oil, corporate welfare, and black hole military industrial complex. They were the hippies and political activists that marched on Washington and other places. They booted the racist Dixiecrats (southern conservative racist Dems) from the Democratic Party while shifting educated liberals left. Sadly the GOP under Nixon and his colleagues welcomed the racists and conservative nut jobs. Don’t fight a generational war when you should be fighting a class/culture/political war.

The younger generation needs to educate itself about the political parties and how life was better just a few decades back and begin to vote. Vote, then organize in the workplace through unions and in the streets to attract more young voters and to counter protest the Republikkkan right-wing oligarch take-over of America. Complaining and taking refuge in the internet won’t turn things around. Become politically active, become stoke, bring back lower tuition, affordable health care, labor unions, workers rights, voters rights, etc.

[shadowlali]

Lali, I'm home 🐦‍⬛

Have we ever considered Farmer/Ranchero!Alejandro with a Ranchero f!reader??

Alejandro retires after the Valeria ordeal, takes up tending to his ranch and he needs help so he advertises. Reader pops up and who is he to deny the needed help.

He's used to strong women with strong character too (Valeria) despite his initial shock, he's just there in awe and very sunshine and the reader is like?? sir could you not??

You can develop that dynamic however you'd like if you decide to do this,just give them some devils tango and a HEA in their ranch.

Thank you🥀

little sun, solecito 

COD - Ranchero!Alejandro Vargas x fem!Ranchera reader 

wc: ~ 5k 18+ masterlist

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, HEA, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, POV swapping, inaccurate references on how to care for horses, original background character introduced (only a few sentences), pet names (solecito, hermosa), power imbalance (alejandro is the boss), mutual pining, only one bed trope, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving)  a/n: welcome home, nonnie <3. thank you for this request (i might’ve gone a little crazy)! rancho or hacienda is spanish for ranch/farm. ranchero/a is spanish for male rancher/female rancher. tejana is a style of cowboy hats. 

Retiring and choosing to leave Los Vaqueros was a difficult decision for Alejandro to make. The hard bunk beds, starched uniforms, and overall camaraderie would forever be missed. However, chasing down cartels and destroying drug labs took many years of his life. He doesn’t regret any of it, it was always his purpose to save his hometown. Alejandro made a promise to himself, the moment he caught El Sin Nombre, he would retire. Too many soldiers kept going until revenge consumed their entire beings, losing themselves along the way. 

Coming face to face with El Sin Nombre, or Valeria Garza, solidified Alejandro’s plan. Sadness spread through his chest once he heard her name and saw her face. They were in love once upon a time, but it wasn’t sustainable. He knew she had a different, more violent mission for riding Las Almas of cartels. He knew nothing of her ulterior motives. 

Alejandro split his time between his family’s rancho and the military. He knows this place like the back of his hand, yet he’s mostly alone at this point. His parents have long passed, his siblings having married and moved to different parts of Las Almas. The quiet is peaceful, but the skeleton crew can’t handle all of the daily operations on their own. 

His main concern at the moment is the horses. This entire place was left to him by his parents, but the horses were his father’s prized possession. They’re well behaved and cared for, but they’re becoming restless. It's been days since he posted the job opening for stable hands, but no one has applied so far.  

Alejandro makes his rounds through the property, taking note of what needs to be bought or fixed. As he walks towards the stables, his ranch foreman comes out with a solemn look on his face. 

“Boss?” 

“Dígame,” Alejandro responds. [Tell me]

“We can’t find Azul. I think he ran off.”

Alejandro stares back, a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach. A thousand different thoughts run through his head. Some of the fences around the property are broken after a violent hail storm and have yet to be mended. There’s also some large holes on the rougher parts of the hacienda that still need to be filled. If Azul leaves the property, he’s not necessarily friendly when it comes to meeting new people. He doesn’t want to think about Azul falling or getting too far without him. 

- - - 

It's picturesque on this side of Las Almas. As you drive down the main road you see all of the cows and horses grazing on the soft grass. You pass by a few different ranchos, the family names’ stamped proudly on the gates of each one. After seeing a flyer in town for a job opening on the Vargas property, you decided to take the risk and check it out. 

You see the gate leading to the Vargas hacienda when you notice a beautiful horse trotting right in front of it. You slow down the car and scan the area but there seems to be no one else out. The horse stops and begins grazing at the grass. Once your car is in park, you exit and slowly approach him. He looks up at the sound of your voice. 

“Hola, precioso,” you whisper, ”¿De dónde viniste?” [Hi, lovely. Where did you come from?]

He sniffs as you stretch out your hand and gives you a boop with his nose. You take that as a good sign and gently pet him. He belongs to someone, there’s reins attached to the leather loops around his head. 

“Are your owners in here?” You ask while motioning towards the open gate. “Hello?” You call into the gate. No answer. 

You gently grasp the reins and begin walking slowly into the property. The front of the hacienda is empty so you decide to close the gate behind you in case any other horses decide to escape. Your new buddy waits patiently and begins walking again when you take the reins. 

“You’re so beautiful and polite, aren’t you?” You praise him. 

There’s a stone walkway and agave plants leading up to the two-story house. You hear an ATV approaching and wave to get the attention of the person driving. It stops and a man comes out, whistling and calling out the name Azul. You suck in a shaky breath as you take him in. He’s tan and muscular, his broad chest stretching the denim button up he’s wearing. 

“Azul! Where were you?” He exclaims. 

“He was outside when I was driving up and I assumed he was from here.” 

“He is, yeah. Thank you,” he says as he stretches out his hand, ”Alejandro Vargas.”

So this is the owner, you think. You shake his hand and introduce yourself.  

“I’m surprised he let you get close, he usually isn’t nice to strangers.” He continues. 

“Oh! Azul is a sweetheart. Maybe he likes me.” You respond. “I’m actually here to apply for the job as one of the stable hands–” 

“You're hired.” Alejandro interrupts. 

“I – uh, don’t you want to interview me or do a trial run?”

“If Azul trusts you, then so do I.” He responds with a smile on his face. 

- - - 

Alejandro does his best to focus on the task at hand. He’s filling the water tubs while you brush and speak to Azul. Alejandro is almost in a trance, the breeze carries over your soothing voice to where he’s standing. He finds it funny, jealous of a horse who has all of your attention. You’re incredible at your job, treating all of the horses with so much care. Azul is stuck on you, noticeably happy when you take him out to pasture or to ride. 

“¿Todo bien, Alejandro?” You ask. [All good?]

Alejandro snaps out of his daze, noticing you look at him with an amused expression. 

“Yes, why – mierda,” He jumps back as he realizes water is overflowing from the tubs. 

You immediately turn off the faucet and help Alejandro wrap up the hose. Pink blooms on his cheeks from embarrassment. You don’t mention it, your own body warming as you notice sweat on his neck making him look mouthwatering – nope. He’s your boss, who treats you kindly and pays you even better. 

