#‘you really need to change your major’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fallbhind · 1 day ago

Text

‘CASUAL’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut, angst wordcount 1.4k

❝ i've heard so many rumors. ❜

content warnings ,, mentions oral (f!receiving), p in v, masterbation in the bathroom, 'no attachment sex', rumors (blegh, drama llama.), rafe and reader break up. s1 era.

it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better.

sure, you did everything with rafe (when he called you up, not when you asked. sure one day you were fed up, left him a voicemail because of course he wouldn't pick up for you. "i've heard so many rumors." you said through the crackly phone. "that i'm just some girl you bang on your couch, i can't believe i thought you thought of me better."

an hour later (per usual), he answered you an hour later, telling you to 'hurry your ass out to tanneyhill'

you thought for a long hard while before ultimately deciding to head out to tanneyhill. where death literally layer waiting for you in your grave. you knew quite well what he was mad about and what he wanted, because you've sent multiple voicemails about the rumors going around outerbanks, you've heard about them and you‘be literally heard tourons living in the drama with you and rafe.

and you could never leave your back turned to long before people behind started murmuring up a storm.

you walked closer to your death in your busted up converses, running over impossible scenarios in your head. you stopped at the gate, texting rafe 'im here come to the gate.' you said with all intentions to be sassy. when you saw him, his pushed back curtain bangs, every part of him looked so hot.

he opened the gate, telling you to come on. rafe roughly grabbed your arm, taking you to his fathers study room were he did most of his work. whilst you were extremely liked throughout the cameron household, only you, rafe and maybe even sarah knew the real intent to your relationship. rafe said annoyingly, "we're not together, let me make myself clear.

it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up.

you didn't expect for his step-mom, rose, two weeks later after the major argument with rafe to invite you for dinner at tanneyhill. rafe, put on a mock smile, ready to peel the skims dress off your body. you were greeted by ward, and did he piss you off, with the fake smiling and his eyes trailing across your body whenever he could. perv.

"welcome, you look nice and sophisticated." ward said with the nicest tone he could bear, "no wonder rafe doesn't bring you up, your so lovely i'd hog you to." he laughed, and it sounded so fake. rafe had his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the dining room.

you took a seat in between wheezie and sarah, rafe sat across from you, with a pissed off expression. like, how could your's and his situation be casual now? you've literally done every thing, fingering, eating you out, a little bit of intercourse action, you've jerked and sucked him off, and you've let him jerk off onto your tits, and it was somehow casual.

after dinner, rafe again, excused you and him to go to the bathroom. he led you to the bathroom, shutting the door as he told you demanding to get on his counter, you back pressing against the mirror. "fuck, y'look s'good tonight." he pushed up the skims dress up to your hips, "'n no underwear?"

"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.

he kissed you, whispering sweet nothings like you and him didn't just have an argument two weeks ago.

he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger.

you sucked off all the pre-cum off his cock, rafe patting your cheek gently. he spread your legs more, giving him a great view of your pretty, coated pearl, pressing his finger against it, you rolled your head back into the mirror.

"rr-rafe!" you stuttered out as you cried out. he pulled away from your pretty pearl, aligning his cock with your tight hole. he thrusted into your hole, making you cry out for him again.

he squeezed your cheek, holding you in between his thumb and index finger. "c'mon baby give me more than that. not to loud though." he whispered harshly against your neck, gripping your thighs as he kept repeatedly bullying his way into you. and without break, he kept thrusting his cock into you, with a sneaky smirk. "your my girl aintchu?" he kissed your neck, taking a rest inside you.

rafe nipped at your neck as he moved his cock against your gummy hole. feeling you squeeze around him when he bite and sucked on your neck, he kept doing it. even if it felt like you wanted to squeeze his cock off inside of you. "s'tight. jus' how i like it." he whispered against your shoulder, bullying his way back in you as your gummy walls tried to push him out. he aggressively grunted in your ear, feeling the warmness off your breath as you let out a whimper and even softer moans. you gasped when he touched your g-spot, immediately convulsing around him but not yet coming on his cock.

he'd pulled out just before you could finish. he pulled his boxers, following his pants. he buttoned them up, leaving you desperate for release. you found yourself rubbing your clit trying any method of running your clit to come, though you weren't quite being able to finish off yourself. maybe the problem was that you never had to do anything yourself. you came on rafe's cock than he would come on your stomach.

you tugged your black skims dress back down, putting your heels back on as well before making your way out of the bathroom. you sat across from rafe as he had the satisfaction of making you better than before and not helping you like usual. it was great to see you a little grumpy, whilst a little nervous because you decided to be a little slut and go no underwear. but doesn't mean you weren't his little slut.

you were obviously out of it, because sarah had to tap you back into reality as everyone started eating. you cut the steak up before taking a bite of it. "this is really good ms. cameron, you'll have to teach me how to make it." you said cheerfully. rose smiled at you and nodded.

she was really proud of the fact you thought it was that good, but than of course, her cooking for the cameron's was something any mother should do, while some might think that she'd hire someone, she did it herself.

a week later, your friends had told you rafe had said it was casual still and that 'you get off when he hit it' when he never hit your clit not once. sure he left you drying for release but that wasn't the point. and that was near the last straw for you. you were tired.

you wanted a real relationship which was obvious that rafe wasn't ready for, so you found yourself calling him. and again, it wasn't something were he'd answer you, you said to him through the voicemail "i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself." you took a breath, "we're done." you said before slipping your phone in your pocket and walking away from the wreck after just having breakfast with your friend.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

@wi4hfulth1nking @gibson-g1rl

#꒰๑ ´` ๑꒱ my works⠀𓈒 #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe angst #rafe smut #outerbanks #outerbanks angst #outerbanks smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader

210 notes · View notes

arueshalaetablebuildingsociety · 1 day ago

Text

Incorrect. For a couple reasons:

1. Less than half of Americans who could vote, voted.

2. It's not how Kamala ran her campaign. It's how She and Biden wasted their incumbency doing nothing.

3. Trump had 2-3 million LESS people vote for him than in 2016. The fact that Kamala had 14-16 Million less people vote for her is not indicative of a "swing right"; simple math says that Trump's numbers would have to be positive for that to begin to be the case.

