#but i'm seriously questioning whether it was worth the money

[echhosworld]

DAY 6 OF POORLY DRAWING THE NAMELESS GHOULS UNTIL I CAN GO TO A RITUAL

hey there, it's me with a reminder that working from 6 am to 2 am with a 1,5 hour break is not fun 😃 (it makes you look like this rain)

again, lots of love to everyone reblogging these silly drawings. i reread your tags whenever i feel down and it helps so much <3

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 26, 2021 4:00 a.m. a balcony, somewhere

time somehow seems to simultaneously slow to a crawl and race beyond the speed of light. grant doesn’t remember when they’d ended up perched like lovebirds at the pinnacle of a staircase, peering out over the night-drenched landscape, but it must have been a while ago. customers have long since stopped streaming in and out of the restaurant on the street below.

he remembers in better detail the stream of their conversation–they’d shifted from food and a strangely peaceful, humorous discussion of kicking the bucket to movies, and at some point, paranormal stories came up along the way.

it’d be hard to forget talking to yunha.

there’s something curiously enrapturing about her, something that had drawn him to her when he first made eye-contact with her.

the look in her eyes, maybe. it’s piercing, like she’s baring right through your skin and into your soul, but not malicious or judgmental. it’s friendly, it’s curious, it’s playful.

the way she speaks, maybe. she’s the most engaged conversationalist he’s ever encountered. everything you say, whether she agrees or disagrees, is met with affirmations and a lot of nodding. yes, yes, of course. i see, i see. i understand. ohhh, wow! really?

she’s unraveling every shard of the puzzle that is his personality and piecing it back together in one whole picture, analyzing it. figuring it out. appreciating it.

or maybe it’s the sweetness that radiates off her. she appears unafraid to smile, instead all too happy to flash those pretty, crooked bunny teeth for the world to see.

“so, i'm going to guess you’re not accidentally good at singing.”

she seems not to mind revealing her own puzzle pieces either, and the more she says about herself, the more fascinated he is with her. with who she is. with what makes her tick.

“i hope it’s not an accident,” yunha replies, laughing, “because shit, then years worth of practice was a waste.”

“time enjoyed is never time wasted.”

the unabashed cringe of the line garners an immediate eye roll, but she still seems to find it funny.

they’ve definitely been sitting here a while. grant straightens his back, fixing his gradually slouching posture, and is is met with an immediate flash of pain, distinct from the chronic dull ache underlying every day of his life, that radiates down every vertebra.

“what got you into music, though?”

yunha’s rosy pink lips purse in thought as she dwells on the question.

“a lot of things. my parents like music. i listened to a lot of different kinds of songs my whole life, first with them, and then later with my friends. i had some time between classes and studying to spend having fun, but i couldn't spend any money, so my friends and i would go to this music store. we walked around and picked random albums to listen to on the headphones. we never bought anything.”

grant nods supportively. “what’s, like, the first album you remember really liking? or albums. you don’t have to pick one.”

“ah! i treasure so many albums. seo taiji and boys IV. i think that’s still my favorite nostalgic album ever. i also remember fondly, um, this girl’s in love with you by aretha franklin. i heard that at the music store, and i was so impressed by her talent. i still am.”

“i'm not a music expert. surprise! i know, i know, i'm sorry to tell you, i did not practice for centuries for that wonderful spice girls performance earlier. no, but seriously, i most often just listen to the same old emo stuff i liked when i was 13. so, unfortunately i don’t know the first album at all, at least not yet, but i do know the second one. you have fantastic taste, that’s a classic.”

despite his ignorance, yunha still smiles from ear to ear. “you should look up the first one! look up, like, seo taiji ‘come back home.’ that’s the most popular song on the album. i don’t wanna bias you, so listen on your own and make your own opinions.”

“wilco. and if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you turn the interest in music into a skill? you are talented, but i know it's very much a skill. it does take a lot of practice to become tangibly good at music.”

“to express myself,” yunha says plainly, “it’s easier to tell your story in art than talking about it, and singing is free. you don’t need supplies to learn it. but yes, i needed that kind of outlet, you know? i always liked singing, always did it, but i needed more than only entertainment from it over time.”

“oh yeah, art is helpful. i really should have gotten on that train earlier. i got on board about a year ago. it's much better for you than intellectualizing everything. or at least that's what i tend to do. do you perform, by the way? outside of karaoke, that is."

"sometimes. but also, not in a long time."

there falls a brief, but peaceful lull in the conversation. grant’s eyes draw to black night sky as he recalls the last haphazard art he’d created–the mushy-gushy attempt at processing the universe. seeing it hanging above him now, his thoughts are no less conflicting. light pollution washes out the shining sea of stars, but the sky still retains its beauty, its bewilderment. visible or not, an infinite chain of dimensions and celestial bodies exist in the vacuum of space, orbiting independent of him, yet factoring in the tiny fraction of his mass on the mass of the earth in their delicate ballerina dance across the fabric of spacetime.

the universe must have created me for some reason, for something other than anguish.

his own words. again. ever-present.

“i miss seeing the stars.” yunha’s buttery soft voice breaks his concentration. “you can’t see anything here.”

“polaris.” grant raises his left arm and draws his index finger across the sky until it hovers above the only star he’s seen thus far. “technically, that means we should be able to see sirius, too, but we don’t need to get all science-y and talk about magnitude and that polaris isn’t–”

“i would like it if you did.”

she was thinking of the stars, too.

synchronicity.

“aw shucks! well. i’ll say this, polaris isn’t the brightest star. we just talk about it way more frequently because it has the most cultural significance in the northern hemisphere for, you know, navigation reasons. but hey, give it about 12,000 more years, and it even won’t be the north star anymore. thank you, wobbly earth axis. but also boo, woobly earth axis, because it's a little sad to think about.”

yunha’s eyes glitter with fascination. “it’ll be something else?”

“yep! the next north star will be vega,” he explains, “come on down, you’re the next contestant!”

“maybe we’ll see it happen.”

“if my consciousness is still floating around as little dust particles, that’d be pretty sick. you know? forget fly me to the moon, fly me to vega. why not?”

“i don’t think i'll be dust,” yunha says, not missing a beat at all, even as her focus remains fixed on the faintest twinkle emanating from polaris, “it’s kind of troubling. you don’t want to be, like, stuck in the whole cycle of the universe, but if you’re still here, you can see some really beautiful things.”

“ah. reincarnation?”

“if you’re asking me, you’re not going to be dust. either you escape the suffering or you come back in some kind of physical form, human or not, and you try again.”

grant thinks about it for a moment. and then the feelings, like usual, spill out at once.

“i'm not going to lie, that idea has always given me the heebie-jeebies. i think it’s very cool as a concept, but i'm, like, man, i don’t want to do this shit again. also, look, we're doing the thing again. oh, and shit, that sounded judgmental. i just run my mouth too much."

"most people don't know they lived before. you can't really remember your other lives without a lot of study," she answers, "and no, you don't. i prefer to hear your real opinion. it's actually stupid when people tell you what they think you want to hear."

"do you ever wonder what you were up to last go-around?"

"not too much, but i always heard strange birthmarks and scars are signs from your last death. fears, too. things you avoid. so, i guess, like, a clown stabbed me in the neck with needles."

"are you afraid of storm drains, by any chance? if so, i think pennywise had it out for you."

"hahaha." yunha shakes her head. "wait, i have to ask. is it not worse thinking you can only live once? that's not uncomfortable? feeling like you have to make everything perfect in your one lifetime?"

"oh no, it's terrifying. dying and just being done with everything is eerie, too, because there are nice things to do and see here in the real world. you’re right about that. and yeah, there is a lot of pressure to get it all right. also, that's not even mentioning that there are people i love that i don’t want to be gone forever. i'd like to think they remain somehow. conscious or not. i kind of think they do, but i don’t know. am i contradicting myself? capital-P probably."

“you don’t know what to think.”

grant immediately bursts out laughing. “yeah, no, absolutely not. i do not know. i just kinda waffle around and hope some scientist throws out some numbers and whatnot that proves some explanation of everything correct. but that’s impossible. it’s literally impossible. we can’t even simulate or predict the wacky physics that were going on at the exact moment the big bang happened.”

“not to be, like, all quirky, but...” yunha reaches over, patting him on the shoulder. “maybe don’t think about it? you’re gonna go crazy. you can just not know? and it's fine. this doesn’t mean anything anyway. the answer to anything is already in you, it’s not out there.”

and then she, too, starts giggling all over again and her cheeks blush deep red from sheepish cringe.

another stereotypical line, but he doesn't mind. they sound better coming from her than him anyhow.

a second later and she checks the time on her phone. her cheesy smile erodes into a slight frown.

“ahh, i really need to leave soon. i have a schedule in the morning.”

grant checks the time as well, drawing the sleeve of his hoodie up just enough to read the minuscule roman numerals on his watch.

on the watch an ex-girlfriend gifted him. not päivi, but...

4:00 a.m.

fuck.

right.

you’re leaving the country in two hours.

[chaifootsteps]

Mr Chai man! I have questions!

Do you think Vivziepop is a terf of some kind? Because she seems to align with a lot of their values, especially in terms of misogyny and hatred of (trans) men, and I've seen a lot of trans women be fetishized by specific terf communities

Do you know how much longer until the NDA is down?