“I was lost in thought,” Alejandro says, taking off his tejana to run a hand through his thick hair. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” You ask. 

He waits a moment before speaking, “You’ve been doing a really great job, solecito.” [little sun]

“Thank you, Alejandro. I like being here.” You give him a smile and a nod before you walk off to your other tasks. 

You feel a pulsing in your lower tummy at the nickname. It’s been over three months of you working here and while in any other situation you would find the nickname patronizing, the way Alejandro says it sounds incredibly sweet. While the rest of the crew lives in the renovated employee house, you live in Alejandro’s home. He told you it was because the house hadn’t been updated to accommodate women employees yet, whatever that means. 

Only one other woman lives in Alejandro’s home, Maritza. She’s an older woman in charge of cooking and general upkeep. Her room is on the first floor and while you’ve never looked around, Maritza often tells you how much she enjoys her own personal space here at the hacienda compared to where she used to work and live. Your room is on the second floor, a few doors down from Alejandro’s master bedroom. 

You keep only your most important belongings in there, but everytime Alejandro makes a run into town, he’ll bring you back a new lamp, lavender soap, or anything else he could find in the color pink. Decor and trinkets fill your room at his insistence. It was weird at first to accept gifts from him, especially since he’s your boss. One thing you’ve learned quickly is how stubborn Alejandro is. He’s no longer a Coronel, but still carries himself with annoyingly hot authority. 

Alejandro works his way around the property, making sure his new employees are up to task and have the support they need. He doesn’t let you out of his sight much. He tells himself that it's only in case you have a question or need help with something, but even then that's a lie. You’re a lot stronger than you look, moving hay bales or metal tubs with no issue. You caught him staring once, raising an eyebrow while he tried to come up with an excuse as to why he was there.

He’s met many strong women in his life, none quite like you. None of them have the same wind-chime laugh or mesmerizing tilt to their voice. None look at him with so much warmth in their eyes or consume his thoughts like you do. There’s moments when he’s alone in his bed, wondering what it would be like to have you right next to him, wondering what it would be like to wake up wrapped in your scent. Other moments when you’re having breakfast together and going over the assignments for the day, he thinks about you taking his last name and staking your claim in this place where you rightfully belong. 

While he’d love to ask you out on a date, to see you in the short dresses you wear when going out with friends, he's too scared to lose you. Of course you’re valuable to the hacienda, but your presence in his home has given him a new outlook on life. Alejandro wasn’t sure how life would be after retirement, he was alarmed at losing the routine he knew for so many years. You’ve helped him find a new purpose in life, one where retirement is a new chapter to something better.  

“I don’t think it's going to rain,” one of the employees says while locking up the shed. “The sky looks clear.” 

Alejandro looks up, absentmindedly nodding as he takes in the clear sky. “We’ll close everything, just in case.”

- - - 

The sound of thunder and heavy downpour wakes you from sleep. You sit up in bed, groaning from the sudden noise. The large window by the vanity is in direct view of the stables. You move the curtains and try to see if the doors flew open or if you can hear any sounds of distress coming from the horses. The thunder is too loud, and you make the decision to take a look outside. You open the door to your room, almost crashing into Alejandro who’s in the process of zipping up his jacket and walking to the stairs.

“Woah, you okay?” He asks, placing his hands on your waist to keep you steady. 

Even through the layer of the thick jacket, you can feel the heat coming from his big hands. His hair is standing up straight in a few places and his eyes are half-lidded, he just woke up too. You nod, realizing you haven’t responded to his question. “I was going to check on the horses to see if they’re okay.” 

“No, solecito. Stay inside, I’ll go check on them. It’s too dangerous.” He responds. 

“Alejandro, it’s my job,” you remind him, ”how about we both go?” 

He stifles a groan, loving the way you say his name. “Okay, we’ll both go. Stay close to me.” 

Alejandro doesn’t give you much of a choice, grabbing your wrist in his big hand and making your head spin from the warmth. He leads you to the stable but not before pulling your hood over your head. You take a peek through one of the windows and see all of the horses sound asleep. 

“Let’s go back,” He yells over the sound of the harsh wind. 

He keeps his hand wrapped around your wrist as you both lightly jog back into the house, boots and jackets thrown on the bench as you enter. The home is quiet and dark, everyone around the rancho fast asleep. You jump at a loud strike of lightning, Alejandro quickly moving you away from the windows. 

“¿No te gusta las tormentas?” He asks, no judgment in his voice. [You don't like thunderstorms?]

“Not really,” you say.

“How about we get you in bed, yeah?” Alejandro says as he motions to the stairs. 

He takes in the look of unease on your face and gets a sudden urge to take you to his room, where he can help you forget all about the chaos outside. Another crack of thunder resonates, and you cling onto Alejandro’s arm. 

“I don’t think I can sleep in my room tonight. The window is too close to my bed.” You say with a pained voice. “Can I sleep in one of the other rooms?” 

“I haven’t furnished the other rooms yet,” he says gently, ”how about you take my bed and I’ll take the couch inside?” 

You think about it, realizing that it's probably not a good idea to sleep in your boss’ room. However, the thunder continues and you decide to rein in your attraction to him.  

“Okay.” 

You dry yourself from the rain and change into pajamas while he waits outside of the bedroom door. Alejandro stills as he takes in the silk robe that wraps around your body once the door opens. He turns before he says something stupid and leads you to the master bedroom. There’s a king size bed in the middle of the room and a loveseat by the window. The nightstand holds a lamp that's turned on, casting low rays of light around the room.  

“I’ll be here if you need anything,” Alejandro says while pointing to the loveseat.

You pause at the foot of the bed, the sheets rumpled from where he slept before jumping out of bed. How many times have you fantasized about being in his room and wrapped in his sheets? Now isn’t the time, you think, he’s being nice and you’re acting weird. The loveseat is small, he’ll barely fit laying down. Alejandro shouldn’t be uncomfortable in his own home, much less his own room. 

“Alejandro?” You nervously ask, “What if we share the bed? It's big enough for the both of us.”

He gives you an indiscernible look, waiting a few breaths before responding. 

“Is that what you want?” He whispers. 

You suppress a shiver at the rasp of his voice and the look in his eyes.

“Yes.” 

You move to the side of the bed that doesn’t look slept on and climb under the covers after removing your robe. He walks into the en-suite bathroom and comes out a few moments later wearing black pajama bottoms and a henley shirt. You can’t help but giggle at the amount of pillows on Alejandro’s bed. Everything is soft from the mattress to the luxury sheets. 

“I never imagined your bed would be like this, Alejandro.” 

He quirks an eyebrow as he gets under the covers, ”I like soft things.” He fluffs the pillow underneath his head and continues, “When I was in the military and even with Los Vaqueros, we slept in bunk beds. They weren’t uncomfortable, but nothing compared to this.”

You turn to face him, propping your face on your hand. He smells good, like soap and leather. 

“Once I left, one of the first things I bought was a new bed.” He says while staring up at the ceiling. 

