#which i might be able to accomplish if i hustle

[direwombat]

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (tysm~!)

tagging @trench-rot, @cassietrn, @strangefable, @voidika, @madparadoxum, @adelaidedrubman, @aceghosts, @josephslittledeputy, @inafieldofdaisies, @g0dspeeed, @simplegenius042, @miyabilicious, @strafethesesinners, @confidentandgood, @jillvalentinesday, @poetikat, and anyone else with something to share! (to be added/removed from the taglist, please like/unlike this post here!)

once again i am bringing you some werewolf au, first a bit of syb just trying so hard to do her job, and another snippet from jacob's pov of him continuing to be a violent and possessive creep <3 (also just for context, at the start of the first snippet, they're talking about renovations being done to st francis.

“Quite the project you’ve got goin’ here,” she remarks. “How long’ve’ya been workin’ on the place?”

“Couple months,” he answers, but doesn’t offer anything further. 

Jesus, this is gonna be like pullin’ teeth, ain’t it? So, she tries again. “Y’all’ve worked fast,” she hums, pointedly admiring the work done and emphasizing her awe -- give his ego a little stroke. “Good craftsmanship too, by the look of it. Think you’ll finish it all before winter?”

He tilts his chin up, puffing his chest out -- preening ever so slightly at her words. Yeah, that’s what I thought, she thinks. 

“That’s the goal,” he nods. 

But, once again, he doesn’t volunteer any more information. So, she presses once more. “What’re ya gonna do with it once it’s done?”

He pulls to an abrupt stop outside a set of french doors and gives her a stern look and folds his arms over his chest. “Is this pertinent to your investigation, Deputy?”

She blinks, taken a bit back. “Well, no --” 

“Then I’m not obligated to answer that.” He grasps the door’s handle, pushes it open, and steps inside. 

Sybille narrows her eyes, focusing on the point on his back where his shoulder blades meet. “You realize that makes you sound suspicious,” she says evenly, and she follows him into a large office. The walls are covered in renovation plans -- blueprints, schematics, and various paint swatches cover every last inch. Even more documents and plans lay scattered across the desk, and tucked away in the corner is a small cot. The bed has been made, the corners of the worn green blanket are tucked neatly at the corners. Army regulation.

Wonder if he slept here last night?

“And you realize you can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says shortly. “Private property is private property, Deputy. What we do here is our business.” He strides over to the desk and fishes a ring of keys out from one of the top drawers. “Now, if you have any questions that are actually relevant to your investigation, I’d be happy to answer them. You and I both have more important things to do than engage in chit-chat.”Giving the bulk of the keys a little flip around where his finger is hooked through the ring, he walks back over to her and gestures to the door. “After you.” 

Were she a smaller or less hardened woman, she might have been cowed by how he towers over her. There are some people who intimidate as easily as they breathe, and it’s become clear to her that Jacob Seed is just That Kind of man. Even his “after you,” a phrase and gesture that’s so becoming of a Southern Gentleman from Georgia, hides within it a direct order. A command she is expected to obey, lest she break the social parlance.

It’s not a fight worth having, so she nods and shuffles out of the office. The door clicks shut behind the two of them, and they begin walking back towards the courtyard. 

“So,” she tries again, once again falling in step beside him, “how late were you here last night?”

“All night,” he grunts. 

So, he did sleep here last night. “Anyone else with you?” To confirm your alibi? She doesn’t say. 

“No.” 

“You hear anything strange last night?” 

“No,” he repeats. 

She frowns. “What about any wolves howlin’?” 

He glances down at her from the corner of his eye and snorts. “This is wolf country, Deputy. I hear wolves around here nightly. It’d be strange if I didn’t hear them howling.”

“How about screamin’? Or gunshots goin’ off?”

“Do you know what a mountain lion sounds like, Deputy?” Jacob asks. 

“Pardon?”

“If you don’t know what you’re hearing, the call of a mountain lion sounds a lot like a human scream. Most accounts of people claiming a forest is haunted because they heard shrieking, are just people hearing mountain lions,” he explains dismissively. 

“Fascinating,” she answers flatly. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” 

He sighs heavily, as if frustrated that his half-assed question for an answer wasn’t satisfactory to her. “No, Deputy. I didn’t hear any screaming or gunshots last night.” 

and a bonus jakey pov of him continuing to be creepy <;e3

As tempted as he is to give the Deputy the run around -- to see just how fast and far she’d run to catch him -- she doesn’t give him the option to. Her cruiser’s front bumper never strays more than a few feet of his own back one, making it explicitly clear that she isn’t just going to let him take off with the beast currently held on the bed of his truck. 

Besides, after smelling the shift in her scent when he picked the Feral up and carried it to his truck, he decided that playing nice, at least for the time being, would give him what he wants. The quickening of her pulse and the sweet, albeit suppressed smell of her arousal at his display of strength told him everything he needed to know. She’ll deny it -- loyal women like her always will -- but there’s a part of her that’s drawn to him. 

She likes that he’s strong. 

Picking up a dead body is nothing, his Wolf salivates. Let her see what we could do to Eli. Show her how strong we really are.

His grip around the steering wheel tightens until his knuckles turn white and he glances at his rear-view mirror. She’s driving with one hand on the wheel while her other arm is draped through her open window, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Do it, the Wolf urges. We know where he lives. We can end this little problem right now. His fingers move of their own accord and he barely catches himself before subconsciously flipping his signal to turn back north. 

No, he barks back. She’s human and has human sensibilities. She wouldn’t react to the normal mating rituals the same way a fellow werewolf would. He needs to be patient. Careful. If he’s going to pursue her, he has to treat it more akin to a hunt, rather than a courtship. He needs to lure her out; get her to trust him so that when she gets injured or frightened she comes running to him rather than Eli -- he needs to prove to her that he can protect and provide for her. 

It isn’t enough to force her to be his. He needs her to choose him over Eli. Her submission to him needs to be voluntary. That way, when he finally does destroy the Hunter, he’ll do it in every way conceivable. He’ll break his spirit first, then his body. Maybe he’ll claim her in front of him. Just to see the betrayed look in his eyes when Jacob kills the love he thought he had. Just to make him hear how his dear, sweet Deputy howls like a bitch in heat, begging him to bury his knot inside her cunt and fill her with his pups.

Eli Palmer will die a humiliated and broken man.

His Wolf makes a low, pleased growl and is placated by the thought. Fine. The sheep suit can stay on, for now.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels

genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au

word count: 7.7k

summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.

warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking

a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!

**dividers by @saradika

You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.

And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around. 

There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.

Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing. 

Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.

You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.

“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.” 

As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.

Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.

With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.” 

Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.” 

Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—

But then you’re slipping. 

And then falling. 

With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle. 

Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts. 

“Need any help there, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Busted. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.” 

“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?” 

“Rude.” 

His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?” 

“Yes actually, it would.” 

Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear. 

“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?” 

“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.” 

“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.” 

“What?” 

“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.” 

With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.

With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder. 

His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs. 

“You a’right?” 

“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.” 

“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest. 

“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?” 

You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out. 

“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?” 

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.” 

Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.” 

“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.” 

“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.” 

Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare. 

“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?” 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching. 

“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.” 

Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.” 

“It’s your name isn’t it?” 

“It ain’t and you know it.” 

“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?” 

You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile. 

He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.” 

They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted. 

When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you. 

“You slipped, darlin’, really?” 

“In my defense, it was early.” 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.” 

“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot. 

Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder. 

“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.” 

“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.” 

“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.” 

With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.

"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"

He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?” 

“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn’t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.” 

“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.” 

Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?” 

“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.” 

His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?” 

“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.” 

With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.

“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.

“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”

You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”

“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”

“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”

“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”

“Joel?”

Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”

You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.” 

“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.” 

“You never argue with me.” 

His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.

“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?” 

Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.” 

“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?” 

He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now. 

“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.” 

While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful. 

It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.” 

“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.” 

“You mean Sarah and Ellie?” 

“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?" 

He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."

Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"

A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."

"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"

Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."

"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it. 

Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."

With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.

With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease. 

A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”  

Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock. 

He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth. 

“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—” 

“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.” 

He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper. 

“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.” 

And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not. 

The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight. 

The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to. 

You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.

Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.” 

You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern. 

“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.” 

“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head. 

“Someone is sure of herself.” 

“Hell yeah, I am.” 

“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.” 

You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.

With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..

"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off. 

Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—

A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later. 

"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."

"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."

“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.” 

Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .” 

"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.” 

Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."

“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—” 

“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.” 

You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head. 

“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.” 

“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?” 

“He does.”

The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.  

After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little. 

You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s. 

“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.” 

“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .” 

“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see. 

“You want him to. . .  what exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.” 

“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”

Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?” 

“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.” 

“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his. 

When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.

“Now what was that for?” he asks.

“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.” 

It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe. 

Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin. 

All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him. 

The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze. 

“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave.  Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.” 

Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him. 

“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.” 

“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.” 

“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—” 

“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never. 

For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore. 

When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe. 

He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression. 

It really does feel magical. 

You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.  

You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you. 

“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue. 

A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap. 

“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .” 

Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”

“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you. 

His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time. 

When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples. 

“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?” 

Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”

“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples. 

“Good girl.” 

Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name. 

“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.” 

Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?” 

Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter. 

“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.” 

Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him. 

He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder. 

You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane. 

But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires. 

“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.” 

You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips. 

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.” 

He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.

“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else. 

You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat. 

The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin. 

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.” 

You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher. 

And finally the coil snaps. 

Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed. 

Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck. 

You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out. 

“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin. 

“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts. 

“Who says you have to walk away?” 

You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars. 

For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.  

[le-trash-prince]

long post, cw for some ableism

So I haven’t talked to my second brother about my autism because he and his wife give off the vibes of not having the greatest perspective on autism, and I just didn’t want to deal with it while I was figuring things out for myself. For instance, the first time my SIL got pregnant, they immediately moved away from New Jersey because they thought the water was making kids autistic. And my SIL has made comments in the past that give off autimommy vibes.

My brother is also really big on “growth mindset” and hustle culture etc and I do honestly feel like, even if he knows I’m autistic, he’s still going to want to push me to do certain things at work because I “shouldn’t be limiting myself.” Like I just felt that telling him either wouldn’t make a difference at all, or he would view it as me making excuses for myself, so was there any point in telling him? The “growth” I am working on is “how to exist without feeling miserable” not “how to be a better leader at work.”

But I’m reaching a breaking point with my burnout where I can’t deal with simple tasks that normally I would be able to accomplish, but I feel like I can’t set boundaries without explaining why I can’t respond to a particular email because words or why I can’t go socialize in the kitchen for 15 minutes right now.

And to my brother’s credit, he is aware that I’m going through a hard time, and he’s not completely insensitive to it, but he thinks its depression and that after months of it, I just need to be pushed out of my shell. But I’m not depressed, spending more time around people won’t fix me, and it will likely be a year before I really recover—longer if our work environment keeps being as unstable as it’s been.

Anyways he called me on my day off and asked me to respond to an email that literally anyone else could have responded to, and it completely threw off my entire day, and I had a breakdown afterwards and called my mom to ask if she could help me explain things to him.

I’m really grateful for my mom and how willing she is to support me. She said she would be with me when I talk to my brother, and while she thinks my brother should just be accepting and understanding because that’s how everyone should be, she validated my concerns that he might not be. Because he doesn’t always accept family for the way that they are. He’s judgmental about my oldest brother, and he acts like there’s one ideal way for everyone to live their lives, which is conveniently the way he lives his life.

My mom also told me that she had once talked to my pediatrician about me being autistic and to parents of other autistic kids, but was told that I didn’t fit the criteria because I had good grades (this was like circa 2000). Even tho I know a diagnosis at that point wouldn’t have made my life any better, it does feel very validating, and even if my brother doesn’t believe me or doesn’t care, I’m grateful that the rest of my immediate family has been very accepting and accommodating even when they don’t necessarily understand what I’m going through.

[iamanartichoke]

So I'm looking for Thor spoilers, as you do, and I ended up on the Marvel spoilers subreddit, where I found and read a few Christian Bale interviews. And, well, I'll take Takes I Wasn't Expecting From Christian Bale For $500, Alex.

Cut; I don't think this is spoilery, but idk what people are considering spoilers at this point, so just to be on the safe side. (Also for length, this got long. And mostly pointless.)

Article Link.

"There's an awful lot that I wish was in this film, which you can't have a four-hour long film because there's so much gold that's on the cutting room floor, hilarious stuff, and creepy as hell stuff, but that was perhaps pushing it to a realm where maybe it wouldn't have been able to be family friendly, which we always wanted it to be. But Taika's sensibility, the comedy, the tragedy, the ability to have the Taika-ness and the humor of that. But he's got great sincerity as well. He's a real artist. And so, man, it's moving. That is the bloody surprising thing with this film. It's a very moving film and then two seconds later, you're laughing your ass off."

Incidentally, Christian has nothing but complimentary things to say about the rest of the cast as well, and specifically made mention of how welcoming Chris was (which might be in a different interview than the one I linked).