Why are there so many suit wearing demons in hell? This is kind of silly but, where do they even get their clothes from? Is it stuck to them? Did they buy them? It confuses me so bad!

Are you going to watch Hazbin Hotel? If so, what's your main hope for it? What are you dreading most?

Why does Viv have so many taxidermy birds. No seriously. Does anyone know.

- 🍳 anon

Thank you for the questions! I'll try to have answers!

I actually don't. We've hit a point where "terf" has become a diluted word that gets thrown at anyone who's critical of anything trans adjacent for literally any reason (I hear it all the time and I'm trans), but even in the most classical definition, I don't think she's a terf. I think she's a transmisandrist/transandrophobe who may be fetishizing trans women or viewing them as glorified feminine men, but also might just not have a problem with them the way she does trans men.

There's some debate over whether NDAs and Vivzie's in particular are worth the paper they're printed on, but NDAs usually last from one to five years.

Suitsy.

Probably, just so I can criticize it more effectively. I have no more hopes for it though, and my biggest source of dread comes from Vivzie being an abusive, toxic, shitfire of a person who's hurt so many people and should not be allowed to get away with it.

Taxidermy birds are cool. If I had infinite money I'd probably have a peacock or two.

[radarsteddybear]

Highlights (or should I say lowlights?) from the Making of Frozen II documentary on Disney+:

It is important to note that the documentary begins 11 months from the film's premiere. At this point, the movie's already been in production for like 4 years.

The female director (Jennifer Lee) looks to be inches away from a mental breakdown the entire time

Jennifer Lee is also the film's writer and at one point describes getting up at a quarter to five every day so that she can write from 5am-7am, get her daughter to school, goes to work all day, comes home, does whatever is needed at home, then writes some more. On Saturdays, she writes from 5am-1pm. I don't know anything about the process of making an animated (or non-animated, for that matter) film, but it seems absolutely unhinged to me that so much script writing is required this late in production. Especially coupled with how much of the film's plot and motivation are still unknown at this point.

Jennifer Lee was also promoted to Chief Creative Officer or something at some point in there, so she has a million and one things to do for that on top of everything for Frozen II.

So, yeah. She seems to be in a constant state of being on the verge of tears and is only holding it together through sheer willpower.

Disney seems to be trying to pass this off as joy and happiness and excitement about pieces of the film finally coming together, and Lee probably believes that's what it is, too, but I think this woman just needs some sleep.

The script finally gets locked 5 months out from the film's premiere. Which, like, I totally get having it open for edits along the way, but this was. a lot more than just edits.

It takes them ages to figure out who/what the voice calling to Elsa is and where she's following it to, which is like. the entire plot of the film. And in my opinion (and from what I remember, having only seen the film once back when it came out), as a result, this is one of the weakest plot points in the whole movie, which is really unfortunate because it has everything else it needs to hit really solidly.

5 months from the premiere, they keep talking about how everyone's putting in 14 hour days 6 days a week, and they keep referring to it as overtime, but I have no idea whether or not the animators and visual effects artists and everyone else working on the film actually get paid overtime? I sure hope so (which leads to another question: is the money actually worth it?), but in this economy, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

At one point, one of the supervising animators talks about how he spends the whole day split between meetings and supporting the animators so he has to come back to work after putting his kids to bed to actually get his own animating done. He describes this as a "treat" because he enjoys animating so much.

Disney (and other studios, I'm sure) needs to get their act together re: division of labor and organizing everyone's time, wow.

The visual effects artist who did Elsa's dress transformations in both Frozen I and II: "In Frozen I, I had a year. But this, it's been...four days." (Note: It does end up being more than 4 days, but, uh...not by much.)

I seriously think the movie, especially the story, would have been better if everyone could have taken like. a month off from work

The film's editor talsk about working 14-15 hour days, getting up at 3am so he can get to work by 3:30, use the on-site gym for half an hour, then start editing by 4am. Whoever's in charge of setting all these timelines and whatnot is in desperate need of taking a course in proper time management because this is unhinged.

I wonder if all the Frozen II statues/decor Disney put up around the animation studio towards the end of production come out of the film's budget.

It's fun to get to watch the actors record their lines and songs, though.

As was watching the animator who did part of Kristoff's song with all the reindeer put videos of her own face in the scene to figure out how she was going to animate them all.

[solarsavoy]

Oh yeah, 6,14, and 18 for the personal asks please 😁

Yay, asks! ^^

6 - what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

The best thing is interacting with people! Comments, requests, fanarts, all of it! The worst part is waiting for a new fic or pic to get those first few likes. If it takes longer than 2 hours, I start to severely question my abilities. Seriously, I don't have the confidence for this. 😭

14 - what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

It's hard to say. There's plenty I haven't done simply because I can't afford to, but does that mean I wouldn't do it? So there's this ride that a lot of amusement parts tend to have.

Storytime!

Called the Catapult. That little metal ball that they shoot straight up into the air. You know the one I'm talking about. Nearly every amusement park has one, or a version of it. Well, I was dying to try it and I finally got a partner. She was terrified. Right before they let us go, she grabbed my hand, and then we went catapulting through the air. She screamed so loud and was so scared that I just laughed and laughed at her. :D Turns out she didn't think I would go through with it, but no, I loved it! Here's a video. They have this ride at multiple places, but sometimes it's Slingshot or Ball of Doom (made that one up) but it's all the same ride. Totally worth it!

I've always wanted to try sky diving too, but 1. I don't have the money and 2. I heard it takes all the fun out of roller coasters and I don't want to do that until I've ridden them all first!

Maybe walking into the ocean? I went to the ocean for the first time in my life a few years ago and I had on my bathing suit and everything, but didn't walk in. First off, I kept getting pelted by rocks and those things really hurt! I actually left with 4 or 5 welts. Second, we only had about a half hour, so we didn't have much time. And third, NO ONE WANTED TO JOIN ME!

So yeah. This is really hard to answer. If I'm reluctant to do something, it's usually because I want to do it a different way or there's something I don't like about it, but it's not normally out of fear. If anything, I'm afraid of not doing it at all because I'm so uncertain about it. Like… self-publishing through Amazon. I'm not afraid, I'm reluctant, because I'm not sure that's the route I want to take. And then I'm lazy too, but let's pretend I'm not. 😉

18 - do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

So, I'm a very "seeing is believing" kind of person, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist just because I haven't seen it. With ghosts, I fully believe there are things out there, on this planet, that we just haven't seen yet, so I can't say for certain I believe in them. Did you know that certain sounds can cause you to see images and that babies can hear frequencies much higher than children over 5 all the way up to adulthood? Which aligns with the theory that children see ghosts and adults can't. And then there are people out there that can see in slightly different spectrums. I can't remember what it's called, but it's some sort of color test. Because of how the colors interact, most will see one thing while others will see something different. These are usually done with spotted circles that have numbers in them. Anyway, there's science, legitimate science out there, that hints that there's definitely more than meets the eye, so I'm a firm believer that there's something else that we don't quite understand yet, be it ghosts, demons, specters, what have you. I haven't personally seen anything, but I do have a couple of stories. 😏 Let me know if you want to hear them.

As far as aliens go, definitely. Whether they are humanoids or simply other lifeforms living on other planets, there's definitely something. Besides, I love the idea that Thera is a real planet and I'm actually tapping into someone through the great subconscious who interacted with Deshi and Stag and Panko and everyone else that I've written about. But besides that, we've already found proof of living organisms on other planets and moons just in our solar system. They aren't complex by any means, but that's just in our solar system. There's gonna be something somewhere at some point in some other solar system. It's a mathematical impossibility that there's no life elsewhere. And aliens can take other forms. We only know of water and oxygen dependent lifeforms because that's all Earth has. That doesn't mean that's all there is. I'm probably not going to be wearing an aluminum hat and invading area 51 anytime soon though…

And that's it! Thanks again for the ask, Hailey! 💙 You really made my week.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

💖Sweet Revenge💖 - Chapter 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Aaron Keene

Blake is looking at me and I can tell he's doing his best to turn on the charm.

If he was anyone else, it would totally be working.

His eyes are a mesmerizing hazel, green shot with gold and the toasted amber of Fall leaves and his James Dean jawline and chin make me wonder what the scratch of his stubble would feel like against my... I give myself a hard mental kick.

'He's the enemy, Aaron,' I tell myself. 'He's the reason you keep your heart in a steel box.'

I notice that his upper lip catches on a slightly crooked tooth when he smiles and I hate how cute it makes him look.

When he says he doesn't remember me, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or furious.

Then again, maybe the thing that almost destroyed my life was just another laugh to him.

A moment of amusement, not even worth a thought after the fact.

While my brain tries to decide whether I want to laugh or die, I answer his question.

Leaning over the counter, I look down at the day's creations.

"What do I recommend? Well, what kind of flavors do you like?" I ask.

He shrugs and I notice his eyes are still on me and not the candy.

"I like sweet but I like bitter, too. Sometimes I just want the smoothness of milk chocolate. Other times I want something a little more... adventurous."

"Here... try this."

He takes it and eyes still locked on mine... pops it into this mouth.

You know how they say you'll know porn when you see it?

Well, I swear if someone made a film of this guy eating chocolate, people would think it was porn.

His eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a moan that makes me really glad that Mrs. Garcia and her little girls are gone already.

I can see him rolling the truffle around on his tongue, sucking on it until he finally bites down and gets to the spicy center.

His eyes slide open and they have this weird, unfocused look.

He's literally breathing hard and when he swallows I can't deny that my pants are feeling a little tighter than they were before.

"Oh... my... God... That was amazing," he gasps.

"What was that?"

"Um... a South American inspired... hot truffle," I say and hate myself for the blush I feel spreading over my cheeks.

I can't help it.

Suddenly 'hot truffle' sounds like some sort of dirty sex act and I think I'm going to have to re-think the name.

"Wow. That's, like, my new favorite thing. I don't think I can handle another right now though."

He looks a little dazed, to be honest.

"What do I owe you?" he asks, pulling money from his wallet like a drunk guy at a strip club.

"For the truffle? Nothing. It was a sample."

"Seriously? Well... at least let me buy another toffee then," he says, searching the case.

"Oh no... are you all out?"

"Of what?"

"The... the toffees with the pistachios," he says, looking like a kid who lost his puppy.

"Huh?"Oh no. I only make those on Mondays. Do you like nuts?" I ask and then give myself another mental kick.

He nods.

"I love nuts."

God, kill me now.

"Okay, try this."

I hand him a chocolate-caramel-pecan cluster.

"Oh, better put it in a bag," he says.

"I only eat one a day."

I raise a skeptical brow at him.

"Really?"

"Yep. One treat a day."

"Okay," I say and put the nut-cluster in a little wax paper bag.

"Dollar-fifty," I say and he gives me a five.

"Keep the change," he says.

Then he grabs the bag and practically runs from the store.

'What. The. Actual. Fuck.'

~♡~

When he's gone, I turn the sign, pull down the blinds and close the store.

There's a half-hour left until closing time but the end of the day is always slow and I just can't handle anything more right now.

I grab a rag and start cleaning the finger-prints off the display case but after a few swipes, I stop.

I let the rag fall from my hand and sink to the floor.

There's a pain in my heart I haven't felt in years.

It's something I thought I'd buried so deep I'd felt sure I'd never feel it again.

When I was sixteen, Blake Welling broke my heart and almost destroyed me and apparently he doesn't even remember who I am. 

[j2wiki]

2019-01-19 Jared+Gen FBlive Boston Marathon; Jared, Gen+family at Longhorns game

12:37 PM - 19 Jan 2019 @jarpad Hey y'all meet me on Gen's FB in 30 min for a livestream: https://bit.ly/2CyHUP7 RunPadsRun Jared FB Genevieve Padalecki was live. (1:14 PM CST) The cat's out of the bag! We are running the Boston Marathon in April to support The DreamBig! Foundation. We will be posting updates on my blog: www.NowAndGen.com and if you would like to join us in supporting the cause, please go to: http://bit.ly/RunPadsRun_GPFB. TeamPadalecki Jared Padalecki shared a live video.

Video: We're hiding out in our bedroom, we left out some food so the kids can fend for themselves, .. figuring out the buttons, thanks for joining us on a Saturday when you have better things to do like watch sports Jared - what did I press, now I have something on my face (two blobs) I look like a rock star in the 60s, (giggles) I don't know how to get rid of that, haha, now I have a lot of energy, haha. These are not real boogers, look, there is nothing going on, I'm gonna do the pac-man thing. Anyway we see some of you, so we wanted to reach out to you about something really important to us: we are going to be running the 2019 Boston Marathon, to benefit the Dream Big Foundation, which we are honored to be supporting, so much so we have to wake up before the kids to get out there running. We're raising money for this, which is an awesome organization that provides fees and equipment for under-privileged young ladies, my wife ..(Jared gets up because he is too hot)

Gen: Yes, I loved playing soccer when growing up, kept me out of a lot of trouble, helped me deal with stress, taught me some of the most invaluable lessons in my life, so I feel honored and privileged to be linked with Dream Big Foundation, it's totally my jam and now we also have a daughter, so pushing her into soccer and team sports, so it's an honor to run under their charity ticket, we couldn't take it more seriously, ... Jared: ... and be more grateful. So my personal training coach is young Odette, we have some fun pictures, she is hitting me hard and sitting on me, and we have a full Rocky montage video coming your way, she's sitting on my feet, riding the bike next to me when I'm jogging on the street in my beanie and hoodie, so we're going to keep you guys updated on runpadsrun.com, we don't take your contributions lightly, and nor does Dream Big, every dollar goes straight to them, we are excited and whatever you can do, whether it's a dollar, 5, it will go to help people who aren't as privileged and lucky as we have been, so we're really grateful for whatever you can do - even if you just spread the word, get involved, maybe give some time, shoutouts, it's all appreciated. We're really grateful for y'all joining us today, we'll try and checkin on a more regular basis and let you know what's going on. Gen: Check out my blog nowandgen for updates, hopefully we'll soon be using an app so we will have exercise together and ways to converse together as well. Jared: So, updates on nownadngen and if you want to contribute, go to runpadsrun, help us help some wonderful young ladies. (blows kisses) Gen: ... and next time I promise, we will figure out how to answer your questions, bye guys

Hi Everybody!

It is with incredible excitement, and great humility, to let you know you that my husband and I will be running the Boston Marathon on April 15th, 2019!

We will be endeavoring on this journey to help raise awareness and funds for a cause that we believe in wholeheartedly. Dream Big! Is a 501c(3) supporting, outfitting, supplying, encouraging and providing opportunities for young girls who, due to economic circumstances, are unable to participate. This incredible organization has provided over $200,000 worth of sports equipment, uniforms, and footwear in such sports as track and field, volleyball, soccer, double dutch, etc. The scholarship programs at DreamBig! have allowed young female athletes to attend basketball college showcases, soccer and volleyball camps, dance classes, and gymnastics lessons, and hundreds of girls attended Dream Big! Sports Clinics in partnership with local college sports teams. DreamBig! helps move mountains for young girls and this speaks to mine and my husband's hearts. As a kid, soccer was MY LIFE. I was about 6 years old when I joined my first team. In those days, it wasn't soccer as much as it was bunch ball and running around as fast as you can and kicking the ball in whatever direction you happened to be facing. But, even in those early days, before I completely understood the rules and the strategy, before the hours and days and weeks and years that I would ultimately spend on the field, I learned some of the most important and valuable lessons that I’ve carried into my adult life. One thing I learned is that you aren't going to "win" all of the time. But, I found that the lessons you learn from all of the setbacks along the way will provide the opportunity to learn what you can do to improve. There will be another play, another shot, another game. As cliche as it may sound, It’s not how many times you fall, it’s how many times you get back up. I discovered the importance of practice, dedication, and sacrifice. I learned that the play doesn’t matter as much as the game, the game doesn’t matter as much as the season, and the season doesn’t matter as much as the experience. Most importantly of all, I learned the importance of supporting your teammates, AND your opponents, and I found out just how much their reciprocal support meant as well... No matter what was happening in the world around me, I always knew that I had a team behind my back. Sports helped me learn that I needed and wanted to work hard for my teammates, and that winning the game didn’t, and DOESN’T, happen alone. I played soccer all the way through high school and college, and I still enjoy playing it with my children. I don’t know the person that I would be if I hadn’t had the chance to learn and grow from my teammates, coaches, and the love that I have for the sport. It can take a team to push you and support you beyond what you THINK you can accomplish. I am forever grateful for the support and motivation I received growing up in group sports, and I’m thrilled and humbled for the opportunity to pay that forward, and try to help provide other young ladies with the chance to support, and be supported by, their friends and teammates. When I cross that finish line, I will have a huge smile on my face, not only because I was able to achieve a life goal, but I will have crossed that finish line knowing I was able to impact thousands of young female athletes. - Gen

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Growing up in Texas, sports were a big part of my life. I played basketball and football into high school, at which point I started to focus my time and efforts on drama and theater.

The lessons I learned from sports were numerous. I learned discipline, sacrifice, determination, focus, camaraderie, loyalty, and more. Sports are where I first learned what it was like to have a team around you to support you when you were falling, and celebrate alongside you when you were soaring. I learned the importance of being a gracious winner and a classy loser. I’ve tried to carry these lessons into adulthood, and I am able to reflect back on these lessons in my day to day life. Along the way, learned the value of “incremental improvement”. If I can learn from my mistakes and better myself, then I can be a better and more productive human being and teammate in the long run. It’s unfortunate, but also no secret, that male sports receive more attention and support from the general public. The athletes are paid more. The events are televised more regularly and on more channels, etc... I would love to take some part in raising awareness and increasing availability for girls, young and old, to learn some of the invaluable things that I was fortunate to learn growing up. Over the next few weeks, we will be sharing our story with you as we train for The Boston Marathon - one of the most grueling and demanding courses in the US. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to hurt. But it’s going to be worth it. Here is the important part: we consider you our teammates and challenge you take this journey with us. You don’t have to run a marathon, you don’t even have to run around the block - you CAN virtually train with us (we would love that!), but you can also offer encouragement and help by spreading the word about Dream Big! on social media. We only ask that you get in the mix so we can do this as a team. If you can help with a donation, please know 100% of your/our contributions will go directly to Dream Big! It’s our turn. Let’s do this... together. - Jared

Jared Padalecki updated their cover photo.