The lull of his voice calms you, instantly making you forget about what’s happening outside. 

“Do you miss it? Los Vaqueros?” 

Alejandro takes a deep breath before responding, “A veces. I miss the soldiers and the chaos. Planning missions and even sleeping on the cold ground when we would do stakeouts.” [Sometimes]

“You miss bossing people around?” 

He turns to look at you, trying but failing to keep the stern look in his eyes. “I was the Coronel, it was my job.” 

You continue teasing, ”that’s why you like being the owner here, right? You still get to be the boss.” 

He laughs and the sound causes pleasant tingles to spread through your body. You smile, loving the way Alejandro’s eyes wrinkle at the corners. 

He gets a pensive look on his face. “I wasn’t sure what retirement was going to be like.”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. 

“But it was time to do something for myself.”

Alejandro holds your stare, the heated look from before returning in his gaze. You feel hypnotized, your breathing becoming shallow and wetness pooling between your thighs. He brings up his hand, slowly bringing it up to your face. The back of his hand caresses your heated cheeks and down to your jaw. 

“Hermosa,” Alejandro whispers. [Beautiful]

The tip of your tongue peeks out to run across your bottom lip and he follows the movement with his eyes. You scoot up on the bed and lean over him, placing a chaste kiss to his plump mouth. Alejandro wraps a hand on the back of your neck to bring you in closer and deepen the kiss. It's soft and slow, the both of you learning the shape of each other’s lips. You don’t feel anxious or scared of the thunderstorm anymore, your focus is on Alejandro’s mouth and his warm hand on your skin. 

You place both hands on his chest, desperate for the natural heat escaping his body. He groans in your mouth and slips his other hand under your shirt to tease the seam of your shorts. You gasp at the feel of his rough and calloused fingers. He takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth and grip you tighter. He quickly flips you both over so that you’re laying on your back and he’s on top. 

“Look at what you do to me,” Alejandro groans, pressing his aching cock between your warm thighs. 

“Alejandro,” you moan. 

“What do you need, solecito?” 

“Your mouth,” you whimper. 

“Where?” he groans, “On your soft tits? Wet pussy?” 

“Bo–both, please.” 

Alejandro nods, grinding down on your clothed pussy before leaning back. He helps take off your shirt then shorts and soaked panties. Dios, he whispers as he takes in your body. He doesn’t touch you yet, quickly taking off his own clothes to press against your naked skin. He trails kisses from your forehead to the tip of your nose and down to your soft mouth. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he skims his nose down your neck, inhaling the sweet scent. 

He’s associated you with the scent of lavender. The first time he met you, the gentle breeze brought that scent over to him. Alejandro couldn’t help himself after that, taking any opportunity to stand close to you and inhale deeply. It’s in the lotion you wear, and after he bought you the soaps, part of your shower routine as well. You had said it so innocently, Thank you for the soaps, and all he could think about was you in the shower. Water and bubbles cascading down your body as you rubbed yourself with something he bought you. 

With both hands, Alejandro grasps your swollen breasts and rubs his fingers on your hard nipples. Whines fall from your mouth and he quickly presses his lips to yours. You dig your fingers into his thick hair and pull. He takes that moment to press his naked cock on your slick; back and forth, back and forth through your wet folds. 

Alejandro keeps moving down, gently sucking the skin around your nipples. He wants to take his time to memorize the taste of your skin and the moans that fall from your mouth when he licks or sucks a certain way. You’re impatient underneath him, grinding up on his length and pulling his hair. 

Alejandro hisses from sting, ”Paciencia, hermosa.” [Have patience]

He likes it, how twitchy and loud you are underneath him. How even with his words your fingers continue gripping and pulling at his hair. Alejandro moves his hips away, on the brink of finishing before he’s even inside of you. Finally, he gives you what you want. He takes one of your aching nipples in his mouth and sucks deep. Your head presses back into the mattress from the heat of his mouth. Alejandro is a little mean, licking then biting each tip. He’s sloppy with his mouth, leaving lingering bites and saliva on your skin. 

You can cum from this. Pleasure claws from your core up your overheated body, missing the feel of his cock pressed against you. And while you don’t know what an orgasm from nipple play feels like, you hope he doesn’t stop. He knows you’re close from the high pitched moans and the chants of his name that fall from your pretty lips. Not yet, he wants your slick on his tongue. Alejandro moves down with bites on the soft planes of your tummy. 

You try to stop him, so close from the edge. “Alejandro, wa-wait.” 

“No, want to taste you,” He whispers, reaching your mound and placing an opened mouth kiss. 

He spreads you open and places one of your thighs over his shoulder. Right when you’re about to ask him to keep sucking your nipples, he spreads open your slick folds and swipes his tongue up and down. Alejandro moans at the taste of your arousal spreading across his tongue. He places a hand on your hip to keep you from moving too much. With two fingers, he plunges inside your tight entrance. Your back arches up, his digits moving slowly but stretching you nonetheless. 

“Ale – fuck, more.”

He flicks the tip of his tongue on your clit then pauses to respond, “Sí, hermosa.” 

Alejandro speeds up his fingers, curving and plunging them all the way in. His cock is hurting and it takes all his strength not to grind on the sheets. You swear you can see stars the moment he sucks your clit. Everything he does starts gentle then gets rougher a few moments later. His tongue is rough on your clit and his fingers match the pace. Everything in you stills then clenches, finally falling off the edge. 

Your mouth opens with harsh moans and you shudder with each wave of your orgasm. Alejandro happily swallows the gush of wetness that leaves your pussy. Your hands never leave his hair until you push him away and beg him to stop, no more please, Alejandro. He places a wet, sloppy kiss on your swollen button and removes his fingers. Alejandro climbs up your body and keeps your thighs spread, slapping his angry cock on your glistening pussy. 

With his clean hand he grips your jaw and lightly shakes your head for you to focus on him. You watch as he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth. You reach up, pulling his wrist towards you and latching on his fingers. He moans, imagining your warm mouth around his cock. You choke a little, Alejandro plunging to the back of your throat. You can taste yourself on his warm skin. He pulls his fingers out abruptly with strings of your saliva stuck to them. 

“Ready?” He asks, bumping the tip of his mushroom head on your clit. 

“Wait,” you say, sitting up a little to touch and finally see his length. You see him, tan and thick. With light fingertips, you touch his length. “So velvety,” you whisper. 

Somewhere between a groan and a chuckle falls from his mouth, ”Enough, lista?” [ready?]

“Yes, please.” 

You lean back on the bed and stretch your thighs as much as possible. He grips the back of one, his other hand guiding himself down to your entrance. Your hands grip the sheets the moment you feel him push in. You’re not sure if it's your imagination or the heat of the moment but you can feel every vein on his cock. His chin falls to his chest, eyes shut closed. It feels right, like this is where he belongs. Alejandro stops halfway to catch his breath and check on you. 

“Okay?” He asks. 

“Ye-yeah, keep going.” You stammer out. 

