#i want to get shit done and not distract from real problems by doing stupid useless shit

[local-magpie]

hi im a self identified marxist on tumblr dot com and i call anyone who disagrees with me a liberal, because there's no way anyone who is a leftist would ever disagree with me. because the left is clearly a hivemind and this is a super normal take to have

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Ok ok ok. You mentioned how you wanted to snort coke off of lalos dick…. Can you write a Drabble about that cuz omg- 🫣🫣

yes bc i am insane 🖤 disclaimer: coke dick is not a myth but i refuse to believe lalo gets it (i also have never done cocaine lul)

warning: intox (cocaine)

“Are you serious? How have you not tried it before?”

Lalo asked that with the same incredulity as if you had just said you’d never eaten an apple before. To him, cocaine and other Schedule II narcotics were normal, boring even. That makes sense. You’d imagine that handling literal bricks of it day in and day out would desensitize you. But he had to know that you were far from the only person that had never tried coke. Most people hadn't.

"I don't know, man! I'd never even seen coke before I met you! Isn't it dangerous?" You asked.

Lalo shrugged. "It can be, yeah, but you just gotta know what you're doing." He walked over to his dresser and cracked open a drawer, rifling through it as he talked to you. "You gotta know how to dose it, how to handle it, and how to stop doing it once you start. That last one's important." He pulled out a locked box and set it on the dresser.

"Right, yeah. I guess that makes sense." You rationalized. Lalo seemed to know what he was doing. This was his career, no, his whole life. He must know how to handle it. You thought of his younger cousin, Tuco, who seemed to snort anything he could get his hands on. Lalo certainly had better self-control than that.

"Most importantly though," Lalo unlocked the box and pulled something out. He turned around to show you what it was: a tiny bag of white powder. Unsurprising. “You gotta know your stuff’s legit. A lot of shitty dealers will cut it or try to sell you something else entirely. I don’t sell anything I wouldn’t snort, and I don’t snort anything I don’t sell. It's a matter of integrity.” He tossed you the 8-ball so you could examine it.

You squished the tiny bag, pressing the powder between your fingertips, the texture obfuscated through the plastic. The way it moved reminded you of powdered sugar. It's funny how something so insidious can seem so benign up close. "Question," you asked, your eyes glued to the baggie.

"Shoot." Lalo replied.

"It's a stupid question."

"I bet it is," Lalo chuckled, enamored by your relative innocence, "Go for it, chiquito."

You led the bag away from your face so you could see your boyfriend. "Is coke dick real? Like you can't get hard when you do it?"

Lalo was stunned. "I've... never had that problem. Where did you hear about that?"

Good question. Where the hell did you hear about that? A junkie friend? The internet? It felt like multiple sources had contributed to this theory. "I dunno, actually. Guess it's just a myth."

"Oh, it definitely is." Lalo strode towards you until you were close enough for him to pull your body against his. Keeping one hand on your waist, he used your momentary distraction to pluck the 8-ball from your fingers. "Want me to prove it to y-?"

"Yes." You said with literally no hesitation, not even letting him finish his sentence. You may have been naïve, but you weren't stupid. Any chance for your man to whip it out was a chance you were going to take.

"Oh, wow, someone's eager, huh? Good boy." He cracked open the tiny bag and stuck his pinky in, scooping the product up with his fingernail. "So, I'm guessing you know what a line is, right? Well, this is called a bump." He held it up to his nostril and snorted it, the powder disappearing into his sinuses. Once he did, his head flew back and he groaned. "Mierda, está bien... (Shit, that's good.)" When he looked at you again, you could see that his brown eyes were almost entirely black, irises being swallowed by his pupils. He nudged you off him so he could unbuckle his belt.

You watched him like a research scientist trying to document the effects of the substance. His hands were trembling as he pulled his belt off. He held the baggie in his teeth to keep his hands free while he undressed. He kept sniffling like he was trying to suck up every molecule left behind. His brow was furrowed. His teeth were clenched. You'd never seen him like this. He looked unhinged. You couldn't tell if your body's growing arousal was from fear or desire. Plus, you weren't sure if you were supposed to talk, but you couldn't bear the silence. "It looks... intense..."

"It is, it is." Lalo laughed as he tugged his boxer briefs down. Now that he had a hand to spare, he took the bag out of his mouth and stroked himself. His cock was already at half-mast before he even touched it, and it didn't take long for him to get the rest up. "You want some? You're gonna love it."

You knew he meant the coke, but your eyes were somewhere else. Your gaze was locked on the bulging veins in both his hand and his cock. Coke dick really was just a myth. You'd have what he was having. "Yeah... yeah, gimme some..."

Lalo sneered and put his hand on your shoulder. "Then get on your fucking knees." He growled and pushed you down before you could do it yourself.

You dropped to your knees on the plush bedroom carpet. You went to grab onto him, but he swatted your hand away as he continued to pump himself.

“No, no. Watch me. I’m gonna give you a line, okay?” Lalo’s voice was eerily nurturing. It usually was when he talked to you, but you expected the coke to change that somehow. He took his hand off himself to open the bag, scooped some out, and placed a pretty sizable bump on his shaft. He hastily poked it into a line. “You know how to snort something, right? Just hold one nostril and sniff. It's not hard. It'll hit you hard, though, so just be ready."

As Lalo held himself steady, you leaned in, poking one nostril shut, and snorted the whole line as quickly as you could. He wasn't kidding. It did hit you hard. It hit you upside the head like a heavyweight champion, and you recoiled just so. You pulled off dry-heaving as it hit you, still holding his dick like a lifeline. When you remembered where you were and what you were doing, one thing, one solitary goal became your purpose, and all your other worries melted away.

Cock.

Cooooock...

Ever the desperate slut, you latched your mouth onto him, slurping up whatever trace of the drug that was stuck to his skin. Though honestly, he was a drug in and of himself. And you were a junkie. You were a junkie who'd do anything to get a hit.

Lalo knew that. He knew how easy you were. He knew you'd do anything for him, so he gladly took advantage of that. He laughed and clenched your hair in his fist as you serviced him.

"Good boy."

[mehoymalloy]

also, 26 + 28 for Silga & Untalla (could be each for both or just one abt the other, whichever you feel like)

I'm desperate for more beloved blorbo thoughts. you cursed me and now I suffer, so I must turn the blade back on you.... that sounded far more theatrical than just 'I miss them', sorry.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Congrats lucky winner! You get two headcanons for the price of one! As you know, I headcanon that Untalla is scared of deep water, but that also extends to cramped and enclosed spaces in a general sense. Add onto that that her stress response is basically 'stab the stressor til it stops being scary' and she will be climbing the walls trying to find a way out. Like they're going to have a reverse climbing the cliffside moment of Silga using her superior upper body strength to pull Untalla into a bear hug and just refusing to let go until Untalla manages to calm herself down (which she will manage to do relatively quickly, and then be so fucking embarrassed about it afterwards. Not to mention confused because if tight spaces bother her then why the hell doesn't being held tightly and restrained also?? Because it's a fucking hug, stupid, and you are platonically down bad specifically for Silga, it should not surprise you at this point that she's the exception for a lot of your rules.)

Silga, meanwhile, is like 'well shit' and goes into Get Shit Done mode, methodically tackling the problem until it's fixed if possible, periodically pausing to not-so-subtly check in on Untalla and giving her menial tasks to help keep her occupied and distracted.

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

THEY ARE SOME FORM OF SOULMATES, YOUR HONOR.

Silga looks up to Untalla so much; she sees her as so strong and and put-together after everything she's been through, but with that said, she loves seeing Untalla's quieter, more whimsical moments of joy when discovering or trying something new, rather that be Old World knowledge or cultural exposure to other clans.

Untalla would kill without hesitation and with a straight face for Silga. Dramatic, I know, but she takes the good old "your enemy is mine" saying that the Tenakth have so seriously it's a little scary. And even knowing Silga is a grown woman who can protect herself, after everything they went through, Untalla will always have an especially alert but not stifling protective streak for Silga. She also just plain adores the girl. She's smart and capable and a little annoying and the bestest friend she's ever had (Granted she will never say any of this, and any outward sign of these feelings is so fucking subtle, she's too stoic for any emotion that isn't anger lol).

-

And because you made me think about them, I went back digging through my Google Docs to find an old WIP. You can see how old this is based on the fact that 1) I've been using Obsidian as my primary writing program for a year now (I should really transfer all this stuff over, huh...) and 2) I used "</>" as my editing brackets, which ended up being inconvenient because TTS reads them aloud.

ANYWAY, have some hurt/comfort because I MISS THEMB NOW TOO, FUCK.

~

Untalla lied in silence, hesitantly running through half-memorized movements, looking for a specific holo she had seen. Not the stylized colors and depictions of the Ten, but real people. Silga had skimmed past it earlier while looking for something else to show her, and Untalla hadn't wanted to ask her to pause. It wasn't that important. But she wanted to see.

So once Silga had fallen asleep, Untalla had carefully picked up her Focus. Untalla had her own, so the holo was likely on there somewhere, but Silga was very meticulous about organization, and Untalla had memorized the shapes that went with familiar sounds, groupings based on category.

FARO PLAGUE

OPERATION ENDURING VICTORY

PROJECT ZERO DAWN

TEN (<insert war name>)

These were only the ones Untalla knew intimately, consumed in a heavy and silent session with Silga, both sitting up late into the night, learning to understand. Sleeping fitfully only to wake up and do it all again. 

But there was a holo in the wrong place, which Silga had played in confusion only to immediately pause and move to somewhere else, 'MISC.'

When Untalla found it, she hesitated. Then she lifted her hand that extra inch upward, watching the light move as if she physically pushed a button though she felt nothing at her fingertips. And the holo played.

<WHAT WILL THE HOLO BE?>

<WHAT WILL THE MEMORY BE?>

Untalla watched until her vision grew blurry, blinked rapidly when it disturbed her, only for something warm to trickle down her temple. It was only once Untalla realized she was crying that her breathing abruptly hitched. Her chest spasmed. Fingers shook as she abruptly reached for the Focus on her ear, her first instinct to stop it from the source rather than press one of the lights projected over her head.

But she pressed the wrong thing. As her fingers fumbled for the relic, the sound suddenly changed. What was initially a tinny little voice in her ear, suddenly became loud, filling the tiny space of their shared home. Untalla couldn't even curse herself before Silga had bolted upright, whipping her head around wildly before landing on her, startled fear immediately melting into confused concern.