Longhorns game, Frank Erwin Center, Austin @nowandgen IGs

[perplexedflower]

Debito Fluff Alphabet - [V]alue

Fandom: La storia della Arcana Famiglia.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Debito x Female Reader.

Type: Fluff Alphabet.

V) Value: How important the relationship is to him/what its worth is in comparison to other things in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~

For Debito, most things in life are games, and he approaches them with this particular mindset: he's got one goal, one purpose, one ideal for which he's aiming, for which he thrives, and everything else around him comes second. Now, this doesn't mean he never takes anything seriously, but it does mean he won't consider certain things as important in comparison to others, and so he's most likely not to put much interest into them, except if he absolutely needs to. He enjoys taking most things lightly, not pressuring himself too much and simply having a good time with them. However, one thing that has become important in Debito's life and grown quite significant in his eyes is his relationship with you: since the two of you have gotten together, he's made it a point that you mean a lot to him, just as much as the couple you form, and he'd do anything to keep it going, to keep you from ever stop loving him. Despite what some people may assume of him, he's in no way ashamed of claiming to people how important you are to him, which always warms your heart and makes you feel loved. You're grateful for him regarding your relationship as such an important part of his life, and there's no doubt you see it the exact same way. Debito may be young, but his life is already quite full, leading him to have to handle many things at once, whether it be his role in the Family, his work at Isis Regalo, his business in money management, or even his own personal matters; and now, he's also got you. At first, when you first started dating him, you learned of how busy his lifestyle was already, and despite how confident he seems and how laid back he is when handling it all, you couldn't help but feel guilty to add even more onto his plate. Nowadays, you look back on it and laugh, knowing he sees you and your couple as one of the most important things in his life.

Mini Scene

"... Debito, how important am I to you?"

My impromptu question almost made Debito choke on the sip of red wine he was drinking, which he managed to swallow nonetheless, after which he turned to me with his glass still in hand.

"Where's that coming from, Bambina?" He asked me with a curious expression and an ounce of worry in his voice.

While Debito was sitting on his teal-colored velvet armchair, sipping wine from one of the many bottles he kept in his room, I was lying on his bed, on my stomach, facing him with my head resting on the palms of my hands.

"Luca." I told him as I watched him bring his glass back up to his lips. "We were having a chat the other day, and we eventually came to talk about you and I, our relationship, and since he's older, he's got more experience with relationships of all kinds, so I left our conversation with good life lessons."

"You and Luca talk about stuff like that?" He rhetorically asked me with a playful smile.

His smile further widened as he stared at me, seemingly scanning my body up and down.

"Well, Bambina, I have to admit that when I see you like this, lying on my bed, you feel really important to me..." He said in a teasing tone as he set his glass down on the table in front of him.

"Debito, I'm serious..." I told him with a scoff I could not suppress, betrayed by my bashfulness.

With a low chuckle and a smile still as playful, he got up from his armchair and took just a few steps toward the bed, toward me: in an elegant movement, he joined me on the bed, lying his body next to mine as he stared deeply into my eyes, one of his gloved hands brushing my hair while the other cupped my face gently.

"You mean the world to me, amore." He said in a much more intense, much more passionate tone of voice. "I don't know exactly what you and Luca talked about that day, but you don't need to worry about a thing: you're extremely important to me, more important than most of the things I have, and that won't ever change."

[mauesartetc]

I don't like the way Viv tries to add in drama/story in her shows where serious stuff like death, drugs, and sexual harassment are treated like a joke or with humor but only to be treated seriously when the plot calls for it.

Helluva Boss is an example of what I'm saying when at first, it seemed like an episodic dark comedy series where you don't really have to care what the characters do or cause since it won't effect the overall plot of the series only to then add in unnecessary stuff like Stolas family problems, classism, Blitzo's questioning self worth, Moxxi questioning whether what he's doing is right which is just like...are you serious right now? I feel like you can't have characters just out of know where be serious about bad things happening to them when said characters do said bad things constantly and not take it seriously because well they're bad and it's a comedy series so who cares? But then if that's the case, why should we care when bad things happen to the main cast? I could say the same about Hazbin Hotel but this ask is already getting too long lol.

Yeah... yeah. Blitzo especially has wronged so many people so intensely and so often I just can't feel sorry for him when the show tells me to. At this point we have to ask why everyone around him keeps him in their lives. How do they benefit from their relationship with him? He gave Loona a job and a place to live, but why can't she find those things elsewhere, with people who don't smother her? He gives money to Moxxie and Millie through their employment (y'know, when he's not threatening to withhold one of their paychecks), but what's stopping them from getting jobs at another company or going freelance? What reason do they (especially Moxxie) have to stay? What does Blitzo give them that they can't obtain anywhere else?

And really, if Helluva Boss poked fun at its story's more serious aspects, its tone wouldn’t be so messy and confusing. Some beautiful, biting satire could stem from the classism between imps and nobles, drawing comparisons with Hell and our own world. Other shows such as Futurama, South Park, BoJack Horseman, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and even Animaniacs have handled comedic satire pretty well, yet Viv can't bring herself to strike at the heart of any real-life issues in her writing. It comes off as tentative and preoccupied with what others will think. Great satire is bold. Unfiltered. Viv just needs to grow a spine in that regard.

I already mentioned here that if Helluva had simply integrated the serious bits into its story from the very beginning, the tone whiplash between episodes wouldn't feel so jarring. But as it stands, the show doesn't know what it wants to be. It reminds me of Ctrl+Alt+Del, unfortunately, except in this case, the huge tonal shift occurred much earlier in the series. Hopefully we'll see more flow and consistency in Season 2's writing.

[qqueenofhades]

hello! idk if you remember me, but I’m youngin anon from all those years ago. I just turned 18, which means I am a Legal Adult. it’s feeling a bit scary, so I was wondering you could give your 18 year old self any advice, what would it be? do you think there’s much hope for the future?

YES HI HELLO! Of course I remember you and have thought about you a few times in the middle of /waves hand/ all this. You and your similarly-aged peers, who are inheriting an even worse world than what we old millennials got (which wasn't great to start with). How I do not envy what you're having to deal with, and what is still to come for all of us. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I'm super impressed with your thoughtfulness, your questions, and your determination to do the best job you can, even in this mess of colossal suckitude. If more of the Youth are like you, we might be okay.

As for the rest... ah. Oh boy. There's a lot to say here, and I'll try to keep it (somewhat) succinct. When I turned 18, I was a sheltered teen from an insular, middle-class, white town, heading across the country to an expensive private college and having the vague, unformed ideas about their future that every kid has at that age. I was very stupid in the ways that all 18-year-olds are, and I knew pretty much nothing about who I would end up becoming, but I was a thoughtful, independent, and self-motivated person, and I really did want to learn. In my freshman year, I earned good grades, participated in a ton of extracurriculars (yes, once upon a time, I was a social butterfly) and otherwise threw myself into the College Experience. Then sophomore year hit, and in came the depression like a trainwreck. I have always had mental health issues, which went unrecognized and undiagnosed as a kid, but sophomore year kicked my ass, and first made me aware of this fact in a systemic fashion. This is not an uncommon experience, and I eventually made it through with no detriment to my schoolwork/overall collegiate career, but the point is, even if you're an eager bright-eyed 18-year-old beaver, going to college and transitioning to full-time adult life is a difficult experience for everyone in different ways, and it helps to know and be prepared for that fact. It doesn't mean that you're defunct, broken, already washed up, unable to function, or anything else. Those first few years are tough, and it's okay if you buckle under a little. Just know where you can find help and that it doesn't mean it'll last forever, or reflect on you individually.

As for my adult life, I've talked before about how I kind of fell ass-backwardly into what I'm doing now (becoming a historian) and how after two years of total job-market futility, I'm seriously questioning whether it's worth it to pursue a formal career in academia, or I'm going to have to figure out something else, again. I don't necessarily feel like I've done that much with my life, and I definitely don't feel like I'm where I want to be. I know it's in the middle of a global pandemic and economic meltdown and everything else about where we've ended up, but likewise: this sucks. I have spent a decade-plus with things just being really hard all the time. I don't have any money, I don't have a steady job in the field that I want, I'm stuck living in places where I don't want to be, I'm terrified of ending up in a fascist authoritarian nightmare, and... yeah. I don't know what to tell you, or myself, about any of that. Other than that I'm still here, still trying, and I hope, however vainly, that it has to count for something.

On the other hand, there are some things about being an adult that are really fun. When you're young, you're so concerned with what other people think and what your parents think and what the internet thinks and etc etc., and while it doesn't go away, it changes. I know who I am now, I know what I believe in and what I stand for, I know what I'm good at, I know my own talents and independence and yes, my recurring problems. I can do what I want and go where I want (well, if I had money) and think what I want, and I don't mean this in the "NOTHING MATTERS BUT FREEDUMB FOR MEEEE ONLLLY" selfish way that has so painfully gripped our society for the last several years. It's just more of an ability to be comfortable with what I know about who I am and what makes me happy, and an ability to detach from, say, endless internet drama about whatever the topic du jour may be. Life is bigger than that, and more interesting, and you get to do more of it in better and less constricted ways. I think someone like you will make good use of that, and I hope you do.