He grabs one of your hands and links his fingers through yours. Holding your stare, he thrusts the rest of the way in. You whimper, feeling his tip kiss your cervix. Alejandro’s eyes are a little wild and his mouth parts open with heavy breaths. He pulls out most of the way, glancing down to see himself covered in your sticky arousal. He keeps his eyes there, seeing how you swallow him with each slow roll of his hips. 

Alejandro won’t last long, he can feel the ache in his heavy balls. You wrap around him so tight and so perfect. His fantasies of this don’t come anywhere close to the real thing. Your thighs tighten around his hips, encouraging him to go faster. 

“You like that, solecito?” 

You manage a nod and a hum. He’s everywhere. The scent of him on the bed, drops of sweat falling from his chest onto your own sweaty skin, him deep inside of you. Alejandro tightens his hold on your hand and pistons faster. It’s beautiful and you never want it to end. He becomes rougher with his thrusts and you clench around him, wanting him to stay deep inside of you. Alejandro drags a thumb through your slick mess and brings it up to your clit. 

“I’m – ungh – close,” he whimpers, “where do I–” 

“Inside me, inside me, inside me,” you chant. 

He rubs his wet thumb over and over your clit. You're blinded by the heat that takes over your body, spasming on his unrelenting cock. Your moans are loud, yet you don’t care. The thunderstorm outside drowns out any noise coming from the room. It’s too much, him fucking you and rubbing the tight bundle or nerves. On the brink of overstimulation, you push his hand away and revel in the sweet aftershocks of your orgasm, knowing Alejandro is close behind. 

Alejandro feels you pulse and flutter around him and he continues to snap his hips. Still clutching your hand, he moves the other to grip your hip. Pleasure scrapes at the base of his spine and his heavy balls twitch. He unloads hot, white ropes of cum inside of your pussy. Falling forward, he pulls your hand above your head and keeps pounding into you. He tries to kiss you, but it's all spit and teeth. Neither of you care, focusing instead on his cock spearing inside of you. 

He slows his thrusts until he’s unfortunately overstimulated and soft. Alejandro releases your hand and you immediately run your fingers through his hair. You kiss him properly, lazily licking the inside of his mouth. He drags warm hands down to your thighs and up your ribcage. He moves his lips up to your forehead and kisses along your hairline. 

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, perfect.” 

Alejandro leans back and slips out, both of you hissing from the loss of contact. He makes you walk with him to the bathroom where he wipes you with a warm cloth. He leaves to grab you a glass of water while you quickly do your business and after you’ve washed your hands he comes back. While you drink your water, he changes the now messy sheets and then brings you under the covers. 

It’s not long before you fall asleep, comforted in his arms. You wake a few hours later at the sound of his alarm, body and pussy deliciously sore. The sun is peeking over the horizon and the sky is clear with no evidence of a storm. Alejandro shuts off the alarm and tucks you in closer to his side. 

“How about we skip work today?” He whispers. 

You hum, wanting nothing more than to stay wrapped in Alejandro’s arms. “I don’t think we can, cowboy.” 

He mumbles below his breath, “Sí podemos, I’m the boss.” [Yes we can]

You laugh and disentangle your limbs from his. Pretty soon Maritza will begin her morning chores and the last thing you want is to be caught leaving your boss’ room, no matter how good his bed feels. He puts up a fight, rubbing his hands over your sensitive skin and kissing you until you're breathless again. You persist, slowly putting on your clothes and robe, skipping your panties because you can’t find them. Alejandro walks you to the door and presses his naked body to your front. 

“Tonight,” he says between kisses, “there’s supposed to be another thunderstorm.” 

You smile against his mouth, ”Oh really?”

“Sí, I can protect you in here again.” 

Alejandro finally lets you slip out of the bedroom with a quick slap on your ass. You quickly walk to your room but not before running into Maritza with a folded pile of towels in her hand. She takes one look at your face and suppresses a smile, walking away with a chipper Buenos dias. It’s hard to hide your attraction to Alejandro after that. He doesn’t make it easier, helping you mount or dismount the horses despite you not needing it, only so he can wrap his hands around your waist. 

You see some of the crew planting in a patch of soil. After asking Alejandro, he lets you know its lavender. Reminds me of you, he says with a quick swat to your ass. Alejandro doesn’t call you by your name anymore, choosing Solecito or Hermosa even when around the other employees. They don’t mind, Alejandro noticeably happier now that he’s in love. 

He gifts you Azul as an engagement present along with new riding gear and a black tejana that matches his. Your personal belongings are eventually moved into the master bedroom, your heart soaring when looking into the big closet and seeing your clothes amongst his. You find your panties from the first night, tucked deep into his nightstand. Touches of your own decorating style are present through the hacienda, Alejandro taking it upon himself to find a visible place for the wedding photo.

[petermorwood]

Word changes...

All of the following is IMO, so YMMV. :->

*****

Anyone noticed how "weaponry" is used nowadays in places where "weapons" would work just fine (and is often more correct)?

Yes, they ARE interchangeable, sort-of, but it's clunky and sounds to me either slightly journo-pompous or like a failure to remember the right word so plugging the most similar one into its place.

ETA: I checked one of my dictionaries, and while "weapons" is more modern, "weaponry" is an obsolete word which has come back into favour. I wonder why...?

*****

"Decimate" turns up all the time, usually when the correct word is "devastate".

Merriam-Webster says: "It's totally fine to use 'decimate' as a synonym for 'devastate'. This is why."

Beg to differ.

As the M-W article points out, "decimate" originally meant a Roman military punishment applied to one man in ten of a guilty unit. (Initially execution, but this had a rotten effect on unit morale, so it was reduced in severity to fatigues, extra drill or restricted rations.)

That's now considered a far too specific meaning and only linguistic pedants dig their heels in. Quite right too, and I speak here as a (bit of a) linguistic pedant...

However, it remains a useful word for more generalised incomplete destruction of living things - saying a regiment, flock, herd or population was "decimated" implies there are some survivors without quibbling over how many tenths. If totally wiped out, however, that's when words like "destroyed" or "obliterated" are more appropriate.

On the other hand something inanimate like a factory, city or region would be "devastated" - and in addition, saying someone is emotionally devastated is understandable, but saying they're emotionally decimated is peculiar.

Two words, several meanings.

It's like cutlery: a spork can replace knife, fork and spoon, but individual utensils give a lot more precision and variation of use.

*****

There are also a couple of real howlers, not just transposed words but actual errors.

One I've heard several times is using "siege" (a noun, or thing) instead of "besiege" (a verb, or action).

For reference, there's a term called noun-verbing, and the practice is quite old: "table the motion / pencil you in / butter him up / he tasks me", but all are either when there isn't already a verb-form of the word, or as a more picturesque way of saying something.

(Interesting side-note about "table the motion": in US English, it means "to postpone discussion" while in UK, CA and I think AU English, it means the complete opposite, "to begin discussion". Why there's this difference, I have no idea, but it's worth remembering as a Brit-fix when writing, also in a real-life business context.)