But, yeah. I'm not really sure why this perfectly lovely take surprises me, except to say that maybe seeing someone of Christian's status, I guess? expressing such admiration and respect for Taika is unexpected to me? By "status," I don't mean to undermine anyone else's accomplishments, as I obviously recognize the credibility of the actors who've worked with and praised Taika in the past -

- but, for me, I just consider Christian to be on his own level. The types of projects he tends to choose, how absolutely talented he is, how clearly intellectual he is - I may be biased due to having been a fan for literally most of my life (since the early 90s! Fuck I'm old), but I just have a lot of respect for him and have (somewhat subconsciously) elevated him to a bit higher on the totem pole of admiration. Even higher than Tom.

This was going to be a sidenote, but it turned into its own paragraph: I love Tom. I do. I got on a plane for Tom. I didn't get on a bus when I lived in Boston and Christian was filming American Hustle two towns over. My regard for both of them is clearly very different, and I'm not really sure how to explain it. I don't think that either is better than the other, in terms of talent/skill, but I do think that Christian is the more accomplished, experienced actor. Which makes his compliments for Taika hold more weight for me than Tom's?

Which sounds bad, but all I mean is that Tom was, obviously, very much a part of the Thor universe, he was entrenched in the role by the time Ragnarok came around, he had relationships with all the cast, and I think being in that position would hinder one's objectivity not just for the role but for the movie/universe in general. And, while I appreciate very much that Tom never has a bad thing to say about anyone - well, at the same time, Tom never has a bad thing to say about anyone, so whether he truly enjoyed working with Taika, especially in that context, or if he was just being diplomatic when promoting the film is anyone's guess.

Contrastingly, Christian is brand new to the MCU, to Taika, Chris and the cast (mostly), and to the Thor universe in general. Coming in as a blank slate like that, again, combined with Christian's body of work and tendency to be straightforward with his feelings (he's always very polite and complimentary, but he's not nice the way Tom is? Again, I don't know how to explain the difference, except to say I've never felt like he gives "fluff" answers; he doesn't heap on the praise if it's unwarranted, either (in my observations, anyway) - would naturally, I imagine, give him a much more objective point of view about the experience, making his feedback feel more legit, in a "here's my unbiased yet professional opinion (and I know what I'm talking about)" kind of way.

(I don't think I'm words-ing very well but) the thing is, I've always been lukewarm about Taika, at best. I've said this ad nauseum, but despite being critical of it, I liked Ragnarok. But I liked it as its own separate film. I didn't like it as part of the Thor franchise; I didn't like it as an overall story bc I didn't think it was well-written, and there were a lot of "problematic" implications within said story. Others have criticized it more thoroughly, but I have certainly done my fair share. And I think I mostly still have those opinions.

But I was way, way more upset about Infinity War than I could have ever been about Ragnarok, so that softens it a bit, too. And, look, this doesn't apply to anyone I am currently still mutuals with, but it does apply to a lot of former mutuals - regarding Ragnarok, at the height of wankness there was a lot of meta being passed around and analyzed and whatnot that made it easy to sort of spiral down into an echo chamber, encouraged by people who, again, include former mutuals who seem to feed on the negativity, despite claiming otherwise ("we wanted to like it, honest; endlessly criticizing hurts us more than it hurts you," etc). And the way that this dynamic played out - and is still playing out - after the Loki series came out was extremely eye-opening (and disappointing) to me bc suddenly, people whose Ragnarok takes elicited "yasss" from me were suddenly (I felt) posting takes that not only did I (sometimes wildly) disagree with, but that were fueled by an element of vitriol that fed right into the negativity (and made me very uncomfortable).

That's neither here nor there at the moment, just context I guess, but my point is that while I mostly maintain that Ragnarok is fine/enjoyable as a standalone film but has issues (at best) as part of the Thor franchise, said opinion left me feeling very "meh" about Taika as a filmmaker. I never hated him as much as some other people did (I hate(d) the Russos and Infinity War a lot more, fuck those assholes) but I didn't really respect him, either. And despite being interested in Thor 4 and excited for Christian Bale, I'm not really approaching it with any expectations of being blown away by the film itself; I'm mostly assuming it's mediocre.

Which - all of this was just a really rambly way of saying, well shit, if Christian Bale's probably-objective opinion is such a glowing review, maybe I should re-assess how I view Taika as a filmmaker? Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this movie as "probably mediocre but it's Thor with Christian Bale so sign me the fuck up." Actually give it a fair chance. I mean, shit, I could still walk away from it saying, "Nah, my opinion hasn't changed, definitely mediocre," but at least it'd be a more genuine take, I suppose.

There is literally no point to this post, sorry. It's 1:30am and I'm having all kinds of feelings and I'm just Like This, okay?

Also, I just realized I didn't actually find any fucking spoilers.

[greveborg29]

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They even have the opportunity to meet their budgetary needs when their payday is far. When you switch the money, it’s gone and you've got little likelihood of getting it back. If you can not make a payment on time, you must contact your lenders and lending companions immediately and talk about tips on how to handle late funds. The cellphone number for pupil loans it usually on the contact web page of the college or university’s webpage. Lenders might attempt to contact customers through several official strategies, together with cellphone calls and also e-mails, to schedule remittance. BTW: a young man answered the phone, James was giving the 888 quantity to a different in the background and then took the telephone to speak with me?

[inanthesis]

anonymous : Zhongli, what are you going to do first when Childe comes back to Liyue next?

"I suppose that would depend on when Childe returns to Liyue. Director Hu often sends me out on errands, so it is always possible I may not be able to immediately see him until my duties are fulfilled, but as always I would accompany him to dinner or drinks so that we might have a chance to catch up. I quite enjoy hearing about his accomplishments or what trouble he's managed to stir up amongst the upper ranks of the Fatui." A common occurrence when the young man was quite the chaotic trouble magnet, but that was just one of the things Zhongli found quite endearing about him, enough so he'd let slip an amused chuckle at the thought.

Oh, if only there were a more reliable way to know just what Childe was up to at any given moment. Liyue Harbor was not without its hustle and bustle but Childe always brought with him a unique flair which made time spent at his side more enjoyable.

"As for anything else I may be inclined to do with him... well I believe I am allowed to keep that between us."

[productsreviewings]

Shane Heath is the founding father of Mud/Wtr, a beverage model he launched in 2018. Heath needs to keep away from perpetuating a startup tradition of hustle and as a substitute invests in worker well-being. He incorporates psychological and bodily wellness rituals into his routine and his firm tradition. loading One thing is loading Thanks for signing up! Entry your favourite subjects in a customized feed whilst you're on the go Obtain the app This so-called article relies on an interview with 35-year-old founder Shane Heath. mud/waterHe launched a beverage model 2018 After giving up espresso. The corporate sells espresso substitutes and different beverage powders which are made with natural components; Value of products in $20 and $40.At a time when many giant corporations are calling staff again to the workplace, Heath leads a 32-person distant group. Along with quarterly in-person conferences, his workers can select the place they work greatest, whether or not from residence or from the corporate's Santa Monica workplace. He additionally affords them services to handle their well being and relaxation. Mud/Wtr declined to offer its annual income, although a consultant mentioned the corporate bought 1.4 million items in 2023. Moreover, it was about 443,000 prospects Individuals who have bought a single product or subscription within the final 12 months. The corporate has booked greater than $16 million in income in 2020 and estimates it would attain $60 million subsequent yr, Inc. journal mentioned. The next has been edited for size and readability. My caffeine dependancy impressed me to create a modelAfter I graduated from school, I labored in expertise for six years. I used to be hooked on caffeine and was shocked that everybody round me was ingesting copious quantities of caffeine. After I made my very own drink to switch espresso, everybody requested me what I used to be ingesting. They have been experiencing nervousness and fear and needed to stop or cut back their caffeine consumption. It was the "aha" second for me. It wasn't a enterprise alternative, it was a chance to alter the tradition. In Might 2018, I ordered some jars and labels. I constructed the web site and model, beginning with the message, "I am not loopy about espresso, I am simply pissed off." I mentioned I had accomplished higher and began sharing that story.You'll be able to create a high-performing firm tradition with out following a rush mannequin Mud/Wtr workers attend a gathering on the firm workplace.

Mud/Wtr The push tradition was in all probability rooted in knowledge, but it surely wasn't a dash. I'm long run outcomes. The price of shedding an worker is extraordinarily excessive, so we make investments closely in our group and our advantages coverage, extra so than most startups. It appears costly on the floor, however so is maintaining a healthy diet: If you think about medical payments and never working at your peak degree, the true value of consuming unhealthy might be greater.I am not saying to swing the pendulum the opposite method. I believe stability is vital. Constructing an organization is a number of work. We're constructing our tradition and philosophy in a method that a skilled sports activities group can deal with their athletes. There will likely be occasions all year long if you're drained and you continue to have to point out up and compete on the highest degree, however in return for doing that, we'll deal with you.Our complete firm takes each Friday off. We give everybody an Aura Ring after they be part of the corporate. We join each worker with a physician to get blood work, cortisol exams and recommendation on what they need to do to enhance their weight loss program and sleep. After we rent a brand new worker, we welcome them to the corporate with a 45-minute breath-taking work expertise. Among the firm's strongest moments I can recall following that breathless ceremony. If you happen to deal with your group, hold them motivated, hold them sleeping properly, but in addition set difficult and bold objectives, you are going to hit these objectives increasingly over time.My each day routine features a chilly plunge and hyperbaric chamber Shane Heath takes a chilly plunge Mud/Wtr I take into account myself knowledgeable athlete. Through the years, I've had many rituals that assist me really feel higher and handle stress higher.All of it begins with sleep. I've been monitoring my sleep for the previous 5 years. I've an eight sleeper mattress that enables me to set the temperature. A chilly room helped so much. I normally go to mattress and get up on the identical time. After I get up, I train and observe it up with a sauna and chilly plunge, which I've at residence. The chilly plunge temperature is about 30 levels Fahrenheit. On the workplace, we've got a hyperbaric chamber, so after lunch, I'll go into the hyperbaric chamber for about 45 minutes. I do what I name non-sleep deep rest, which has similarities to a yoga nidra meditation follow. Then, earlier than mattress, I am going to do a mantra and a few breath work with my spouse. We just lately had a child, and that made it tougher however extra essential to have a routine.

[girlingseason]

this blog isn't like, SECRET secret or anything like I'll post my face if I feel like it and if someone I know stumbles across it who cares etc. but I haven't used insta or twitter since mid-2018 which has been absolutely a net positive in my life and overall beneficial to my artistic mind because the pressure to churn out a high volume of micro content at the cost of quality was poison to my mind. Especially as a girl trying to escape poverty, the hustle culture/meritocracy myth was far too alluring. Work hard, be consistent, above all be SEEN and youll make it. But i wasnt making shit I wanted to "make it" for. I couldnt give myself permission to slow down and surrender to my natural inclination for sculpture - not literal sculpture but it's an image I've carried with me for a long time in regards to my process. I am a slow, careful and detailed creator. The things i really want and need to make take TIME to reveal themselves as I chip away. years. so for that reason and many others, instagram didnt feel like a positive creative outlet for me anymore. The only negative is that i havent had really ANY outlet at all since then, and it has weirdly impacted my motivation. Its so weird tho like?? Instagram made me feel like i had to make too many little things, but without it the little things feel like kind of a waste of energy, and since the big things are taking so fucking long to come to fruition im not getting any sense of accomplishment, or FEELING like a person who makes things. Ive just started to feel the need for a place to put the little things I make on the road to the big things, so there is some witness or at least documentation to confirm that, yes, I am still an artist. I could have started posting on instagram again but I fucking hate the algorithm and ui now and furthermore I remembered the restriction I felt on there knowing there were family, ex friends and god knows who else I knew irl following me, plus feeling like I had to be a ~brand~ always polished and consistent. Tumblr feels fixed yet ephemeral at the same time. I barely expect my posts to even be seen, but it still feels like a solidifying act, just to put something out there. I remembered too what a sanctuary tumblr was for me back in the day. Albeit a radioactive one, but I've never had that level of freedom and semi-anonymity again on the internet. I've never been able to start from scratch and just be whoever I want to be. Or post a poem without worrying whether it's perfect or fits the image I want my artistic persona to have in the future. Or post a photo I took just because it's beautiful or evokes something within me, without worrying whether it's interrupting the aesthetic of a grid. Maybe even post some music !! I want a place to stretch my legs, share things just because I made them and someone might just like it, without a single thought towards gaining followers or earning money (as much as I'd love the money!!!!! I'm liberating my art from capitalism as much as humanly possible cos it's fucking miserable otherwise!!!!!!!!). cos that's the other thing, I've gotten SO out of practice at sharing!! I don't share ANYTHING I make with ANYONE anymore and it's killing my slowly. I don't create just to express something and move on, I create because I want to connect with people. I've got such bad fucking posting paralysis ESPECIALLY if it's anything I've made. So I'm hoping this will help me get over that. Maybe feeling a little too hopeful about this considering life truly fucking sucks right now but I do currently have a hunger for creation though I don't quite know how to direct it, I'll try my best to guide it somewhere good.

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 7

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After Chat learns Ladybug told Rena her identity, Plagg's solution is simple: tell someone he's Chat Noir so they're even! Duh.

Unbeknownst to the three wicked stooges, Paris’s favorite cat boy sat perched upon a rooftop adjacent to the mansion, ogling the interaction between his father, his trusted assistant, and his absolute least favorite person in the entire world.