Is there hope for the future? I honestly don't know. I struggle endlessly with that question myself. As a historian, I know that if you take the long view, things always evolve and change. They get worse -- sometimes dramatically so, and for a long time -- and they also get better. The problem with humans is that we don't live long enough to remember either one of those things, and our relatively short lifespan feels like the only existence that has ever been. Terrible things have happened in the world before, many times. Eventually they ended, or they evolved, or they became something else, and brought new problems, but no matter what, they didn't last forever. I think the number-one most frustrating thing about being human, and therefore aware that you will have to die one day, is not being able to learn how everything turns out. It's like reading a book, but only a few chapters at a time, and being forced to leave before you ever get to finish it and find out the ending. I know that this drives me crazy, at least. I want to know, dammit. But legacy, planting seeds in a garden you never get to see, so forth and etcetera. You just have to do your best and find what strength you can to keep going.

I do believe that there is always room to make better choices, and while the world as a whole has gone down a terrifying, destructive, and deeply regressionist path over the twenty-first century in general, that may not be the whole story about how things go. All the apocalyptic scenarios may not be the ultimate or the only thing that happens, and as we know, nothing lasts forever. It matters what you yourself do in your daily life, the choices you make, the way you treat the people you meet, and deciding what you want to do (to quote Gandalf) with the time that is given to us. I think we're all long past the point where we can rely on external structures (governments, politics, money, culture, etc) to give us hope or do a good job of preparing for the future. We're living in a moment where all our old institutions are comprehensively and systemically failing, but the entrenched interests they protect are doing their best to fight off the  change that's necessary if we don't want our current society and civilization to collapse. That's fucking terrifying, and it's hard to live with. So whatever hope there is comes from you, your friends and family, and what you do next. And in that, there is a little ray of light. You are still a conscious being with agency and passion and drive and ability. You can still go out and make a difference, however small. That is what gets lost in all the macro-scale gloom and doom, but it still counts. And it may still be our deepest instinct.

I'll leave you with this: the other day, I read a news story about a plane trying to land during Storm Eunice (ah, Dudley and Eunice) at Manchester Airport in the UK. It was so bad that they couldn't get down, and had to divert to Glasgow (where they eventually landed safely). A passenger on the plane, while talking about how awful the overall experience was (turbulence, thinking they were going to die, people screaming and crying and throwing up) also said that everyone aboard, strangers or family, was trying to help each other. They were holding hands or sharing sweets or talking to each other and supporting them and assuring them that it was going to be all right and they would make it to safety (which, as noted, they eventually did). And I thought: well, maybe that's like life. We might all be stuck on an airplane in the middle of a storm, and it is thrashing and tipping and scaring the fucking shit out of us, but we can still, as people, make the choice to help each other and pull together, even if we don't know each other. And that may, in fact, be our deepest and most basic instinct, and that means something.

Anyway. I hope this made sense. I'm very proud of you and think you're well on your way to being an awesome adult.

<3

[hairringtonsteve]

wrong house, right time

[joaquin torres x reader]

summary: Sometimes, life just sucks and nothing can be done. But when one (1) Joaquin Torres shows up to fix for air conditioner, your week gets just a little better.

word count: 2,262

a/n: I wasn't going to post this publicly, but @anna-phora told me to do it, so I'm accidentally stepping into MCU fic. Which like... was the eventual plan if I'm being honest. but this was written specifically for her because I'm a great friend. (edited so it's not including her name, lol)

________________________________________________

There are some weeks that are worse than others. You know this. You have accepted this It’s par for the course in life. But really – couldn’t Teacher Appreciation Week be better than the other weeks? It doesn’t even have to be by a lot. You’d take a smidge at this point. Hell, you’d take just about anything. You rested your head against the cool wood of your kitchen cabinet and sighed. On the counter, your phone chimed, signaling a text. A moment later, it chimed again.

“Better be something good,” you mumbled. You fumbled for it blindly, refusing to look for it. This week was exhausting. You weren’t going to move more than you had to for the next two days. After a few seconds, your fingertips bumped up against the edge. Unlocking it without looking, you finally cracked an eye open, pulling away from the cabinet just enough to catch a glimpse of your screen.

A second later, two more texts popped onto the screen.

You let out a snort of laughter as you read the messages. You’d almost forgot. One of your neighbors had recommended him, saying that a friend of a friend was pretty handy with fixing things, and would probably do it for a small fee. You’d hesitated at first, but thinking about how much money a handyman would be had swayed you over.

Glancing down at your dog, Darcy, you hummed softly. “If you’re extra nice, maybe he won’t charge us.”

You ran a hand over your face as you headed through the kitchen and to the front door. You hadn’t heard any knocking, so you assumed he was right in that he was at the wrong house. Opening up the door, you peered through the screen. It took a few seconds, but you spotted a guy slowly wandering down the sidewalk, eyes glued to his phone with a toolbox in his free hand. Every few seconds he would glance up, frown, and then look back to his phone. You figured that it was him, but you didn’t say anything. It was the safe thing to do, to not yell at random men from your house.

And besides, he was cute.

Your gaze slipped over him as he walked. Short hair, strong shoulders. Despite the distance, you could tell that he was handsome. A few more steps and he was one house down. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery.

His head jerked up as he looked around, his gaze eventually settling on you. You quirked a brow at him and he held up his phone in question. You nodded, motioning for him to come inside. A grin stretched across his lips and something in your chest twisted.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was really cute.

Very cute.

Handsome.

Shit.

You swallowed and mustered up a grin as he started up the steps. Darcy started barking, excited at the prospect of meeting literally anyone. You unlocked the screen door and took a few steps back, hooking your fingers through her collar to make sure she didn’t take a running leap at him.

“It’s open,” you called as he reached the door. Darcy barked, tugging forward in Joaquin’s direction. “Sorry about her, she’s just really friendly.”

Joaquin was already kneeling down, setting his toolbox down beside him. “It’s fine, I love dogs. You can let her go.” He paused. “If that’s okay?”

You shrug as you let her go. Darcy shot forward, leaping towards him with an excited bark. She was all over him, unable to decide whether jumping or nuzzling was the way to go. You straightened up, your heart already doing triple time at the sight.

“So,” he started, taking his eyes off of Darcy for a second to look up at you. “Your AC is acting up?”

You nodded. “I have no clue what’s going on with it, but it won’t work. Thank you so much for coming to check it out.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” he said, rubbing Darcy’s ears. Her tail wagged furiously. “Especially for a pretty girl.” Red crept up from his neck to his ears, flushing his face in a way that made him even more attractive. He ducked his head, bashful, as he focused solely on Darcy. “So what’s her name?” The sentence came out fast, like one long word.

“Oh, um, it’s Darcy.” Words were hard to form when the phrase ‘pretty girl’ was echoing around your brain.

“Like the author?” He lifted his head as he asked, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I had to read a lot of her stuff in high school. Pride and Prejudice was always my favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “You read a lot?”

You shrugged. “Well, I am a high school English teacher.”

Joaquin laughed and nodded his head. “So you read a hell of a lot, then?” His grin settled more into a smile as he -- somewhat unsubtly -- looked you up and down. A beat of silence, and then: “So, you wanna show me the unit?” He grabbed his toolbox and stood up, arching his back a little as he tried to stretch it out from being crouched down.

“Sure,” you said as you started up the stairs. It was quiet as the two of you walked.

“So when did it stop working?” Joaquin asked, breaking the silence.

“The other day. It just started to sputter a little bit and then quit after a few seconds.” You opened up the door and motioned him inside. The AC was still in the window, still mocking you as it sat in the hot, unmoving air.

“And it hasn’t started up since?”

“Nope. I’ve been dying of heatstroke since Wednesday.”

“Makes sense,” he said as he began to shrug off his jacket. The black t-shirt underneath fit him well.

A little too well, if you were being honest.

He stepped over to the unit and began to lift the window up, as though he were planning to get it out by himself when it was clearly a two-person job.

“You need help?” You asked, already moving towards him.

“I’ve got it, I’m strong,” he said, waving you away. You went to argue with him, but he was already wrapping his arms around the thing. With his attention focused on lifting the unit out of the window, you were free to watch as his muscles strained. What was a two-person job for you was easily a one-person job for him. He took his time in setting it on the ground, guiding it down gently. He pressed his lips together as he sat down on the ground and reached for his toolbox. He looked up to where you were still standing.

“Oh, did you want me to -- I can head downstairs? So I don’t bother you?” You took a step back, but paused as he shrugged.

“Or you could stay up here. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Your stomach flipped. You stepped inside and took a seat on the ground a few feet away from him, making it a little harder for Darcy to investigate what he was doing. That was it. You were there to keep Darcy away. But as you sat there, you realized that you had no clue what to talk about? What was he into?

It was quiet for a few seconds before he asked what your favorite movie was. And suddenly, the two of you were off. Time passed quickly as you spoke, moving from favorite movies to books to exchanging family stories. You learned that he was in the military, and traveled often. You’d asked what he did, and he just shrugged his shoulders, looking from the AC unit to you, and smirked.

“Stuff.”

“Like top-secret stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” he’d said, holding the smirk for another second before laughing. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

You liked it.