"I'm sorry," Untalla gritted out as she sat up as well, still fumbling with the relic at her ear. "I wanted to shut it off but I somehow made it louder and–"

Right as Untalla resolved to rip it away and shove it into Silga's hands, Silga reached out, fingers just skimming Untalla's temple before touching something on the Focus, then the sound was back to the quiet din in her ear, and she reached out with a pathetically shaky hand to pause the holo correctly.

The silence felt stifling in a way it hadn't since Aloy first gave them these relics, since they learned everything. Untalla stared at a <something about the house or wherever (like peeling strip of wood)> as she said, "There was a holo I wanted to see. I'm sorry I used your Focus, I wasn't sure how to find it on my own." When she handed Silga the Focus, she couldn't meet her eyes.

Silga took it gently, placed it back on her bedside table before turning to Untalla again. Untalla could see her facing her in her periphery, though she kept her gaze trained away.

"You're crying," Silga whispered, and damn if the softness in her voice didn't make Untalla cry more. Untalla swiped below her eyes, scrubbing her face roughly before taking a deep breath, face still hidden in her hands. When she dropped her hands and turned her gaze on Silga—on a loose thread in her shirt. Her muttered "I'm fine" wouldn't fool <phrase.>

Untalla took another deep breath, tried to say it again, more assured, but her voice broke. "Damnit," she hissed.

Silga reached out and placed a hand on her knee. "Untalla, talk to me, please."

"It's this holo… it just…reminded me of my parents. I shouldn't have watched it."

Silga was silent for a long moment, before she asked "Do you mind if I watch it?"

"Of course not, it's your Focus."

Silga turned and abruptly lied back down. Untalla watched as her hands flew through the movements, much faster than her own. Then, she hesitated. When Untalla skirted her gaze up to Silga's she found her watching her. "Do you wanna watch it with me?"

"No." Untalla winced when her voice was too loud in the stillness—too harsh.

Then, contradicting herself, she lay back down beside Silga, scooting closer until their shoulders were almost but not quite brushing. Silga tapped something that projected all the lights again, and she apparently adjusted the sound, because when <what/whoever it is> began speaking, it was a soft drone in the night, something Untalla could almost fall asleep to. 

[bingbongsupremacy]

Ghosts

Pairing: Ellie Williams x !platonic reader x Dina

Warnings: kinda asshole ghost!ellie

Summary: You meet the ghost of Ellie Williams, a dead high schooler at Jackson High. Strange way to start off a friendship.

Idea from Pinterest.

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

*****

Jackson high's been around for decades. Of course with a school this old there's bound to be some fucked up stories or legends that come with it.

The latest one is about an old senior named Ellie Williams. She died 2 years ago in an accident, way before I came into town. Of course I don't believe the stupid rumors. Frankly, it's pretty fucked up to make stuff up like that. Just let the girl rest in peace.

With a loud sigh, I set plop open my math text book. I carefully begin jotting down the questions, trying my best to remember what my teacher taught this morning.

I never seem to be able to retain what she tells me. Maybe it's her boring monotone voice or maybe it's the fact that I'd much rather be scraping my eyes out with a fork that causes me to get so easily distracted. I have to get this shit nailed though. If I fail again I won't be able to graduate.

My parents will be so pissed.

The library is empty. Who knows where the librarian is. Probably talking gossip with the office secretaries. I mean, who in their right mind stays after school on a Friday to finish school work?

Me. That's who.

Against my will of course.

The sooner I get this shit done the sooner I can go home and play some games. Come on. Just fucking focus.

" X= 930. " A voice whispers suddenly, scaring the shit out of me.

I look around for the culprit, only to be met with no one. " What the hell? " I mutter, shaking my head. A shiver runs down my spine. I feel like someone's watching me. Who though? There's no one here and there's no fucking way Jackson High has enough for cameras in the library.

I shake off the feeling and try to return to my work. It had to be my head.

I begin re-reading the problem, trying to solve it. What the fuck am I supposed to do here?

" X= 930. " The voice whispers again, this time slightly louder.

There's someone fucking here. Either that or I'm going insane.

My head snaps around to the direction of the voice. " Who the fuck is that? Jordan, I swear to god if you're fucking with me I'll kick your ass. " I threaten. I stand up, walking over to the book shelves. I peek in and out of the isles, looking for whoever was talking.

" Oh my fucking god! For the last time, the answer for 3 is fucking X= 930. " The voice yells from the table area, clearly annoyed.

I rush back to the noise, my jaw dropping.

A faded figure stares at me, annoyance clearly displayed through their expression.

" I-I can see through you. " I stumble over my words.

The figure rolls their eyes. " Yeah, no shit sherlock. I'm a ghost. "

" Ghost? "

The girl sighs, rubbing the middle of her forehead. " Now I see why you were stuck on that problem for so long. " Yes, I'm a ghost. I'm dead. My name's Ellie Williams, mighta head of me, ya? "

I swallow harshly. " Oh my god. You're fucking real. You're fucking real? "

Ellie nods, sitting on top of the table. " Yup. And I was trying to help you with your homework. Now, do you want my help or do you want to just stand there like a dork for the next hour? "

I shake my head and move towards the table. I sit back down, glancing back at Ellie every few minutes. " How are you..? "

" Here? " Ellie finishes. She shrugs. " Fuck knows. Just popped up one day. "

" How come I didn't see you a minute ago? " I ask, still shocked over the situation.

" I can control whether you see me or not. We both can. "

" Both? " I ask in confusion.

Ellie looks across the room. " D, you can come out now. "

Another figure pops up on one of the couches. Another girl around our age smiles slightly. " I'm Dina. "

" There's two of you. "

Ellie groans in annoyance. " What the fuck. We just went over this. "

" Ellie, be nice. " Dina walks towards us. " This is a lot to take in for a normal person. "

" It definitely is. " I begin grabbing my stuff. " I um, I've got to go. I have to go...water my...dog. " I nod, wanting nothing more but to get the fuck out of here.

" Ellie, look what you did. " Dina hisses as I begin walking away. " Do you really have to go? Ellie didn't mean it. She's just kind of an asshole. "

I look back at her. I chew on the inside of my cheek nervously. I glance between the girls.

Dina glares at Ellie.

" Yeah, sorry. " Ellie apologizes. " I was a little rude. "

" A little? " Dina scoffs.

" A lot. " Ellie corrects, clenching her teeth.

Dina rolls her eyes and crosses her eyes, looking back at me. As soon as she looks at me her expression brightens. " Please stay. We'll help you with your work. We haven't had very many new people to talk to in ages. It'd be so nice to catch up with someone not...dead. "

I glance at the door. Should I stay?

" Fine. " I sigh. " I guess I can stay for a bit. " I set my stuff back down.

If you had asked me what I was going to do today, talking to ghosts would definitely not be on my list.

[gregorygerwitz]

Wait your best friends with mouse in real life

Look, yes, I know this message is almost 6 months old, but I've been letting it sit here while I try to figure out how to respond. Because it's a question about something I said as a joke when answering something for a meme back in May, but this ask really made me think about it? And it's been... really relevant the last ~24 hours.

Under the read more for discussion of physical and mental health/illness, including depression and anxiety and particularly recent (passive) suicidal thoughts. 💜

The pandemic has been really hard on me, mentally. As someone who is immunocompromised and already has both heart and liver issues (both parts of the body that would have been made even worse off if I ever contract Covid), I had to really isolate myself a lot - especially when my immediate family did stupid shit and went on vacations and chose not to isolate despite the fact that I live in the same house as them.

I've always been a bit of a loner, shy and introverted, and yeah that's fine! I kind of enjoy being alone and being in my own space, but that doesn't mean it's not always really fucking lonely. Talking to myself is something I've always done to kind of cope with that loneliness. And since I think... high school? I've put faces to that, so it can be a conversation - it keeps my easily distracted brain stimulated enough to stay on task. And, 90% of the time, those faces have just been... characters that I really enjoy. Over the years, I've talked to characters from my favorite media and used that, uh... connection? I guess that's the right word. I've used that to talk through homework issues, or feelings about life and the world, and I can kind of categorize things better if I'm getting information I've stored in my brain from different "sources"? I'm currently learning programming as part of an application for a promotion at work, and having Mouse kind of in the back of my head as a face for that information for me to call back to later is really helpful.

But this week, for example, has been really rough - I've been injured, and that makes work hard, and I've been overwhelmed by the class I have to take on my own time, and deadlines I've put on myself, and outside pressures, and my mom's constant bad mood. I kind of hit my breaking point, though I couldn't even say when, exactly, that point was, just some time this week. I spend a lot of Tuesday and Wednesday zoned out, not processing anything, unable to stay on task at work, injuring myself again because I just... wasn't present. And after watching Med and Fire last night (still haven't watched PD, but I'm putting that off until after my mental health day), I really broke down and cried and just... didn't want to do it anymore. But some part of my self preservation and will to live was still there, because I've got Mouse in the back of my head telling me it's gonna be okay, if that makes sense? and that probably stopped me from doing some really stupid shit.

I kind of compare how it feels to something computer programmers do? If a code doesn't work, they'll read through it line by line to a rubber duck to look for whatever the mistake/typo is until they find it. Right now, Mouse is my rubber duck, and I can bounce things off of him to figure out my problems, whether they're small or big, and for the last ~13 months, he's kept me alive.

[marischimmer]

Vignar - Chapter 1 - Part 6

Well, a roommate shouldn’t distract her from her routine. She was a long gone subject, after all. Yes, a long gone subject. Not a long gone friend. A. Subject.

Math homework wouldn’t be done by itself, would it. Time to get that done.

It would be easier if she actually understood what she was doing. What was the point in knowing what a parabola is? That wouldn’t help her in real life, would it? It’d be much better if they learnt how to cook something else than noodles and rice, or how to sew, for example. If you want to keep it math-ish, even Home Economics would be better. But the ones who decide what to learn are never the ones in the classrooms, are they.

– Why, hallo dere, Empson. Or should I say princess – greeted someone, loud enough to make her hear him despite the headphones. She decided to ignore him, since no one was allowed to speak to her in that tone – Hey. Dun ignore me, ya piece of shit – the guy said, grabbing her by her hood. Stupid jacket.

– Oh, I’m sorry, were you talking to me? – she asked, as sarcastic as possible, her golden eyes shining in disgust just by seeing him and his lame goons – Is there nothing better for you to do, Selman? I bet your Math homework remains untouched still –

– So what? You ain’t done it eider, didja? –

– And what if I haven’t yet? At least I am going to do it. What about you? Will you let your marks go even lower? –

– ‘S dat a challenge? Are ya challenging me? Don’tja know what happens when ya challenge me? –

– Yes. I win – she said, stabbing his foot with her heels.  Before he realised, she was free from his grip, and was gone by the second. His gorillas were so lame they wouldn’t even try to catch her, being so worried about their “boss”.