Next to Hawk Moth, of course.

As they tittered and conspired in the darkness, Chat Noir narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing . . .

Shady.

“Claws in.”

Plagg whizzed out of the ring and looked up at his holder with sad kitten eyes. Adrien avoided making eye contact, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the intensity of his glare. He hugged his knees to his chest and picked at his shoelaces.

“That was pretty rough, kid.”

Adrien sniffled and roughly smeared away his tears with the back of his hand.

“I was hoping her explanation would make me feel better, Plagg.”

Adrien hugged his knees tighter.

“But it made me feel so much worse.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg crooned, shoulders drooping. He hesitated for only a second before flying to Adrien’s shoulder and nuzzling his holder’s neck.

“She doesn’t want to know me, Plagg. Am I really that bad?”

“Not at all. I already told you that no other Chat Noir could be you. I meant it. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had.”

Adrien’s sniffles quieted, but the tears persisted. He had no idea how to stop them now that they had started. With gut-wrenching envy, Adrien watched the person he hated most engage in chit-chat with his father as if it was the most casual occurrence. The man even went as far as sharing whatever was on his tablet, a feat Adrien had been trying to accomplish since before he could remember. His father always claimed to be private, unwilling to share any kind of imperfect designs with his own son.

But there Lila was. Conversing with his father more than he himself had in the past week.

And Ladybug had given her most sacred secret to Rena Rouge.

Was he invisible?

He felt so small.

Lost at sea.

A blip in the turbulent waters that no one knew was missing.

He was a boy overboard with no life raft. And no one knew to look for him.

His soul was cold and his heart felt numb.

“You know what?” chirped Plagg suddenly, snapping Adrien out of his spiral. “Ladybug is the new Guardian, right?”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. Where was he going with this?

“What’s her only rule?”

“We can’t know each other’s identities.”

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien’s eyes and flipped onto his back, making a show of nonchalance. If this was gonna work, Plagg had to make the kid think it was kind of his own idea. “Who can’t know each other’s identities?”

Adrien was unamused. To him, Plagg was beating a dead horse.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Plagg popped open one eye. He didn’t need to open both for Adrien to see the blatant impishness in them.

“So Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t know each other’s identities. What about . . . other people?”

The blonde ball of despair perked up, hair bouncing into his eyes, though they immediately narrowed at his Kwami’s scheming.

“But Master Fu--”

Plagg interjected, “--who isn’t the guardian anymore.”

Adrien blinked.

Kwamis, Plagg was so close to convincing his kid to be selfish for once. He just needed a push! A hefty, premeditated shove off the Fu-forsaken cliff!

“It’s like I’ve always said. Beg for forgiveness, not for permission.” Plagg folded his little paws across his chest, floating right up to Adrien’s nose. Adrien went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “Ladybug told Rena. So the question is: who’s Chat Noir going to tell?”

“It’s--” Adrien spluttered. “It’s risky, Plagg!”

“And so is being depressed,” Plagg snarled back, surprising Adrien. “Any other person gets minorly inconvenienced and akumatized, who saves them? You--” the Kwami jabbed a paw into Adrien’s nose “--and the bug. But you or Ladybug get akumatized, who saves you?”

Plagg saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s head. He briefly speculated who his kid might choose. Nino would be the obvious choice. He wasn’t as close to Kagami any more, but telling her the secret that had broken them apart would certainly be one hell of an apology. It could even, say, potentially repair what the secret had fractured.

There was also the off chance Adrien might choose Pigtails, who coincidentally doubled as Ladybug. Plagg would have to raid the Agreste kitchen for popcorn if that happened.

“If . . .” Adrien began.

Yes? Plagg internally coaxed.

“If I were to choose someone . . .”

Come on, Adrien.

“I think it would be . . . Nino.”

Yahtzee.

Plagg clapped his paws together over and over, rousing Adrien from his feet like a drill sergeant. “All right, then! Let’s go, let’s go! Hustle, bell boy. We’ve got places to be!”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a squishy triangle, letting loose the most intoxicating aroma Plagg ever did smell. It circled the pair and made Plagg salivate. “Don’t you want this first?”

Did I really forget about camembert? Plagg wondered incredulously.

“I--” Plagg scrambled for an excuse to atone for the touchy-feelies interfering with his one true love, but he came up short. “Of course I want that!”

Adrien smiled fondly at his Kwami and threw the camembert into the air. Not one to miss a beat, Plagg zipped and caught the cheese in his mouth, devouring the thing in one fell swoop.

“Now we can go!” said Plagg, belching remorselessly. Naturally.

Adrien chuckled. When he opened his mouth to say the transformation phrase, however, he faltered. Was he really going to do this? It . . . It felt disobedient, like he was betraying Ladybug. But could she really hold it against him, if she had needed to do the same?

Would his partner reveal herself to be a hypocrite?

The budding consequences of revealing himself to Nino weighed so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure how he would manage batoning into the air once transformed. The aptitude for disappointment just felt so tangible to him, as if it were physically chaining him to the rooftop, a meaty claw so solidly wound ’round his ankles it threatened to pierce his skin.

The thought that Nino might hate him for keeping the secret in the first place made home in Adrien’s cerebral cortex, further immobilizing him. It pulled up a chair and opened the morning newspaper like it was meant to be there, meant to remind him that not everything was just simple. Straightforward. Without fallout.

A tender paw touched his cheek, wiping away a runaway tear.

“Kid,” whispered Plagg. His eyes were misty.

Is that . . . because of me? Because he cares about me?

Holding his gaze a moment longer, Adrien uttered the words that once changed his life forever and seemed to be forever following him with new and improved ways to spice up his routine.

“Claws out.”

The energy washed over him like a cold shower, springing him into action. The need to move, to run, to fly nipped at his heels and before he knew it, he was vaulting to his best buddy’s.

If Adrien was honest, telling Marinette, his dearest friend, was his first instinct. He gripped that realization like it would fly away at a moment’s notice, at the slightest spook (he was on the precipice of truly understanding what his good friend Marinette really meant to him). But he had heard from Nino that Alya and Marinette were holed in for a “girls’ night,” so . . . Nino was the next best thing.

Nino was far from second place, however. Sharing the burden of his greatest secret with the guy who got mad at Gabriel Agreste on Adrien’s behalf was like a breath of fresh air. More than that, it was like Adrien would finally be able to steady his head above the tide.

(Telling Marinette would have been like sprouting gills and uncovering the mystery of the sea up close and personal, but Adrien didn’t want to unpack that particular conclusion yet.)

Wasting no time, Chat Noir landed nimbly on Nino’s apartment balcony and tucked his baton back into place. Giving himself just one more moment before life as he knew it was spun upside down--for better or for worse was yet to be determined--he raised a gloved claw to the sliding glass door and timidly knocked.

Nino’s balcony wasn’t decorated like Marinette’s. A few bikes of various sizes loitered against the railing, collecting dust. A few helmets hung limply from their handlebars, occasionally shifting to and fro in the passive wind. Chat could discern by the light-up training wheels which bike belonged to Nino’s little brother, Chris. The bike--which Chat realized must be new since his last visit--sported black spots against its red frame.

Chat shook his head fondly.

Someone obviously developed an appreciation for the bug after their last akumatization. But as the evening breeze softly twisted the helmet, the vision before him melted him into a puddle of endearment. Nino’s kid brother apparently also had a thing for Chat Noir.

The evidence?

A black helmet topped with an acid green paw print and two plastic cat ears to boot.

Un-fur-tunately, as much as the sight was incredibly thera-paw-tic, it also made his heart throb. His body ached for a larger family, from head to toe and down to his bones.

Adrien didn’t dream often in his sleep, but when he did . . . Oh, when he did, he was blessed with visions of him entering a cozy one-story home (his) and immediately being greeted by giggling and the blinding smiles of three faceless children (also his).

While his hopelessly romantic heart yearned for Ladybug to be his other half in that tender fantasy, lately his subconscious had a habit of inserting a particular blue-haired classmate. It baffled him at first, but he figured seeing her family photo that one time during Animan in addition to experiencing the Dupain-Chengs’ bolstering hospitality personally as both Adrien and Chat Noir made Marinette a safe space for his lonely imagination.

Whoever she married would be one lucky bastard, that was for sure.

The curtains behind the glass door swept dramatically to the side, revealing a bewildered Nino in Rena Rouge-themed pajamas.

“Chat Noir?!” he exclaimed. The glass between them muffled his voice.

A quick scan beyond Nino told Chat that his friend was home alone, but he knew he needed to be certain. “Are you home alone?”

Nino paled before realizing that a superhero asking that question wasn’t as bad as some random adult looking for an easy target. He exhaled, chuckling nervously. “My family went to the ice rink, but skating’s so not my jam.”

So he stayed behind. Good. This was gonna be a piece of cake! Adrien pointed at the door handle and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dude!”

Nino clambered to unlock the door and wrenched it open. The smell of broth and herbs hit Adrien square in the nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “What brings you here? An akuma?”

Stepping over the threshold, Chat tried to make sense of Nino’s question. Why would he come to a civilian if there was an akuma? “No, no akuma, Nino.”

“Oh, good, ’cause I-- Dude, how did you know where my room is?”

If Chat weren’t there to reveal his identity, he might have had a heart attack over accidentally bee-lining to Nino’s room like he’d been there before. He probably would have said something fishy like “In a house like this, it’s a given!” But he didn’t have to make up some ridiculous excuse. He wouldn’t ever have to lie to his best friend.

Never again.

“Because . . .”

Nino eyed Chat expectantly. His room was a mess. He really wasn’t expecting any visitors and his laptop was still open, his music and film ideas scrawled onto random pieces of notebook paper and scattered across his desk like a madman. Or an artist. Was there really a difference?

“Because . . .” Chat began once more.

Oh, gosh. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do the thing! He was alone at sea and no one from the boat had noticed him falling overboard. But maybe, just maybe Nino was the Coast Guard. Maybe Nino would throw him a buoy.

“Because claws in.”

Nino’s entire body went rigid. Crap, crap, crap!

“No, wait--!” Nino shouted, closing his eyes instinctually and reaching for Chat Noir. He had to pull him away from his laptop’s camera field! Had to get him out of sight! Why did he choose now to share Paris’s most coveted secret?!

But . . . he was too late.

The light had already dimmed behind his eyelids by the time his hands were closed around--

“Adrien?” Nino whispered, peering up at his best friend. The duckling he had sworn to protect and teach the ways of life was standing where Chat Noir should be.

Adrien smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a high-pitched laughter rang out and the joy he felt was quickly replaced with sheer terror.

Nino grinned sheepishly.

“Uh haha, you remember my girlfriend Alya who I sometimes Skype with while working on scripts?” Clumsily, Nino rubbed comforting circles into Adrien’s arms as if he could rub away the embarrassment.

“You said you were home alone.”

“Actually, I said my family went to the ice rink.”

Adrien’s eye twitched.

Plagg, who couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events, hovered off to the side and figured if he didn’t move, he could pretend he was invisible.

Sure enough, Adrien craned his head to find an unhinged Alya screeching like a fox (he had seen a video of them laughing once on YouTube; they were so adorable!) from Nino’s computer screen. Behind Alya was a familiar cork board of friends and, well, lots of himself. The walls were pink. She was at Marinette’s like Nino said she would be.

Adrien had expected gasps. Finger pointing. A million questions. What he hadn’t expected was Alya laughing like he was the butt of a joke.

After a good minute of cackling and awkward waiting from the boys, Alya sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she spoke, a dazed smile on her lips.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.” Her words were completely contrasted by the amusement in her voice.

Adrien tried not to faint.

-----

We're now caught up with AO3 here on Tumblr (AO3 is where I first started posting this). Yay! :D Also, was anyone expecting Rena to be there? 😌I wasn't. 😳 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(7/?) Previous | Next

[mythriteshah]

All Work; No Play

Some time would pass. The light of the Warden had risen high over Radz-at-Han, and morning would officially arrive.  Thiji would then make his way to the balcony, letting the Near Eastern sun hit is features.  He had plenty of time to ruminate over Sesena’s words, and he indeed took into consideration all that he had done – and continues to do - for his Angels.  Another half-bell later, the doors to his chambers would be opened once more. Crossing the threshold this time was Sesena’s younger sister, Sosona Sona.  She wore the standard uniform for the Angels stationed in the Aldenard Branch, but upon her head was the ornate Headdress of Sloth – her signature item of which she became one of the Fourteen Apsaras.

With a big yawn, she lazily entered Thiji’s chambers after closing the door behind her.  She bore a tired expression – clearly not a morning person – yet there was a content look upon her face.  Perhaps she was joyous in finally being able to speak her mind to the Diamond Sultan?  Whatever the case, she continued her cumbersome gait until she would meet Thiji at the balcony, leaning over the railing with a hand to her cheek, gazing down at the passersby with half-lid eyes…

“Another long turn of the sun awaits, and with it, a whole lot of work.  Got homes to rebuild; families to relieve; fashions to make… and all without a wink of sleep.  But hey – no rest for the wicked, am I right?”