Despite it feeling as though no time at all had passed, he announced the culprit -- a bad wire -- and it seemed like once he’d figured it out, he was done. But when you glanced at the time on your phone, your eyes widened. Two hours had gone by.

You shifted your gaze over to the window as Joaquin straightened up and tried out the AC unit. It worked like a charm. He nodded and gave the unit a little pat, as though silently congratulating it for working once more.

“So how much do I owe you?” You asked as he turned to face you.

“Nothing, that was easy.”

“That was two hours, I have to give you something.”

He shook his head. “Your company was enough.”

“Come on, let me--”

“Y/N,” he said, taking a step forward. “Your company was worth it, I’m not accepting your money.” He pressed his lips together, looking as though he wanted to say something more when his phone went off. He glanced down at it and sighed. “One sec?” He asked, already swiping to answer the call. “Hey Mom, yeah I -- yeah. Yeah, yes. I can pick that up. You want me to snag one for Grandma, too? No, I just finished fixing up the AC, I -- She’s -- Mom.” You couldn’t tell what was being said, but his cheeks were starting to flush. You could hear laughter on the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a bit.”

You raised a brow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she wants me to stop by the store on my way to visit her.” He glanced from you to Darcy and sighed. “I should probably be on my way out.”

Disappointment made itself at home in your chest. “Right, yeah,” you said, heading towards the door. The two of you made your way down the stairs, Darcy following happily behind. When you reached the first floor, you went to lean against the couch. Joaquin had his hands in his jacket pockets as he made it a few steps after you. He stood there, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Thank you, seriously. I cannot thank you enough for fixing that,” you said.

He shook his head and grinned softly. “It was no problem, Y/N.” He took a few steps towards the door before turning back to look at you. “I’ll see you around?”

You returned his grin with one of your own. “You’ve got my number.”

His grin grew even wider before he turned and headed out the door. Darcy trotted over to the door after it closed, her eyes tracking his every move as he headed towards the sidewalk. You watched for another second before calling Darcy away from the door. A minute and one treat later, the two of you were cuddled up on the couch. Idly, you switched tabs from Facebook to Tumblr, trying your hardest to avoid thinking about the last couple of hours before you heard your phone go off. Thumbing into your messages, your face instantly lit up.

________________________________________________

Two months later, you found yourself walking towards a small, hole-in-the-wall bar tucked into a sidestreet. Joaquin’s hand on the small of your back as you walked, you trying not to laugh as he gave you what felt like a rundown before one of his missions.

“Just… ignore them if they try to embarrass me, okay? I’m much cooler than whatever they say.”

You laughed. “Are you, though? Are you really?”

“Hey,” he said, giving you an indignant look as he held the door open for you. You stepped inside, taking note of how warm it was inside. People crowded around tables, the low hum of voices occasionally getting louder when the television in the corner showed someone making a basket. Joaquin tapped your shoulder, nodding to the right. “I am very cool, I’ll have you know. Just last week, I –”

“Hey, Torres!” A voice called from a back booth. Joaquin sighed as he stepped in front of you and lead you towards the booth. “Weren’t you the one to say, ‘be there at seven and don’t be late, I really like this girl?’ And you’re what, thirty minutes late?”

“Thirty-two minutes late, by my count,” another voice chimes in as the two of you get closer. You’re already grinning as you note how Joaquin ducked his head.

You lean forward, just close enough so he’ll be able to hear you. “You really like this girl, huh?”

It was difficult to hear his response with his back turned to you, but you watched as his shoulders slumped and caught what sounded like a “not you too.” You tilted your head back and laughed, bright and airy, as you approached the table. Your eyes settled on the two men crowded into the booth, your laugh cutting off as recognition settled in.

He hadn’t said that they were these friends.

“Y/N, we’ve heard a lot about you. Like a lot about you.”

He’d only ever talked about work in the abstract, which made sense. It wasn’t like he could go on, telling you all the details about whatever mission he was on. But he’d spoken of coworkers and even one that had become a friend. But he’d never mentioned names, or the context of things, or…

“Honestly, the kid doesn’t shut up about you.”

Or the fact that they were literal Avengers.

Joaquin groaned. “Can you two—”

Sam Wilson settled back into his seat and grinned as he motioned for you to sit down. “I’m Sam, this is Bucky. It’s good to finally meet you.”

[hotchscvm]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."

[elishamanning]

Kramer: "Well, with us... we ask ourselves, how can something like (the Leverkusen game) happen, and we notice our surroundings asking that, we on the inside ask ourselves that, sometimes we come to a weird conclusion, what, do we have two faces? But we only think that because we only look at ourselves. But what do the Dortmunders think, winning 5-1 against Frankfurt, thus German champions obviously, then they lose 2-1 in Freiburg and everybody's thinking, well, they're not that good, are they. Will Bayern show their Supercup face, or their face-against-us, or against 1. FC Köln? The Leipzigers, do they show their Mainz-face or that outstanding show they put on against Stuttgart? These "problems of consistency" when you're a Gladbach fan, or a Gladbach player, you think 'these are Gladbach-only problems', but the others have them as well. It's always a matter of how you handle it and that you don't let it... well, tear you down emotionally. The important thing is to avoid a negative spiral, mentally, because, as everybody who's ever played football will know, in the end the decisive issue is always in your head (((aaaah, that's a bad translation. It's a mental issue, is what he says.))), and it always will be." Knippi: "Completely agree. And by the way, that's not limited to football." Kramer: "Well, exactly. It's not even worth discussing, when you enjoy doing something, when you're positive about it - it's not exactly a brand-new psychological finding - it'll always turn out better than when you're negative about it. So let's not, after the second matchday, tear everything down, and let's not, after the first matchday, praise everything to the heavens." Knippi: "Did you expect that? Becoming professional footballers, all that stuff that comes with it, besides playing football, all that stuff raining down on you?" Neuhaus: "Well, it just happens, it just all happens automatically. In the end, you become a footballer because you have fun playing football, and you don't much think about that kind of stuff that comes with it. You grow into it and you learn to handle it." Knippi: "So you're not actively getting prepared for that? Because in the last podcast you (Chris) said 'that's the guys from the NLZ' So it's not part of your training there?" Neuhaus: "No, it wasn't a subject in mine." Kramer: "Well to be completely honest, looking back, I thought football would be funnier, or at least less serious, and a bit more honest. That's also why I like this club so much, because I know that here at least you get an honest basis, like, I feel understood here, I have a certain relationship of trust to, for example, Max Eberl, but I wouldn't have imagined, without spilling any beans now, that football's such a not-really-nice business. So this is one of the best things here, for me, knowing that I have an honest and trustful basis that can be built on. And I really wouldn't have ever imagined it all to be so grossly serious. Sometimes I think inappropriately serious, because football is such a beautiful thing and when you get to do it as a profession, plaiyng football, there's nothing easier than joyfully going somewhere every day. These are the best conditions to have, the working hours, just turning your hobby into a profession - everything about football is 'geil', but still you get this completely inappropriate seriousness about it making you go, aw, it's tough. That's a shame I think, I wouldn't have thought so when I started out. I always wanted to be a footballer because, well, for one it's my passion, but also I thought every day would just be fun, and I think it should be, and that in the end that would be performance-enhancing, I'm quite sure about that. (laughing, saying that)." Knippi: "What do you think?" Neuhaus: "Always hard to disagree. The gist is we're all playing football because it's great fun being on the pitch. Of course there are always periods when it's a little harder but all in all and especially looking back you always regard things much more positive

than maybe you felt in that particular moment. (I don't really understand what he's saying there), but anyway the positives should always be front centre." Knippi: "What you just said, Chris, the seriousness, I also think it's too much sometimes. For example if a team's not playing well and the people on the pitch get personally attacked/insulted. I get to witness that when I'm down there, and sometimes I think 'what is wrong with you?', like, I get being unhappy when the team that has your heart isn't doing well, being unhappy, or sad, or disappointed, I get that, but not attacking the players personally. Well thank God that isn't an issue currently, and there's no reason why it should be." Kramer: "No, I don't think that's happened to me in my career... Well, once, playing with VfL Bochum in Aue, I was pelted with snowballs by our own fans but, in retrospect, that was quite funny." Knippi: "Like how?" Kramer: "Well, because we lost 6-1 playing in the snow. I'd say I'm a good player on snow, but, well, Ronny König is the best snow-player on this planet. He (literally he says 'he put four cherries into our basket', meaning he scored four goals... as you probably would have guessed.) So then our own fans, who'd travelled to Aue on a Monday night, threw snow balls at us, and we completely deserved it. And I do think every fan is right, and has the right, to use this outlet, that they're paying money for, to let off steam. Because football, in the end, is entertainment. Only, it doesn't help. What I meant with the seriousness is the whole stuff around it as well. Football is just a game. It's supposed to be fun, but sometimes I think, looking at the newspapers, all the sociopolitical issues, and seriousness... it's still football." Knippi: "Did I just understand you correctly, you're saying it's a fan's right to pelt you with snowballs?" Kramer: "Well... it gets its down dynamic, and it's not too bad. If someone insults me, say, I don't really have a problem with that. I don't take it personally because I don't think it's meant that way. It may not be the right approach and I may not understand their motive, but... that person is angry, they've had a bad week at work, then they come here, and we play badly ("nur hintenrum" - too defensively) so they have a right to...-as a fan, of course, you have to question whether that's doing any good. We've not really had that here in Gladbach and when there were beginnings of it, we had talks with the ultras, and stuff, we're quite close to the fans, so we don't really have that issue here, but you do see it with other clubs, and close friends of mine, they have had situations where I'd really say, now this is too much (I wonder if he's talking of Leon/the end at Schalke here), and that's just not on, but generally, we are an outlet for many and football is entertainment. When you're not being entertained you're entitled to boo. I don't mind. There's just this double standard - look at me, talking again for ten minutes straight (Knippi and Flo laugh), and you have to cut it all afterwards- once again I take ten minutes to get to the point, but you can't - you want to play with a young squad, and they'll make mistakes. You can't boo them. Or you can't say you want to play with a young squad. Very simply put." Knippi: "Tommy Schmitt, your successor at 11Freunde put it quite well there, I thought. It's very counterproductive to boo and whistle." Kramer: "Yes, well, you have to ask yourself, no matter what you do - I mean when you get to the office and everybody's scowling at you, thinking 'what an idiot!', you'll feel that as a person with empathy, like every footballer, and when you're booed, that does something to you... I can promise everybody: booing a player will never make them better, not ever." Knippi: "'Snow-player' you just said. You're not a good 'snow-player'." Kramer: "I'm a GREAT snow-player!" Neuhaus: "They lost 6-1, I don't think he's that great. They wouldn't have lost 6-1, would they?" Kramer: "Well Leon, Leon Goretzka