4. The Democrats took NO steps to head-off Trump or Project 2025. There are a lot of things they could have done, COULD STILL DO, to make that as difficult as possible. Enshrining Trans Protections in Federal Law. Creating a law establishing an agency that exists to ensure Women maintain the right to Abortions, with mandatory budget allocation. Creating a law requiring all accused Undocumented Immigrants be afforded full Constitutional Protections, that they are tried individually, and ICE has to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are truly here illegally, knowingly and by choice. But they didn't. They wanted to tie all of that to a Democratic 2024, meaning that they saw a murderer wielding a gun labelled "Project 2025", and instead of stopping him, they whispered to us, "You know, if you keep voting Democrat, we'll keep him away from you."

5. If your Incumbent Party bungles an election against Trump, that is not a failure of the voters, it's a failure of the Party.

What did Democrats do to challenge the insane levels of power-grabbing from the Supreme Court? Well, they granted SCOTUS Justices extra Secret Service protections, of course!

What did Democrats do about the fact that the average rent in EVERY State is more than the average monthly wage? Did they introduce price controls? Renter protections? No. The FBI raided one office and then seemingly did nothing. This is not a new problem, and the Democrats have had four years with a solid, if not unshakable, Congressional control to do so.

What did Democrats do about the fact that a hurricane destroyed western NC? Did they send National Guard to establish Rationing, to ensure that people still had access to basic needs? No, they sent cops to threaten to beat anyone who wanted the food and water in the stores which had no power so all of that was going to go bad anyway.

What did Democrats do about the fact that Climate Change looms above all of us as a loaded gun pressed against the head of the Human species? Did they reactivate Nuclear Powerplants to create a massive source of emissions-free, too-cheap-to-meter electrical power, forcing Oil and Coal to break up their market hegemony? No, they decided those plants would EXCLUSIVELY go to AI datacenters so we could make really good pictures of Shrimp Jesus amidst all the intensifying mass digital surveillance.

What did Democrats do about the fact that we are currently embroiled in two major wars, one of which is deeply wrong and deeply unpopular? Did they pressure the aggressor, who is reliant on American-made weapons and technologies as a majority of their stockpiles, to back the fuck off? No, they made patronising statements to the media and

then sent Bill Clinton to go tell Lebanese Americans how it was good that Israel was bombing Lebanon and Gaza, actually, and they ought to be thankful.

Jesus fucking Christ, this isn't about Kamala's advertising like she's a commercial on TV. It's about the people who are sick and dying because Neoliberal Economics refuses to recognize they exist as long as GDP Go Up, Mr. Bond.

Remember when Biden arbitrarily decided Covid was over? I do! Is it over? No! People still are contracting it, getting sick, and dying from it. I see those people when they come to pick up their suddenly-much-more-expensive Paxlovid. I've seen people who can't afford it and break down crying because they don't know if they will live through their next paycheck.

#us politics #fuck off pretending that this result was anything other than the last grasp of a dead ideology punishing “the poors” one last time #if you use Donald Trump as a gun to try and force people to vote for you #you shouldn't be surprised when those people just shut down instead #it's not like major Democrats and Democrat donors aren't White Supremacist either #Biden wanted to send the Hatians back #to the country the Clinton Foundation intentionally destroyed so Haitans would be forced to buy American Arsenic Rice

13K notes · View notes

faeriekit · 2 days ago

Text

Faeriekit's big fat library post: what is a public library for?

Things almost any public library will do:

Let you borrow books. (Specialty libraries and archives may not permit you to borrow delicate materials. You may be able to look at them nevertheless, but you dont know until you ask.)

Allow you to put items on hold! (Want us to pull a book or hold it for you? We'll set it aside under your name as soon as it's available!)

Allow you to join in for programming (may be as simple as kids storytimes, or as complicated as academic lectures. It's usually cooking classes and knitting sessions though when the budget gets short. We love outside presenters though, especially locals.)

Inter-library loans (don't have a rare book? We'll try to get it from another library!)

Things your library will PROBABLY let you do:

Let you borrow other forms of physical media, such as DVDs, Video Games, audiobooks, CDs, etc. (This may cost you extra depending on library policy.)

Let you borrow magazines! (It's not like you're paying for a subscription, unless you're me and you like mail. Let us get them for you.)

Print/fax/scan (depends on the tech available in your library; for instance, it costs your library money to maintain a fax-specific phone line, so they may not do fax. Again, price may vary.)

Access online databases! (Ah, Ebsco. We meet again.) (But sometimes there's some cool stuff. Genealogy databases, kids' encyclopedias, all kinds of cool stuff)

Borrow ebooks and eaudiobooks! And maybe even emagazines! (Despite what people say, Libby is NOT the only service that allows your library to share ebooks with your device. There's like five I can think of off the top of my head, and your library has to pay to play. Ask which service your library offers directly so you can get the good stuff)

Put up/look at flyers. (Good for sharing public information! I just used one of our advertised services to apply for low income housing. Love library wages...woo...)

Let you volunteer! Need something to add to your resume? Need wo build up some real world work skills in a low pressure environment?Spend some time with us!

Let you use public computers! Check your email or watch yt vids or apply for jobs. Up to you.

Play with board games or puzzles as long as you're there. They may even have a swap for people to trade!

Things your library MAY have to offer you:

Makerspace (cool tech that lives at the library you can use/pay to use, such as tools, 3d printers, etc.)

Borrowing cooler tech to take home (WiFi hotspots, single-use tablets, and other cool tech)

English courses! Learn with peers!

Borrowing actual tools! (I had one library card that let me borrow hiking stuff like tents and navigational tools and sewing machines and other cool stuff and they will not renew my card because policy changed and no I'm not crying—)

Museum passes (hey! Sometimes you can get into a museum for free or for cheap!)

Book requests (hey. If you tell the library to buy a book, we may just straight up buy it! Why not? It's a guaranteed circ!)

Social worker/social work help (depends on if your library can cut a deal with an organization that has social workers)

Paperwork help for seniors (I don't know how this works because our town handles this one.)

Notary public services! (This one's just straight up like. My boss.)

Tutoring services! (We have kid volunteers AND a paid online service subscription to a tutoring site. Not bad.)

Certain streaming options! (Movies and television right as your fingertips! Or. Well. You know.)

Home delivery for housebound folks! (This one again depends on staffing, resources, money, etc etc.)

Book purchase! (No, really. Sometimes there's old books for sale, or donor books for sale, to help keep libraries running.)

And, of course, sometimes your local librarians are geniuses and come up with things I haven't even thought of. The moral of the story is, libraries do a lot of things, but the majority of them, as you can probably tell, depend on size, budget, physical resources, and local support. If you are interested in any of these services, please reach out to your local library; even if they don't offer these services specifically, making your interest known tells the library what sort of things people are looking for in the community, and may even affect financial decisions down the road. The thing I would like to emphasize the most, however, is that you are likely already paying for these services in the form of tax dollars; if you do not physically go and find out what services you are entitled to, you will never be able to take advantage of them.