Some narrow alleys later, she was back at the school campus. Now she was safe. They wouldn’t dare hit her at school, they had been too many times at Detention already; they would be suspended, at the very least. She should still be more aware of her surroundings. This time it was those idiots, but the next time it could be a robber or a kidnapper.

Jeez. How annoying they were.

She tried to focus on that awful Math homework. Now she had to get a better mark than him. Of course she would, but extra effort wouldn’t kill her. If only she understood the exercise completely… But Mrs. Emily didn’t quite understand the questions they made, and always answered anything else but what they wanted to know. That happened as a homeroom teacher, too, so that’s why they weren’t too happy when they were told she’d be theirs. But, anyways, she was better than many others, and better than nothing at all, so she was accepted.

Math homework. Not Math teacher. Focus.

Actually, now that she thought about it, many teachers had that same problem…

Focus.

What if Shaiel was good at Math? She should check the timetable Kendra gave her; if she was in the same or even a higher level, she could ask her for help, maybe. Just for Math. It wouldn’t harm her, would it?

With that idea in mind, she hurried back to her room, decided to do her best before she arrived. Just to show her how good she was.

– She didn’t recognize me –

Having called Damon in a hurry, she was lying in Shaiel’s bed to avoid messing up all the plushies and cushions neatly covering her own, hiding her head behind a pillow. Who cared if she messed up her roommate’s side instead.

– Pfft- What? –

– She didn’t recognize me. She doesn’t know who I am. She seemed confused, as if she had some déjà vu or something, but she didn’t recognize me – she said, throwing the pillow against him when he started laughing.

Wonderful. Now she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

– Are you done yet? –

– I told you! I told you she ain’t recognizing you! You’ve grown up, you silly, you changed! I bet she changed too –

– ...She is much taller than me now. Were it not for my heels, the difference would be huge. Her English is still as bad as it was though – she said, but there was pride in her voice. It did improve. She just wouldn’t admit it.

– So? Where’s she? –

– I… may or may not have spoken harshly and told her to disappear from my sight –

– OH. MY. GOD! Lisette! – he started laughing again, making her blush. Well, yes, she probably shouldn’t have done that, but there was no reason to tease her like that! – Unbelievable. I ain’t believe you are so- The girl’s new here! Ain’t you wanted to make a nice first impression?? You really are dumb! –

– We all know I’m dumb, Damon, that’s no news –

– No. Wait. I ain’t meant it. No, you ain’t dumb. Damnit –

– Language, D. Do not worry, it is common knowledge by now. Anyways, did you get any more information? – she asked, trying to change the subject. It was no news, really. Everyone said so because it was true.

– I… no, not really. They told her to ask us questions instead, since she got so… well, shy about herself –

– Yes, I noticed. When she saw me she seemed… scared or something. It was… unusual. People tend to hate me, not fear me –

– Guess you’ll have fun with her around –

– Perhaps.., – she said, not paying much attention anymore – Say, what do you want for your birthday? –

– …Ain’t you a tad too early? –

– Come on, you know I like having everything ready beforehand. And it’s less than a month away –

– Fine, fine… What about a new helmet? For my bike, you know. The old one is, well, old. I got tired of it already –

– ...You are worse than me. But, very well! It is decided, then. Expect a new helmet, better than the previous one! By the way, where is your bike? You didn’t have it with you this morning, did you? –

– Nah, it’s in the repair shop. Somethin’s wrong with the breaks; it ain’t letting me stop when I want to –

– …Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you a new one? –

– Hell no! Dad bought it for me, ya know it. I ain’t changin’ it for anythin’. It ain’t matter if it’s second hand or anythin’, it’s mine. I’m keepin’ it until it ain’t fixable no more – he got really worked up. He quickly realised he was on the verge of getting angry at her for no reason and stood up to leave before he made any mistakes – …Welp. I’m off to get snacks. Want some? –

– Heck no, I’m still full from lunch. How do you even manage to keep all that food in your stomach? –

– Genetics, sweetie. Genetics –

– I hate you – she joked, making him chuckle. Good, he wasn’t in that much of a foul mood anymore – Oh, yes, by the way. Kendra is expecting you to make her meet Shaiel. Actually, to try to make them be friends. Don’t disrespect her prediction, now, could you? –

[kokopopsweet]

PTSD

I can't don't remember when or why sleeping got little bit easier, I suppose I was distracted with all the lemons 🍋 I'm suppose to make lemonade with.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a hamster wheel of misery with small fleeting moments of genuine peace and I can gaurentee someone's actions makes those already short spots of happiness shorter 😔. What's painful to my mind is what I can remember, but my body remembers everything my mind won't, which fester's it's own problems that make no sense to most.

I never use to be so anxious, its got considerably worse where I just can't bring myself to leave my space even if I despise it. That time I drummed up the courage (can you even call it that) to try and find the man who let his friend and someone I know rape me in my sleep, which soon felt pointless as I knew that even if I was acknowledged it wouldn't change anything. That's the argument that doesn't stop, the solution that always comes round is that there is just Nothing I can do because anything they say or do won't change what happened.

Despite "time's changing" there are still loads of "Andrew Tate's, Jeffery Epsteins and Robert Kelly's" of the world not to mention the women who enable these men. Sexual assault is still something that both sexes experience at a exspadential number, similar to sexuality I think it only feels more because of awareness and more people speaking up and out.

Society still moves in a way where people don't get involved even if they see something they think is morally wrong, while I'm writing this I think that's what my anxiety is tied to, the older I've got I've grown to understand that people ain't shit and most will watch you burn in the flames of a car crash (theoretically and literally). Being bullied at school and work and just generally having really shitty things happen to me and people have seen and said nothing, absolutely nothing even "law enforcement" do absolutely nothing.

I'm the eldest and estranged from my family and sometimes my mentality is I cannot trust anyone else to take care of me but me, because I can't trust that when things happen in public or behind closed doors, like they repeatedly have done, that anyone will have my back 😔. I've been outside once in a week and had my phone on do not disturb, I want to enjoy the world but it had hurt me in ways that makes it very difficult to face outside.

I want to move on, I want better things for myself but I can't keep living in constant intense fear like this. I understand that some people don't even know there doing bad by you and for some stupid reason I give people especially men a grace that they do not deserve, it stills goes back to, grace or not it can't changed what has happened to me.

I don't really know where to go from here, but '🙋🏾‍♀️hello sleepless nights and night terrors I didn't think you was gone for good'.

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 5: A Rant

This has been a bad day. I told myself I wasn’t going to let the stress of January get to me, and I really thought I wasn’t—even though I had a headache Monday and have been really exhausted, but, no big deal. I would get stuff done at my own pace and it would be fine. But then last night I slept pretty badly, through fault of my own. I told myself it would be okay, I’d go to work, just focus on my books, and then return home and rest after, and it would be fine. And instead it was just hours of hell.

I just don’t want to deal with stupidity right now! I am swamped and overwhelmed! I can barely keep up and here you all are with random distractions and shit that doesn’t matter, or with projects I signed up for last year and still want to do but can’t dive into NOW, and meetings I have to go to about those projects, and search committee stuff that should have been finished last November, and all of this on top of the days I have to leave early for appointments, and everything—everything somehow just has to be NOW even though NOW is quite literally the worst time of the year. There’s about a week or two in January, literally as short as that, where I am overwhelmed with one part of my job. Then it dies down fast and then it becomes crickets for months, the slowest time of year. So I would like to say, hey, this is intense but short so just let me just FOCUS but no. Nope.

Anyway, all this is the underlying stuff. The real hell was that my co-worker, chair of the search committee I am on, failed the very basics of decent communication with me and it really pissed me off. Like really pissed me off. Like I was starting to worry I was getting heart palpitations from the sheer amount of rage I felt. I mean it is sort of a me problem that I get so angry about shit like this but fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkk I am asking for so little.

Basically, I told him in December, when he said we would have to do interviews for the candidates in January, that I have a few appointments in January and I won’t be available on 3 afternoons. He said to add it to the calendar and he would look at the calendar while scheduling interviews (implying, I would say, that my out of work commitments would be taken into account). Then today—after we have both been in the office two full days—I hear, NOT from him but in passing from two other people, neither of whom is on this committee, that we have interviews scheduled for Tuesday. I am leaving early on Tuesday for a dentist appointment. So. What am I to do? I approach him—I have to approach him because he has yet to approach me—and he just defensively says, “Well what am I supposed to do? I had to schedule the interviews as soon as possible and Tuesday was the day the candidates wanted. I guess you can’t come.”

Like??? Okay if I don’t come to one candidate, that means I can’t evaluate her, that means I can’t put her in context, that means my vote/voice/opinion as ¼ of the committee is useless, and also I’m being pretty shitty to her, through no fault of my own. And he didn’t seem concerned at all with any of this. But what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to approach this? What am I supposed to say to him other than ‘hey this is a problem’? Am I supposed to say, ‘I have a scheduling conflict and this doesn’t work for me?’ That was the tack I took and his answer was, somewhat understandably, ‘It’s already finalized so….?????’ Am I supposed to come up and say ‘I will graciously change my appointment’ even though the actual message I want to convey is ‘I am angry at you’?

So, the conversation was infuriating, I was furious for a while longer, and then after wasting at least half an hour on this, I called my dentist and, after 2 phone calls, was able to switch my appointment. By SHEER FUCKING LUCK, I was able to move it 24 hours earlier, to Monday. They couldn’t move it later because they were booked for six solid months. They had an appointment today (not happening) and the one I took on Monday. Luckily, that was a time I could make, even a convenient time. But again, since I made this change 3 business days before the appointment, it was only by the purest force of luck that it was so simple.

I didn’t tell him I changed the appointment. It’s on the calendar. He doesn’t want to offer me the basic respect or decency of simple communication, so, he shall get none in return.