Sosona gave a long-drawn exhale, following with a chuckle and a shake of her head.  Everywhere they could see the hustle and bustle within the melting pot of commerce that is Thavnair’s capital, but she had also notice a few adventurers resting and relaxing around the residential area, pointing them out amongst the crowd.  “How long has it been, My Sultan… Ten summers?  Fifteen?  You’ve busted your ass so hard for us that you may as well be boasting cheeks of mythrite – and while we’re at it – balls of similar material.  I’ve been given the chance to say what I want to say to you, and by Nophica’s titties, I’m gonna say it: you work too damn hard.”

Thiji stifled a laugh, but kept his attention on Sosona, who turned her gaze slowly to him.  Unlike her other sisters, she was the brash one, and thus was prone to using more vulgar vocabulary to get her point across.  “Sure, you’re Diamond Shah-slash-President-slash-what have you of the Regalia, and you may no longer be an adventurer, but you’ve still been a regular workhorse with perfecting your craft and expanding this empire of yours - nevermind the fact that you’ve been joining the former Grand Companies of Eorzea in countless campaigns with and against them.  And don’t even get me started on the times you nearly fucking died… How many times was that, actually?”

The Diamond Sultan rose four fingers in response.  Sosona’s eyes would shift to the left to see them, scoffing after registering the number in her head.  “Yeah, if you just count the primals�� And even then, that’s too damn many times. But at least we won’t be worrying about that anytime soon. But there’s no need to be modest, My Sultan.  You’ve been in way more than four near-death situations.  Silver lining, though: you’ve got a body that’d make a Fist of Rhalgr master jealous from all that physical effort.  And yes, we know because we talk about you a lot.  Some of the Angels believe you don’t go into a swimsuit because you have such a stellar body, but that’s not important.”

Feeling herself waking up just a tad more now, she rose from her hunched position and stood upright, still leaning against the railing as she turned her body to the left to face Thiji.

“What’s important is that you learn to take care of yourself.  It’s honestly mindblowing how you haven’t keeled over from all the stress you’ve been putting your mind and body through with how hard you work.  It pays off – by the Twelve, does it pay off – but if you don’t properly rest, then you might miss out on what really matters: satisfaction.  The feeling of really enjoying your accomplishments; celebrating it with your friends and family.  Rejuvenating yourself is important – especially to us geniuses. And with the actual Mothercrystal dead – somehow - there’s no relying on that Blessing of Light bullshit anymore. You worry us, My Sultan.  We would be sent into a bloodrage if we caught news of you eating it in some far-flung corner of Etheirys without anyone watching your ass.  But you’re no – and forgive me for using your favorite word – imbecile for going alone, so that is ruled out somewhat.”

Sosona would then gesture towards the Hannish citizens below, trading their wares and cavorting with adventurers.  They were sprightly in their movements, and energetic besides.  Thiji took note of this, and was beginning to see the veracity with Sosona’s ranting.

“Like these people. They may not be as extraordinary as the man whom I’ve had the esteemed pleasure of serving, but I’m sure most of them would tell you that all work and no play makes the Diamond Sultan a dull boy. You established a chain from here to Aldenard and even Othard; you forged alliances with other Ul’dahn and Thavnairian-derived establishments; you’ve provided numerous relief efforts to the adventuring and civilian public – the biggest of them being the Largesse; you’re even still helping with the ever-entertaining shitshow that is the housing race…”

She heaved a great sigh, doffing her headdress and placing it on the railing before asking her lord for permission to touch.  He had granted her leave to do so, and Sosona would plant both hands upon his shoulders, staring down Lord Thiji with half-tired eyes.

“The point I’m trying to get across, My Sultan, is that you’ve done the Twelve’s work for the realm, and you deserve a huge-ass vacation.  I know it; you know it; the Angels know it, and I’m sure your allies in Empyrean know it. You love keeping your Angels happy, so I’m asking you as one of your original six: rest and relax.  You’ll put a smile on my face when I see you finally unwinding.  We can take care of the Regalia when you are absent; we’ve proven this time and again.  Even if it means sleeping through an entire turn of the sun, I’ll be pleased.  At least you’ll be well-rested and ready to continue showing the world why you’re a god in living flesh.”

The Diamond Sultan, with another message to take away, looked down to the floor in rumination. Having gotten through to him (or at least she assumed she has), she gives his shoulders a good pat before straightening herself and donning her headdress, another big yawn escaping her lips.  As she turns around to leave her lord, she pauses to beam at him.

“You look content, by the way, My Lord.  Try taking it easy more often, okay?”

With those words, she would take her leave before giving her lord one last bow.  Once he was alone, Thiji looked back into his chambers, calmly scanning his environs.  The most prominent object which caught his attention was the lounging couch upon which he would share many a lassi with Veeveena and Veeveera, his Main Branch Advisors, usually watching the light of the Lover illuminate the land.  The day was barely starting, however, so he would take Sosona’s words to heart, closing the blinds leading to the balcony to block out the sun’s rays.  Afterwards, he would approach the lounging chair to lie upon his back, letting out a light sigh of… relief.  He was appreciative of how comfortable this chair felt, and before spending too long staring into the ceiling to gather his thoughts, he found himself surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep.

“Enjoy your nap, you beautiful swan… Twelve know you’ve earned it,” Sosona (would have probably) said…

(Credit and thanks to @unwaveringstar​ for the creation of the Headdress of Sloth!)

[orsuliya]

Alright! Time for part 3 of married!Awu/XQ headcanons. This time? It’s all about the children!

There is nothing unplanned about Awu’s second pregnancy. The subject of children comes up again not long after Awu reunites with Xiao Qi after the so-called death of the latter. Their days in Ningshuo may be filled with the hustle and bustle of preparing for the upcoming march on the capital, but evenings and nights? Those are for holding each other close in search of comfort and reassurance. If not for that, Awu would scarcely have the strength to let Xiao Qi out of her eyesight during those first days and weeks.

During one of those quiet Ningshuo evenings Awu finally breaks. She has had to be strong for so long, all the while half-believing she would never be allowed the luxury of being weak in her husband’s arms again, that even now it takes time for her to let go and simply cry. When tears finally do come out, so do all of Awu’s past fears, leaving her one by one in an unstoppable torrent. Fear for those reliant on her, for the orphaned country and for her own fate; all of those are carefully listened to and soothed with words, silent affection and sense of complete togetherness.

One of those fears? Had you died, had you truly left me alone, what would I have of you for all the years to come? she asks, her voice muffled, her face pressed into her husband’s neck. There is a good reason why she was prepared to die after exacting her revenge. Far too many sleepless nights in Hulan had been spent imagining the long, dreary years of her widowhood. Ten, twenty, thirty years of loneliness, seeing her nephews and nieces being born and then growing up, with nothing, not even her husband’s sword to put in that bloody chapel; would that have been her fate?

She hits him – not too hard, but hard enough for it to be more than a playful tap – when he says that, in time, she would remarry and find happiness again. Would you?! she demands angrily, then softens, once she reads the answer in his eyes. A man should take responsibility from the beginning to the end. Not even a bloody sword to be mounted on the family altar, she laughs tiredly. You owe me, my Prince Yuzhang, you owe me and I shall be your most merciless creditor. Give me a child with your smile, one with your hands and eyes, she demands, pressing insistent kisses to that smile, to those hands and eyes, and then and only then will I consider myself satisfied.

He would, you know, he would have given her a dozen children if that were only possible, but surely she must know that it is not, it can never be in this lifetime. Awu can have anything else for the payment of his debt; he knows he owes her and will give her all that she may wish for that she does not already own. She wants children? Fine, she may have all the orphans in Ningshuo for the raising, if that will bring her joy. But he doesn’t, can never regret putting her health above all else and would give her five more miracle flowers if he had to…

Yes, Awu finally shuts her husband up, unable to take any more of this lethal sincerity. How? Well, the exact method I shall leave to your imagination, but the gist of it is as follows: Xiao Qi is not getting off that easily. They can and will have that child. How? Well, Awu might have plotted with Doctor Shen towards that goal and it will work this time. Maybe not now, maybe it will take another few months or years of fiery needles, but it’s not like they are in hurry. There is no way Awu will agree to have a child in the middle of a civil war, so her husband should really get on with restoring peace in all Cheng. Not right now! In the morning should be soon enough.

____________________________________

It does take some time, first to restore peace and then for Awu to actually get pregnant. In the meantime, she does take all the orphans in Ningshuo as an advance on that debt, not to mention their first son and daughter, Xiaohe and Qinzhi.

Doctor Shen, who – struck with a sudden premonition – had moved to Ningshuo among much grumbling and trembling over the contents of his priceless apothecary, is rewarded with the dubious honour of playing witness to Xiao Qi’s complete meltdown. The first thing our brave general does upon hearing of his wife’s pregnancy is to hug her and refuse to let go for a good while, not that she protests. The second thing? He panics like he’s never panicked before. Doctor Shen comes upon his noble patron, well, not hyperventilating, we’re talking about Xiao Qi here, remember. But certainly in throes of a good old anxiety attack. It’s… an experience for the good doctor, that’s for sure.

Thankfully Doctor Shen manages to talk Xiao Qi out of his wildest ideas. Like, for example, shutting Awu in her rooms in the middle of Ningshuo Fortress and standing guard over her until the baby is born. Yeah, that was not Xiao Qi’s proudest moment. Doctor Shen promises not to tell anyone of this sudden bout of unreasonable behaviour and keeps his word… for about three days, when he gladly throws Xiao Qi under the bus in order to ensure Awu’s full compliance with his own, medically justified safety measures.

Mind you, even Doctor Shen cannot work miracles, which he comes to bitterly regret in those next few months. Panicked Xiao Qi and worried Turnip Wang make for a truly hellish duo and Ningshuo soon experiences a steady trickle of accomplished doctors from the capital. Some of them have clearly been dragged out of their comfortable practices under duress, for others it’s quite an adventure. The latter soon find themselves put to work; no use in simply standing around and deliberating over a stunningly healthy woman when there are actual patients in need to be seen to!

____________________________________

Awu considers Xiao Qi’s debt fully repaid the moment she sees her son smile for the first time. Xiao Qi, an overachiever that he is, doesn’t quite agree… and a few years later they try for another child; this time it’s a daughter. One - as Xiao Qi likes to brag - as beautiful as her mother and isn’t it lucky that he has an army fit to guard the greatest treasures in all Cheng? Awu thinks that it would serve him right should Treasure the Younger marry an officer of that very army in the future. She doesn’t, by the way, but that is an entirely different story.

The children are named Yunshuo and Yunning, which is a reason of much good-natured teasing. Even among the children themselves. Yunning, once she grows to an age when she starts to assert her dominance, insists that really, her brother should listen to her in all things. He may be older in years, that much is true, but Ning always comes before Shuo, everybody knows that!

Jinruo’s words come true after all: Xiao Yunning is Awu’s tiny copy, only, according to Awu herself, twice as bossy and confident. Xiao Qi never questions this claim, at least not out loud, but Uncle Asu has no such qualms and immediately provides a good half-dozen stories to that effect. Now, Yunning has every chance to grow up spoiled with a mother who applauds her strong character, a father who might seem strict, yet folds like wet paper at the first sight of a trembling lip and a whole bunch of playmates only too easily coaxed into following her commands. And she very well might have... if not for one Hu Yao (who is alive and you won’t convince me otherwise, ha!). The younger Hu, a true Ningshuo legend, enjoys great authority among recruits and veterans both; she proves a match for a head-strong girl like Yunning, although only barely. No, Hu Yao’s pupil doesn’t become a general in her own right, choosing another path instead… but she keeps up with her training in the years to come.

Xiao Yunshuo, affectionately called Xiao Xiao, is no warrior in the making, being of a rather gentle disposition, something that he never grows out of, for all that this gentle disposition later turns out to hide a character of pure steel. Oh, make no mistake, Yunshuo is perfectly competent with weapons and on horseback, but it is not something that comes naturally to him, nor does he find much joy in fighting. This becomes blatantly obvious once he starts advanced training. Every child under Awu’s care is taught enough to be able to defend themselves or know when to run away, but nobody is forced to persist with military training, should they not wish to. Yunshuo persists all the same, making continuous progress. It’s only natural that he does: he’s rather frighteningly smart, that boy, and he works hard.

A bit too hard, as it turns out. Xiao Qi becomes suspicious of his son’s behaviour and makes sure to ‘accidentally’ come upon one of Yunshuo’s solitary and completely unsanctioned training sessions. Why, he asks and becomes rather angry once the truth starts coming out. No, not with Yunshuo. With himself, for not preventing this whole issue from existing in the first place. See, Yunshuo thinks it shameful that he, the firstborn and only son of Prince Yuzhang, the greatest general and warrior Cheng has had for generations, will never be able to become a worthy successor to his famous father. No, nobody has said anything, but Yunshuo is not stupid, he knows what he is and is not capable of!

Xiao Qi takes a minute to consider his next words carefully. In the end, he tells the truth: when he was a bit older that Yunshuo is now, he had no valuable skills, no education, no family and no real hope for the future. Signing up for an army was pretty much the easiest choice to make for somebody who didn’t really have all that much to live for. Killing people? Is not that difficult. All it takes is a good sharpened sword and some basic training. Learning to protect people, well, that was a bit harder; took Xiao Qi some years and a lot grief and pain to master that. Everything else – building a true home, making peace for yourself and everybody else, and creating a lasting, better future? That’s Awu’s forte and her work. There is no shame in having different skills, explains Xiao Qi. Find what you do best and make sure that it is of use to somebody. That’s it. Whatever Yunshuo’s skills, as long as at the end of the day he is be ready to use them to protect what is dear to him, he will be a warrior in his father’s eyes.