Call your local library today to find out the specifics!

#library posting #faer winds #2212

133 notes · View notes

ninetailedfoxmanchi · 2 days ago

Text

Mafia! BTS - They Want to Spoil You

Warnings: /

A/N: They realize you're not well-off or are even struggling financially and that makes them want to take care of you even more. Per popular request <3.

MASTERLIST

Jin

Jin was already lying in bed when you got out of the bathroom. You grabbed your pyjamas from your bag as he watched you change.

"Oh no ..." you mumbled when you saw that the seams in your side tore and left a gap in your top. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?" you asked as you turned to your boyfriend but you already knew the answer. You were beginning to suspect too that Jin even preferred it if you wore his clothes.

"Do you need new pyjamas?"

"No, I'll just sew this up and they'll be like new again," you told as you grabbed Jin's t-shirt from one of the dressers.

"Just get a new pair," said Jin as he sat leaning against his pillow.

"I can already barely get through the month, I can't just buy new clothes whenever there's a tear in them," you laughed as you pulled on Jin's white t-shirt. You climbed into the bed but your smile faded when you saw Jin frowning.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently and scooted closer to him.

"You barely get through the month?" asked Jin seriously. Your mouth parted and your face went blank. Your cheeks turned pink as you thought about how much less you earned compared to Jin. You had made your peace with it already when you two began dating but the difference between your incomes and savings never crossed Jin's mind.

"It's not that bad," you smiled and tried to reassure your boyfriend. "I have a beginner's salary, it's normal."

"It's not normal if you're struggling," said Jin sternly as he sat up straight and his hand cupped your cheek. "Let me take care of you." He frowned even worse.

"You don't have to take care of me, Jin, I'm fine, really," you insisted although the past few months have been really tight for you financially. Your rent took most of the money whilst you were staying at Jin's place the majority of the nights. Then there was the food and the bills, the everyday things and the public transport. Your phone was so battered that the screen had began to flicker a couple of weeks ago.

A look so determined filled Jin's eyes that it began to worry you a little.

"Please don't think about it anymore, Jinnie," you begged as you took his cheeks and kissed him. He struggled to respond at first, his mind in a storm, but he couldn't resist your soft lips.

The next day when you woke up, you reached for the nightstand blindly to check the time on your phone but you couldn't find it. You rose your head and frowned when your phone was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen my phone?" you mumbled sleepily when you came into the living area, finding Jin already dressed in another one of his perfect outfits. It must have been late in the morning judging by the daylight if not close to noon. Jin liked to sleep in as well but not that day. He had been up since early morning.

"Here you go, princess," said Jin as he handed you a phone.

"This isn't my phone?" you asked confused and tried to give it back to Jin. It seemed brand new so you figured he changed his.

"It's your phone," insisted Jin, his eyes still filled with the same unbending look as the night before. You frowned and tapped the screen. The background was the same as on your phone, the contacts and the apps, everything was the same but the machine itself.

You looked up and finally noticed the dozens of bags lying around on the sofa and the coffee table.

"What's all this?" you breathed, your frown only deepening.

"You bought this for yourself, princess," said Jin as he took your free hand and placed a black card in your palm.

"N-No, I didn't," you backed away but tried to give the card back to Jin at the same time. He didn't even look at your hand.

"Jin, please," you begged when you realized what he was doing. "I don't need any of this—"

"Y/N," warned Jin when he turned to you. "Not another word." His hands caressed your neck gently before they moved up to your jaw and made you look up at him. He leaned in slowly and kissed you, silencing any protests that might want to come out of your mouth.

"I'll know if you won't use the card, Y/N," he cautioned against your lips, sending shivers down your spine, but you only wanted another kiss. Jin backed away when you searched for his plush lips again. You opened your eyes, seeing the stern look on Jin's handsome face.

"Just let me take care of you, princess," he spoke quietly, his chest vibrating with the deepness of his voice. You nodded weakly, folding at the prospect of Jin's affection. True to your presumptions, he rewarded you with another tender kiss.

Namjoon

You found your boyfriend sitting on the sofa, checking something on his laptop when you took a seat beside him.

"Are you busy?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

"No, it's just some stupid emails," said Namjoon absently, his eyes scanning through the unnecessarily long blocks of text. "What is it, baby?"

"I was just ... I was wondering if ..." You cleared your throat as you squeezed your hands nervously. "If you could maybe lend me some money," you asked with difficulty. Your cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment when Namjoon tore his gaze from his laptop and looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown.

"I'd pay you back everything," you said quickly. "It's just for rent—"

"What do you mean you'd pay me back?" asked Namjoon sternly, a tempest of thoughts behind his dark irises.

"I'll get my paycheck next week and I'll pay you back every cent, I promise," you explained although the demanding look on his features gave you little hope. His pensive eyes studied your face wordlessly. "It's okay if you don't want to, I'll ask my mom—"

"For rent?" Namjoon cut you off. His frown only grew deeper as he struggled to understand what you were asking.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have asked; I know it's weird," you said quickly and took Namjoon's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You tried to get up but he caught your wrist and pulled you back down.

"How much do you make?" demanded Namjoon. His voice was gentle but no less inquisitive. Your face went blank as more heat rose to your face. You didn't even make a hundredth of what Namjoon was bringing in in your first job as a beginner with no position.

"You know I don't make as much as you do," you swallowed. Even though your answer gave little information, Namjoon realized for the first time since you began dating that you might be financially unstable. He knew what you did and you liked your job but since money was never an issue for him, he never considered it might be an issue for you.

"I'll take care of it," nodded Namjoon and smoothed his thumb gently across your cheek before he got up.

"Take care of what?" you asked wide-eyed as you stared up at him. "Namjoon, I just need—"

"I'll take care of it," repeated Namjoon and gave your forehead a kiss as he buttoned his suit jacket. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and made for the door.

"Namjoon," you called again but he was adamant and gone.

A few hours later, you were looking through the fridge to think of some ideas for dinner when Namjoon came back. He set down a brown folder on the kitchen isle with a credit card on top of it before he pulled off his jacket and came to you for a kiss. You closed the fridge blindly as you responded to his lips but your mind was on the folder.

