#idk it’s just so exhausting to see this rhetoric everywhere

[alias-copper]

I’m gonna be so real. I don’t see any problems ai generative text/images/etc could solve in a workplace that wouldn’t be as equally solvable by slowing down and paying people more. I mean they’re not gonna do that. but it’s true.

[theoculus124]

My seventh rant of a he/they day

I'm really pissed off at the amount of anti LGBT stuff there is rn. With people boycotting brands like Nike for showing LGBT support to hearing US politicians saying we need to 'eradicate transgenderism' (I think that's the quote but idk exactly I'm too exhausted to find the exact thing) to UK prime minister trying to take trans people out of the equality act AND trying to pass a bill to make teachers legally obliged to disclose student's gender identities to parents (which could put students in danger)... It just feels like everywhere u turn there's homophobia/transphobia etc and I know I shouldn't internalise it but it's so hard not too. It just adds to the deteriorating mental health I (and other LGBT teens) already have.

FYI my parents are catholic and at one point they sent me to a catholic camp which was the same homophobic/transphobic bullshit u'll see in the news but in real life. Honestly catholic camp is as horrible as it sounds and the fact that sometimes the media is becoming another version of it is actual hell.

I'm scared this constant anti LGBT rhetoric because rn I haven't really transitioned except for some of my irl friends knowing my new name. I've always hoped to transition once I'm 18 but now Idek if I'll be able to do that seeing where politics is going.

It's just so draining and frustrating how people don't understand how it isn't LGBT influencers/community that is ruining people's mental health but the transphobes and homophobes who constantly work to tear us down and remove our rights to just do what we want that doesn't fucking affect anyone else.

I'm sorry this is a LONG rant but Idk I'm getting frustrated considering the fact that I am unfortunately surrounded by homophobia irl I thought I could escape it while I'm online but ofc not which is why all of this is so overwhelming; the few companies who support us are being boycotted and its genuinely makes me scream.

Have a good day :)

[youngster-monster]

Thing is, Robert may treat him like garbage, but it’s not like he deserves better. Cassidy knows what he’s worth, and it’s not a nice dinner date on the beach. Robert settling for him is the best he’ll ever do.

(The only man who ever thought he was worth anything more than a quick fuck died, and not a day passes without him thinking Amanda would better off if it had been the other way around.)

So he follows him home once, twice, thrice and doesn’t think about the way the air feels colder at five a.m when you’re still trying to put your shirt on and definitely not running away. He sneaks home with bites on his collarbones and scratch marks down his back like a teenager who’s been mauled by a rabid wolf and went back for more, and tells himself this too shall pass like his therapist told him to, back when he was still seeing one.

He keeps the window open to remind himself it’s colder outside than it is inside.

His daughter is happy and going to a great college and the man who fucked him against a wall last night won’t even look him in the eyes when he calls their stupid thing off because Cassidy got too attached again.

Saying that he has conflicting feelings about this party would be an understatement.

But Cassidy is a father and he might not be all that great at it but he always does his best, so he smiles and smiles and plays with the lighter in his pocket with restless fingers.

They’re lively and loud: it helps, somewhat, to see Craig’s familiar grin and Mat’s flower crown, to hear Joseph’s calm voice in the chaos of his mind. They’re all terribly nice and it hurts ever so slightly each time he catches a glimpse of Robert in the corner of his eye, but he’s fine. He’s having fun, to a point.

It feels like he’s been holding his breath forever but it’s not what makes his chest burns and his eyes water. He feels sluggish, trapped, like he’s underwater and he can’t breach the surface.

The only way is down, now.

Craig is the last to leave, and he does so with a worried glance in his direction that he waves away, cheerful and terrified. Craid knew him in college, during the darkest period of his life, and that’s the look he always got whenever Cassidy did something so stupid even Kegstand Craig disapproved of it.

 After his departure, there’s nothing and no one left but Cassidy and Amanda and the setting sun bleeding gold all over the city.

“Ugh, cleaning.”

Old habits die hard and come back to life quicker than he expected. He says, “That’s a problem for tomorrow us,” and drags himself inside.

“That’s irresponsible,” Amanda grins. “I like it. Tomorrow me won’t, though.”

“Who cares.” Not a question. Cassidy ‘Rhetoric’ McGregor: that’s him. Then, “Ice cream?”

“Hell yes.”

No one can say no to ice cream

It’s quiet now that they’re alone: there’s the distant sound of the city, away from their suburban center, and birds chirping out of sight. Amanda is chattering about the party and the Emmas and college, all at once and too fast for him to hope to catch anything more than every other word so he just nods and hums at appropriate moments.