Xiao Yunshuo takes his father’s words to heart and, when the time comes, relays them to his own children. He never becomes a one man army, for all that he takes care not to let his skill with weapons go to rust. He does, however, become a great lord and statesman, and a startlingly brilliant strategist to boot; his advice is greatly appreciated by his older brother, the brave General Xiao Xiaohe… as well as by his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Cheng himself.

In Ningshuo, despite all his merits and great dignity, Xiao Yunshuo stays Xiao Xiao long, long after becoming a father himself.

____________________________________

Xiao Yunning is widely held by the ministers of Cheng to be the cause for at least a quarter of their grey hair. And all because of one rather tiny, if rather infamous deed. Okay, maybe not that tiny… But it is not Yunning’s fault that Xiao Qi had made such an impression on a bunch of delicate noblemen over twenty years earlier!

Once His Imperial Majesty, one Ma Jing, successfully negotiates puberty, it becomes a matter of national importance to supply him with a wife of appropriate station, character, beauty and fertility, the first and the last being the most important, of course. The true war over who will become the Empress of Cheng does not start until His Imperial Majesty becomes a fully-grown man; that is not until the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter comes of age. Having another Wang Empress is seen as inevitable by many; others are rather eager to see the streak of Wang Empresses die a final death. The idea of courting a foreign princess gets briefly thrown around and then soundly rejected. It’s a pity that all of His Majesty’s marriageable cousins with even a drop of Ma blood have the same family name, says somebody who sounds suspiciously like a true Classist Wei. For a moment there is complete silence as the thoughts of everyone present turn to the one cousin who is neither a Ma or a Wang.

See, Xiao Qi and Awu could easily make their daughter an Empress… if they thought that it would make her happy. They have nothing against Jing’er, why, he’s a beloved nephew to them both and they have taken a good measure of his character during the time he spent in Ningshuo, which amounts to a good couple of years. If they were to be honest, Yunning could use a husband this good-natured and conciliatory, and Jing’er would do well with an Empress of Yunning’s strength of character. There is also the matter of a rather touching childhood crush… but since Yunning herself has nothing but derogatory words for this whole imperial marriage mart mess, there is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done at all, as Xiao Qi quite readily assures his brother-in-law, adding that being an Empress is not an easy fate and one that he would not wish on anybody. Asu, long-used to not truly understanding Xiao Qi’s ambitions or rather the lack thereof, takes this assurance on its merits and goes back to planning his own daughter’s imperial wedding.

Rather surprisingly it’s Jing’er who becomes the greatest obstacle to Asu’s dynastic plans. Somehow he never really says no… but no mercenary father can ever pin him long enough to force him to say yes to any of the myriad of candidates. This stand-off lasts for some time, to Xiao Qi’s quiet amusement and Turnip’s frustration. Awu, on the other hand, becomes rather pensive, although she refuses to share her suspicions with anybody. It’s not like she has any proof…

...until her daughter provides her with all the proof she could have ever wished for.

The day another group of potential candidates is to be presented at court, Xiao Yunning pulls a Xiao Qi, causing many a minister to relieve their old trauma. Yes, she marches into the throne room accompanied by six of her companions, most of which do rather poorly at concealing weapons under their dresses. Yes, she climbs the stairs without as much as a by-your-leave. Yes, she does all of that while wearing clothing in a colour appropriate for the occasion. In this case? Wedding red. The main difference is that Ma Jing is a much wiser Emperor than Ma Zitan and grants Yunning’s petition immediately and with good grace.

The reason why Yunning did what she did, leaving Jing’er with no choice but to accept her suit? Well, that childhood crush might have been rather more than a crush. Really, Yunning would have had it in the bag the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, were His Imperial Majesty not such a noble bore. I cannot condemn you to carry this burden with me before you really know what you want, he said, every word disgustingly noble and self-sacrificial. You are not somebody who can be caged, so go and spread your wings and I shall wait for you for as long as it takes, he offered in a rather suspiciously bland tone of voice. Really, one could almost believe that Jing’er actually bought into that silly rumour that Xiao Qi requires every prospective son-in-law to fight him with live steel. Which, by the way, is not true. He only ever fought two rather persistent young lordlings who couldn’t understand that Qinzhi’s no means no.

Everything ends rather well for all interested parties, although Turnip keeps grumbling about having an unfairly deceitful brother-in-law. Awu quickly shuts him down, if only to get in her own portion of shameless teasing. See, if Xiao Qi wanted to avoid such situations, then he should have given his children a better example. This quickly devolves into a round of Yuzhang-style teasing, which prompts a stark realization from Xiao Yunning. She might be the Empress-to-be now, but even being thrice an Empress would still give her no power to stop her parents from being a pair of embarrassing old people in love. Jing’er, ever the conciliator, shows his diplomatic skill by proposing that she might have her revenge… by being one half of a pair of embarrassing young people in love.

The Wang Princess of that generation, a rather lovely and wise young woman by the name of Wang Xu, is not all that sad about losing a chance at the throne. Why, her tastes were always rather specific and in general ran more to generals than delicate young nobles. Now, this Xiao Xiaohe looks like an interesting specimen and certainly worthy of taking a closer look, should one be in-market for a pet general of one’s own...

[acnelli]

Bearded Glory

I finally found the time to put my one-shots on Tumblr too. I wrote this one for @hillyminne who organised and still organises these lovely hangouts. Here’s the masterpost with all the fun and lovely things which had been created as a thank you for Hilly <3 I would also like to thank @manny-bgm and @abradystrix for beta-reading and Brit-picking this story. You might detect some things inspired by Hilly’s art and @rijsamurai‘s Auror Ron.

When Ron came back from Auror training, Hermione found herself being quite fond of a certain change in Ron's appearance.

This story is also available on FFN and AO3.

Two bloody years finally over, Ron thought, as he robbed through thick, cold mud, already able to make out the finish line, which should be not even a mile away, according to Ron’s calculations.

Through the splashing and gurgling of their muddy underground, Ron could make out Harry’s heavy breathing and the occasional swear word from somewhere behind him. “Just one more mile, mate.”, Ron shouted, craning his neck towards his friend, almost hitting his head on a tree trunk above him. “One mile and we’re done with this shite.” Harry didn’t bother to answer as he was quite busy to ignore the burn in his lungs.

As Ron reached the end of their last obstacle, he leaped up from the ground, trying to get a footing with all the muddy water in his shoes. Not an easy task, since the ground was slippery and a fountain of water made its way down from his hair and drenched clothes. Careful to not lose his trainers, he ran towards the finish line with wobbly legs and what seemed to be a thousand tiny needles attacking his lungs. With a slight jump, and something between a groan and a cry of relief, he finally made it, immediately breaking down onto the ground.

“Well done, my boys.”, a chipper female voice broke through Ron’s awareness, though it honestly surprised him he heard it in the first place, considering he was wheezing his lungs out.

“Elly…please.”, Harry groaned, who must have collapsed beside him just a few seconds ago. Ron couldn’t tell for sure though, since he still tried not to pass out. “I…Just go away.”, his best mate demanded between heavy breaths. Ron only gave an agreeing grunt. Elly, their mentor and trainer for the last two years of Auror training, just laughed, kneeling between Harry and Ron, smiling down at them.

“You did it.”, she sang completely out of tune, while giving both men what probably should’ve been an encouraging pat on the knee. Although Ron and Harry yelped in pain from this pat on their scraped skin, and were still being unable to move a muscle, Elly stood up, clapped her hands and demanded of them to stand up.

“We just have an hour until you leave for home, and you will certainly not take this Portkey until I have a proper picture with my two accomplishments,” the young witch stated, hands on her hips, but still that annoying smirk in place.

Ron and Harry knew better than to argue with her about that. Truth be told, they didn’t have a problem with this particular picture, since they both wanted to have a reminder of the day that marked the ending of both the most annoying, but also the greatest two years of their lives.

“Alright, alright.”, Ron sighed, trying to muster up the little energy he got left to stand up, reaching his hand out to Harry, who did the same. With the two men standing in an upright position again, Elly gave them both one of her famous bear hugs, while telling her trainees how proud she was of them. Despite the still aching muscles and side stiches from hell, they returned the hug in earnest, while only just realizing that this was the start of a whole new adventure.

“We could’ve never done this without you.”, Ron smiled at Elly. “But you surely could’ve warned us about this last run, as you liked to call it. Honestly, we could’ve died or something.”

“You Gryffindors sure have a tendency to exaggerate, haven’t you?”

“I rather think you Hufflepuffs have a tendency to underplay,” Harry countered, cleaning his glasses.

“Said it before and I’ll say it again, you Hufflepuffs are barmy,” Ron said with a playful voice. “Before you drag us off to brag about us, where are the showers, woman?”

************

After taking a well-deserved shower, Harry and Ron changed into their formal Auror robes. And not their everyday work attire either, but the fancy black robes, which Elly insisted them on wearing. The two friends were both secretly happy to parade these around, since they looked bloody good in them.

Two years of Auror training lay behind them, and Ron was torn between feeling relieved and strangely sad. Those last four months happened to be their final Boot Camp, as Elly liked to call it, which mainly consisted of training for their Auror test. Due to the painful shortage of staff in the Auror Office, their training got shortened to two years, making it much more intense as a result. This last run though wasn’t part of the test, but nothing less than an Auror training tradition, so of course, it had to be done, much to the young men’s dismay.

“I have to admit…I kind of like this.”, Ron mused, running his hand over his beard, as he watched his reflection in one of the mirrors of the changing room.

“Suits you quite well, mate.”, Harry said, as he closed the last silver button on his cloak.

Neither of them had bothered to properly shave this last four months. Their days usually consisted of waking up, training and learning all day, and sleeping as soon their heads hit the pillow. As a result, they both looked quite wild in the end, hair and beard much longer than usual. Of course, Elly wouldn’t have any of this, so she had given Ron and Harry a complete make-over the day before their test, ignoring their protests all together. As it turned out, she happened to be quite talented with beauty charms, so they didn’t exactly hate the way they looked now. Even though Ron usually never let his facial hair grow beyond some three-day stubble, Elly surprised him with only trimming his unruly beard, leaving it just well-groomed.

“Come on, let’s get this picture, and then we can finally leave for good.” Harry suggested. So, they both gathered their wands and made their way towards the rest of their group.

After what seemed to be a thousand blinding flashes, Elly had been satisfied with the result, promising them to send copies of the pictures as soon as possible.

Harry and Ron were ready to take the Portkey home, saying goodbye to everyone and promising to make it on time for the official festivities next weekend.

In all the hustle to get the Portkey on time, Ron completely missed the mischievous glint in Harry’s eyes.

************

Hermione tried not to stare. Actually, she figured that she never tried harder to not look at Ron. Of course, she failed spectacularly.

Harry, you sneaky little monster., Hermione thought, sending one of her death glares his way, which he successfully didn’t notice all evening.

That bloody picture was my undoing, really. And Harry is well aware of that, isn’t he?

Around midday, a couple of hours before Ron and Harry came back from their last day of Auror training, Harry’s owl Athena arrived at her parents’ home, delivering a small envelope. After taking the letter, she fed the exhausted bird some treats, and let her relax in her room for a while. She came all the way from the Isle of Skye after all.

What was so important that Harry couldn’t tell her in person tonight? As she opened the white envelope, there was just a single photograph falling out. She picked it up from the floor, reading the note on the back of it first.

Dear Hermione,

thought you might appreciate this picture Elly took of Ron, minutes before his wandless magic demonstration. Honestly, look at him Hermione…you got some fine ginger snack coming back to you.

See you later,

 Harry

As she turned over the picture, she couldn’t help but agree. Ron clearly hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared that Elly took pictures of him, as he looked concentrated and nervous. His eyebrows knit, and eyes slightly narrowed, he held up his right hand, obviously practicing the lightning charm, as lightning bolts evolved from his half-closed fist.

This alone could’ve resulted in Hermione starring at this picture forever, but what really got her obsessing over it, had been Ron’s beard.

Ron with a beard. An actual beard. And by all that’s holy, he looked so incredibly good with it.

Merlin, she already had been more than a little frustrated the last four months, not being able to see him. Of course, this hadn’t been the first time they were separated for so long, but this last training session sure felt torturously like forever. Seeing a bearded Ron, illuminated by lightning, looking highly dangerous, made her want to take Ron right up to Grimmauld Place, skipping the dinner Mrs. Weasley was hosting tonight, and just snog him senseless. Naturally this wasn’t possible, so here she was, trying to get her thoughts under control.

Hermione swore to herself to never talk to Harry again about Ron, drunk or otherwise.

 Just before Harry and Ron were leaving for Auror training, the three of them met up with the old D.A. members. While Ron still had been busy with one of Seamus’ famous drinking games, being the only one of the Trio to still keep up with it, Hermione confided in Harry that she wished for Ron to grow a beard.

“I love his stubble, but I’m sure he would look quite sexy with his beard a little longer.”, she had told Harry.

He looked at her funny for a second, before breaking out in a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”, she asked angrily, since Harry seemed to be unable to stop.