"What's this?" you asked as you removed the card from the brown paper and opened the file. It was a title deed with your name on it as part of a property transfer. The apartment in question was your rental paid in full and written in your name. Your eyebrows gathered into a frown as your mouth parted and your stomach gave a nervous squeeze.

"I told you I'd take care of it," said Namjoon easily and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. You stared at him, your frown as deep as ever.

"You bought my apartment?" you asked astounded.

"No, you bought your apartment," said Namjoon as he drank the cold juice from a crystal glass. His fingers sat down on top of the dark credit card and he pushed it towards you. The letters of your name were engraved on the luxurious-painted plastic.

"Are you insane?" you blurted, your chest riddled with guilt. You were used to working hard for everything you had and hated accepting things from others. Even birthday gifts if too extravagant made you uncomfortable.

"I can't accept this, I won't accept this, Namjoon," you insisted although you could see it on his face that you were shouting in deaf ears. Your boyfriend was one of the most intransigent people in the world and when he decided on something there was no changing his mind.

"It's yours," said Namjoon nonchalantly, "Whether you like it or not."

Your eyes flinched in the direction of the crackling fireplace as you held the folder in your hands. Namjoon followed your gaze and smiled with amusement.

"I have a digital copy, baby," said Namjoon as he came closer to you. "The apartment is yours and so is the card." His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to him, his forehead almost leaning against yours whilst you stared up at him.

"I'll know if you won't spend anything," he purred a warning and came even closer. "And I won't like it if you don't spend anything." His deep voice gave you goosebumps as your eyes flicked down to his plush lips.

"I want to spoil you, baby," said Namjoon against your soft mouth. "You should let me." He closed the space between your lips and kissed you deeply enough for the folder to fall from your hands as he pulled your waist to his hips.

Yoongi

"Fuck ..." you mumbled under your breath as you scrolled through the bills on your email, your back against the foot of the sofa and your laptop on the coffee table. Your stomach was in a tight knot. You tried to calculate the priorities but even that surpassed the amount that was left on your bank account from your last paycheck.

"What is it?" asked Yoongi as he sat on the sofa behind you, his legs on each side of your frame when he kissed the top of your head.

"Nothing," you whispered and closed your laptop quickly. You looked up and gratefully responded to Yoongi kissing your lips. His hand was caressing your neck gently, the cold rings on his long fingers giving you goosebumps as they made contact with your warm skin.

"You sure?" asked Yoongi when he pulled away a little. You set your eyes forward again and bit your lip as you nodded. Yoongi's hand glided around your neck and pushed back your soft hair as he began to run his fingers through it. You leaned your head against the sofa and closed your eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong," said Yoongi. His voice was deep and quiet but no less authoritative.

"Nothing's wrong," you insisted as you shook your head a little. Yoongi frowned more and more with each second. You didn't even have to open your eyes to see his expression. You knew that he knew that you were hiding something.

"You don't trust me anymore, jagi?" asked Yoongi. His hand came down to your cheek and caressed you gently. Your eyes opened at those words and you turned around to look at him.

"Of course I trust you," you spoke feverishly.

"Why won't you talk to me then?" said Yoongi as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Because it's nothing," you lied. "And you'll worry and think that you have to fix it."

"Fix what?" pressed Yoongi. You groaned desperately and buried your face into the sofa. Yoongi seized the opportunity and opened your laptop behind your back, his eyes scanning over the bills.

"No, wait—" you tried to close the laptop when you noticed what he was doing but it was already too late. He saw everything.

"Yoongi, don't do anything," you begged as you got up to your knees and cupped his face. The look in his eyes was as hard and unmoving as a mountain and your words fell on deaf ears. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket and slid out a slick black credit card.

"Here you go, kitten, happy anniversary," said Yoongi as he offered you the card. You stood up with a frown.

"Our anniversary won't be for three months," you protested although that was far from Yoongi's point or yours for that matter. He stood up as well, took your hand and wrapped your fingers around his card.

"You can give me that card all you want but I won't spend a dime," you insisted. Yoongi turned to you slowly and took a good look at you. His eyes made your stomach dance with butterflies and fireworks.

"Fine," said Yoongi as he came closer to you. "Then I'll make you." His voice send shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He took your hand and you had no choice but to follow him. He drove you half-way across town until you arrived to a large glass building.

"Why are we here?" you questioned when Yoongi opened the car door for you. "Please, let's just go home." You took your boyfriend's hand but he wasn't paying your tugs no mind.

"Yoongi," you gasped under your breath and squeezed his hand tightly when he led you inside the Cartier boutique. It was too late to leave without causing a scene in front of the elegant saleswomen.

"Mr Min," said the older one of the two with her hair in a neat bun. "We're so happy to see you're back. It's been too long," smiled the other lady and took in the sight of you, giving you a warm smile as well.

"We have a very special thing for you," said the older lady and disappeared in the back.

"Yoongi," you pleaded in a whisper as you tugged on his hand a little but his fingers were tightly intertwined with yours. Yoongi looked down into your eyes, defeating you in an instance.

"This is one of our rarest and most sought after items, Mr Min," purred the older saleslady. She placed a beautiful red box on the glass counter before you and opened it with care. "This is out Panthere Maillon Etrier necklace in 18 carat white gold. It's distinguished for its geometric shape with the center of the necklace set with brilliant cut diamonds around 2,15 carats."

Your lips parted as your face went blank in the face of the exquisite piece of jewellery. You had never even stood in a jewellery shop, much less in Cartier itself. Yoongi observed your reaction for a while before he nodded to the saleslady.

"Very good," she smiled and motioned to her assistant to take care of the payment.

You realized that the purchase was agreed to and looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"Please," said the younger saleslady when she gestured elegantly at the payment terminal. Your gaze shifted between her, the astronomical number on the screen and Yoongi.

"Your card, kitten," said Yoongi as he stared down at you. You were still clutching to the black piece of plastic in your clammy hand. You swallowed before you inched the card closer to the terminal until it made a sound of approval.

"See? It's not that hard," purred Yoongi in your ear as his arm wrapped around your waist. You turned to him, your lips only inches apart. "You can use it for other things now too, kitten, and I'll know if you won't," he spoke quietly, his hot breath teasing your mouth as he slowly closed the space between you and kissed you greedily.

Hoseok

Although you have been dating Hoseok for a while now, you were never very comfortable talking about money with him. You grew up poor and even though you were just starting your first job now, you still struggled quite a lot. You didn't mind that Hoseok made a lot of money, you accepted that right in the beginning of your relationship, but you never wanted to talk about your situation because of that. Yet when you had a glass of wine too much with your dinner last week, you told Hoseok about your upbringing and how the notion of always having to save money was still rooted deep inside of you.