He doesn’t remember a single moment of that damn party.

--

Amanda gets up at 3 a.m for a glass of water. She almost missed him in the darkness, but the light of the streetlamps outside catches on his piercings for a second and she notices the mess that calls itself her father sprawled on their couch, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

“You alright, pops?”

He sounds a little choked up when he says, “I‘m fine, Manda. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t look away from the ceiling. A notification pops up on his phone with a ding, quickly followed by three more, and he flinches, but that’s the only movement he makes. He doesn’t move to check what it’s about, or to turn his phone off. He just— stares.

Amanda walks back to her room without another word.

--

[Robert - 3:12 a.m]

hey

hey cassidy

hey

wanna hang out

in my bed

naked

?

--

Cassidy holds it together until Amanda is off to college. It’s a good score. He’s a little proud of himself for that.

The first thing he does when he comes back from the 14-hours long trip is to grab the bottle of wine he bought for pasta night and forgot in the cupboard and drink straight from it. It’s pretty mild but he’s tired and sad and it’s the only alcohol in the house so it’ll do.

--

[Craig - 5:25 p.m]

Hey bro! Join me @ the gym tomorrow?

[Cassidy - 6 p.m]

No can do bro

I’m exhausted

Sorry

[Craig - 6:02 p.m]

Oh yeah I forgot

Amanda’s all settled?

[Cassidy - 6:02 p.m]

Yup

[Craig - 6:03 p.m]

K, rest well bro

--

[Mat - 4 p.m]

A small punk band I know is playing in town tonight

Wanna come?

[Cassidy - 4:02 p.m]

Idk

Might just stay home tonight

Thanks

--

After that, it only gets darker, and blurrier.

It’s easy to go back to old bad habits if you’ve never gave them up so much as you put them on hold. God, he’s always been a mess, kept together by sheer spite and the knowledge that he won’t ever forgive himself if he fucks up his daughter. She’s the only good thing he’s ever brought into this world.

He alternates between cigarettes and alcohol to keep things interesting. The former he burns himself on, sometimes accidentally and sometimes not. The later he knocks back like he’s running from something and it burns not quite so differently when it goes down.

He loses track at some point and wakes up on his floor or his couch or in a back alley somewhere he doesn’t know with a pounding headache and a few blurry memories of the night before. He gets blackouts more often than not: it’s better that way. He avoids Jim and Kim’s: it feels like running away but there’s no one to tell him that.

The nights he doesn’t feel like forgetting everything, he picks up fights.

One of those nights finds him in a back alley that feels vaguely familiar, like somewhere he passed out before, getting punched in the face by a guy a foot taller that might be an ex-con — but not for much longer if he keeps hitting like that.

Cassidy looks up and he’s grinning with blood in his hair from a nasty cut above his eyebrow, blood everywhere from his bleeding nose. He can only taste copper and cheap beer and smiling hurts from where the guy’s ring opened his lips but he feels more alive than ever.

His highest is always half an hour away from his lowest. By the end of the night he’ll probably look and feel like roadkill, but  right now he’s alright. He already can’t feel his fingers anymore and his ribs have taken it upon themselves to be felt twice as much as usual to compensate. One or two of them might be bruised, but if it’s the case he’s a little (a lot) too drunk to notice.

Then he must pass out for a second, because he blinks and suddenly he’s against a wall and someone’s talking instead of hitting.

“What the hell, Cassidy?”

“Oh, hey Robert.” He’s still grinning and it hurts like hell. His vision is swimming. He grins harder. “I can’t feel my face.”

“Yeah, getting beaten up in an alley tends to do that to you. What did you do?”

“Dunno. Asked for it.” He chuckles, then winces when that pulls on his bruises. Shit, he’s felt better back when he was going through withdrawal.

A hand cradles his jaw, tilts his head. He squints when a street light shines right into his eyes, watches everything go blurry and soft through his eyelashes. Well, the blurry part was already there before, but the softness is new. Like the fingers on his skin, prodding new bruises with an odd sort of not-quite-gentleness, leaving a trail of warmth in their path.

“You look like shit.”

“Y’should see the other guy.” That reminds him- “Where… where did he go, an’way?”

Robert jerks his head to the side. Cassidy can just make out someone lying prone on the ground, in a puddle of something indescribable. “He sure did a number on you before that though. Must have pissed him off something fierce.”

“Haha, yeah.” He sighs, lets his eyes close all the way. Robert’s hand lingers on his face, thumb pressed lightly against his cheekbone. Maybe it’ll stay right there if he doesn’t bring attention to it.