There IS an existing verb for the action of surrounding a castle and cutting it off from outside help, and that verb isn't "sieged". It's "besieged" or "under siege". Anywhere using "sieged" as a verb is wrong. The Firefox spellchecker in Tumblr Edit Mode is telling me it's wrong right now.

Merriam-Webster, I'm looking at you again.

*****

There's also "coronate" used as a verb. "The King was coronated at Westminster Abbey". Nope. He was CROWNED.

Coronate is an adjective (meaning crown-shaped) and was coined in in the 1600s by a botanist, as a word to describe the shape of certain plants.

The current Royal-associated usage seems to be a bastard back-formation from "coronation", because the act of putting on a crown is the verb "to crown".

This is almost identical in German, French, Italian and Spanish, with noun and verb the same. The only difference is that their verbs have, what a surprise, verb-endings (-en, -er, -re and -ar) on the noun while English does not.

Because English doesn't like to make things that easy...

"Coronated" might be people trying to sound archaic, or those who've bought into the dopey "said-is-dead" school, who perform any linguistic contortion to avoid common words, and who've been taught that repetition in a sentence - "crowned with a crown" - is BAD.

Is "coronated at a coronation" in some way better?

Guess what's got uncritical examples...

If that's M-W scholarship, I'll stick to the OED and my old but utterly reliable New Elizabethan Dictionary, thanks very much.

*****

Language is funny: sometimes funny ha-ha, sometimes funny annoying, but often just funny peculiar, because English etc. etc...

[bobauthorman]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I want to bring it out into the open. Each of Oz’s main lieutenants are deconstructions of character archetypes. Well, everyone in RWBY is a deconstruction, but no one wants to talk about Oz’s circle.

Oz, as has been established, turns the fantasy mentor archetype on its head. Not only is he a bad mentor, whose reckless manipulations never pan out, but the protags are far less forgiving of his string-pulling, and have every right to be. Unforgiving, that is.

Ironwood, similarly, deconstructs the ‘Anti-authority authority figure’; like Captain Kirk (Star Trek) or Nick Fury (Marvel), they are military leaders who frequently chaff under their more politically-minded peers and superiors, who undercut those peers whenever they can. Unlike Kirk/Fury, this is not a sign of open-mindedness, but arrogance and stuborness, the childish belief that the rules don’t apply to him.

Qrow is much like Wolverine (X-Men), a ‘Bad Boy with a Gold Heart’ who is kept in line by his loyalty to the mentor figure. In this case, Qrow’s Too Cool For School ‘tude is coping mechanism and mask for the massive chip on his shoulder, and because his self-worth was tied so deeply to serving Oz, when Oz is exposed as the fraud he is, Qrow has a full-on breakdown.

Lionheart was much harder to figure out, given that he only has one volume’s worth of screen time, and even we don’t get much of Lionheart’s personality. I theorize that Lionheart was intended to be a dig at the ‘Token Minority’ archetype. For many series in the old days, there are these characters who supposed to represent different races. (For example, Haji from Johnny Quest). Unfortunately, these characters are rarely given any personality outside of ‘Guy from foreign culture’, often becoming a deliverer of stereotypical views showrunners have. CRWBY has stated that Lionheart was made headmaster by Oz as a token for Faunus (The series allegory for minorities), but we hear nothing of whether that did any good (Blake even accuses Oz of not doing more for the Faunus). It’s possible that because of this Lionheart lacked the strength of self to stop Salem from forcing his compliance with the attacks on Vale and Haven.

Theodore hasn’t appeared in the series proper, but from the book Before The Dawn I could make a case that he encompasses the stock shonen hero; destructive strength and a destructive temper. The problem is, he’s a moron, but lacks that ‘Deeper wisdom’ even himbos like Son Goku and Monkey D Luffy have to compensate. And his dependence on the smarter but weaker female lead (In this case, Rumpole) to handle the more organizational aspects of his position means that when Rumpole is compromised, Theodore’s shoddy management nearly causes Shade Academy to implode.

[octuscle]

My roommate's workplace has really been trying to crack down on what's been referred to as a "hostile work environment." I like my roommate, but I'll even admit he probably contributes to that hostility. He's incredibly snobby if I'm being honest and while I can tolerate it, not many people can. He was telling me about how his workplace set up a new chronivac tool where if you insult someone, that insult is applied to you. So for example, my roommate made a comment about one of his gay coworkers. When I got home, I found my roommate hooking up with some guy and saying he's gay now. He called someone a slob and now he barely helps clean up the apartment. It just all seems pretty strange and I'm afraid if it keeps going, he'll be a completely different person. Any advice?

There are two central problems: First, your roommate has signed his employment contract to be subject to disciplinary adjustments in the event of antisocial behavior. And secondly, his arrogant antisocial remarks constantly veer from one extreme to the other. After you get fed up with his untidiness and the filled condoms lying around everywhere and you call him an undisciplined faggot, he insults you as a reactionary heterosexual bourgeois.

Shit, you think he's really hot in that body. And it's really practical for living together. Yes, the morning flag appeals are annoying, but the beds are made with military precision. And in the kitchen and bathroom, everything flashes as if your mother, your grandma and all your aunts had arrived as a cleaning squadron. In the morning, he's long gone after his morning exercise when you get up, in the evening you only hear him moaning while he does sit-ups and push-ups, otherwise you hardly notice him. Really the perfect roommate!

When your flatmate returns from his morning run the next morning, he crosses paths with a couple of left-wing extremists staggering home drunk from a party. They shout "Nazi" and "militarist" after him. He insults them as left-wing faggots.

The good news is that your roommate was fired after spraying "imperialist pack" on his employer's facade. So the anti-discrimination measure no longer applies to him…

The bad news is that the kitchen is no longer as clean as it used to be. But you fuck on the kitchen table much more often.

[zvaigzdelasas]

The Arab Weekly - US embassy in Baghdad struck with mortars as militia attacks in Iraq and Syria escalate

Approximately seven mortar rounds landed in the US Embassy compound in Baghdad during an attack Friday, a US military official told Reuters, in what appeared to be the largest attack of its kind in recent memory. US forces in Iraq and Syria were also targeted with rockets and drones at least five more times on Friday; three times at separate bases in Syria, and twice at the Ain al-Asad airbase west of Baghdad, a different US defence official said. The attacks were the most recorded against US forces in the region in a single day since mid-October, when Iran-aligned militias started targeting US assets in Iraq and Syria over Washington’s backing of Israel in its war against Hamas in Gaza.

US Defence Secretary Lloyd Austin, in a call with Iraq’s Prime Minister Mohammed Shiaa Al-Sudani, condemned the attacks and singled out Iran-aligned armed groups Kataib Hezbollah and Harakat Hezbollah al Nujaba for the recent targetting of US personnel. “The United States reserves the right to respond decisively against those groups,” Austin told Sudani, according to a Pentagon statement summarising the call. The embassy attack marked the first time it had been fired on in more than a year, apparently widening the range of targets. Dozens of military bases housing US forces have been attacked, increasing fears of a broadening regional conflict.