You shouldn't have said anything, though, because once Hoseok found out about it, he began to shower you with gifts every single day. You didn't mind him paying for meals when you went out but the gifts he was giving you now weren't anything short of luxurious.

"Hobi, I swear if you get me another thing—" you threatened when you saw the timeless Hermès Kelly on your nightstand. Your stomach twisted into knots just at the idea of how much it must have cost.

When you turned around with your index pointed at Hoseok, he was standing so close to you that the wind was knocked out of you. Your lips parted as Hobi towered over you.

"Or what?" he asked with an amused smile resting on his lips and in his dark eyes. You were at a loss for words. "Or what, kitten?" he asked again, taking another half a step closer to you and closed the space between your bodies.

"You should look what's inside, baby," Hoseok encouraged, enjoying every moment of seeing the puzzled and flushed look on your face.

You looked inside the leather bag hesitantly and found a creamy white jewellery box inside. It was already clutched in your fingers before you let it go and took a step back, your hands hugging your elbows as the corners of your eyebrows pulled downwards.

"I don't want it, you spoke weakly as Hoseok frowned at your reaction.

"You haven't even looked at it," said Hoseok but you shook your head and backed away some more.

"I don't want it - I didn't earn it and I sure as hell don't deserve it," you tried to leave the bedroom but Hoseok caught your wrist.

"Y/N," he called as he cupped your neck just beneath your jaw and made you look up at him but you were avoiding his eyes. "Y/N," Hoseok warned again and you looked at him. His frown softened when he saw the sad look on your face.

"That's the least of what you deserve, baby." He brushed his thumbs along the gentle line of your jaw. "Stop fighting me and let me take care of you." Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his closeness calming down your anxiety immediately. Your arms found their way around his sides as you came closer, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"It's okay, baby, you'll get used to it," Hoseok spoke gently against your hair before he kissed the top of your head, his hands caressing your back.

"Wear it to the opera tonight, baby," he said after a while. "Will you wear it for me, kitten?" Hoseok cupped your cheeks again and made you look up at him. You nodded a little. He smiled and leaned in, his thumbs caressing your soft skin as he kissed you tenderly.

When you finally found the courage to come near the bag and the jewellery box again, you were already wearing your evening dress. You opened the delicate velvet box and found a pearl necklace in 18 carat yellow gold. The letters Mikimoto were engraved in the satin interior of the box.

"Do you like it?" smiled Hoseok as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before he pressed a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

You nodded weakly as you studied the necklace without a breath in your lungs. "It's beautiful."

Hoseok took the necklace from the box as you scooped up your hair and the cold pearls made contact with your warm skin. Hoseok fastened the clip in the back and took your soft hair from your hands, his fingers letting them fall down your back.

"You're so beautiful, baby," purred Hoseok when his hands returned to your waist and pulled you to him as his lips left tender kisses along your shoulder.

Jimin

When you got back from work, you were surprised to find Jimin already at home. It was barely the afternoon and he sometimes stayed at the office until evening.

"Hey," you greeted softly as you cuddled up next to him on the sofa. You wrapped your arms around his sides and leaned against his chest but he didn't budge. Jimin was pretending to watch the TV and refused to even say hello.

You sat up perplexed as you studied your boyfriend's sullen frown.

"What's wrong?" you breathed, your chest heavy with guilt although you had no idea what you did wrong. You took your boyfriend's hand and squeezed it pleadingly but Jimin gave no reaction.

"Jimin-ah," you tried again, your voice almost cracking. You couldn't stand having him be upset with you, especially when you had no idea what could have made him react this way. Jimin was never upset with you no matter what, which is why his reaction affected you so much.

The desperation in your voice made Jimin break his harsh facade. He turned to you frowning no less.

"Why do you think I gave you that card?" said Jimin bitterly but you were lost. He leaned forward and grabbed the bank statement from the coffee table and showed it to you.

"You promised me that you would spend money on that card, Y/N," said Jimin when you read through the humble list of meals you had paid with Jimin's card, the 30 dollars that you had spent on buying some cute office supplies and the 20 dollars you had left at the bookstore.

"But I did," you insisted, showing Jimin the bank statement that he knew by heart now. He rolled his eyes and glared at you again. You had never seen him behave like this before. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed at you. A part of you knew that he wanted you to spend more money but there was nothing you really needed that much. After Jimin found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he pulled the card right from his wallet and gave it to you.

"You promised me, Y/N," said Jimin and got up. Your wide eyes followed him and your lips were parted in shock. He grabbed his car keys and waited for you to get up as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked your boyfriend.

"I'm making you keep your promises to me, sweetheart," said Jimin darkly as he took your hand and led you down to his car.

Jimin drove you to the enormous glass building where he liked to shop. You had been there with him a hundred times before but the prices made your stomach twist into knots.

"Jimin, this isn't necessary—" you tried to reason with him but he only grabbed your hand and led you straight to Tiffany & Co.

"Jimin, please," you begged him as your chest grew heavy with guilt. The salespeople knew him. He already got you a pair of their earrings before but you had only worn them once to your anniversary dinner for fear of losing them.

Jimin picked out a 20 carat diamond necklace for you since he knew you'd refuse to choose any of the items the salespeople displayed especially for him.

Your boyfriend gave you his card and stared at you. He was still angry with you and the sight of it made your heart break.

"Jimin," you pleaded but he didn't budge. The lady at the cash registry waited patiently when the five digit number appeared on the payment terminal in front of you.

"Y/N," Jimin warned when he saw you hesitate. You swallowed and gave in. You pressed Jimin's card against the terminal and felt even worse when it gave a sound of approval.

Jimin took you to Dior next, then Celine, Balenciaga and even Chanel where his card caused more rings of approval from the payment terminal. Your boyfriend's frown, however, began to melt away when he saw you try on couture and get tended to from every direction by the salespeople.

Jimin leaned against the door frame of your dressing room as he watched you put on a beautiful white dress with a black ribbon that screamed Chanel. He glanced over his shoulder before he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Jimin leaned his chin against your shoulder as he watched you in the mirror.

"See? It's not that hard, baby," he purred before he pressed a soft kiss on your exposed neck and you couldn't help but lean back against him.

Taehyung

"What's this?" asked your boyfriend as he opened his bank statement. You looked up with big wide eyes and your heart sank a little. After Taehyung found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he gave you his card and practically threatened you to spend money on it when you refused.