But Robert’s smart about those things. About getting too close, literally or not. He draws back and Cassidy holds on to his smile like a lifeline, because there’s being pathetic and there’s being desperate and he’s not about to remind Robert that right now he’s very much both of these.

“Come on. I have a first aid kit in my car.”

“Weren’t you g’na do- y’know. Alcohol?”

“Do alcohol. Right. But somehow I found a human wreck on my way, so-”

“Don’t be like that.” He opens his eyes, even though it feels like the most effort he’s ever done in his life, and waves his hand in a vague shooing manner. “Go on. Get. ‘m fine.”

An aggravated sigh, before Robert grabs his arm and throws it around his shoulders. He hoists Cassidy up and starts walking, dragging him more than he’s carrying him. Cassidy feels hot from the tips of his fingers to his left hip, every point of contact radiating warmth. It’s a nice change from the cold.

God, he’s so cold.

A door opens and then he’s all but dropped on a car seat, only avoiding hitting his head on the top of the door by going completely lax as soon as no one’s holding him up. He slumps against the side of the seat while Robert goes to rummage around the front seat.

“I’m g’nna get blood all over your shit,” he whines.

“Don’t remind me. I’ll fax you the cleaning bill.”

He giggles. “You don’t have a fax.”

Robert comes back with a box in his hands, opens it to reveal the promised first aid kit. “You don’t know that.”

True. But- “I don’t have a fax.”

“That I can believe. Hold still.”

He smiles and stays very still, doesn’t even wince at the sting of disinfectant on his cuts. He’s had worse, but it never feels pleasant, doesn’t it? Only gets easier to bear.

For some definition of it, anyway.

He watches Robert through heavy lidded eyes as he works silently, cleaning every new wound and slapping a band-aid on any that needs it. He prods one of them for a moment longer, a deep gash from a broken bottle he didn’t see coming quickly enough.

“You’re lucky this doesn’t need stitches, because I draw the line at driving you to the ER at two a.m.”

“I could’ve stit- stich- stitched it up m’self.” God, words are hard. The alcohol’s hitting harder now, like it was just waiting for the right moment to remind him of the shots he was doing before the itch got worse and he had to find something else to keep his hands busy.

Robert makes a dubious sound in the back of his throat. “Sure you could.”

“I swear!” He jerks back and rolls up his sleeve with clumsy fingers to reveal another wound. It’s a week old, still held closed with his own shitty stitches, running through old track marks his arm is a connect-the-dots game. “Look!”

Robert recoils, frowning down at him as he pushes his arm down. “That looks like it was done by a drunk rat on crack.”

He gives it a serious second of thought before nodding. “Kinda was,” he says, because Robert isn’t the first person to call him a rat and at this point the moniker is almost starting to sound affectionate. Even though thinking ‘Robert’ and ‘affectionate’ in the same sentence hurts him, a bit, in that ‘old bruise you can’t stop touching’ kind of way. “‘xcept for the crack thing, ‘cus I’m clean, baby. Did ya know I’m clean? Did I- I… did I tell ya? Clean as a fucking…. Baby out of the bath, man.”

There’s something in Robert’s eyes he doesn’t know what to make of, something weird and not really soft, but not like the hard edge when he told him they were done, either. Then it’s gone and he gets up, closes the first aid kit with a snap and throws it on the front seat.

“You smell like a distillery. That’s not what I’d call clean.”

Cassidy leans back until he’s lying down across the backseat, staring through the window at the street light that blurs through his eyelashes. “‘s not the same though.”

Robert makes a soft sound. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

A moment passes. Then he’s being dragged up again, his legs pushes all the way inside as Robert wrestles a seatbelt around him. He tries to help for a bit but his hands always seem to get in the way, as they always do, and in the end he just tries to remain still in his confusion while Robert does his thing.

“What’re y’doing?”

“Getting you home.” Robert gets behind the wheel and turns the car on. “I’m not letting you walk all the way back to your house in that state.”

Cassidy thinks about objecting. Then, he thinks about nicer things, like the feeling of Robert’s hand on his cheek, his hot breath on the back of his neck, his nails clawing down his spine, stumbling out of this car together and through the door, into the bedroom and on the bed. Then, when the emptiness in his chest threatens to swallow him, he chokes out a, “That’s v’ry nice of you.”

“Please don’t throw up in my car.”

He doesn’t. He stays very quiet and very still for the drive back, slumped against the window, struggling to stay awake. He doesn’t manage it though because he wakes up with a start when the door opens, almost falls out if not for the seatbelt.