No group [yet] claimed responsibility[...]

The US military official, speaking on the condition of anonymity, left open the possibility that more projectiles were fired at the embassy compound but did not land within it. The US officials said Friday’s attacks caused no injuries, and the embassy attack caused very minor damage.[...]

State media said the attack damaged the headquarters of an Iraqi security agency. Sheikh Ali Damoush, a senior official in the Lebanese group Hezbollah, said in a Friday sermon that attacks by Iran-aligned groups across the Middle East aim to apply pressure for a halt to Israel’s offensive in the Gaza Strip. He did not refer specifically to Friday’s attack. US forces in Iraq and Syria have been attacked at least 84 times since October 17, the defense official said.

The US has responded with a series of strikes that have killed at least 15 militants in Iraq and up to seven in Syria. The State Department called on the Iraqi security forces to immediately investigate and arrest the perpetrators. “The many Iran-aligned militias that operate freely in Iraq threaten the security and stability of Iraq, our personnel, and our partners in the region,” State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller said in a statement.

“The Iraqi government has repeatedly committed to protect diplomatic missions as well as U.S. military personnel, who are present in the country at Iraq’s invitation. This is non-negotiable, as is our right to self-defence,” Miller added.[...]

[Prime Minister Sudani] said that undermining Iraq’s stability, reputation and targeting places Iraq has committed to protect were acts of terrorism. The head of militia Kata’ib Sayyid al-Shuhada, one of the main factions that has been targeting US forces in the region, said in a social media post that he rejected “stopping or easing operations” while “Zionist crimes continue in Gaza.”

The powerful Iraqi militia Kataeb Hezbollah said on Saturday that the rocket attack on the US embassy in Baghdad was “just the beginning of a new phase of fighting” and threatened to continue “operations against the US occupation” in Iraq.[...]

Kataeb Hezbollah, classified as a terrorist group by Washington, is part of the Islamic Resistance of Iraq militia, which has claimed more than 80 attacks against US posts in Iraq and Syria since the outbreak of the war in Gaza. However, the attack on the US embassy marked a serious escalation of these actions.

9 Dec 23

[themanicnami]

Invisibility In Witchcraft

Invisibility is something we see in all different types of media for a very long time - superhero comics and movies, Harry Potter book and movie series, fairy tales and lore from several countries. It is one of those powers that even in modern science they have been trying to create true invisible cloaks and armor for military use. Though invisibility in literature and movies is not the same as when we refer to it in witchcraft. So let us talk about this aspect of magic today, a brief history and even some modern day spells.

What is Invisibility Magic?

Invisibility magic is magic of concealing oneself, others, places and objects from detection. As stated above it is not in the literal sense of you vanishing from sight however think of it like a cloaking device - it helps you go unnoticed or makes you less likely to be observed. Of course take this with a grain of salt - magic has its limits. However, an invisibility spell can help you as an additional buffer of protection. Often times, invisibility spells are to ensure special items you have hidden away go undetected such as your grimoire on a bookshelf or sigils of protection scattered about your home, it can also be used for oneself or others to help them travel in safety.

History

Old manuscripts and grimoires dating back to the 1600s have been found describing spells for invisibility. These such spells include chanting, potions and rituals said to help the caster ‘vanish’ from people’s views or travel unseen. One of these manuscripts has been archived if you wish to see it here and another here please keep in mind these are old scripts and may not be safely done today - do your research on ingredients and if they are safe to use modernly.

Though invisibility in witchcraft is a bit harder to dig up, invisibility has a long and rich history in religion, folklore and tales. Many creatures, spirits and persons of lore, legend and story through the centuries are said to vanish without a trace or go unseen by normal people. 

In the cases of witchcraft though it is harder to find information on it, as listed above some old manuscripts were found listing methods of invisibility. Some other methods listed have been carrying the heart of a bat or a toad or frog under one’s garments (or their right arm) can render you harder to detect. Others speak about how black hens and chickens may be related to invisibility by using their feathers as charms. Mercury historically was used as a method to be deemed invisible, with using it to make jewelry or charms a popular method - however perhaps not safe in modern day terms. Another grimoire called “The Second Book of the Secrets of Albertus Magnus” states that wrapping an Ophethalminus stone in a Laurel leaf will render the wielder invisible. What is an Ophethalminus stone? It is commonly accepted and believed he was referring to a Lapis Lazuli stone. 

Correspondences

Of course modern day invisibility calls for more modern day correspondences - to help insure the user and caster are using ingredients that relate to what they seek. Below is a brief list of some correspondences - please research before ingesting or applying anything to the skin. Research possible allergic reactions, side effects and complications of medicinal herbs and plants. Research all stones you use before subjecting them to heat, water or oil.

Plants and Herbs:

Amaranth

Black Hellebore (toxic)

Cherry/Cherry Bark

Chicory

Devil’s Shoestring/Black Haw

Edelweiss

Fern

Heliotrope (toxic)

Henbane (toxic)

Laurel 

Mistletoe

Monkshood

Poppy

Sow’s Thistle

Tansy

Wolf’s Bane (toxic)

Colors:

Black

White

Gray

Lavender

Elements:

Air

Water

Spirit

Crystals and Stones:

Amethyst

Calcite

Lapis Lazuli

Moonstone

Obsidian

Peacock Ore

Silver Topaz

Smokey Quartz

Metals:

Mercury

Silver

Tools and Other Items:

Mirrors (Black Mirrors)

Sigils

Smoke

Black Ink

Toads/Frogs (symbolism)

Bats (symbolism)

Mist and Fog

Wind

Chicken Feathers

Moonlight

Black Candles

Gray Candles

Modern Spells (note some are not mine, they will be sourced and linked to their original posters)

Invisibility Enchantment- Wishful- Seeker

Some Spellcraft for an Invisibility Ring - smoke-weed-and-hail-thor

Air cloaking glamour - thegildedraven

Invisibility Spell to be Forgotten - breelandwalker

Night walking invisibility and protection glamour - magicianmew

(cheap) Invisibility Spells for Anxious Witches - becomingwitchy

Invisibility - Pathfinder inspired Sachet Spell - Mine!

Shadow Usul’s Night Invisibility Glamour Sachet - Mine!

Chameleon Eye Shadow - Totally Spies Spell - Mine!