and I, we still talk a lot about that day. I'd say, Leon and I, we both have these long levers, we really are good snow-players, on a proper layer of snow, like there in Aue. But Ronny König! He's Messi on snow. Awesome, really." Knippi: "Wouldn't it be better to have short legs and a low centre of gravity?" Kramer: "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, looking at Leon, and myself, AND Ronny König you can conclude the tall ones with the long legs are good on snow." (very scientific, this.) Knippi: "What kind of a snow-player are you?" Neuhaus: "There weren't any snow-games anymore in my time." Kramer: "NLZ, dude!" Knippi: "I know but..." Kramer: "No!" Neuhaus: "Climate change." Knippi: "But in your youth you must have played on snow once, haven't you?" Neuhaus: "Hardly." Knippi: "You're THAT young?!" Neuhaus: "At 1860 we had astroturf with undersoil heating." Knippi: "Did you ever play on clay?" Neuhaus: "...and anywhere in the stadiums today. There just aren't snow games like that anymore these days." Kramer: "He's from Bavaria, they don't have clay. They just have meadows and pastures, they play on the most beautiful pitches. Here in NRW when you're playing Galatasaray Mühlheim you know what's going down? You know what's going down, playing on clay?" Neuhaus: "I can just imagine." Kramer: "You take two weeks before you can go back to school because your legs - you simply can't walk anymore..." Knippi: "You've never played on clay?" Neuhaus: "No, never." Knippi: "You don't know that feeling when your grazed-open thigh is stuck to your jeans?" Neuhaus: "Yes, well, as a little child I played on the street..." (It goes on a bit yet, but I've already fallen asleep twice and I'm not sure these "translations" are making much sense anyway, so I'll leave it at this, now, alright? Flo played on asphalt, so he knows about open wounds from football. And Knippi claims he's still got remnants of clay in his thigh from decades ago. Hehe. I'll do the rest another time.)

first of all THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH

it's always interesting to hear about a player's mindset

it's really interesting to see how an athlete's relationship with their changes over time. like to have something that was for fun and a hobby turn into your job is a pretty incredible transition. it's something a lot of people experience to an extent, but to have it on this high a level is pretty unique.

Kramer: "No, I don't think that's happened to me in my career... Well, once, playing with VfL Bochum in Aue, I was pelted with snowballs by our own fans but, in retrospect, that was quite funny."

chrikra???? please??? what is this... snowballs???

i also agree that while fans are allowed to show their discontent, it does often cross a line. idk if he was referring to something like leon's ending with schalke, but that instance of schalke fans chasing and attacking the players is something that definitely comes to mind here. i think i actually draw a shorter line than chrikra here.

Neuhaus: "There weren't any snow-games anymore in my time." Kramer: "NLZ, dude!" Knippi: "I know but..." Kramer: "No!" Neuhaus: "Climate change." Knippi: "But in your youth you must have played on snow once, haven't you?" Neuhaus: "Hardly." Knippi: "You're THAT young?!"

omg flo please

i do love the idea of chrikra and leon reminiscing about their old games together... my heart

anyway i love this podcast and i hope they do more of it

and thank you again SO MUCH

[intheticklecloset]

Question: Do you edit your fics yourself or hbe an editing program like grammarly?

I’m heavily considering getting it, but after budgeting, I’m seriously wondering if it’s worth the extra $13 a month. Because would it help me get more commissions? That’s my main thing. And if I’m gonna go back and edit allll my stuff imma need something to motivate me/make it worth it.

And there’s a lotta stuff the google doc don’t catch. And while I understand the wanting to be professional and such and do research and character studies and learn how to write better...it’s fanfiction. The well written ones are great, but considering how fast it’s consumed and how high the demand is, is it really worth it slowing down and possibly jeopardizing your small income you get from writing, just to edit it?

Okay I’m rambling, but do you use an editing program? And do you think it’d be worth it?

To answer your original question: I edit my own work. I don't use a service to do that for me. I don't need one.

To add my thoughts onto the rest of what you said: Before you go spending $13/mo on something to help you edit your fanfiction for you, consider whether paying that amount is worth it in relation to how much you make/hope to make doing commissions. If you're making like $100/mo on fanfic commissions then sure, it might be worth looking into to polish up your work a little more. But if you're only getting one or two commissions a month, it's probably not worth it. You'd be losing money that way rather than making money. And like you said - it's fanfiction. At the end of the day the demand and consumerism don't 100% care about how well written it is as long as it's what they're looking for. (In most cases; obviously there are exceptions.) And your following is already pretty good as it is, which is awesome. I'm not entirely sure it would be worth it for you to put money into learning how to polish your writing a little more. Obviously you can if you want to and if you think it would be worth it. You can totally ignore what I'm saying if you want to. That's just my personal thoughts on the matter.

Either way I wish you luck!

[funkymbtifiction]

Hey Charity! I'm pretty sure there was an ask/post/submission where you described journaling to figure out your enneagram and mbti but I just can't seem to find it now. Could you tell what we should look out for when we journal, what questions to ask, any patterns, and how to correlate it with mbti/enneagram. I'm having second thoughts about my enneagram because I think I'm an anger type than an image type and want to journal to confirm(Or you could just link the og post if you find it) Thanks!

I did a causal search, didn’t find it, so I won’t bother linking to it.

I would ask yourself questions about what was in your constant focus throughout the day and whether you reacted on an emotional (heart), analytical (head), or instinctual (gut) level. Ask yourself why you made the decisions you did, and try to be honest with yourself in your answer -- no one will read this but you. Keep asking yourself that, day after day, week after week, month after month, until you are truly being honest with yourself and seeing the pattern of what drives you.

In terms of figuring out each number in each center, you need to focus specifically on the area related to that within your self-questioning.

Heart Center: questions pertaining to shame. What has shamed you? What do you feel shame about in your past? Why? Is it that you are not good, kind, and optimistic enough (2)? That you are not successful and ambitious enough (3)? That you are not self-differentiating and “pointing out the elephant in the room” enough (4)? When you react on an emotional level, what do you do? How do you get the attention you crave? Through giving to get (2)? Through impressing and boasting (3)? Through withdrawing and elitist attitudes (4)? Etc. Do you think way too much about what other people are thinking about you?

Head Center: questions pertaining to fear. How do you deal with fear? What frightens you? What are you most afraid of? And what did you do about it? That you will be incapable, so you never try anything new and delay engagement (5)? That you cannot make the right decision on your own, so you make sure to consult others (6)? That you will get trapped in an un-fun, unpleasant situation, so you distract yourself (7)? What thwarts you the most? Never trying (5)? Never having enough self-confidence (6)? Never sticking with anything long enough to see results (7)? Do you analyze so much you get stuck in inertia?

Gut Center: questions pertaining to anger. What makes you angry? What keeps you angry? What do you do with that anger? How do you use it against others? Do you moralize at them in an attempt to get them to agree with you (1)? Do you use aggression and force to seize the upper hand (8)? Do you ignore people and tell yourself it’s not worth being upset about to avoid upsetting yourself (9)? How long does the anger last? Until the problem goes away and the person apologizes (1)? In a flash that implodes and then disappears (8)? For a little while and then it disappears, only to turn up much later as a resentment (9)? Do you feel like the world is constantly “coming at you”?

Another thing to think about is -- what has screwed up your life and/or kept you from getting the things you want? And how is it your fault? Meaning, what numbers are causing this issue that you need to ‘mature’ in order to work around them? A 1 will be such a perfectionist, nothing is ever good enough. A 2 will give a lot of themselves away (time, resources, gifts, money) and then feel resentful when others do not pay them back in kind. A 3 will be a workaholic or boastful or constantly anxious about other people outshining them. A 4 will self-sabotage their creativity because they feel like every paint stroke or every word has to ‘represent me.’ A 5 will hide in their hole and never venture out into the world. A 6 will spend too much time thinking and over-thinking and in indecision and doubt. A 7 will never stay anywhere long enough to finish anything. An 8 will create enemies unnecessarily because they are a bull in a china shop. A 9 will forgive too easily, do things they do not want to do, and find it hard to care.