After several minutes of Harry trying to control himself, and Hermione getting more and more annoyed, Harry was able to speak again. “You know, I just had that thought.”, he whispered, clearly still trying not to laugh. “Since you obviously have a thing for bearded men, I wonder how you could control yourself around Hagrid.” Another fit of laughter broke out, but it didn’t stop him from wheezing out “Or Dumbledore.” That was Harry’s undoing then, because after that, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore, and already got himself a nasty side stich from all the laughing.

Needless to say, that Hermione ended this conversation right then and there.

Of course, Harry hadn’t forgotten about Hermione’s little confession, and decided to send her a tease right before she would see Ron again.

Would it be too obvious to pretend a stomach ache at this point?

As Hermione mused about the possibilities to sneak away with Ron, she stole another glance at him, only to discover that brilliant blue eyes stared right back at her. His eyes happened to have this certain glint, which always meant he was up to something. Hermione sincerely hoped it would include leaving early tonight.

After what seemed like forever, Ron finally beat Ginny in a mean game of Wizard’s Chess.

Although still being quite impatient to get home, Hermione put the time to good use in unashamedly ogling Ron, her former intends not to stare long forgotten.

“Finally, some decent competition again. I got bored out of my mind only playing against Harry and Elly the last four months”, Ron said while pulling Hermione onto his lap. He loosely slang an arm around her waist, and Hermione immediately leaned into him, feeling all warm and cosy as she started to trace his brain scars with her fingers. Merlin, she really missed him.

“I’m still better than Elly though”, Harry pointed out, helping Ginny to put the chess set away. “So, I guess Ginny and I call it a night then. Are you sure your bed is large enough for the both of us?”

“I admit that you got yourself some fine definition being away, but you didn’t exactly gain a ton of muscle, Harry. You’ll fit”, Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, which Harry answered with an eyeroll.

“Maybe that had been the polite way to say you got fat over the last couple of months.”, Ron offered Ginny another explanation, earning himself a blow to his shoulder.

“You better stop being cheeky, if you want Grimmauld Place to yourself tonight.”, his sister countered.

“Wait, what?”, Hermione asked Harry. “You’re not staying at Grimmauld Place?”

“Nope. Ginny and I are kipping at the Burrow tonight. The house is all yours, under the condition to have it to ourselves tomorrow.”, Harry clarified.

Hermione couldn’t hold back her grin as she looked up at Ron. These are fantastic news.

“That’s very…considerate of you, thank you.”, Hermione smiled at Ginny and Harry, which made Ron bark out a laugh.

“Yes, thank you Harry.”, the red-head said. “As you did this out of pure nobleness and chivalry, and certainly not because you lost to me tossing a coin.”

************

“So…after you won the house for us, what are your plans?”, Hermione murmured between kisses, her hands busy with Ron’s beard.

Ron gave her his trademark lopsided grin as he hoisted Hermione up in his arms, eliciting a surprised squeal from her.

“Well, what do you think about a long, nice bath for a start?”, Ron asked while carrying her up the flights towards the bathroom. “It had been an awful long time since we had one together.”

“True that. As long as it doesn’t make us too drowsy for some…night-time activities.”

“You know, it’s adorable that proper Ms. Granger still can’t say bad words.”, Ron laughed, kissing her reddening cheek.

“I can say bad words, you just wait.” Hermione tried to put up a glare, but failed due to the smile she just couldn’t put off her face.

“I’ll take you up on it.”, Ron said, sitting her down on the edge of the bathtub. With a flick of his wand he began to fill the tub with hot, soapy water, which gave the room a rich scent of pine needles and something delicious Hermione couldn’t quite place.

A few minutes later, she leaned against Ron’s chest, completely relaxed and ridiculously happy. Hermione enjoyed the vibration of his chest as they talked about Hermione’s last project at work and about Ron’s plans regarding the Auror department. Every now and then, Hermione reached up to stroke his beard, and if Ron noticed her sudden interest with his gin and cheeks, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Alright, enough about work. This is supposed to be romantic.”, Ron laughed, slightly tightening his grip around her middle. “Should’ve lit some candles.”

Hermione giggled as she wiggled out a little of Ron’s embrace to grab her wand, intending to light the chandelier behind them. Just as she freed her wand from the pile of clothes beside the bathtub though, something else fell out.

“Oi, that’s me!” Ron quickly snatched the picture up from the ground and settled back into his prior position in the bathtub. Hermione tried to hide her blush behind her hair, as Ron read Harry’s note on the back of the photo. Something between smugness and embarrassment appeared on his face, and the longer he looked at Hermione, the more it seems to become smugness.

“Do you like my beard, Hermione?”, Ron asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, as he put his arms around her again, pulling her against his chest.

“I might have told Harry that a beard would look good on you.”, Hermione sighed, and forgot about her embarrassment, when Ron started to kiss the side of her neck. “And he obviously didn’t forget about it.”

Ron caressed her cheek to turn her head towards him. He gave her a long, heated kiss that left Hermione breathless, before retreating again, looking at her with a huge grin on his freckled face. Before Hermione could snog the smug grin away, Ron had to say one more thing.

“Well, feel free to enjoy it. All this Bearded Glory.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 22 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

I think I might have hit rock bottom again. It’s been a year since I’ve found myself falling and falling deeper down this dark and empty hole of sadness and remorse. It’s been a pity party of one up in this house since Saturday and it’s now Thursday. Madison came around almost every day. She brought lasagna on Saturday, spent the night and then watched movies with Mitch and me on Sunday. On Monday, she came back after school to give me my homework, but knowing I probably wouldn’t do it, and the same happened on Tuesday and Wednesday. Today, the bell rings at 9 am while I’m still in bed, wrapped up in a blanket burrito. I can hear Madi’s voice, however, and all it does is make me wonder why she’s not in school. “I’m just worried about her, you know?” I hear Madi’s voice as her and Mitch make their way upstairs. “I don’t want her to fall further down to rock bottom the same way she was last year.” My uncle simply hums. “Yeah, I think it’s time for an intervention,” he says seconds before he knocks on my door and enters without my response. “Morning, Muffin.” I glare at him for his chirpiness. “It’s time, honey,” Madison tells me, her nose in my wardrobe. “Time for what? To cry? I think I’m behind schedule today,” I mean it as a joke, but neither of them takes it as one. “I don’t feel like doing anything, guys.” “You’ll feel so much better after a shower and putting on pretty clothes,” Madi replies, throwing me a couple of clothes. “Now, chop, chop! Into the shower!” I stay put, glaring at my best friend. Even though I know she’s trying to help me, it’s not really working. Getting up and being productive isn’t going to get me my audition back. “Come on, Muffin! We’re going to the mall for like an hour. Please, can you do that for me? Just an hour?” Mitch’s begging somehow makes me rise up from my bed and head into the shower. The hot water doesn’t help with the empty space in my heart, but it does help with the stank of four days lying in bed. With still wet hair, I get into the outfit Madison has given me and walk back out into my bedroom. Mitch and Madi both smile at me proudly like I’m a child walking for the first time. “I don’t feel like doing my hair or makeup,” I tell them, putting on some shoes. “You want us to do it for you?” Mitch asks carefully, but I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll probably cry and ruin it anyway.” Both of them pout before grabbing my hand and leading me downstairs and into the car. Uncle Mitch drives us to the nearest mall where we get to shopping straight away. Nothing seems to please me though. No item of clothing or accessory brings me any joy. My bank account is happy. At least that’s one of us. “What do you think of this?” Madi asks, showing off some really rad trousers. Black cargo trousers with white blocks running through it. “Those look cool. You should get them!” I encourage her, managing a tiny smile. “They’re for you,” she tells me, but I shake my head, looking through the rail of clothing. “I’m going to buy them for you anyway. I’m sure you’ll thank me later,” she says and walks off towards the register to pay for them. I watch Madi and Mitch interact for a moment. Their voices are hushed, and they’re too far away to eavesdrop. But the wide eyes and open mouths don’t predict anything good. “Everything okay?” I ask them once Madi has paid for the trousers and joined me again. Both of them push me out of the shop and into the next one, pulling and pushing me all around the place. “We’re fine!” Mitch replies, but I can tell he’s lying. “Just really excited to look here!” “Oh, look, Ems! These look cool! You always wanted those!” She pushes a jumpsuit into my hands and pushes me towards the changing rooms. Careful as she is, she pushes me into one and yanks the red curtain shut. What the hell is going on? “Madi, I really don’t feel like trying things on,” I say, reopening the curtains. “Just do it, babes,” she says, forcing me back inside. “Mads, this is a small. I can’t get my fat ass in there!” I tell her and shove the curtain open again. Madison looks behind her swiftly before exhaling and taking the jumpsuit away from me. “What’s going on, Mads?” “Nothing, babe! Just really excited about shopping!” I raise an eyebrow at her. I’m certain she’s lying to me, but I don’t know about what. Suddenly, Uncle Mitch joins us again. I hadn’t even noticed him gone. “Right, Mitch? Aren’t you excited about shopping?” “Yes! Very!” He claps his hands. “I hear there’s a sale in that shoe shop you love so much, Muffin. You want to go?” At least Uncle Mitch somewhat acts normal. Besides the vanishing. The two lead me to the shoe shop at the other side of the mall, which is busier than the side we were on previously. Must be the crazy sales.

Though every now and again, Madi and Mitch push me into dressing rooms quickly or change directions suddenly, the day actually feels decent. For the first time since Saturday, I actually feel as though my life has gone back to normal. Until I start thinking about my life and then it’s all over. I even started crying in the middle of a Claire’s, which wasn’t the prettiest sight. Madi and Mitch do spring into action immediately and bring me towards the ice cream parlor where we have several scoops of ice cream. “Thanks, guys,” I sniffle, “I know I haven’t been the easiest, but thank you for not giving up on me.” They both offer me a proud smile, and Madi even grabs my hand in hers. “We’re just glad you’re out of the house, Emsie,” she says. “Yeah, and we’re really proud of what you’ve accomplished today!” Mitch chimes in. “Aren’t you really happy with your new shoes?” I nod my head at Madi’s question. My new sneakers really are the coolest and most rad shoes I ever did see. “They’ll look great on your new pants!” Her smile widens when my lips curl up slightly. “I really like those new earrings you bought, Muffin! They’re very chic!” Mitch chimes in. “You know I’m all about the butterflies lately,” I tell him, already thinking about the cool outfit I’ll be able to put together with the shoes, the pants and the earrings. “Don’t forget that cool new jacket you found in that thrift store!” “I really wish they made those things in my size,” Mitch pouts, causing Madi and me to laugh. “There she is again!” She says excitedly. Her wide smile suddenly falters as she looks somewhere behind me. Before I can turn around to see what she’s seen, she grabs me by the hand and pulls me up. “I think we’ve done enough shopping for the day,” Mitch says, and grabs all of our bags before the three of us leave the mall. Once at home, Madi and Mitch seem to get back to their usual self; calmer and less anxious. “Show me your new outfit!” Madi shouts excitedly as we go upstairs to try everything we bought on again for a little fashion show. When we were younger, we always used to put up fashion shows with her or my mom’s heels. It was the funniest thing. “That looks so bomb!” She claps her hands excitedly, scanning up and down my body. I turn to look into the full-length mirror, and suddenly I’m taken back to our fashion shows back in the day. “Thanks for today, Mads,” I say instead of getting nostalgic about our past. “Anything for you, Emily.”

Taglist: 

@parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @ashleyleblancx​ @calamitykaty​ @lolychu​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @siennanoelle01​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @luckylouiebug​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! :)

[mcjoelcain]

How to set SMART Goals (and win BIG this year)

Let’s be honest: people suck at goal setting.

Even when we really want to do something, we have a hard time achieving it.

(Need proof? Just consider that the vast majority of New Year’s resolutions fail by February.)

But, it’s not our fault. Nobody teaches us how to really achieve what we set out to do. They don’t teach us how to make smart objectives.

That’s because the problem with how you set goals is that they rely too much on human willpower — which we have a very finite amount of each day. Relying on it all the time takes away from that willpower until it’s depleted entirely.

Fortunately, there are other ways to set goals so that you can actually achieve them.

Bonus: Want to know how to make as much money as you want and live life on your terms? Download my FREE Ultimate Guide to Making Money

Examples of turning bad goals to good goals

EXAMPLE #1: HEALTH

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I want to get fit.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to lose 10lbs.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to eat 3 healthy meals per week and go to the gym 2x/week for 15 minutes.”

Notice how we’re focusing on the process at first, and starting off conservative: Anyone can eat just 3 healthy meals in a week. And anyone can go to the gym for 15 minutes. Set yourself up to win.

The next step is to make it easy: on your calendar, set 1 hour on Sundays to buy 3 healthy meals and leave them in your fridge, packed and ready to eat. Also set two 1-hour slots for the gym (leaving time for travel).

Here’s how this looks for other big goals:

EXAMPLE #2: FINANCES

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I need to get better with money.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to save $1,000 this year.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to have $40 per paycheck automatically transferred to my vacation savings fund for 1 year.”

EXAMPLE #3: SOCIAL SKILLS

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I want to have better social skills.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to work on my storytelling so I’m not so awkward at parties.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to take the improv class in my city every Monday night for 6 weeks.”