Robert has to carry him inside — really carry him this time, because his legs gave up somewhere between the bar and his house. He almost leaves Cassidy on his front step and then decides against it, goes through his pockets for his keys before unlocking the door one handed.

He drops him on his couch, kind of rearranging his limbs so he’s lying on his side before he draws back. Cassidy’s too tired to protest, and the better part of him knows it wouldn’t go well, anyway. But he wants to all the same. Wants Robert to stay close and maybe brush his hair out of his face and tells him he’s gonna be okay, like Alex used to do when things got really bad.

Instead he tucks his face in his arms until he can’t see the empty space in his living room and mumbles, “Thanks.”

He’s asleep before he can feel the weight of the blanket dropping on him, or hear the sound of the door closing after Robert — softly, quietly, so as to not wake him.

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Find a way - Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Hey love, can you a write a Sirius x reader in which reder reader is best friends with James and Remus but with she is constntly fighting over ridiculous thing with Sirius and they dont really get along. AND one day J and R had enough and they lock them in small place (like a closet) until they clear things up and when they unlock them they're in front of a making up session between Sirius and the reader. I know it has a lot of details but yeahhh... Warnings: My English, language, idk sarcasm, a bit suggestive? Gif and image aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners. Word Count~1.7k MASTERLIST Pending Requests

 You didn’t really know why you would always fight with him over the most ridiculous things. You didn’t really know why he annoyed you as much as he did. You couldn’t stand each other. That was a bit of a problem, considering that you were both friends with James and Remus. It just meant that you had to tolerate him while he was around but he didn’t make it easy on you. On the contrary, he was trying extra hard to piss you off.I t was one thing to act all arrogant and it was another to display his hatred for you in front of everybody. You didn’t hate him; you didn’t particularly like him either but you didn’t hate him. He, however, seemed pretty clear about his feelings for you. He was always so moody and angry and… infuriated whenever you were around. And it kind of sucked. You were currently studying with Remus and James had tagged along-dragging, quite literally- Sirius with him. You had been explaining something that made all of them a bit confused. Until Sirius started humming a song and distracted you. He didn’t pay attention. Of course. Why did that even surprise you? You coughed to let him know that he was annoying and gave him a pointed look. “Me pretending to listen should be enough for you” he replied without even looking at you. You really wanted to hit him with a book. Or a table. Whatever. “You know you will be the only one who would survive the Apocalypse. Zombies eat brains. You’ll be safe” you retorted as you went back to reading and writing down some notes. James snorted and Remus chuckled, things that only made him more… extra. “If you wrote down every single thought you ever had you would get an award for the shortest story ever” he said overly sweet and you felt like you could throw up. On him. You just forced a smile and looked at him with a cold expression. “I’m smiling at you…that alone should scare you enough to make you shut up” you raised your voice a bit because he was exasperating. “Do you know who I am?” he asked all defensively and his voice was betraying him- he was a bit angry. But guess what? So were you. “Why? Have you forgotten?” you asked him in return and gained yourself a death glare. Well, it was worth it. He was fuming. Why were you fighting again? “Do you want a piece of my mind?!” he exclaimed and Madam Pince came rushing over to your table. You knew you were about to be thrown out of the Library any time soon. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take the last piece” you used sarcasm as your way out. But it only made things worse. “Great, guys. Thanks a lot” Remus scolded you and you felt terrible. He, on the other hand, didn’t. Or at least he didn’t show it.