Look. I recognize that some of my anger comes from unreasonable places: assuming malice when I don’t think there was malice (more like guilt, frustration, fatigue, a desire to just get this done with as little effort as possible and whatever, don’t need to cross the t’s or dot the i’s), my own anxieties and hangups (not liking to change appointments, not liking unexpected changes to my schedule), and some bitterness about still being on this committee and my poor experiences on it, which are fair emotions on my part but also not helpful to this situation at this point. But a lot of my emotion is justified, I think. Malice or not, this was deeply disrespectful: of me, of my time, of the work I’ve done on this committee. From the start, I have tried my best and in good faith to do all that was asked of me, to read resumes thoroughly, to fill in that stupid HR spreadsheet as fairly as possible, to be timely and flexible, to be forgiving of the piss-poor way the committee is run because I know a lot of it stems from the anxiety of the chair. And now he doesn’t even do me the courtesy of telling me when the interviews ARE, even though he knows I have a conflict. Will I resolve the conflict? Will I just not show up? Doesn’t matter to him! Again, conscious or not that, that tells me that I am not valued, that I am not worth anything.

Further, it puts me in this very awkward position. It’s his mess, and has been since he dragged his feet last year, making January interviews necessary. But if I didn’t come to the interviews, I am the asshole who can’t give my time and attention to the candidates. And if I want to go to the interviews, as is my responsibility, I have to change my appointment. I know that should be nbd, it happens, but it’s still something I need to do! I can’t do it if I don’t know. I just felt so out of control. I found out abut this dilemma I’m in by chance and then I had to fix it, myself, and I felt squeezed for time because okay the appointment is in three (business) days, will I be able to find a new time, will it be a convenient time, will I have to pay a $55 fee for changing so late, when will I have time to do my work, my work is piling up around me while I figure this out, what if, what if, what if aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

And since I had to come to him about all this, I will never know when he would have told me. He sent out an email not long after our conversation (to all staff, not the committee, even though these two groups are not the same), and I don’t know if that was a coincidence or prompted by me.

I know he’s in a tough spot here. Again, of his making, but it still exists, and I’m trying to see things from others’ points of view and to be more open-minded and patient. But the choice not to communicate openly with me was absolutely his to make and a separate issue from the scheduling itself. It frustrates me so much that all of this could have been avoided if he had come to me on Tuesday—our first day back, a solid week before my appointment, and when I know the interviews had already been scheduled if not finalized—and said something like, “Hey, kinetic, I have some bad news. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I’ve been working to set up candidate interviews, and the scheduling is really tight. The only day that works for 2 of the candidates is next Tuesday. I saw on the calendar that you have an appointment that afternoon. Is there any way that we could work out a way for you to still meet both candidates? Here are some details on how the interviews will work. Or would you consider changing your appointment?” Even if he didn’t feel comfortable or able to suggest changing the appointment, something like the rest of it would do. Just literally anything that (1) gives me a heads up this is happening and (2) includes me and makes me feel valued and seen would have worked. I probably would still have been annoyed, but mostly at myself, for making such a big deal out of changing one stupid appointment, or at the general situation, which I would recognize was so useless as to be essentially a me problem, not a him problem. And I wouldn’t have shown any of this to him because my desire to avoid conflict is such that I would immediately accept any offer to see us as on the same team (which, technically, we are!) and so I would not be pissy or annoyed or passive aggressive but would try to match the tone of, oh, that’s too bad that’s happening, yes, I’d like to work it out. And then I probably would have volunteered to change the appointment if possible.

And frankly, even if I was a little annoyed and showed it, because it's not great news to hear, it's still the right thing to do to tell me. Sometimes you just need to face the consequences of your actions, even if awkward or unpleasant.

Anyway. I told myself I wouldn’t stew on this anymore and guess who’s stewing! It’s obviously me. I fell asleep after work, had dreams about Ishmael and Queequeg, and then woke up feeling sick because I needed to eat and my headache was back. I’m up too late again but I’m going to naively hope that the nap will help and that tomorrow at work I will be simply left alone to get shit done. The upside is that, even though I feel like I’m barely making a dent, I’ve started with the most time-consuming stuff, and so despite my number of carts, I am in good shape and could make significant progress tomorrow if basically left alone. The downside is that I have to do some project-related stuff tomorrow, and on Monday I leave early, and some indeterminate amount of time Tuesday is going to be spent on these interviews (the email that was sent eventually did not make the schedule clear tbh) and so frankly I think that whatever I don’t get done tomorrow may very well lag into Wednesday… But it’s fine. It’s fine. This has already consumed too much of my thoughts.

[and-so-he-rambled]

Martinez and Bruce meeting as kids

Daniel Martinez was a train wreck of a child.

He was the second youngest of seven kids growing up in a shitty apartment in Gotham. He was only twelve, too young to be taken seriously but old enough to recognize issues. He followed his older siblings like a lost puppy, watching them follow their determination to crawl out of Gotham and be worth something. They had aspirations, and then there was Daniel.

Daniel didn’t really have goals. He liked watching movies about cowboys and played great street hockey, but he didn’t care much for looking towards the future. Gotham was a shit hole, and he knew that.

Still, he ran through the streets like the hellion he was, known by everyone, tolerated by everyone. He was old enough for gang recruitment, but nobody ever tried to bring him in him and he didn’t volunteer. He thought gangs were stupid and added to the cities problems, and his brother was an idiot for being in one.

“Daniel, what are you doing?” Daniel was a sassy child who hated being scolded, but he wilted under the stare of the police officer.

Officer Bradshaw was an older guy, a gringo with a cool mustache who got to carry a real gun! He was nice, he played basketball at the community center and sometimes brought a few pizzas by. All the teens liked him, he was nice for a pig.

Daniel dropped the can of spray paint, kicking it away like that would solve anything. Officer Bradshaw wasn’t an idiot, and Daniel was still covered in flecks of spray paint.

“Uh… painting?”

“What even is that?” The officer squinted at the mess of colour on the brick wall. It was a derelict building so Daniel really didn’t think it was a big deal.

“I dunno, I wasn’t trying to make nothin.” He didn’t admit he’d stolen the cans from his brother as payback for the gili stealing his skateboard last week.

The officer sighed, a long sigh that adults always did around Daniel. He was pretty sure it meant ‘I’m done with your shit kid’ but when he asked they always just sighed again.

“Alright Martinez, I’m driving you home. Pick it up, I’m confiscating all of it.” Bradshaw pointed at the beat up backpack full of multicolor cans of spray paint. Daniel went to protest knowing his brother would kill him, but shut his mouth at the officer’s glare.

He gathered his brothers crap and heaved it into the back of the car with the cop watching with folded arms.

“You gonna cuff me?” He asked, a little quieter. Bradshaw was a nice cop, but he was still a cop.

Bradshaw raised a bushy eyebrow and opened the door to the backseat. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“Then no, get in.” He got in, sitting on the hard plastic with his hands in his lap. Bradshaw got in the front and started off.

Daniel hated silence and the police radio was fuckin boring.

“Why are the seats plastic?” He pulled his legs up to sit criss cross, leaning forward to peer through the cage.

“Easier cleanup.” Was the clipped reply.

“Of what? Blood? Vomit? Piss?” He pulled his bare hand off the sets with a wince. “Oh ew! Someone’s totally pissed here!”

Bradshaw gave another long suffering sigh and went to say something when he was distracted. A kid, around Martinez’ age and wearing a black hoodie, was skulking down a rather empty stretch of street. No one good frequented this area.

Bradshaw stopped the car and got out to talk to the teenager. Daniel could probably make a run for it, but the fact the cop hadn’t locked him in said something, and he didn’t quite want to ruin that something. He was regretting that as Bradshaw gently took the kid by the arm and led him to the car. Dammit! Him and his gentle niceness with kids! Daniel didn’t want some random kid locked in the back with him! What if the guy was a psycho!

He glared at the cop as he opened the door and the teen slid in.

Okay, definitely not a psycho. The kid looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, hands fidgeting in his lap and stringy hair hanging over his eyes. He looked like a lot of the teens Daniel met at the community center, lost. He didn’t have the false bravado of a gang member or the twitchiness of an addict, he was just a kid, maybe not even a teen yet. Tall and skinny though, and very white.

“I found him, I’m bringing him home.” Bradshaw spoke into his radio, making Daniel look at the other boy in interest.

“You a runaway?” He looked at the kids clothes, all high end stuff that was tattered and dirty. If Daniel let his clothes get like that his momma would beat his ass, and his clothes were hand me downs! “You look like a rich kid. You a rich kid? What the hell you doing in this area?”

The boy looked at him, he was nervous, but there was an undertone of rage in his eyes. Daniel kinda wanted to push it, just out of curiosity.

“Daniel leave him alone.” Officer Bradshaw gave him a look through the rear view, a look that said shut up.

“C’mon man, just making friends.” Daniel leaned a little closer, tilting his head in curiosity. The kid had a cut on his chin and his knuckles were bruised. Daniel grinned, remembering all the fights he’d gotten into himself.

“You get in a fight? You win?” The kid continued to glare, and Danny had a feeling that he did win, even if he got a little thrashed around himself.

“Martinez!” The cop snapped.

“Fiiiine.” He whined, slumping back against the seats with crossed arms. Boring cop, not letting him ask innocent questions.

The radio crackled to life again, reporting a 10-59 nearby. Bradshaw cursed quietly, reporting that he had two civilians but he’d check it out. Daniel rolled his eyes, he just wanted to go home already.

“Don’t get shot!” He yelled after the cop as he shut them in and walked off towards some building. He did hope Bradshaw didn’t get shot, he was good people. Interestingly they were locked in this time. Whatever faith Bradshaw had in Daniel he didn’t have in mystery kid, interesting.

As if to prove that point, the kid immediately tried opening the door, making Daniel laugh.

“Sorry, you stuck with me pretty boy. What’s your name? I’m Daniel, named after the guy who didn’t get eaten by lions.” He gave a cheeky grin, offering a hand. He didn’t do handshakes much, but his momma had insisted he knew how to give a proper handshake.

The kid slowly took his hand and gave it a weak shake. He had the grip, but his form was shit.

“…Bruce.” The kid said hesitantly, eyes flicking to Daniel as if that meant something.

“Hi Bruce! First time in a cop car? It’s my second, but my brother gets arrested a lot. You have brothers? No? That’s fine, they suck ass.” Daniel was a force to be reckoned with once he started talking, and Bruce just watched him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I talk a lot. I had a friend who used to call me Motormouth Martinez.” That guy was dead now, killed in a drive by targeted at one of his friends. He wasn’t the nicest, but he missed the guy.

“…it’s fine.” Bruce mumbled. He wondered if the kid had any volume higher than a whisper. Daniel beamed at him, knocking the boy’s shoulder with his own. Not too hard, lest he break the guy. Kid looked a stiff wind away from falling apart.

“So what you think of cops?” He looked around the cop car with amusement. His first time in one hadn’t been particularly pleasant and was a case of mistaken identity and wrong place at wrong time, but Bradshaw was different. He’d spent that first trip cussing and spitting things his momma would hang him out of the line for, this time he was being behaved.