There’s a simple formula for transforming big goals into actionable steps…

Bonus: Want to finally start getting paid what you’re worth? I show you exactly how in my Ultimate Guide to Getting a Raise and Boosting Your Salary

What are SMART goals?

SMART goals are the cure for vague, aimless New Year’s resolution goals like:

“I want to go to the gym every day.”

“I want to get rich.”

“I want to travel more.”

On the surface, they all seem like good goals. However, they fall prey to the big three sins of goal-setting:

They unspecific. Sure, you “want to travel more,” but what does that really mean? When are you going to get it done? Where are you going to go? Vagueness is the enemy of good goal-setting.

They’re unrealistic. Oh, so you want to “get rich” this year? Are you willing to put in the hard work and sweat equity it’ll take to negotiate a raise, find a higher-paying job, or start a side hustle? Most likely not.

They’re based on willpower — not systems. Human willpower is limited. Sure, you might start out going to the gym every day, but as time goes on you’ll have to use the finite amount of willpower you have to keep it up. Eventually, you abandon the goal altogether.

Setting a SMART goal will help you avoid all of these pitfalls. Let’s breakdown how to do it.

SMART Objectives are:

Specific

Measurable

Attainable

Relevant

Time-oriented

So how do you convert a goal like “get fit” into a SMART objective?

I created this checklist to use every time you have a new goal.

Checklist for writing a SMART Objective

Specific: What is the precise outcome I’m looking for?

What will you achieve?

What does it look like? (What do you see in your mind when you picture yourself working towards your goal?)

What is the action step?

Measurable: How will I know I’ve accomplished the goal?

How will you know if you’ve reached your goal or not? There are different levels of “healthy” or “financially sound.” Avoid words that may have vague meanings like, “learn” or “feel” since you can’t measure them. Instead, use action verbs like “run,” “save,” or “write.” Then, turn those words into quantifiable benchmarks.

You need to be able to answer the question, “Did I get it done? If not, how much further do I have to go?”

How will you know when it is done?

What are some objective benchmarks you can hit along the way?

Would someone else be able to tell that it’s complete?

Is it quantifiable?

Attainable: How realistic is this goal?

My mentor BJ Fogg talks a lot about Tiny Habits — little things that start us on the path to success. The best way to achieve a goal is not to rely on motivation, but instead make it ridiculously easy for your future self to do the right thing. Instead of committing to running 5 days a week, start with one day and move up from there.

Are there available resources to achieve the objective?

Do you need a gym membership, a new bank account, new clothes?

Am I set up to do this even when I don’t have “motivation”?

Are there any time or money constraints that need to be considered? Am I being too ambitious to start out? (Remember you can always be more aggressive with your goal later on.)

Relevant: Is this a priority in my life right now?

Ask yourself, in the scheme of all the things you want to try, do you really care about this? When I went to my cousin’s wedding in India a few years ago, I saw one of my friends order his food in fluent Hindi, and I thought, “Hmmmm…I should take Hindi lessons.” But when I got back to NYC, I put it on my to-do list, only to skip over it for MONTHS. The truth is, I really didn’t care enough to try and learn Hindi. It wasn’t important enough. When I acknowledged I wasn’t going to do it and crossed it off my list, it freed me up to focus on doing the things that I really wanted to do.

Why am I doing this?

Is this a priority for me?

Will it compete with other goals in my life?

Time-oriented: When will I be finished with the goal?

Give yourself a deadline to reassess your goal. And put it on the calendar! I like to re-evaluate my goals every 3-months to make sure they are still Attainable and Relevant.

Is there a deadline?

Did I put it on the calendar?

Will I know in 3 months if I’m on the right track?

Bonus: Want to fire your boss and start your dream business? Download my FREE Ultimate Guide to Business.

SMART Goal Examples

Using this framework, you’ll be able to turn any vague lofty goal into an actionable SMART goal.

For instance:

Bad goal: “I want to be healthier.”

Why it’s bad: It’s vague and not measurable. How do you know when you’re healthier?

SMART goal: “I want to eat three low-fat, low-calorie meals per week and go to the gym at least once a week.”

Why it’s good: Now you have an actionable system with solid metrics to help you see if you’re on track. You’re not just getting healthier. You’re eating three healthy meals and going to the gym each week.

Now do the same for your goal. How can you make it specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and time-oriented?

Actually achieve your goals with habit loops

Once you’ve set a SMART goal, habits are the systematized solution to making sure you follow through and actually achieve your goal.

According to Charles Duhigg, habit expert and author of The Power of Habit, every habit you build has three parts to it:

Cue. This is the trigger for a behavior.

Routine. This is the behavior in action.

Reward. This is the benefit you receive from the behavior.

Altogether, this creates something called a “Habit Loop,” which allows your habits to stick.

And at the heart of any good Habit Loop is a good reward. In fact, it might just be the most important aspect of building good habits.

That’s because it has the biggest impact on whether or not we stick with the behavior.

Let’s take a look at an example: Working out.

A typical approach to this might look like this:

You go to the gym.

You work out on the machines for 30 minutes.

You go home.

Here’s what it would look like if you implemented the Habit Loop:

Cue. You head to the gym when you wake up.

Routine. You work out at the gym.

Reward. You get a delicious breakfast when you’re done.

See the difference? One will likely result in you giving up the habit after a few weeks (or even days), while the other greatly boosts your chances because you’re rewarded for your behavior.

It subverts having to rely on willpower, because you reward yourself for achieving your goals.

THAT’S the power of a good reward.

Of course, it can work negatively for you as well. For example, smoking cigarettes.

A habitual, pack-a-day smoker is someone who has ingrained a Habit Loop that causes them to smoke cigarettes. Here’s what that Loop looks like:

Cue. You wake up, or it’s lunch time, or work just got done, or you’re stressed — most anything can be a cue for smokers.

Routine. You smoke a cigarette.

Reward. You receive a euphoric buzz from nicotine.

Luckily, rewards can be used to counteract this. For example, whenever you get the urge to smoke a cigarette you go on a walk, or listen to music, or drink a soda. Whatever healthy reward can be used to replace your routine of smoking a cigarette.

Bonus Tip: Use a Commitment Device

A commitment device is a method of locking yourself into a habit or behavior that you might otherwise not want to do.  

And there are essentially two types of commitment devices:

Positive devices. These are devices that give you a positive reward for performing different tasks. The idea is that when you associate that task with the commitment device, you create a positive feedback loop that makes it much easier to cement new habits.

For example:

Listening to your favorite podcast while you work out.

Watching a show on Netflix while you clean your living room.

Drinking your favorite soda while you’re washing your dishes.

Negative devices. These are devices where you take something away or risk having something taken away to encourage you to follow through with a behavior or habit. The idea is that you force yourself to focus on the task by taking away the thing that is preventing you from focusing, or you do something that makes you risk losing something to force you to complete your task.

For example:

Telling a friend that you’ll give them $100 if you don’t go to the gym every day for a month.

Unplugging your television so you won’t be tempted to watch it.

Throwing away all of your junk food in order to eat healthily.

While they’re called positive or negative devices, that doesn’t mean that one is better than the other! They’re just ways of describing how the commitment devices work. And whether or not you choose a positive or negative device depends entirely on your preference and what you want to achieve.  

Commitment devices are incredibly effective too. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Harvard released an article a while back penned by three doctors in behavioral economics that extolled the virtues of commitment devices.

“[Commitment devices] have been shown to help people lose weight, improve their diets, exercise more, and quit smoking,” the article says. “One randomized experiment, for example, found that access to a commitment device increased the rate at which smokers succeeded in quitting after six months by 40%.”

One effective commitment device is to use a social media scheduling dashboard like Hootsuite or Buffer to schedule an embarrassing tweet or Facebook status to be posted at a certain hour. This commitment device is good for time- or location-based goals. As long as you get to the dashboard before it posts, you can prevent it from posting.

For example, say you want to get into the habit of waking up at 6am. You could schedule a tweet to be sent out with an embarrassing message or photo of yourself at exactly 6:05am. That way, if you’re not up by 6, that message will post.

Build habits for life

To accomplish any goal, you need to establish good habits.

To help you crush any goal you set out for yourself, we want to offer you something we’ve worked on to get you there:The Ultimate Guide to Habits: Peak Performance Made Easy

In it, you’ll learn the actionable steps to crush any goal through smart habits, including:

How to set goals — the RIGHT way

How to create and implement winning keystone habits

How to make any habit last forever

Just enter your name and email below and I’ll send it straight to your inbox.

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How to set SMART Goals (and win BIG this year) is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Money https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/smart-objectives/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[smalltragedy]

* brigette lundy-paine, nonbinary + they/them | you know kirby wormwood, right? they’re twenty five, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, two weeks? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ring ring by mika like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole balancing acts at perilous heights destined to entertain, jack of all trades master of none, refusal to accept the mortal world as it is thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 1st, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hllo welcome 2 my third character i love them a lot theyre a. remake of an older oc of mine so this is fun <3 sdfhk anyways once again i am asking u. pleathe like if u wld like to plot.

ARSON TW

mini playlist.

wizard ;; lucas lex / ring ring ;; mika / crows ;; clues / sunrise sunset ;; bright eyes / la llorona ;; beirut / no children ;; the mountain goats / might be love ;; the pesky snakes / sax in the city ;; let’s eat grandma.

statistics.

full name: kirby wormwood (currently).

nickname(s): magpie.

birthday: december 1st, 1995.

zodiac: sagittarius sun, aries moon, libra ascending.

mbti & temperament: estp & improvisor / sanguine.

label: the hellion.

hometown: abilene, texas.

sexuality: bisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

alright lets get right into it. kirby ws switched at birth. they cld’ve hd a very like. picket fence trampoline in the backyard. 4 columns cos its texas n it feels right. bt instead they were chosen <3 somewhat unintentionally <3 by dorothea n fawley wormwood, two traveling circus workers who emergency stopped in abilene.

n u know what. growing up in st. pierre’s traveling circus ws kinda fkn awesome? like ok. besides the fact tht they were homeschooled fr like evr n there were a sparing amt of children 2 socialize with? it ws p cool idk.

it ws kinda like everybody ws their parent n also not at all bc they were all very casual. bt they grew up learning hw 2 maintain the circus (n also like. normal school thingz bt i dnt think kirby hs ever cared abt school like ever) n whenever they hd a show kirby wld facepaint or handle tickets until they were old enough 2 start learning like. the Real fun things. 

fawley hd a lot of his own weird odd little like superstitions n beliefs n practically raised kirby on them like n they dnt rly <3 make a lot of sense. lots of made up philosophy. very much like. nothing defines u. u cn b anything or anyone. n kirby ws like ok cool. n then developed a god complex.

names didnt rly stick 2 kirby when they were a kid like. nothing satisfied them or felt worthy fr them or simply they just. got tired of a name. this isnt related 2 them being nonbinary BUT it did help ease some of the. pressure of exploring gender identity. theyve only hd one name tht stuck genuinely n tht ws magpie n. thts bc everybody hd their own bird name n it felt very. like community. like a role. usually the names they used during performances bt. anyways KFHDSGLKKHL

theyre Kirby bt answers 2 most. neutral nouns.

honestly. they were also a rascal as a youth. ws like. oh. i learned sleight of hand? cool. time 2 pick pockets. wld throw popcorn into the hair of other kids n b like. omggg what was that ... became a mime fr a year. it ws a rigorous training.

now a master of charades. bt anyways. they traveled pretty much weekly, maybe bimonthly n sometimes just pure monthly. there wsn’t an off season fr them, when the colder months came they’d travel south and when summer rolled in they’d go right back up again. it ws easy to switch personas almost daily n just. never reveal ur true self. totally not saying tht’s what kirby did bt thts what they did. it nvr made them lose sight of themselves it ws more like. acting. tricking ppl fr fun. 

anyways all good things come 2 an end and when kirby ws like. 18. they were like hey ur old enough that we cn trust u with fire. we think. n they started 2 learn fire-throwing n like. they were ok at it bt lessons were painfully slow n kirby ws like. i wld b so good at this if i cld do it all the time. n it ws like. hey kirby, chill. u already know a lot of things.

arson tw // u see where this is going. tents are kind of flammable. kirby ws unsupervised. bad decisions all around. circus is aflame. all the animals n all the circus workers got out fine bt like. st. pierre’s ws efficiently out of business. arson end of tw //

n kirby fkn booked it they just. ran. pure fear. nvr looked back which is like super traitorous of them 2 do bt. sometimes they meet up in secret like. sunglasses n all at a coffee shop. not all of them just like. fawley or someone else. theyre like. ur family u cld burn down a thousand circuses n we’d still love u. n kirby is like yeah i know bt i’ve rly committed to the bit now. n they dnt reunite.

anyways. since then kirby hs just been. a traveler. nvr rly staying anywhere fr super long n driving around in their shitty little van tht’d been used as housing back at st. pierre’s.

they’re in irving n theyve been there fr almost. suspiciously long. compared 2 their average stays. when asked abt what they do or why theyre there theyll just. give a vague answer or spin a long tale tht usually involves a burning circus.

theyre staying at uh. abernathy creek rn bc of course they r they fit in so naturally. welcomed with wide arms. might b soul searching rn might b on the hunt fr their birth parents might b just vibing ... whose to say ..

personality & facts.