“You are being ridiculous Black. Give it back” you yelled at him. You wanted your book back. It was your favorite Muggle book and he had taken it. He was just looking at you with a devilish smirk. You looked around the common room. It was only the guys and you. You had agreed to help James with Lily and Remus needed a good laugh. Sirius… well, he was Sirius. He stood up, causing Remus to give him a pointed look but he ignored it and threw the book into the flames of the fireplace. You screamed in agony. “Are you insane?!” you shrieked at him as you ran to the fireplace, trying to save the poor book. Even James, who usually sided with Sirius, was taken aback. Remus smacked his head, hard as you were practically burning your hands. It was the only thing that you had left of your family. But of course, he didn’t care. James tried to move you but he gave up as you began to cry. You ran out of the common room in a blur wishing for things to be different. ___ “What the fucking hell?” he roared once he saw his things kind of… destroyed. Everything in the dorm was intact except his side. It was a big mess. Things thrown everywhere, ripped shirts, broken stuff, burned books. He thought he knew who had done this but he was wrong. He stormed out of the dorm and almost collided with you in the middle of a corridor as he was trying to find you. “What gave you the right to destroy my things?” he said almost threatening. You furrowed your eyebrows. You hadn’t done anything. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I am simply ignoring you. Now, if you’ll excuse me” you answered him coldly. But before he could say anything else, both of you were pushed towards your left into… a broom closet? Really?! And the door was slammed closed. “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” you screamed and punched the door. “No. You are not getting out of there if you don’t make peace with each other” Remus’ voice was heard. Bloody hell. Those fucking idiots. “Cut the crap Lupin” Sirius said in a very dark tone. For once, you agreed. “No, Black. It’s getting very annoying. Clear things up and then you’ll get out”. That was James. So much for helping him and him being grateful. You huffed. “Screw you Potter” you whispered under your breath. When all you could hear was silence, you took a step back, your back hitting the wall. Great. It was tiny. They were so dead. “You know this is your fault” he accused you a moment later. You were startled. It was pitch black but somehow his eyes were sparkling with anger and something else. “You’re one insult away from starting a war” you commented dryly. That little shit. He laughed ironically. “If you hadn’t destroyed my things” he started but you cut him off. “I told you. I have no idea what happened. But maybe you should consider who else you pissed off before accusing me. Any girl in particular?” you were so close to each other, you suddenly realized. Oh, no. He was about to fire something back but he remembered. Yes, it had been another girl. “Oh. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re annoying as hell or that-” “Do you ever shut up? Merlin, you’re trouble” you asked him rhetorically, rolling your eyes. “You look cute when you’re angry”. What? What? What just happened? You felt red staining your cheeks. You dropped all your walls. You had enough. “I can’t keep doing this, Sirius. I’m tired of us fighting all the time. I am done” you finally told him. Your voice held all the exhaustion and all the sadness and disappointment you felt. He felt his heart dropped to the floor. Yours had fallen a long time ago. Fallen in love with him. It was such a cliché story. You hated him, he hated you. You had fallen in love and had tried to pretend that you hated him still. But something wasn’t exactly the way it was supposed to be. “I’m sorry about your book. Remus told me” he stated hesitantly. Did he just apologize? You weren’t prepared for that. His voice was sincere, honest. “Make me feel something other than anger or disappointment. Anything” you informed him, pleading him to just let you go. This was too painful for you. You couldn’t pretend anymore. You were sick and tired of it. “Isn’t it so painfully obvious that I’m crushing on you?”. … Your eyebrows were furrowed in an attempt to recognize any signs of irony or sarcasm. But there was nothing but those naked words. And suddenly you felt so exposed and hyped. “Right now, I don’t know if I should kiss you or bang your head against the wall” you huffed. How many more fights and how many more broken hearts was he going to waste? He chuckled and heaven felt closer than ever. You could make out his soft smile and his lovely grey eyes fixed on you. “You gotta stop doing that” he said as he took a step closer. Oh, no. “What?” you asked breathlessly. His scent was all over the place. He was all over the place. Intoxicating you in the best possible way. “Saying things that make me wanna kiss you. And if I kiss you, I don’t know if I would be able to stop”. He was dangerously close. His one hand found your cheek and cupped your face while his other hand held a strong grip onto your hip. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin. Okay, breathe. Just breathe. But how could you be okay when all you could see, smell, touch, sense was him? “Sirius…” you slightly warned him. How could you do this? He had thought of it before. In his wildest dreams, you were his. “We’ll find a way” he breathed out and you almost melted under his words and his touch. Your fingertips were exploring his toned torso, over his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it but your hands were shaking, so you just gave up and reached for his hair, fingers getting lost in his dark locks. His lips were finally on yours. It was a hungry kiss. It was almost desperate, frantic, erratic, wild. Maybe because you had both suppressed those feelings you held for each other. His lips were hot and you gladly opened your mouth, wanting more. Wanting all of him. He explored your mouth eagerly. He tasted of cigarettes and sugar. You were too drunk off of him to care about how fast things were escalating. Your hands had finally ripped his shirt off. You would be cocky too if you had a body like that. His hands squeezed your bum as he wrapped your legs around his waist and slammed you against the wall. His lips were on your neck and your hands everywhere on his upper body, as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, mimicking his actions. He found your sweet spot making you let out a low moan. His hands moved underneath your shirt and he - “Okay! Show’s over” James sort of yelled. That was anticlimactic. Sirius, though, didn’t let you go. “Shame. You know, she has an amazing mouth. All those possibilities…” he trailed off. You blushed even more but you did answer to him. “You’ll be using your mouth as well, love” you whispered seductively. He gave your thigh a squeeze as he smirked “I was counting on it”. 

tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @sirius-black-deserved-better