Bruce shrugged, looking resigned.

“Fair. I don’t like every cop, but I like Bradshaw. I could be a cop, damn good one too.” He puffed out his chest. Admitting he wanted to be a pig wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Bruce didn’t seem the gang affiliated type.

“…cool.”

“Damn right! I like to think I’m pretty brave.”

“..what about that guy behind you.”

“WHAT-“ Daniel jumped, leaning as far from the window as he could and practically shoving himself against Bruce before registering the view of an empty street. “Huh? Theres no… You bitch!”

He pulled away and crossed his arms with what was definitely not a pout.

Bruce snickered briefly before his mask of indifference was back in his face. There was a tiny quirk to his mouth though. Daniel wanted to be mad, but he didn’t think the kid smiled much.

“Very brave.” Bruce teased softly.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up cabrón. I’m working on it, you trying being this short and intimidating people.”

“..no thank you.” Daniel snorted, getting another tiny lip quirk for his trouble.

“Smart ass. Hey look, Bradshaw!” He pressed his face against the window, trying to get a good look. His favorite cop seemed fine, if winded.

“Hi pig!” He greeted the cop cheerily as Bradshaw opened the driver door and got it. He was sweaty and gross, probably chased some perp. Bruce gave him a nervous stare, but the cop just waved off the insult. He was used to Daniel’s shit.

He got back to driving them home, ignoring Daniel’s attempts to weasel out information.

“..you got paint on me.” Bruce said softly, cutting off Daniel’s rant about something stupid.

Sure enough, on the cuff of a button up that looks very stiff and uncomfortable, only half hidden by the ratty hoodie, were smears of paint. It was mostly dry, spray paint dried fast, but it definitely was gonna stain.

Danial looked at it, looked up at the boy, then back down at the paint.

“So? It’s just clothes.” Hopefully the kid wouldn’t get in trouble with his mama for it, but maybe he should have paid attention and not touched the kid covered in paint.

“Ya look like shit anyway.” Daniel nudged his knee against Bruce’s. Both boys had scuffed and torn knees. Daniel’s was just from overuse, Bruce looked like he had a grudge match with a strip of asphalt.

Bradshaw talked at him again, face red and eyes talking Daniel to shut the fuck up, but Bruce startled them both by laughing. It was quiet and it seemed to startle Bruce too if his abrupt silence was any indication. Weird kid.

They pulled up to a big estate, all old and made of stone. It reminded Daniel of the church in it’s old grandness.

The patrol car parked and Bradshaw got out, meeting an older man and pointing to the car. Daniel gave a cheeky wave at the man’s confused face, but Bruce leaned around him and the man’s face immediately relaxed. He marched over to gently but firmly pull Bruce from the car.

“Bye Brucie! Stay outa trouble or I might arrest you some day!” Daniel yelled after him, waving a paint covered hand forlornly. Bruce looked back, still being dragged and looking resigned, but Daniel swore he saw a smile!

Bradshaw got back in the car and started off towards the area of town Daniel was from, a far dirtier and poorer area.

“Martinez you’ll be the death of me. Do you have any idea who that was?” The officer bit out, looking very done with Daniel.

“Should I? You better not ave put me in a car with some crazy!” Bruce didn’t give him that vibe, but the kid did have a dangerous sort of rage to him.

“That was Bruce Wayne.” Bradshaw looked at him like that should mean something.

It sounded familiar. Wayne, that was the name of some corporation. Didn’t the owners of that place die a few years ago? He remembered the news vaguely, how his mama fretted over the tv about some poor kid. Poor Bruce Wayne.

Oh.

Huh.

“You tellin me that dirty kid was Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes, the billionaire, and you told him- what was it? That he looked like shit and you’d arrest him?”

“He did! I was being honest!” Apparently his honesty wasn’t appreciated. The Wayne kid seemed to like him. No wonder the guy was such a head case, if his parents died in front of him like that.

“You have things to learn about the world Martinez. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Eventually Martinez would learn more about the world. He’d get arrested and go to clubs and make mistakes a few more times before he finally got his head out of his ass, he’d join the academy find he was actually good at something even though people doubted him. He’d follow in Bardshaw’s footsteps of playing ball with troubled teens and keeping the community center alive after Bradshaw died in the line of duty.

One by one his siblings would leave and become people, a surgeon, a singer, an artist, following their passions right out of Gotham and it’s filth. Even his ma would leave, too old and tired for the chaos of that city. Daniel couldn’t leave, he knew what he did was important, that if a cop hadn’t decided to treat him like a human being he’d probably be in jail with his brother, or a deadbeat like his dad. He would stay because Gotham mattered to him, and he liked to thing he mattered to Gotham too.

And he watched Bruce Wayne grow up too, through articles and the media. He never saw the kid again, but watched as a silent observer while Bruce grew up hidden from the world. The prince of Gotham, who had once shared a police car with a dirty preteen from the ghetto. Bruce probably didn’t remember him, but he hoped he’d see him again one day.

For now he had bigger problems like a freak in a bat costume and a new serial killer.

——

@waynebat

Martinez may seem out of character, but preteens rarely act the same as their adult selves. I imagine he was once brash and a delinquent trying to be seen befriend he grew up a little more.

So yeah, I had a plot bunny.

[kawaiijohn]

Things I hate about this stupid blizzard shit

It's really fucking dumb and ignorant to quantify diversity in any sort of way, esp like this

Blizzard used it to distract from their union busting

Marking Lucio as less diverse than torb was probably done on purpose to piss people off and distract from the union busting

The amount of "lmao torb isn't representation, he's a white man" I keep seeing. Yeah he's white but he's canonically fucking disabled (prosthetic/dwarfism), stop being abelist about it

Yell at blizzard for UNION BUSTING and being Fake Woke instead of being weird about a disabled man being considered rep

None of them are better representation than the others.

blizzard is legit measuring representation like this and it's so fucking shallow I wanna hurl.

They did this on purpose so you'd see an afro Latino man being quantified as less diverse than a white disabled man & a large muscular white woman* and be pissed about it.

For real stop pitting marginalized groups' representation against each other and scream at blizzard for doing it in the first place. Like we should all get together and fucking beat the shit out of blizzard execs instead of whatever the fuck this is

Scream at them for using this to distract us from the actual problem:

Union busting

*I know nothing of zarya but the fact she's very big, muscular, and probably a lesbian. I mostly made this post bc while I am pissed they did this, I was sick of seeing people dunk on a canonically disabled man like they were and wanted to bring to light the likely reason WHY this chart was posted in the first place.

[blockgamepirate]

On the one hand I'm like "clearly the Dream SMP fandom needs a crash course in class analysis" and then on the other hand I'm like "I'm really not in the mood to write that post right now"...

But okay,

working class = someone who earns their wealth (however small OR big) mainly by their own labour

owning class = someone who earns their wealth (however big OR small) mainly by other people's labour (also known as "capitalist class")

personal property = your stuff which you personally use, including your house if you have one, your car if you have one, your toothbrush, your computer, your phone, your tools, your jewellery, whatever, it's YOUR stuff and the leftist are not coming for it

private property = stuff you own specifically in order to make money, but that you don't use yourself, instead you either pay other people to use it to make/provide goods and/or services and you take the profit from their work, for example factories, shops, or other kinds of businesses, OR you charge other people for using it, for example housing. This is the stuff that leftist ARE coming for.

Also yes I'm aware that the personal/private terminology is stupid, I didn't come up with it.

And yes, this does in fact mean that there are rich people who count as working class, (such as star actors or athletes, often popular musicians, maybe doctors or lawyers, some coders possibly... and some Minecraft youtubers lol) and there are (relatively) poor people who count as owning class (such as landlords who just happen to own and rent out a second apartment or even just an extra room, or struggling small business owners, etc.)

The definition is about whether you work to earn your money or whether you own things to "earn" your money, and it matters because the latter is exploitative, the former is not.

capitalism = an economic and political system based on the exploitation of working class labour by the private owning class in order to create profit.

trade = exchange of something for another thing between two parties. Trade and markets are both features of capitalism but they are NOT themselves inherently capitalist and have existed under different economic systems throughout history.

Important note: you CAN have an anarchist society with markets and trade but you CAN'T have an anarchist society with capitalism because capitalism is inherently hierarchical. Not all anarchists are opposed to business, but ALL anarchists are opposed to exploitation, which is why "anarcho-capitalism" is an oxymoron.

Also, capitalism is not a natural system in Minecraft, you have to actively enforce it if you want to have a capitalist society ingame, because it's really hard to exploit people who can just run off to get their own resources from an infinite world any time they want.

Wilbur tried to do this through trickery, by convincing people to give up their brewing stands to create artificial scarcity, it didn't really work. Sam and Quackity are apparently trying to do it through debt? And claiming people's attachments? Maybe idk, I've missed so many streams. Point is, you don't just have capitalism in Minecraft, you have to pursue it.

Anyway, this is why there's nothing inherently non-anarchist or right-wing about the Syndicate members being rich. None of them got their wealth through exploitation, they were all either gifted it (in Niki's case) or they worked for it. None of this is what anarchists oppose, actually. It IS pretty damn unusual for rich people to be anarchists, because it's pretty hard to get rich while adhering to anarchist values in real life (because we're not living in Minecraft) but it's not inherently hypocritical.

Also fixating on personal wealth over systemic problems is a distraction and actively harmful for the cause.

(disclaimer: I'm really not a theory guy, I don't have formal education on this stuff and I haven't done much reading either, this is just very basic shit that I've picked up through leftist osmosis and like podcasts and youtube videos)

TL;DR: just read the definitions of "working class" and "owning class" towards the beginning of the post, that was my main point anyway.

[aetheternity]

Can I have your number?

Synopsis: Armin’s always being asked by shy pretty girls for Eren’s number at parties to the point where when you ask for his number he doesn’t know how to respond. (Italicized words are Armin’s thoughts.)

“Why me?” Armin shrugs his cotton blue hoodie off his shoulders. Fingers grazing over the zipper in earnest contemplation. “Why don’t they ever just go right to him?” 

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Armin.” Connie begins, finger tracing over the rim of his partially empty glass. “Well actually I’m not. You’re the approachable friend because Eren is so tall and sexy; and you’re puppy cute.” 

“Puppy cute.” Armin spits, eyes uncharacteristically narrowing. 

Sasha plucks the glass from Connie’s hand, “That’s enough outta you.” She huffs pulling the drink far from Connie’s reach. “Sorry Armin, it’s just cause he’s drunk.” 