has a Big personality tht attracts others fr better or fr worse. either super likeable or the most despicable person on the earth. no in betweens. n honestly tht is a talent in itself

has no off button is constantly. spinning tales or performing a dance or getting kicked out of bars fr whatever nonsense reason. 

honestly they prob think tht nothing bad cn ever happen to them even tho like. bad has literally happened 2 them before? love the optimism here. KLFGDLKFSDHGF

acts a bit like u’ve known them fr ur entire life they r oddly warm in tht way bt they themself r so distant tht its like. oh nice ok ...

both honest n yet dishonest like. yes they will hustle u out of ur money bt they will also tell u their opinion straight up. 

probably smart bt they r just like. prime thembo? flowy pirate shirts n cropped tshirts n pants tht r never tight. dresses like they do still work n live at a circus. 

likes 2 instigate things between others n then stand back n just watch it happen while taking like zero accountability. loves a good small town drama. avid milf hunter.

does not hv any faith in the american healthcare system at all n will straight up refuse 2 go 2 a hospital if they get hurt theyre like. i cn do it myself im like practically a professional. they r not a professional. 

bt does hv like. a thing abt apples. fkn loves them. 

uuuhhh cn play instruments bt all very badly. only knows one (1) song tht isnt made up n its wonderwall by oasis. they play it at parties. they expect fr tomatoes to b thrown at them at any given time.

very nimble. agile. granted its frm. learning circus tricks frm a baby age bt they hv impeccable balance n cn sneak up behind anyone without a single noise. uses this 2 their advantage in order 2 scare ppl. chaotic neutral.

loves having the attention on them i wont fk around here. will go to drastic measures to accomplish receiving it. my other muses r capable of taking things srsly bt kirby just. is not. they do not take a single thing srsly they barely even took. st. pierre’s destruction srsly n they caused it. maybe.

likes being able to just. be unknown so the amt tht ppl know abt them is actually very. little. i dnt think they even tell others their last name. sometimes not even their first. just hs so many aliases n nicknames. i know i didnt list any bt thts simply bc Any cld.

probably acts out to compensate fr the. underlying guilt they hv bt thts okay. i mean it isnt bt.

will probably show up if u call them fr help bt they lose interest in people p quickly n r always moving onto the next shiniest person. bt when they do they give them like. all their attention. if u wrong them in this period they will just. ignore it. bt when theyre bored then its like. u werent even friends at all? very odd.

perhaps it is commitment issues bt <3 ya. thts them. they do not claim favorite colors or movies or. most interests. probably bc theyre very very disconnected frm pop culture i think they learn everything thru twitter n google.

i wld not call them a good person bt i also dnt think theyre like evil horrible nasty awful they just. think abt themself a lot more than they think abt others n also refuses to face consequences ever and also .. anyways.

wanted plots.

part of the bird’s nest ;; honorary bird honorary circus member. u hv to be very well regarded by kirby to earn a bird name bt i feel like tht doesnt feel like a lot considering theyve only been here fr like. two weeks KDGDSHKGK. the catch is tht u cn only refer 2 them as magpie frm then forward. 

hand in unlovable hand ;; theres comfort in being terrible ppl together n it may not last bt it doesnt hv to anyways. its just them n the like. vibes. n knowing tht its smth thts nvr gna b long term. cld b anything ur character just hs to be also a little evil. KHDSGFDS

one jester ... wht abt ... TWO jesters .. ;; hoo boy. ooh man. unstoppable force and immovable object combine forces n just become. the worst of the worst. ultimate jokesters. epic pranksters. absolute clowns. chaotic energy unmatched. always nonsense. 

n also ;; ppl they’ve stolen frm, ppl who hv caught them in that act, ppl who’ve maybe seen them in the circus a very long time ago, Found Family Trope, real family shenanigans, kirby just asking everybody if theyre their dad., mortal enemies if they see each other its an instant duel 2 the death, etc.

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt.2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together?

TW: Mentions of an abusive relationship.

AN: The plot thickens. Sorry for the delay in uploading <3

Enjoyyyy <3

That night after everyone had stumbled back to the bus in a tipsy stupor, you couldn't shake the thought of your encounter with Gerard from your brain. And what's more, you hated yourself for it. For awhile you tossed and turned, hoping the unwelcome feelings you had would fade to nothing so that you could fall asleep at last.

But your curiosity got the better of you, and there was only would person who could give you the answers you were looking for.

"Hey Gavin, are you still conscious?" you whispered from your bunk. You heard the rustle of sheets moving in response.

"Hmmm?" a low and sleepy sound of acknowledgement answered.

"I'm just wondering...what do you know about Gerard Way?"

As soon as the words left your lips, Gavin's curtains swung open with superhuman force.

"Y/N are you in love with Gerard Way?!" Gavin's voice was no longer tired, having morphed into a sharp and excited whisper. In addition to being the band's social butterfly, he always knew the gossip about everyone within a 20 mile radius.

"Christ, really Gavin? We only spoke for like fifteen minutes."

"So it was like a love at first sight situation?"

"You are so annoying, I swear to god."

"Do you want info or not?" he threatened.

You sighed. "Fine, yes I do."

Gavin cleared his throat as if preparing for a presentation. "OK, so everyone has something good to say about him, seems like a really genuine guy. I've heard he was in a long term relationship for ages, but its been broken off for awhile now. "

"Hmm," you murmured, trying to sound indifferent, "yeah he seems like a sweet guy."

"Yeah and every girl with a pulse seems to be after him. You got some competition out there." he teased. "But seriously, if you're interested you should go for it. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It's been three years since...you know who."

Gavin didn't say his name, but he had said enough to bring on a wave of sad memories. "Thanks. I'm uh, feeling pretty tired, so... I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"G'night." Gavin said softly, as if aware he had brought out long buried and very unwelcome feelings.

You rolled over in your bunk, pulling your blankets up over your head, unwilling to dwell on the memories that had been drudged up by only a few words. Three years ago. That's when you finally had the strength to break it off with Alex.

You were a different person when you met him. It was your first relationship, and you were naive and forgiving, unable to see the dozens of red flags that should have made you run away from it all.

You had answered an ad that he had posted asking for potential band members for a punk band he was forming. It had been your dream to pursue music, and you responded right away, hoping you'd hit it off. You weren't expecting Alex to be so damn attractive, and when your audition was successful, it was only a matter of time before a relationship began to develop between you.

He was older than you, more experienced, and eager to take you under his wing where he could have the most control. You mistook his over-protectiveness as a sign of love, and he slowly cut you off from people outside of the band, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

Eventually he would get angry if he saw you speak to any other man. He took your phone regularly so that he could look through it, questioning you about anything he didn't like. The fights you had were loud and ugly, your voices rising and crashing like cantankerous bursts of thunder. Eventually, they became violent.

You were stuck in a cycle of affection and fear, held there as if caught in a tide that would never bring you back to shores of sanity. But you did eventually find the strength to get out when your friend reached out to you, offering you a place to stay. You packed your bags that night and didn't look back.

Your band was not just a career for you, it was a symbol of healing, proof that you were able to overcome it all and strike out on your own. You rolled over in your bunk, and pushed the unwanted memories aside, reminding yourself of the promise you had made to be the best damn band on Warped tour. Nothing was going to change that now.

x x x 

Your first performance went by in a haze of adrenaline and sweat. The crowd was young and eager to see what you had to offer, and you were all to happy to give them something they'd remember for a long long time.

There were several people in the crowd who were fans already, proudly wearing your band's shirts and mouthing along to all of the lyrics. Others were slowly converted, headbanging enthusiastically by the end of your set. When the band's final song was met with deafening hoots and cheers, you'd felt like you'd accomplished your mission.

"We fucking killed it!" Gavin declared as he slumped in the nearest chair, exhausted.

"The crowd was good, huh?" you beamed as you wiped the sweat from your face, still breathless from your onstage antics. "Let's hope they're all like this."

"Can't get any worse than our first show ever, remember?" Liz laughed as she recalled the groups early days. "Never had so much beer pelted at me in my life."

People milled about as you and your band mates caught your breath. A few musicians from other bands popped in to say hi and let you know that they enjoyed your performance.

"Hey you actually made it!" Gavin jumped up from his chair as he noticed a new face entering the backstage area. "Guys did you meet Frank last night? From My Chemical Romance?" A man with wide hazel eyes gave a quick wave from the the entryway.

"This guy was goin on and on about how you guys were the best new band on warped tour. Had to see if he was just full of shit."

"He always starts bragging when he's drunk." you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he did. You guys put on a pretty kick-ass show. Plus Gerard really wanted to check it out."

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled from jumping around on stage, began to speed up again.

"Gerard?"you asked softly, caught off guard by the mention of his name.  You didn't see the familiar black haired boy near frank. You only saw Gavin attempting to give you a discreet wink, which you returned with a harsh glare.

"Yeah actually we were all there. Mikey and Ray had to run to another show. Don't know where Gee disappeared to though," Frank craned his head, looking around at the hustle and bustle that was happening permanently everywhere on Warped tour. "Ah, there he is. Gerard!"

You saw Gerard, surrounded by a small circle of fans, each holding something they wanted him to sign. You felt a strange pang when you noticed they were all pretty girls, and Gavin's words from last night came back to haunt you. You got some competition out there. You struggled to identify just what emotion was suddenly eating away at you--were you really jealous? Or was it the realization that even if you decided to make a move, it was probably hopeless?

Gerard nodded at Frank. "Be there in a sec!" he shouted, continuing to sign autographs until he had gotten through everyone.

Frank spoke with your band mates, but you were too distracted by the knowledge that Gerard had watched you perform to be sociable. You were anxious as to what his opinion would be, but tried to push it out of your thoughts.

You watched nervously as Gerard spoke to Frank and Gavin, noticing that he would glance over at you every so often. When your eyes finally met he gave you a nod and a warm smile. You gave yourself an internal pep talk to try and stay calm. You can just be friends, you don't need to do anything except be friendly. For the love of god, act normal.

Eventually he made his way over to you,offering another soft and lopsided smile,but his time it almost seemed as if he was shy. "Great show. From one lead singer to another, your band has a fucking killer sound."

You thanked him, grinning like an idiot while cautionary alarm bells went off in your head.

"I might be a bit biased though, because of the shirt your wearing."

You looked down, having forgotten what you threw on that morning. It was one of your favorite shirts,  a short sleeved tee with the X-Men symbol emblazoned on the front. You'd had it for years, as evidenced by the smattering of small holes peeking through the bottom edge. Oh no, you thought, he likes comics too?

"You're a fan?" you asked coolly, a stark contrast to the giddy panic that was building up inside you.

"Yes! I actually wanted to make comics before My Chem was a thing." He spoke animatedly, his round hazel eyes widening even further. "But life had other plans. Not that I'm complaining."

That familiar heat rose in your cheeks. This conversation was dangerous, and you were trying desperately to fight the feeling that this man was something close to perfect.

The world around the two of you became an insignificant blur as you both discussed comics at length, and you hung on every word, taking turns revealing how you first discovered them and sharing your favorites. He even recommended a few titles that you had never heard of. His demeanor was passionate and lively, entirely different from the sullen boy you met the night before.

"I uh, I'm actually working on a comic at the moment," he began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful, "If you're interested you should stop by the bus sometime--"

Gerard's eyes focused on something just behind you, and you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. You turned and felt your stomach drop to a sickening low. There, standing next to the drunk who was hitting on you last night, was your ex-boyfriend Alex.

"What are the odds!" he smiled at you, blank looking smug beside him. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Ouch Y/N, is that anyway to say hello? I'm here for the same reason you are." He turned his attention to Gerard. "I'm Alex. Y/N and I used to have a band together back in the day. Well, a bit more than that actually." He smirked at you, instantly transforming any butterflies you had felt while talking to Gerard into pure revulsion.

This was your worst case scenario, and it was one you had never even considered to be possible. Seeing his face again made you freeze up, and you were at a loss for words. You looked up at Gerard through your eyelashes, wondering if the dark and overwhelming swirl of emotion inside you was showing on your face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly as if he could sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Nice to meet you," he replied curtly before turning his attention back to you. I'll uh, let you catch up. I'll just be over there with Frank...if you need anything."

You merely nodded, too caught up in your feelings to respond properly. "I'll catch you later then."

Alex saw this opportunity as a chance to reach for an embrace, but you stepped back and out of reach.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you implying? I'm just dropping in to say hello before Midnite Heist performs later. I'm their new drummer after all. I can't even do that?"

"No," you said, struggling to maintain a low voice, "You can't. I told you I never wanted to see you again. We may be on the same tour, but that doesn't mean you can approach me. Don't try it again."

He laughed, clearly embarrassed to be spoken too like that in front of his band mate. "If you're trying to get with that Way guy, don't bother. You're punching way above your weight with that one."

You took a moment to steel yourself, and decided to walk away rather than let thing turn into a scene. Before you turned to leave, you offered one final warning.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Speak to me again and you'll regret it."

You walked off, hearing mocking 'Ooooh's from Alex and Brent as you left. You saw heads turning in your direction as you stormed away towards the bus, including Gerard's, but you couldn't be bothered by that now- not when you were struggling to keep it together.

Fuck Fuck Fuck your internal monologue looped on a bitter repeat. This was going to be the longest tour of your life.