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[eyedelater]

noda-sensei's art peculiarities

(links are carefully selected example images from golden kamuy)

incredibly skilled with the human form; even difficult poses are rendered perfectly. (does he make everyone naked just to show off?)

babies are Not cute. they're ugly with puffy eyes and always look sleepy and disgusted.

clearly hates drawing teeth and the inside of mouths. notably just leaves the inside of mouths white most of the time. sometimes draws rough teeth, sometimes draws detailed teeth, sometimes implies teeth with shading, sometimes fills it in grey— it's not consistent at all. i think i've deduced that what he hates the most is calculating the position of teeth in the mouth.

despite the above point, he seems to always draw sofia's teeth because her tooth gap is an important part of her character design

sometimes zooms in and draws details (especially on hands) then zooms out and you can tell because now the line weight is a little different

3/4 view from behind (1/4 view?) of people's faces where you just see the funny bumps of their lips. and it always works

big round sweat drips that often have Texture and Shading.

incredibly skilled at drawing animals, even notoriously difficult ones like horses. though most of the animals die. especially horses.

amount of sparkle in the eyes is meaningful. more sparkle indicates the lightness of their spirit, and no sparkle indicates coldness or jadedness. best/worst example is reinvigorated tsukishima. asirpa is of course also a critical example. and i think ogata's eyes never have any sparkle his whole life.

he can draw wrinkles in the places where they would normally go on someone's face, and he can do it well. or he can decide to draw Other lines on someone's face, in any spot, and if someone questions it, the answer is that they're just like that, and you have to accept it. i really like this "they're just like that" approach to character design, and there are many examples in golden kamuy (e.g. ariko's square irises and pupils, ushiyama's forehead plate, tsukishima's nose)

really good at drawing the way strands of hair wrap over the top of someone's head. (look at tsurumi, ogata, hijikata)

he'll draw chapped lips that'll make your own lips feel real dry.

mouths are often shaped like that... but it works

eyes are usually black, but sometimes a character's pupils will get really small during moments of high tension and you can see their iris and it's light

this is just a hunch but i think he prefers drawing men over women

judicious use of lines going up from the corners of the mouth

he's not a coward: if a character's chest is exposed and the angle is right, he will draw that character's nipples, and that is right and just. he will apply the same principle to draw a character's butthole, which i don't have such a strong opinion about.

there are lots of men with very close-cut hair (bc it's the military) and that's not distinctive, so he gets creative with the hairlines. i think this is an underrated aspect of character design.

careful use of line weight on the corners of closed mouths has a powerful effect (of cuteness?) (look out for this next time you read the manga. it's everywhere and it's the best.)

consistently skillful use of ink splatter effects for blood; similar splattery effects used for snow

eyebrows and other facial hair are usually drawn as multiple long, thin lines together, and for an eyebrow with emotion, you put a couple of perpendicular lines at one end or both

strands of blood or hair extend and curl around in unrealistic ways for dramatic effect. this effect is omnipresent.

occasional really, really choice faces that were obviously drawn either from photo reference or while looking in a mirror

character design by actually giving everyone different facial features, as opposed to character design by assigning different hair and accessories to uniformly pretty people. the latter is much easier, but he chose the thorny path of his own will! thank you for setting a strong example, noda-sensei!

[gremlingottoosilly]

And they said I couldn't be a psychologist [COD x fem! Reader]

Tired of living with a family that genuinely thinks that being a psychologist is a wild ride to being poor and lonely? Got too many student loans to ever think that you will be able to repay them? Just join the army! Good company, great benefits and lots and lots of travel.

AO3

Characters featured in this chapter: Captain John Price This fanfic will contain incorrect use of psychology, my dead dreams of becoming a therapist instead of a journalist, basically a harem "The only girl on the team" plot and a reader who can't fight to save her life, literally. Each chapter will concentrate on one or few characters at the same time, I hope you will like it!

Google search: average school psychologist salary in my state

Allow Google to search for your location?

Fuck it, the government already know who you are, where you are exactly, and what you will do with this pretty wrecked mental state of mine, if I wouldn’t get an affirmative answer.

School Psychologists made a median salary of $62 000 in 202X.

Google search: average psychologist salary in my state without Master’s degree

National average salary for Bachelors in psychology is: $32,395 per year

Google search: master’s degree psychology how much

Average cost to earn a master’s degree in Clinical Psychology: $62,650

Average cost to earn your doctorate in psychology: $115,500

Google search: how many days can person not eat

Google search: annual striper’s salary

Google search: can I become a stripper if I’m not attractive

Google search: Army enlisting

💬💬💬

In highsight, perhaps, you should have stayed with the stripper option. Sure, it would be a lot more mentally draining, but at least you would make much more money out of the utter humiliation this work would promise to be every day. Military, on the other side of the spectrum, wasn’t really different from being a sex worker – you are still selling your body and mind, still have too much time in a dominantly male field, and will probably experience a lot more patriarchy sausage parties once you get there. The only thing that was different was the employer. 

And tax benefits. 

And health insurance. 

And a special program for those who would like to receive an education after they are done killing people, but don’t want to pay more than 100 000 dollars for a diploma that would look good on exactly one photo on the wall and then would be forgotten by pursuing the career of a sandwich artist. Ah, oh no. Negative thinking again. 

Jesus fucking – oh no, blasphemy, looking not good for your all-american goody-two-shoes portfolio – Christ, you have to get herself together – and at least somewhat presentable, even this would mean very little, considering the fact that for a woman in such masculine field, any signs of traditionally feminine things would be considered a bone thrown to a pack of wolves, but…no, no, no. You can’t have this new age psychology shit while she is on a mission…by being a new age psychologist, enlisted to the army just because you don't want to be a stripper, and too slow to become a good drug dealer. 

Cynthia Cockburn once wrote an essay about women's role in maintaining patriarchy by joining the army. How a lot of females are helping salvage the old system, that has to be put down for good for a long time already – and how this system continuously throws them out, without even acknowledging their input. 

You are wondering, if by applying your makeup right now, you are doing pretty much the same. Ah yes, a woman in a field dominated mostly by psychotic men! Let me just put on my brightest red lipstick, a short that will barely cover anything important and, of course, a pair of heels that would set anyone in the hearing range to a Vietnam flashback even if they never been in Vietnam to begin with. Oh no…is that a risky joke? PTSD is a serious matter, you know. You shouldn’t joke about flying helicopters and war flashbacks – not when the training for the military psychologist courses were so hard, that even you, with your pretty much good mental health, would have to check herself double time for any trauma that the instructor would leave with you. 

Two weeks of torture for an opportunity to apply the blandest eyeshadow known to mankind, the pinkiest lipstick that barely holds any pigments – it’s not like you have money to splurge on something better even given the permission – and a mascara as clear as the mountains fresh air. God – oh no, blasphemy again, you really don’t want to get a good grade with all of these God-fearing old-fashioned men, aren’t you? – you really hated just how bland you look. You feel like one of these girls in your college – with tightest buns, cream sweaters and perfectly high-pitched laugh that would make them desirable for even blander college boys. Ah, how much you hated this place. 

The military base, however, is far worse. 

First, there are just too many people here. Second, everyone looks at you like you are some sort of ghost. Judging by your loosely hanging white doctor’s coat, they aren’t too far from the truth, but it still was weird. And finally, third – you are still not sure that your papers have been sent correctly, and this is even the right place. 