“But he isn’t wrong.” He replies, Sasha sighs transitioning Connie’s glass to her free hand. She tilts her head apologetically. “He isn’t wrong.” Armin repeats, rolling his eyes. 

Just as he reaches for the glass he can’t stop nursing tonight; a tap on his shoulder stops him. “Hey um..” The girl in front of him is the same as the rest. Gorgeous. Small build fitted out in a white crop top and blue skirt like she was meant to perfectly match with Armin. Her hair was short barely making it to the nape of her neck. She shifted her weight back and forth as she looked up at Armin with pinked cheeks. 

“I really hate to bother you with this..” Then don’t. “Uh..” She steps back so Armin can look out at all the loud party goers and their raucous chatter. “You’re friends with him right?” 

Through the sea of people she manages to point right at Jean. His black vest over a brown tee shirt surprisingly easy to pinpoint as he chatted away with a couple of other guys. His black fingers nails lightly tapping the edges of his glass as he laughed away without a care in the world. Loose hairs of his mullet pulled back with two black hair pins while the rest of his hair was perfectly gelled. 

“Yeah.” Armin replied with a small roll of his eyes. 

“Do you think maybe.. I can have his number?” 

Armin suppresses the urge to snort. “Do you have a pen?” He asks

Sasha ends up being the one that hands one to him and he quickly scribbles Jean’s number onto a piece of paper. He hands it over and she responds with a quick, ‘thank you’ taking her leave as quickly as possible. 

“Woah.. Forgot how bitchy you can be when you’ve had a few.” Sasha giggles though unlike the girl from before Armin’s glare does nothing to sway her. 

“Did I forget to mention sometimes Jean’s girls come to me too?” He sighed

Connie had managed to grab a new glass while Sasha had fallen distracted. He lifted a bottle of vodka over the edge of the counter top, sloppily pouring a bit of it over his hand and onto the table before properly settling into an easy rhythm. 

“No more! I’m serious Connie, you’ve had enough and you’re starting to get vulgar.” She snatched the glass just before he could drink from it, pushing it far away from his grasp. 

“You bitch I have not!” He argues, it takes a second for him to register from the wide eyed expressions surrounding him just how loud and crass he’d been. “Alright I’m sorry.. please take me home.” 

Sasha nods, slapping Connie’s back as she inches him off the stool and to his feet, “Hey I know you’re tired of taking messages tonight but could you maybe..”

“Tell Jean you’re taking Connie home? Sure why the fuck not?” 

Armin sighs wrapping his hand around his own glass before it’s snatched from his palm, “You’ve had enough to.” Sasha points “Don’t you dare have another sip tonight.” And with that she’s stumbling through the crowd with Connie’s arm perched over her shoulder. 

When Armin stands he almost knocks the chair over. I didn’t think I had that much.. He thinks. He yanks his hoodie from where it’s drooping through the empty back of the chair, pushing the furniture back up when it falls on him. And when he’s properly standing he takes a deep breath, staggering toward the direction the girl from before had pointed in. 

Despite how dirty it is and his knowledge of such he rests his pounding skull down on the table upon arrival. The cool wood soothing his overly warm skin. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jean asks as Armin exhales gingerly 

“Shut up.” He mutters 

‘Too much bourbon I see.” Jean replies 

Armin hates it. Hates this party. Hates the noise. Hates how Jean’s nails feel so good running through his sweaty blond hair. 

“Come on, talk to me.” 

“Girls think I’m the approachable friend.” Armin replies, standing up straight using the table in front of him for support. 

“Well yeah.” Jean nods “I know but that’s just cause they don’t understand how cute, nice and charming you actually are. Those girls are missing out going to Eren when the real heartthrob is right in front of them.” 

Armin snorts, “You need to stop drinking.” 

“I figured right after I called you cute.” Jean slides his glass away turning his attention back to Armin. “ But I wasn’t lying.” 

Armin shoots up, finger out towards Jean. “At least eight girls in the three hours we’ve been here have asked about Eren. Two asked about you.” 

“Do you know the names of my two?” 

“I think it was, I don’t know and the second was I don’t care.” 

“Ouch.” Jean pressed a finger to his lip, the black nail polish accented in the strobe lighting. He pressed his chin into his palm leaning in closer to Armin. “Have you ever considered changing your hair? Maybe growing it out or cutting it more?” 

“No I-” 

The terrible clatter of glasses shook Armin and Jean from their conversation. Three girls all of whom were laughing at nothing now standing in front of them. “Hey!” One greeted 

“Hello ladies.” Jean replied back while Armin gritted his teeth. 

The girl farthest away snorted, gesturing with her hands to the girl who had spoken up to begin with. “So my friends-” She quickly slapped the third girl on the back who instantly began giggling again. “I’m sorry.” 

Jean just nodded glancing at an unamused Armin. 

“You know him right?” The first girl tried immediately covering her mouth as though she’d said something completely foul. She pointed across the room at Eren who seemed completely unresponsive to a one sided conversation with a random girl. 

“Starting to wish I didn’t..” 

“Huh?!” Yelled the third girl 

“No, no..” The second girl began “It’s just cause these two like him.” The entire gaggle burst into loud giggles. All three of them pushing their hair away from their eyes and bouncing around like small children. 

When the agitating screeching died down the second girl added “We wanna see who he likes best.” She finished 

“Is he seeing anyone?” The first girl chimed in

“Not that I know of.” Armin answered 

“Do you have his number?” The third girl asked 

“I have it.” Jean responded before Armin could even create the sentence in his head. 

Jean promptly jotted the number down giving it to the first girl who didn’t hesitate in snatching it from his hand and heading off. The second girl behind her soon followed by the only one from the group that didn’t leave their manners at home. The third girl smiling with an appreciative farewell. 

Jean made a small noise in his throat, turning back to Armin with the nail of his thumb pressed under his teeth. “Maybe you should go home?.. You know what I’ll leave with you.” 

“Jean, no offense but I don’t want pity.” 

“When do you think Eren is gonna wanna leave?” 

“I don’t know.” He huffed “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.” 

He didn’t wait for Jean’s reply just grabbed his once discarded hoodie and headed through the mess of drunk partygoers towards the bathroom. He didn’t even need to actually use it. Just wanted to be out of sight of all the stupid drunk girls vying for Eren’s affections. Not even realizing that tissue has touched Eren longer than any of them will. 

The bathroom door was closed and maybe that was a good thing because it wasn’t extremely likely that Armin wouldn’t stay in there for a couple hours after the night he’s endured. He lets out a long exhale hunting around for his phone. Blond hair sticking up as he slumps against the wall. 

“Um hey.” Armin doesn’t even bother to look up. “Is someone in there?” 

“Yup.” He grunts 

Armin notes the slight shift in the person in front of him. He looks up completely unsurprised by the fleeting glance, the hands crossed behind their back and head bowed. 

“Ok.” The girl begins but by this point Armin’s attention is redirected to his phone  “My name is Y/N, I wanted to ask you if maybe I could have your number?” 

Armin blinks expression completely unchanged as she hands over her phone. He lets his eyes roll around in his head taking the device and robotically typing in Eren’s number in contacts. When he gives it back to her she lets out a little squeak of excitement. 

“I’ll call you!” She calls before running off 

Wait..  Gears turn like clockwork in his brain. Slowly but surely the situation dawns on him. His number???? Did a girl? Particularly one as cute as her ask for his number?? 

Granted he’d only seen her for a couple seconds but she was most certainly the most put together girl that had approached him tonight. Clothes neat and tidy. No flopping around like a fish out of water at any point during the conversation. Hair done in a ponytail that wasn’t begging for release from its confines. 

And he’d given her Eren’s number.. 

Shit! 

Safe to say Armin bolted. Back down the hall, leaping up to search over the crowding heads all around. Successfully getting weird stares but that was beyond his problems at the moment. Once he’d decided that she wasn’t anywhere around he sprinted through out the door and towards the stairs. 

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” He called, hearing the sound of footsteps. 

His heart collided with his ribcage, loud stomps ensuing as he sprinted around the bend at the bottom of the staircase. She was in his sights, her head turning and eyes making contact with his and just as soon his foot slipped. Body colliding with the first stair, then the second and so on till he’d successfully finished rolling down the entire flight. Slamming into the wall with a hard thud. 

“Oh my god Armin!” She settled onto her knees, reaching out for his face. Delicate palms brushing over his sore cheeks. “Are you ok? Never mind, stupid question, let me call an ambulance.” 

Blond lashes slowly fluttered close then open as she moved to pull her phone from her pocket. “Before you do.” Armin panted still working to catch his breath. “Can I give you my number? For real this time?”  

Ok so this is unedited because I think writers block is trying to take me and I’m trying my hardest to keep it at bay. I have like 5 things in the works at the moment so I really don’t need that.       

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

[ursaminortarot]

Pick-a-card Reading

I did another pick-a-card reading, this time focusing on love and romance. Also, if this is relevant to you or resonated with you at all, can you leave a comment with your astrological sign and which pile you picked? If you know your moon, rising, and venus, could you leave those as well? I have a theory I want to test.