"I-I just ... " you began to stutter. You had bought yourself a new bag for your laptop and for the things you needed whenever you went to study or to work and a perfume that you knew Taehyung loved. Those were the kind of treats you could only afford once in a while on your own but since he encouraged you, you got them for yourself although it made you feel no less guilty.

"You said ... You said I should get a few things," you spoke carefully as you watched Taehyung's frown whilst he scanned the contents of his bank statement before his dark eyes turned to you.

"Why didn't you?" he asked sternly, showing you the slip. Your eyes turned into a different kind of wide when he spoke the opposite of what you imagined. You took the bank statement and saw your two items on there along with a few meals that you paid for with Taehyung's card.

"What do you mean? I got the bag," you gestured towards the beautiful accessory that was sitting at the foot of the sofa. "And I got the perfume - it's Gucci." Even saying the brand name weighed heavy on your tongue with guilt. You had never owned a luxurious brand item in your life before you met Taehyung.

"Yeah, and you got tteokbokki, bubble tea, two coffees and spent 12 dollars at a pizza place," Taehyung listed the rest of the items of places where the card was used.

"Do you want me to pay you back?" you asked unsure but that made Taehyung frown even deeper.

"Come on," he instructed as he took your hand and led you to his car. You watched him as he drove you to the city center and pulled up in front of Cartier.

"Tae—" you protested but he cut you off by getting out of the car. "Tae," you tried again when he grabbed your hand and took you inside the luxurious boutique.

"Mr Kim," the elegant saleswoman greeted the moment she saw your boyfriend and you enter their exclusive shop. "We're so glad to see you return, it's been a while." She smiled a bright smile when she saw you before she brought out a collection of their most exquisite items, timeless pieces inspired by art deco.

You tried to get your boyfriend's attention and get out of there but he would not so much as budge. He chose a sapphire and diamond bracelet for you. When the lady presented a six digit on the computer screen, your face grew hot with fever.

"Tae, don't—" you tried but Taehyung glared at you so intensely that you were at a loss for words. He showed you his card - your card - and pressed it against the payment terminal. Your mouth parted when the machine gave a happy sound of approval and the saleslady thanked the both of you. She tried to hand you the velvet box within a beautiful paper bag but Taehyung accepted it instead.

"You're getting this when you pay for dinner tonight, kitten," said Taehyung to you and only you, his dark voice sending shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He handed you back his credit card and left a small kiss on your jaw right above your neck, his lips hiding a shadow of a smirk.

Jungkook

"Please don't make me do this," you begged when Jungkook took you to Calvin Klein and made you try on a series of luxurious fragrances. The prices of the items they sold made your cheeks flush red with discomfort. Ever since Jungkook found out that you weren't financially stable, he insisted you spend money on his elite black card. If you failed to meet his expectations, he made you go shopping and this was just one of those instances.

Jungkook's nose brushed against your neck where one of the wonderful perfumes mingled with your skin.

"You smell so good, kitten," murmured Jungkook, his dark voice giving you goosebumps. He pulled away, his face only inched from yours as he watched you with amusement. Your boyfriend leaned in slowly, a few locks of his dark hair brushing against your forehead. You put your arms around his neck and guided him to you but he pulled away at the last moment, leaving you wide-eyed and perplexed.

"Only after you use the card, kitten," said Jungkook and placed the black credit card into your hand.

"But ..." Your gaze flicked between your boyfriend and your palm. "Jungkook," you whined in protest.

"You should have done this on your own, Y/N," said Jungkook smoothly as he stepped closer to you and you backed away until your back hit the perfume counter. His long arms leaned against the wooden surface and trapped you there. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at you boyfriend but your gaze kept drifting to his lips.

"We could have been somewhere else right now," spoke Jungkook quietly as his eyes gained a dark, glossy look that made your knees go weak.

"O-Okay," you found yourself stuttering.

After you paid for the perfumes you liked, you were eager to leave the luxurious shopping center.

"Not so fast, kitten," said Jungkook as he caught your hand and pulled you inside the Bvlgari boutique.

"Jungkook—" you spoke breathlessly but the salesman already nodded to Jungkook and went to retrieve something from the back.

"Jungkook, please, let's just go," you tried to reason with your boyfriend, but this time, instead of tempting you with his kisses, Jungkook frowned at you. His eyebrows arched sharply as he caressed your cheek.

"Stop fighting me, kitten," he spoke quietly but his chest was vibrating with the deepness of his husky voice. "We made a deal."

Jungkook had made you promise that you would use the card and not just for the things you needed like meals and everyday items.

"Here it is, Mr Jeon," smiled the elegant salesman. He presented a beautiful velvet box on the counter and opened it carefully. A Serpenti Viper Necklace was sitting on the cushion made in its shape. The metal used was white 18 carat gold with so many diamonds it would take you a month to count them.

Your lips parted in awe as you looked up at Jungkook. His frown vanished behind a small smile when his eyes found yours, a playful look in his dark irises.

"Would you like to try it on, Miss?" asked the courteous salesman. You checked with Jungkook and he nodded to the employee. He didn't let the salesman put it on you, though, that was his job. You turned to the mirror whilst the salesman went to assist the person in the back and Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist. His gaze traced the viper's tail that led down the middle of your chest.

"Do you like it?" asked Jungkook, his hot breath teasing your ear as his eyes found yours in the mirror.

"It's exquisite," you breathed, feeling the weight of the diamonds and gold against your skin. Your hand took one of Jungkook's and intertwined your fingers with his,

"Just like you, kitten," he spoke softly and left a tender kiss on your neck.

120 notes · View notes

sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 day ago

Text

SVT with an ADHD partner

Requested? Yes! (and they are still open!)

Genre: comfort

Seungcheol

Whether you’re a student, taking on new responsibilities at work, or picking up a big project at home, Cheol always encourages it, especially if it’s something that you really want to do or are passionate about. But he’s concerned when you’re carrying a lot of stress related to these things. Over dinner, you lament that you’re having trouble prioritizing everything you need to do because everything feels both important and urgent. He asks you to make him a list and your eyes glaze over a little because you definitely don’t have one, but he’s insistent. So you jot down what you can remember and the meal is long forgotten as he helps you work through the order things need to be done in by due date or how long it will take, and how important things really are (is this for an elective class or a major class? Is this for your boss or for someone else? Is this part of the project a hazard to leave unfinished in the house for long or will it just be a little bit messy if it sits for a bit?). He does it in such a delicate yet detailed way that the next day you don’t feel so overwhelmed by the long list because you actually have a game plan.