Instructor – a terrible, horrible, horrendous woman – told you that there would be plenty of study material for you here. That with these people, writing your master’s or even doctorate would be a “ ‘king breeze, rookie, if they ain’t decide to eat ya first”. The males around you – and some women, of course, because the newest military recruitment made sure to include as many people as possible, providing everyone with the opportunity to kill people as much as they would want – doesn't sound quite as great material for your research. 

And you are not going back to the fucking college. 

She said that some Captain brought you here specifically – and that higher-ups made him do it, as he was dismissing any previous attempts of sending psychological help for any of his units. So this is going to be a classic conflict between a person and the government – and you, a useless specialist – are going to be stuck in the middle, as long as you don't get shot. Perfect, terrific, just a great fate for someone who got out of college after 4 years of destroying her own hopes and dreams in a giant cell of a US education system. 

You haven’t even met the man before, and now you are sitting here, in the middle of nowhere on this gigantic base. Fighting with the fabric of your clothing – a nice buttoned shirt, nothing that could be considered a provocation from your side, and trying to breath as the reality of the situation is slowly thinking it. 

Breathe in 

You stuck here for only god knows how long – until you either will be dismissed, or decide to go away by your own choice. With people you know nothing about, and who probably doesn’t even want you here. 

Breathe out 

This is a perfect opportunity for you to write your Thesis – just pick one of these perfectly twisted specimens, and make his mental state even worse. Or better, if you would feel nice enough for such hard work. 

Breathe in 

Perhaps, it’s not so bad – only a few years of service, and you will be back in your education. The children and their easily molded minds are waiting for you to be their perfect school psychologist. With average salary of “fuck you and your savings too”.

Breathe out 

Health insurance is nice. Would be even better with some dental insurance, but this is reserved only to soldiers. And you are…well, not a soldier, that is for sure. 

Breathe in 

– Greetings. I suggest you are the mental health expert? 

…and, all of your neatly putted breathing schedule is fucked. Stupid army people and their stupid questions with such nice and deep voices that would make you think of deeply fucked up stuff any other day and…

– Oh, um, yes. A psychologist. And you are..? 

– Captain Price. You have to work in my unit, but I figured out that just sending my men to get you would be too much on your first day. 

– Thank you, I…I would rather greet them myself, that is. I kinda have to. 

He frowned. Oh, great. A perfect example of stoic  fatherly type – the guy who is probably thinks of his soldiers as his kids, definitely don’t have a wife – alive one, at least – and slowly cooking himself alive in a pot full of misery, machism and “I don’t buy any of this mentally ill stuff”.

His mustaches are great though. And a hat. 

– Do you really? 

– Well, I don’t want to earn my paycheck for just sitting around. This would be nice though. 

– In that case, higher-ups would put us both in trouble for this. 

– Do you have anything for me to start working with? Like a personal file or…

– I’ll show you around. 

– Oh. Okay. 

He seems harmless enough. As much as one man wearing a full uniform with too many weapons and a tiny hat could be – but you still feel well protected while walking beside him. With this still hanging loose coat of yours – you’ll have to search for something more adjusted for your tiniest fucking height – you can feel everyone’s gazes on you. Jesus, you will have to work with this many people? Let’s just hope that no one here believes in magic powers of therapy, and you would be pretty much free for any of your working hours. 

— But you do have personal files of your soldiers, right? 

— I thought your people like more of a personal approach? 

— Well, it would be really great, but I need some documents to write off my work and…

— Then you are going to write those documents, kid. I don’t want to scare you, but a young miss like you really wouldn’t want to see real portfolios of my men. 

— Sir, with all honor, I am not a…

– We’re here. 

Oh. Saving you the humiliation of being able to recognise patronizing tones and understanding, that you are, in fact, a kid, a young miss, and generally a useless fucking person. Psychologists in a place, where most of the people probably believe, that getting drunk will save them from nightmares? What a joke. 

At least the office is nice. 

Tidy place, neatly furnished room with a table, a sofa – something right out of Freud’s fantasies. A small empty closet for all three of your psychology books. You can already picture whimsical and fun soldiers laying here, trying so bad not to laugh in your face as you were trying to uncover all of their mental trauma without being strangled to death. 

– Thank you, sir…captain? It’s nice. 

– Not much, but everything that we were able to put when they said that we need a mental expert here. 

– I will try my best not to disappoint you, I promise. 

– You can unpack here, someone will show you the bed later. Still don’t know whether to put you with soldiers or medics. 

– Um…I would really prefer a… A nice and roomy bedroom, preferably with no one to snore alongside you, and definitely not with soldiers who can get the wrong ideas about a nice and sweet lady psychologist sleeping right next to them on their base. Of course, you can’t say that. 

–...I need to gather as much material about them as possible, so it would be really neat to sleep closer to the soldiers. 

You are the architect of your own demise. You and your stupid Thesis that you are not even sure, whether you could write it right now or not.

– Oh. 

He scratched his chin in a manner that you have seen too many times. Do all older males with bears share the same mannerism? 

Then he smiled – a ghostly feature on his face, that almost made him look like he actually wanted you here, and not just putting up with higher-ups bullshit because every special task force needs its psychologist just so the soldiers won’t kill each other on one sunny day. 

– Okay. I’ll think about something, doc. 

– I am not…not a doctor, sir. Not yet, at least. 

– Well, it’s either a doc or a kid. What do ya prefer? 

– Doc would be better. Perhaps, I will earn my doctorate after the service. 

– That’s the spirit, kid. 

– But sir- 

Shit. He is gone already. 

You were never a fan of dad jokes. Or dad types. Or anyone, who is questioning what the fuck you are doing here, even though you spend 4 years fighting for this position in the college. Who cares, if you can’t shoot guns? Words are just as deadly! 

Well, judging by the size of the rifle on the Captain's body, maybe, your words would definitely be less threatening than his guns. But this doesn’t change the whole picture! 

Oh, well. You might as well try to get yourself as comfortable as possible – considering all of the possibilities, they might simply forget that you exist, and you would have to sleep on this tiny couch at least for today. What a great opportunity and definitely something that you spent four years waiting in awe of. Perfect, beautiful, something right from her dreams. 

“You can still get out of here, you know. Just go out of this door and we will never ever speak about joining the military ever again. Trust me, babe, I am your conscience.” 

Oh no. You hated talking with your conscience – mostly because it was an annoying prick, and also because, as studies were showing in many of the presentations you would make for your classes, this is a first sign of not just a person being self-aware, but also the step to being proclaimed a mad man. Even if you are, in fact, a very self-aware and mentally healthy person. Mostly. You liked to think of yourself as one, at least. 

“You don’t want to be here. And you shouldn’t – there is plenty of work outside.” 

Yeah, like a sex job. Or secretary. Or a waiter – what a beautiful line of work for someone already in too much debt to her government. And judging by the already dismissive faces of your parents, going home as a stay-at-home daughter is also not going to be an option. So, go far and beyond. 

You just need to find a few people who would be interested in psychotherapy – how hard is that?