The piles you can pick from are:

Pile 1: Hyena

Pile 2: Swan

Pile 3: Frog

Pile 4: Lion

Pile 5: Fire Ant

Pile 6: Black Egg

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1: Hyena

Wheel of Fortune, 5 of Wands, 3 of Swords reversed, Soulmates reversed, Wisdom Ace of Swords, 8 of Pentacles reversed, Father of Swords reversed, Co-create, Vision 10 of swords, 10 of Wands reversed, The Moon reversed, Go the Distance, Bond Knight of Wands reversed, 9 of Swords, The Sun reversed, Regenerate, Message Knight of Cups, 8 of Wands reversed, 6 of Swords reversed, Yin reversed, Achievement Bonus Cards: 3 of Pentacles reversed, 3 of Wands reversed, Death, 5 of Cups reversed, 6 of Swords

You haven’t had the best of luck with your past relationships. You’ve dealt with heartbreak and disappointment and that’s made you skeptical of love; and if you ever believed in soulmates, you don’t anymore. The positive to all this pain is that you’ve learned a lot about yourself and how to assert your boundaries. You’re the type of person to throw yourself into work as a distraction. Keeping yourself busy to avoid processing your emotions is something that can only work for so long. You need to focus less on work, it’s preventing you from doing the work you need to do in order to move on. You may even begin having dreams about your most recent relationship until this is done. Ending negative cycles can be a difficult and daunting task, but in this case it’s necessary. Otherwise you won’t find your peace. You are healing, it may not be progressing at the speed you want, but these things take time. You were meant to find this message: “there’s light at the end of the tunnel”. Healing isn’t linear, so don’t feel defeated after a hard day, week, month, or even a hard year. At this moment, you should focus on finding harmony within yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2: Swan

The Chariot, The Tower, Ace of Wands reversed, A leg Up, Poised, Death, Reflect 3 of Cups, Temperance reversed, The Chariot reversed, Co-create, Regeneration, Deceit 5 of Pentacles reversed, Page of Wands, Temperance reversed, Time to go, Protect Page of Wands, Two of Swords reversed, 9 of Pentacles, Why? reversed, Tick-tock reversed, Luck 4 of Cups reversed, Queen of Wands, 6 of Wands reversed, Breath, Come to the Edge, Terra, Vision

I get the feeling that you don’t have a type, or if you do it’s always changing. Sometimes you can be a little rash with love and this can get you in trouble. You’re the kind of person who will turn someone’s world upside down - and then you ghost them. You haven't always been this way. At one point you were in a serious relationship, and for some of you, possibly engaged or planning a family. This relationship didn’t end well, it was a very messy break up. I get the impression that you were likely cheated on. You end relationships so quickly, and sometimes harshly, because you would rather hurt the other person than risk being hurt again. You haven’t felt safe with a partner in a long time, but the problem here is that you don’t stick around long enough to develop the level of trust that you want to have within a relationship. What you need to do right now is spend time alone, dig deep, and really think about what it is that you want. Do you even want a relationship right now, or are you just looking to have fun? You’re not very grounded at the moment, this is a contributing factor to your restlessness. If you can, take some time to enjoy nature and find your center. If you’re the kind of person who likes to party, you’re being asked to slow down and pace yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3: Frog

[Before getting into the reading, I’m getting a distinct feeling from this pile. Either, you’ve never been in a relationship or you don’t have a lot of experience with them.]

The Moon reversed, Knight of Pentacles, The Hanged Man reversed, Building Blocks reversed, Balance The Empress, Queen of Swords reversed, Ace of Cups reversed, To Be Fair, Achievement 5 of Cups reversed, King of Wands reversed, 10 of Wands reversed, Milk and Honey, Simplicity 3 of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, The Tower reversed, Higher Power, Sol 2 of Cups, 6 of Pentacles, Daughter of Cups reversed, Never-ending story, Transformation Bonus Cards: 8 of Wands reversed, 7 of Wands reversed, Clean it up reversed

You’re very cautious or picky when it comes to relationships. There are a lot of fears present here, but we’ll handle them one at a time. There’s a fear of not finding stability or being trapped. You want everything to be fair and equal in a relationship, but this can make it difficult to ask for what you want or need. You don’t want to be too much, but you also don’t want to be giving more than you’re receiving. You hold yourself and other people to high standards, some might say that they’re impossible to meet. You know exactly what you want in a partner, and that makes you afraid of disappointment.  It’s not that you need to lower your standards, but you need to realize that it’ll be difficult to find someone who meets all of your expectations. If you don’t want to wait until that person crosses your path, or if you don’t even believe that they’re real, then you’re going to need to discern what standards are a necessity and which one’s are preferences that you can go without. People like being around you, because you have the ability to put them at ease. You built up this skill and put a lot of work into it. You have this need to make sure others feel safe when they're with you. You don’t want others to feel like they can’t be themselves around you, because you know how awful that can feel. You can connect with people on a deep level very easily. This is what’s frustrating for you, because if you can bond with people so easily then why haven’t you found your person? You are an extremely lonely person, but you need to accept that things will progress at their own pace and you need to get comfortable being alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 4: Lion

Queen of Swords, Queen of Pentacles reversed, 2 of Pentacles reversed, Soulmates reversed, Deceit The Fool, The Page of Cups, The Fool reversed, Poised, Breath, Sleep 10 of Cups, Six of Wands reversed, The Magician reversed, Here and Now, Cycle 3 of Pentacles, High Priestess, The Chariot reversed, Not for you, Exchanging Gifts, Bond The Hermit, Justice, Daughter of Wands reversed, Go the Distance, Wisdom Bonus Cards: Ace of Swords, Ace of Swords reversed

You’re a very strong and intelligent person, but you can be cold and calculating. You’re at odds with yourself because you want to be softer. You are a hopeless romantic at heart, but you can’t bring yourself to express it. You restrain that softer, more romantic side of yourself to save face. You don’t want to look stupid, but you also want to do all the sappy, silly lovey-dovey shit. You have a very creative side to you and you could use that as a way to explore your softer side. You don’t have to share your art with anyone, but it could help shift the way people perceive you. It could make it easier to express to people that there’s more to you than the cold front you’ve been putting up. Finding balance is key. You are analytical & calculating, but you’re also romantic & nurturing, and you need to find a way to exist as both, or you’re never going to get anywhere.

You should focus less on the future. You’re so worried about having this perfect fairytale ending, that you’re just getting in your own way.

You see the world in a very unique way and you don’t think you’ll meet someone who understands how you process and think about the world around you. You have a lot of conflicting feelings right now, and that’s okay, it’s human. You can’t be perfect all of the time.

 Also, you need to chill, you’re taking this way too seriously. Love, romance, and relationships are supposed to be fun. Go meditate in a forest or something, run away to the mountains, just find a way to relax. I can’t fully describe with words the extent of the uptight/tightly-wound energy I’m getting from you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 5: Fire Ant

7 of Cups reversed, 3 of Wands, Daughter of Swords, Truth be Told reversed, Simplicity The Empress, 10 of Wands reversed, 5 of Pentacles reversed, Observer reversed, Go the Distance, Deceit 2 of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Hanged Man, 9 of Swords reversed, Soulmates reversed, Fork in the Road, Healing Queen of Cups, King of Wands reversed, Ace of Swords reversed, Building Blocks reversed, Exchanging Gifts reversed, Balance   3 of Pentacles reversed, Queen of Wands reversed, Death, 8 of Pentacles, Poised reversed, Sol

You’re juggling a lot emotionally and I feel like you cope with these feelings through art. You are highly perceptive and you have a piercing gaze that can see through everybody’s bullshit. You value truth above anything else in relationships. You see so much that it makes it difficult for you to feel. It’s not that you don’t have feelings, it’s that you break everything down to the smallest detail and your feelings stop being feelings and become observations and data. You’ve become overly analytical and it’s getting in the way of potential relationships. I feel like you are this way because you saw something in someone once and you ignored it, and then you really wish you hadn’t. You thought that you had a future with someone who thought of themself as kind of a sacrificial lamb, so to speak. This person could not take accountability, everything was someone else's fault, and most of the time, they blamed you. Even though most of it was self-inflicted because they didn’t know how to say no and just went along with everyone and everything. Your view on relationships and love has been changed by this experience. The good news is that you’re starting to heal, but you’ll likely never see love the same way and you won’t be able to trust people as readily as you once did. You still believe in love and romance, for other people, but not for yourself. You don’t believe that you’ll ever be able to share that much of yourself with another person again. You have this ‘once was enough’ energy to you. If you want romance in the future, which I’m assuming you do because you’re reading this, you need to work on rebuilding the parts of yourself that got damaged by that relationship. Put yourself and your healing first and maybe, one day, you’ll be able to open yourself up to the prospect of romance again. Nothing’s impossible. This lack of confidence you have in yourself is starting to impact your professional life. You need to find yourself again, and that’s not going to be easy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 6: Black Egg

[This reading is all over the place. I can’t tell if that’s because I was tired after doing the other 5 readings or if it’s because you, the person who picked pile 6, are someone who has energy that bounces from one thing to another very quickly.]

Wheel Of Fortune, Ace of Pentacles, 4 of Wands reversed, 6 of Pentacles, Treasure Island reversed, Sol King of Wands reversed, 6 of Swords, Justice, Mother of Swords reversed, Chop Wood, Achievement 5 of Pentacles, The Hierophant reversed, 6 of pentacles reversed, Father of swords reversed, All that Glitters, Bond 3 of Swords reversed, 10 of Wands, Son of Wands reversed, Daughter of Swords, A Leg Up, Arcana The World reversed, Death reversed, Ace of Wands reversed, 2 of Wands reversed, Blessed reversed, Air

You’ve had a rocky love life up until this point. All you want is stability because that’s something that has been lacking in your life, you need a balance between the domestic side of a relationship and having the freedom to be able to go off and do whatever you want. You don’t want to be pinned down, and yet, you want to pin someone else down. You need to allow potential partners the freedom you’re asking for.

You’ve gotten some bad relationship advice in the past. Someone told you that you need to be something you're not, or at least pretend to be something you’re not. The problem with this kind of thinking is that once your partner discovers that you haven’t been entirely truthful with them, they're not gonna want to stick around. Because, you know, people don’t like being lied to. 

You’ve had your heart broken in past relationships because you felt like you couldn’t turn to your partner for help. They were someone that asked a lot of you, but wouldn’t reciprocate. 

You’re an intelligent, and perceptive person, but you’re also incredibly passionate and a little head-strong. So, sometimes you don’t think before you act and that’s been a point of tension in past relationships. You want to rush everything, but there are no shortcuts in love. You need to slow down or find someone who can match your energy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know that readings with 30ish cards take me about an hour to do, so why was I surprised that this took me 6 hours? 

I don’t know how much of my personality to let show throughout these kinds of readings. I don’t want them to be dry or too detached, but at the same time people probably just want to know what their piles have to say.

[The decks I used were the Modern Witch Tarot, the Wild Unknown tarot, the Earthbound Oracle, the Wisdom of the Oracle and the Wild Unknown Animal Spirit oracle.]

I feel like these were too specific to apply to a lot of people, but also not specific enough. So, if you want a more personalized reading check out my Etsy shop.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/UrsaMinorTarot

[jjacob]

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju​ the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES. 

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Just Us

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.

Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.

Words: 2732

Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.

“Don’t mind us,” You called to Henry from over your shoulder as you shed your coat and draped it on the hook. “This is James.”

Henry only grunted in response, not looking up from fixing his dinner; peanut butter about to be spread messily on a slice of wheat bread. You rolled your eyes, took James’s coat and led him over to the couch where he smiled sweetly when you invited him to sit and offered him a drink.

Entering the kitchen, you opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. “So?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you searched for the bottle opener in the junk drawer. Henry dropped the knife with a clang on the countertop, then turned to you and crossed his arms.

“So, you just thought this was fine,” He asked, his voice dripping with aggravated sarcasm as he shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Just whatever, no big deal?”