Jeonghan

You two regularly play a little game called ‘Hannie, can you help me find something’. You never know where you last had it or saw it, but he always asks just in case. He helps you look, tearing apart the house if he has to, especially if it’s an important thing. When this lost item is found (and it almost always is), he’ll hand it back to you and teasingly say something like, ‘what would you do without me?’. But if you ever seem upset by this comment or having lost the thing in the first place, he’ll be quick to reassure you that he’ll always play this game with you. Still, he buys little things to give you visible ‘homes’ for things - like a hook on the back of the door so your favorite sweaters and jackets don’t get wrinkled in the floor, or a decorative bowl to drop your favorite jewelry into so you don’t lose your favorite ring, or getting clear containers for things and labeling them so you know where to look for something. These little things make your life easier, so he’ll keep doing them.

Joshua

You often lament about how cluttered your space is. You say it’s an organized mess and it wouldn’t normally bother you because you feel that you can function in it just fine, but you’ve been shamed about it a few times, whether it be the wrinkled, free-floating papers in your backpack, or the haphazard stacks of random things on your desk at work, or a total inability to keep your closet organized and not all over your floor. Where as Hannie is worried about your object permanence and losing things, Joshua is worried about adding some structure to these things to take stress off of you and reduce the shame you might feel about it. He buys you folders for each of your classes in colors you like, or a few cute labeled baskets for your desk to sort things by status, or installing a new closet organizer that might be more user friendly. He also absolutely doesn’t mind to come behind you and pick up and straighten a few things here and there if it prevents you from stressing about it when you see it later.

Jun

When you ask him how to make that one recipe that you both really like, Jun mindlessly rambles off the instructions. You don’t answer and he notices that your eyes glaze over. You ask him to repeat it again, but your glazed look doesn’t change when he does. He asks if you’re okay, and you admit that it’s a lot of steps and you’re afraid you’re going to mess it up. You’re not a bad cook, not by a long shot, but he sees that you need to take one thing at a time. So he goes to the kitchen and cooks with you, guiding you through the recipe. The following week, you find a neat little binder with handwritten recipes and detailed step by step instructions. There’s even a long strip of tape on the margin of each page, allowing you to mark off what you’ve done and not done with a dry erase marker. (I’m low key emotional thinking about this level of thoughtfulness.)

Hoshi

No matter what he’s had to do that day or how tired he is, he is never too tired to match your energy. If you’re restless and need to get up and do something, he’s going with you. No request is too wild. A walk around the block? Sure. A sprint around the block? He’ll laugh but say ‘why not’ and start a game of tag. Need to blast music? He’ll hand you his phone to pick what you want to play on speaker. Need something visually stimulating? He’s putting on some bright, flashy game for the two of you to play. Genuinely, his creativity knows no bounds.

Wonwoo

Everybody has bad days and you’re included in that. Wonwoo might have a little bit of a temper, but does everything he can to squash it with you, even when you are particularly quick to anger. It doesn’t prevent every single fight, but most often, he’ll tug you over to sit with him and ask what made you so angry and what he can do to help. Sometimes it’s something he can help and sometimes it’s not, but he does his absolute best to meet you with understanding when your temper flares, knowing that it could be a thousand (sometimes seemingly unrelated) things that made it bubble up in the first place. When the fights are unavoidable, he’s so apologetic afterwards because he absolutely hates fighting with you.

Woozi

He absolutely understands that sometimes some things just can’t be finished in a timely manner or at all, but he gets a lot of satisfaction out of finishing things when he can. One day, you’re watching him put away things you’ve left out or closing things you opened but forgot to close. He does this wordlessly without an ounce of bitterness, but still, you lament because you can’t seem to be able to close a damn cabinet, much less finish a big project. Will not let you linger on that because he genuinely doesn’t mind doing these little things, but he’ll always offer to help you make progress on those big projects. Literally does not matter what it is, he’ll take an active role by working on it with you, or take a more inactive role by just accompanying you as you work on it. You’ll never turn it down because you enjoy his company.

Now I promise I’m not recycling ideas here, but the concept mentioned in my bipolar reaction for Seokmin applies here too. You like to talk and he likes to talk so really, you guys are the perfect match. He gets you, but sometimes others don’t. If anyone ever makes a comment that you’re talking too much, he will go out of his way to be even worse just to prove a point, because no one makes his baby feel bad!! He will not let you feel upset by this for long because he loves that he can talk to you about literally anything. He’d skip almost anything if he could just to keep the conversation going sometimes. Will forever be both the #1 fan and #1 defender of your yapping.

Mingyu

Now he’s protective naturally and you fire up a lot of those instincts. At first, he thought it was just because of how much he cares, but then he realizes it’s your bravery (or rather your impulsivity) that makes him that way. Because you will walk home alone at night, or go out and overdo it on the drinks, or go toe-to-toe with someone twice your size just because you’re pissed off, or speed when you drive. He loves your bravery, admires it even, but dreads the thought of you getting hurt when you sometimes lack this sense of danger for certain situations. So he walks with you or drives you everywhere, and accompanies you to the club every single time he can, and deescalates a tense situation or pulls you away all together. It really is just another reason for him to never leave your side, like he needed another one.

Minghao

He knows stress is unavoidable to some extent, but he’s sometimes very worried about how it weighs you down more than most people. While Cheol might help you manage the source of the stress, Mingaho will be more worried about reducing the stress itself because it’s a good tool to have when you can’t avoid stressful situations or prioritize your way through it. Again, I promise I’m not recycling ideas here, but I genuinely think he’d be all over making sure you eat and sleep and find ways to relax. Even if you aren’t into meditation, he’ll have you try things like deep breathing, painting, and tai chi. Will not let you feel bad for a second about how other people seem to be able to handle this sort of stress. It doesn’t matter if other people can because it’s you he’s worried about.

Seungkwan

While you’re a big picture person, he’s a small details person. It’s never bothered him, he actually enjoys that you think differently than him and open his eyes to things. But the cool thing is that he can do the same for you. You’re overwhelmed by or totally miss details sometimes, but he’ll do little things to show you that it’s not so scary. Like if you’re watching a movie together, he’ll pick out a little detail and say, “Oh my god, did you notice that?” He’ll roll the movie back and let you focus on it. Or he’ll encourage you to slow down for a second and reread the email you’re about to send. Or he’ll assure you that it’s okay if you made a mistake and that you can fix it. He will never, ever let you feel stupid for needing the little reminders to take a moment and pay attention to the details.