The more you ask yourself why, and the more you seriously think about it, instead of giving a too-quick or flippant answer, the more self-aware you will become.

[what-goesaround-comesaround]

Let's talk about some Irish newsies-

Hey! So I thought it'd be cool to look into the research I've found indicationg that some of the newsies might have Irish ties! (I'm Irish so that might explain my interest) I'm not an expert at all or anything, this is just the research I've collminated while scouring through newsies facts.

Oh course this isn't set in stone, this is just information I've found so if I've got anything wrong, please tell me! I was inspired by this post to do my own research. (A lot of my research has to do with the original movie but stick around for some fun facts about surnames?)

And now, onto Jack Kelly :

^This is David's description of Jack in Newsies : a novel by Jonathan Fast which can be found here on pg 9. Both surnames "Kelly" and "Sullivan" have their roots in Irish history.

^on pg 27 of the same book David describes Jack again as "an Irish boy". I just thought this would be worth noting, seeing how David wants to make it obvious to us, the reader that Jack appears to be Irish or of Irish descent.

"Kelly", originally anglicized from the Gaelic "Ó Ceallaigh" meaning 'descendant of Ceallach', an ancient Irish personal name, originally a byname meaning 'bright-headed' or 'troublesome' (fitting huh?) Source found here.

Fun fact for you livesies fans, the reigning chieftain of Ui Maine (mid Galway, South Roscommon, sometimes referred to as "O'Kelly's Country") O'Ceallaigh (c1351), was a renowned patron of the arts. Source found here.

Another fun fact : Jack means Seán in Irish.

Bet you weren't expecting that. Or maybe you were. Anyway, source is found here. I also remember it being a topic of conversation in 3rd class Irish class. Wonder how Spot and Jack would feel about that.

^On pg 23 of the original 1992 movie script found here Jack describes himself as a "mick" which was a commonly used derogatory term used against those of Irish decent/Irish immigrants at the time. However this line was not included in the movie. Source found here.

Now for "Sullivan". The original Irish for the surname Sullivan is O'Suileabhain, however the actual derivation of the name is debated. There is no doubt that the root word is 'suil' meaning eye, but whether it is to be taken as 'one-eyed' or 'hawk-eyed' is usually left an open question. Sources found here and here.

The surname is associated with the southwestern part of Ireland and was originally found in County Tipperary before the Anglo-Norman invasion. Source found here

Also, in both movie and stage versions Jack tells us his father "taught me not to starve" indicating his father may have taught Jack about the horrors of the Famine/An Drochshaol/The Great Hunger that plagued Irish families for years after. Source is found here.

Okay! On to Spot Conlon :

^This is David's description of Spot Conlon from the same book, pg 51 (okay he may not outright say he's Irish but they really said "throw all the stereotypes at him like red hair". But seriously in the Hard Promises script and the Newsies script he's described the same way. I guess they really invisioned that red hair huh?)

Spot is interesting seeing as he is the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, Brooklyn being an infamously known place for Irish immigrants to live due to the Great Hunger/An Drochshaol (translated meaning "Hard Times") or as it's more commonly known as "the potato famine" between 1845-1852. Source found here. At least 1 million people died from this and another 1 million immigrated, a lot to America (although the exact numbers are disputed.) Around this time New York becoming the busiest port city in the world. There was labor work to be had in Brooklyn, in the manufacturing and loading and unloading of goods to be sent around the country and around the world. Irish immigrants who had been left poor and malnourished by the famine had no other option but to take on this manual labour to earn money. Many took jobs by the ports and settled by the Watershed i.e. near the ports. This could be a reason to why we're first introduced to Spot and his "cronies" at the port in the movie. Source is found here and here.

Supposing Spot was born between 1880-1886 (he's quoted to be 14 in real life in this article however it's stated in the Newsies Novel on pg 51 to "be around Jack's age" and it's stated in original script before Newsies was rewritten to be a musical and was still a drama, "Hard Promises" he's quoted to be 19 on pg 28. So take this with a grain of salt.) the U.S. census, which counted both place of birth and parents’ birth place as well, estimated that one-third of all New Yorkers were of Irish parentage. By 1890 as Brooklyn neighborhoods were expanding east and south, the amount of people with Irish stock is at 196,372. Source found here.

Also how people will usually use the name "Seán" or sometimes "Patrick" for Spot (one of the fandom wiki pages cites it as his real name here but admits to having no proof of it). Both of these are traditional Irish first names, Patrick being popularised by the patron saint of Ireland St. Patrick/Pádraig. Might have heard of it-

Now for his surname.

Conlon is an Irish family name, it being a variation of the anglicised version of Ó Connalláin. The name may be derived from two Irish Gaelic words "Con" (the genitive case of Cú, meaning "hound") and "Lón" meaning lion - thereby implying a person who has the characteristics of a lion born of a hound - strength and speed. Source found here.

Conlon had a Gaelic form of Ó Conallain or Ó Coinghiollan in Connacht however it's Ó Caoindealbhain in Munster and Leinster. Fun fact, Connal or Connall is claimed to be a pet name for a sprout or little sprout. Source found here.

The history regarding the Conlon surname is complicated to say the least- however it can be traced back to County Meath, where the Conlon descendants are from an important sept near Trim, which traces back to Laoghaire, King of Ireland circa 432. O'Coindealbhain was also anglicised 'Quinlivan' in Munster. Source is found here and here.

This post isn't letting me include the video of Jack, David and Boots going to Brooklyn to negotiate with Spot and the Irish traditional music in the background but I'll make a separate post about that.

Now, onto Racetrack Higgins.

I'm going to keep this kind of brief. We know Racetrack is described as "tall, skinny gambling Italian beanpole" in the Hard Promises script on pg 1 and he's described as "an Italian beanpole" on pg 5 of the Newsies Script. However the surname "Higgins" is Irish as far as my research has told me, not Italian.

The real Ed "Racetrack" Higgins lived in Brooklyn and is quoted to be the real leader of the Brooklyn union, and was elected vice-president of the general union after Kid Blink and David Simmons were accused of selling out. Source found here. I haven't been able to find much information about Racetrack Higgin's life after the strike or his family life which could connect him to Ireland however I thought it would be interesting. If anyone is curious about the real Racetrack Higgins this source has been really useful!

'Higgins" is an Irish family name with ancient royal connections. It is an anglicisation of O'hUigin, from the Irish word 'uiginn' meaning Viking. The original holder of the name was a grandson of Niall of the Nine Hostages, High King of Tara, and all of the O'Higgins claim a common descent from him. Ancient records show that several members of the O'Higgins claimed a hereditary right to be file or poet in the courts of the Irish Chiefs and Kings. Source is found here and here.

Because of their loyalty to Gaelic culture and religion, the Higgins suffered under the English Crown in Ireland and had lost all their lands in Sligo and Westmeath by 1654. Some of them remained in Ireland as tenants on their own lands, but many of them migrated to Spain where they achieved high office in the service of the King. Source is found here.

Fun fact, Racetrack has the same surname as the current (9th) President of Ireland, Michael D. Higgins!

Lastly, on to Crutchy/ie Morris!

^This is from the 1991 original script of Newsies when it was called Hard Promises and was written to be a drama. Obviously this wasn't the movie that we have today but I thought this would be a cool add on. I couldn't find a lot of information about the real Crutch Morris, whom Crutchy/ie is based on. The surname Morris isn't strictly Irish, it's a popular surname throughout the British Isles however with this piece of information I thought it would make sense to research it anyway.

"Morris" (Ó Muiris in Irish) was introduced to Ireland by the Normans, along with the variant Firzmaurice (Mac Muiris). A branch of these Morrises moved to Galway in 1485 CE and later became one of the Tribes Of Galway. The name may also have been an abbreviation of Morrissey (Ó Muireasa), a branch of the Uí Fiachrach clan. Sources found here and here.

The ancient Irish name Ó Muirgheasa (variant Ó Muirghis), a personal name thought to derive from muir, meaning "sea" and geas, meaning "taboo" or "prohibition." Source found here.

The Morris family does have an Irish family crest/coat of arms which I'll post at a later date, further cementing themselves in Irish history.

This is most of the information I have regarding the origins of the characters and their surnames however I could go on about the music in Newsies, the family crests, the housing circumstances of poor Irish immigrants in New York at the turn of the 19th century ect.

If you want to learn more about what life was like for Irish immigrants in New York I recommend reading the non-fiction book The Gangs Of New York (or watching the movie. It isn't completely historically accurate but give a decent overview of what was life) or reading this article by the Irish Times.

I've barely scratched the surface of this topic and hope to go into it father in the future!

May I leave you with this gif of the boys doing some Irish (inspired) dancing and David with his twirl combo!

Ps. If the links aren't working for you I'd be happy to provide a list of the resources I’ve used throughout my research on a separate post if needs be.

pps. @maggs-is-a-muppet @annihilatedthenightstalker @newsies-bun @letter-from-the-refuge thanks for the motivation last night 😌