You chuckled at the weak argument you’d had at least three times before. You wouldn’t have given him the chance to say anything about your date at all if you knew he wasn’t going to hang on to it the entire night just to explode in the morning for bringing a stranger into his home. Your home too, you would often have to remind him. So, it was your mission to let him get the anger out early in the night. You’d be less likely to have to worry about it later and could focus your attention on the man sitting in your living room rather than Henry’s imminent frustration.

“Henry,” You sighed and took a sip of your beer. “As of right now, it’s just the continuation of an innocent date. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“As of right now?” Henry huffed deeply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that if it gets a little heated, I promise not to make out with him in front of you, but at this current time, you have little to worry about.”

He sucked in a long breath through his nostrils. “Ok, that’s—”

“And we won’t fuck on our couch. I’ll take him to my room so you don’t have to see anything scarring,” You teased with a wink.

“Ok, enough.”

“And we won’t be loud, I swear.”

“Enough!” He snapped. You quickly whipped your head around the corner to see if James heard, but he was still sitting there, playing with his fingernails as he patiently waited for you like the gentleman he was. When you looked back at Henry, he was practically quaking with anger. “Get that asshole out of my apartment.”

“Um, our apartment. And no thank you.” You smiled and cocked your head to the side as innocently as you could. “I’d like to be having sex tonight.”

“With him?” Henry pointed a long finger in your date’s general direction. The fury in his eyes could’ve stabbed James through the back of his head if the wall weren’t in the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N. Have some self-respect.”

Your playful smile instantly dropped, and if you weren’t leaning against the wall, you would’ve stumbled. Henry had said a lot of things before; Hurtful things, things that made you want to slap him, but something about this felt worse. Assuming you were devaluing yourself by wanting to have sex with a man who was sweet, and kind and generous, and million other lovely things men, other than Henry, have never been to you, was like a stab to the gut. Henry was your best friend; you were his. You supported his choices and dreams, and it seemed Henry did the same for you unless it came to this very particular subject. He hated every man you brought around, but bringing them around or getting involved with them did not make you a stupid girl who cannot take care of herself.

“Jesus Henry, stay in your lane, would you?” You said, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple with your free fingers. “I don’t need my best friend giving me shit. Why can’t I bring a guy here without you acting like a complete dick to him and me?”

He stepped closer until you had to look up to meet his glare. “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N. Figure it out,” he growled, then moved around you, but you grabbed his arm before he could escape yet again. Every time, he tried to escape. Every time, he stomped away from you like a grump as if you had some reason to be sorry or ashamed, and you weren’t having it any longer.

“We aren’t children, Henry. I’m not playing this game. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.”

He stared at you for a long beat, but then shook your hand off him and made his way down the hall, slamming the door to his room once he was inside.

 -----------------------------------------------------

James was better than most at kissing you, and you’d kissed your fair share. He knew what you wanted--how you liked things--without you needing to ask, and it was like its own little miracle. There was no fumbling around. His lips were firm and his arms around you were strong. He was confident in his touch on your skin as you straddled his lap, and all of it combined had you a moaning, whimpering mess.

“I wasn’t sure we would actually get to do this,” He said between kisses as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Why?” You lightly chuckled, your fingers skimming down to the little buttons holding his shirt together and easing one open. “I’m certainly having a good time.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am too, but Superman there looked like he wanted to kick my ass.”

Fucking Superman. That asshole had come out of his room at random, inconvenient times as you and James lightly pawed at one another throughout the movie, and you both could feel Henry’s eyes on you. After the look he gave you the first time he came into the living room, you stopped turning your heads his way when his heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood.

You made a low humming sound that had James’s cock twitching in his pants, and you moved your head down to peck your lips against his. “Don’t bother with him,” You whispered.

He leaned into the light scratching your nails were giving the side of his scalp, and with a groan, said, “If you say so, babydoll, I won’t give it a second thought.”

“Good.” You smiled, satisfied, then kissed him again but he pulled back barely a minute later.

“It’s just…the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a protective friend.” You snickered and ground your hips down on his a little harder to get him back on track.

He groaned as his fingers dug into your waist, but it didn’t distract him. “No, it’s not only that. It’s like…” His lips pursed trying to find the words. “He looks at you in a way that friends normally do not look at one another.”

“He’s got some weird attitude tonight, ok? It’s nothing.” Grabbing his cheeks, you forced him to look directly at you when you said, “Now keep kissing me before I get too impatient.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------

At two in the morning, you figured you were safe. You figured there would be a direct and easy path to the front door of your apartment as you let James out with a smile and a goodbye kiss and promises to text one another the next day, though you weren’t sure how much either of you really meant it. And you were right, there was an uninterrupted tiptoeing to the door. It was when you turned back for your bedroom that you realized the path had a roadblock.

Henry stood in front of you, the fumes nearly visibly wafting off him, with the harshest look he had ever directed at you taking over his entire face. It was a disservice to his handsome features and made your stomach twist uneasily.

“Is this for fucking real right now?” He growled so intensely it vibrated in your ears. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“Jesus, Henry, you scared me.”

“You actually slept with that guy?”

“Wh—”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Laughing half-heartedly, he ran one of his hands down his face, but that was all it took for the shock to wear off and for your annoyance to set in.

“Ok, I’m done with this. What is your goddamn problem?”

The two of you didn’t fight this way. Not for long anyway, and even so, this time was significantly worse than any other. Outbursts happened for the both of you, snapping, and words you wish you could take back, but Henry was still looking at you the way he had earlier in the night; like you were a reckless child he was losing respect for by the minute, and it broke your heart.

He stared at you as if expecting you to have an answer to your own question, but when you didn’t continue, he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I’m going to a hotel. I can’t be here right now.”

“What? Henry, why?”

His keys were in hand, his phone and wallet tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, when it finally registered to you that he wasn’t kidding. He was leaving so fast he didn’t care to take anything other than the necessities with him. That’s how much he wanted to get away from you, and you hated it. You never wanted to get away from him.

Light from the hall streamed through the doorway as you finally began to follow after him. You grabbed at his t-shirt when he wouldn’t respond to your repeating calling of his name, and he whipped around fast with a frown down at you. Your mouth kept opening and closing, unsure of what to say.

He sniffed once, thinned his lips, and removed your hand from his body, then as calmly as he had spoken all night, said, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

Then door was slammed behind him, jarring you and leaving you to soak the night in.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------

When he said those words to you, the six words that he would never be able to take back, the ones that irrevocably changed your friendship in the blink of an eye, everything inside of you began to tremble and vibrate and beat with such intensity you could almost feel the functions of your body. Your blood was pumping a hell of a lot faster and you heart was ready to burst.

Your brain, your skin, the nerves and veins under that skin; every bit of you was working overtime to help process what happened and keep you alert as you did so, and maybe it was all a little overkill, but he had said the one thing you never thought you’d hear.

I’m in fucking love with you.

It would repeat over and over in your head, bouncing around the walls of your skull as it tried to find a way to escape, but there was no use. You could never forget his confession, or the way he said it. There was something desperate about it, weak. There was exhaustion, as if he were tired of holding it back and had given up on even trying.

It was too much. You’d never dismiss it, and God, when he got his ass back home you wouldn’t let him brush it aside, but for now, it was too much.

You wanted sleep after sitting completely still for two hours, staring into space. So you carried your body to the closest room, his room, crawled into his bed, and tangled yourself within the sheets until you wouldn’t be able to unwrap yourself without effort you did not possess at such an ungodly hour. You were stuck, trapped, engulfed by him, just like you wanted to be. Then you took his king-sized pillow, massive like his body, and hugged it to your chest, tucking your face in it. It smelled like him, all musky and piney and perfect in a way that always made you dizzy when he would sit a little too close and drape a long arm around your shoulders as you watched tv or read a book.

And you cried yourself to sleep, wishing he was beside you.

 --------------------------------------------------------------

Henry came back in the morning, though he wasn’t sure how he gathered the courage. Maybe it was the fact that it was you. Just you, his best friend, his roommate. He loved you in more ways than one, and perhaps it was that knowledge that made him a little stronger.

He’d face you, and he’d do it with the intention of making everything clear. He was in love with you and it wasn’t going to change. He loved you as his friend; that wasn’t going to change either, and no way in hell was he going to lose you twice over.

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry unlocked the front door and eased his way inside. You weren’t around the sunlit soaked first floor of the apartment, and when he traipsed upstairs and nudged your door open, you weren’t there either. He wanted you tucked in your bed, not gone and probably terrified at the thought of seeing him, so running to James’s or Jake’s or Jason’s apartment to avoid him. That would be the perfect painful exclamation point on the disaster of his poor decision making.

Then he found you. Not missing, but snug in his bed, warming the mattress with your body as it dipped the slightest under your weight. Everything about the sight killed him and melted his heart simultaneously. There you were, laying peacefully angelic, right where he had wanted you for months. And it looked so beautifully natural.

Not even stopping to think, Henry inched his way to the other side of his bed, lifted the duvet and slid beneath it. He reached an arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss your forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of your neck. When you stirred, he leaned back to take in your face as your eyebrows scrunched and your lips parted in a yawn.

You didn’t open your eyes but rose a hand, placed it on his cheek, and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth. As the goosebumps spawned all over his body, he wasn’t even sure you were fully awake, but then you whispered, “It was always you, Henry. Always.”

Henry swallowed hard as your sleepy voice continued.

“I figured you weren’t an option, and I was doing my best working around that.”

After running a hand over your hair and tucking some behind your ear, Henry pressed a kiss to your lips. A short, soft one to see how you’d react. Then you opened your eyes slowly and met your Y/E/C with his blue.

“Do it again,” You said, and so he connected your lips a little firmer, tightening his hold on you, and rolling on his back until your body splayed over his.

You moaned when he caressed his tongue against yours after opening your mouth an inch. Your heart fluttered in your chest the stupid way dramatic, moony-eyed women often described it in novels. You thought it was a myth, the idea that anyone could make you feel so loved just from a kiss, and you’d lost hope for that kind of thing long ago. But Henry ripped your pessimism to shreds in a matter of minutes.

“I want you to be mine,” he mumbled against your lips. “Just mine.”

“Then I’m yours,” You said without hesitation, tilting your head back enough to look in his eyes. You nudged your nose against his. “Just yours.”

---

Tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz​ @jazzwoman897​ @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @lowkeysebby​ @stringgeek13​ @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven @harrysthiccthighss​ @agniavateira​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @tumblnewby @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @amberlokabrenna​