Vernon

Now, here’s the thing. He’s forgetful and yet not. Let me explain. He knows you forget to pack your lunch, so he does. He knows you forget your laptop charger when you put away your laptop, so when he sees the lone charger, he’ll put it with your laptop. He knows you sometimes forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste and puts it back on wordlessly. But you help him too. You remember names when he doesn’t. You don’t complain when he forgets to put the toilet seat down. You sometimes remember his schedule better than he does. I’m actually really soft thinking about the way you guys might help each other out with your own versions of forgetfulness.

Chan

In the beginning of your relationship, he thought your impatience was kind of cute. Don’t get me wrong, he still does, but he has come to realize just how frustrated you are sometimes because of it. Sometimes it’s little things like something taking too long to bake in the oven. Sometimes it’s that it takes too much time to actually fold your laundry. Sometimes it’s that slow driver in front of you on your way home. Sometimes it’s that you have an appointment in a couple hours and you can’t fathom squeezing anything else in before that. He helps by trying to counter this impatience in ways, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. He distracts you while something bakes, or he offers to fold your laundry, or he drives you wherever you need to go, handing you the aux cord. And on those appointment days, he wakes up early with you to help fill the time in a way that doesn’t feel constricting, assuring you that you won’t be late because he won’t let you be.

69 notes · View notes

uncle-fruity · 3 days ago

Text

Also, like... I get that there is a lot of anxiety about being seen as morally good & fighting for everyone at every turn, but! Crucially, the people who try to guilt trip you or judge you off your Tumblr presence don't fucking know you. They don't know what you do off Tumblr. They may not know any other social media that you DO use for your politics and heavy posting. And, tbh, at a certain level of offline activism & direct action, it is actively dangerous for you to be posting about what you do online, so a perceived lack of interest or dedication online does not necessarily translate to the efforts you put in to causes you care about.

Fact of the matter is, YOU are the only one who knows what you get up to. If it's not as much as you think you should be doing, that's for you to assess and change. If you feel like you're doing enough, or if you feel like taking on more responsibility in activism would overwhelm you or burn you out, that's okay! You know your limits better than anyone else. You get to set your priorities. And if you really want to help with social justice causes, you HAVE to take care of yourself. Anger, fear, and guilt are not sustainable motivations to drive a movement. You NEED places to relax and have fun and not think about how bleak things can get. You NEED to have places to retreat, enjoy yourself, and remind yourself that it's all worth fighting for.

I know this, because I'm in my 30s now. When I was in my early 20s, I was friends with a lot of folks who went hard during the Ferguson protests, and while many of them are still active in their activism, almost none of them are operating on the same level as they used to. All of them are burnt out & depressed. I spend a lot of my energy urging them to take care of their most basic needs. We also have a problem with a lot of older activists being too broken & traumatized to continue organizing. And part of the problem is people within the movement encouraging people to push past their limits until they have nothing left to give. Or just having no support systems in place to help people recover while actively judging people who need them & can't continue without them.

And, like, it's hard, because it's easy to start feeling like no one cares about the stuff you care about when you're out there trying to make change -- especially true if all your activism is online posting & raising awareness. It can feel like you're talking to a void or a brick wall. The idea that you are so stressed & strung out & never let yourself take a break from the harsh reality of the world while there are people who have the audacity to make time to enjoy their lives and put their efforts into other activities that aren't directly related to The Cause -- well, that's why a lot of people resort to guilt trips. I know I did, too, when I was younger and freshly angry. And I know that those guilt trips did nothing to convince anyone of anything. In fact, it was the constant guilt trips that made me retreat from those online groups. Where they might have had any and all skills I could offer, they instead made me feel like shit for doing what I could handle at the time. And even though I knew guilt tripping was a major manipulation & abuse tactic, I still resorted to it and, in doing so, I felt wrong. Like I betrayed some of my core values by trying to make people feel so bad that they would suddenly realize that they should be ashamed & join the movement headfirst. It just... doesn't work that way. A guilt trip will turn people off. If you want people to join a movement or be more active in a movement they are already part of, it is so much better to encourage them to come with you to organized events or give them something tangible to do that they can actually accomplish. And if you're just talking about posting online, well... that is not the most important thing to focus on, and is a really bad measure to judge someone's morality.

All that to say, a guilt trip is usually a manifestation of the desperation folks are feeling. It's not right to guilt trip folks, and if you're at that point that you feel like that's the only thing that will get people to change and care, then I'm sorry to say you are probably on the verge of your own burnout and you need to take a break. Please don't let people make you feel bad for not being angry or on your activism shit 24/7. And don't judge yourself harshly when you need to have boundaries online. The best tactic will always be community building and working with people & their various skills on their level. Compassion and encouragement go so much farther than guilt.

No matter what a post on tumblr tries to tell you, your moral and ethical stances will never be determined by what you reblog and what you scroll past. Don’t let manipulation tactics force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.

#important #psa #social justice #burnout

215K notes · View notes

artist-issues · 1 day ago

Text

I also think sometimes we’re losing the art of simple lessons in kid’s movies. Probably because of the whole self-focus thing. Adults make the movies. Adults use the movies to get through whatever they’re going through.

But like no 6-to-12-year-old kid really needs to jump over “how should I handle a big change” and land straight in “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GROW UP, YOU FEEL LESS JOY”

Like what? Where are we? What happened?

I am not saying that kids don’t experience anxiety or prejudice or whatever. I’m saying—

—nope, one more time, because you weren’t reading, you were responding in your head before the post is finished, without understanding—I said, I am not saying that kids don’t experience anxiety or prejudice sometimes.

I’m saying stop trying to use a kids’ movie to teach an adult lesson, because the majority of kids aren’t there yet. And sometimes when you expose a kid to a problem that never even occurred to them, even in the name of solving that problem, or “telling the truth?” You know what you give them then? Uh, anxiety. Or confusion. Not a real solution.

Kids in a healthy environment, and even kids in an unhealthy environment, are not ready to have an existential crisis about their purpose or the way all of society sees them because of their race/religion/sex/age. They’re usually still figuring out the difference between “sharing” and “selfishness.” “Fear” and “respect.” That sort of thing.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is a good movie for kids and adults to watch because kids know what it’s like to get carried away by fear and selfishness. Snow White can’t just sit and cry because she’s surrounded by scary trees. The Dwarfs shouldn’t be beating each other up over who gets to use the one pillow. They should share their bed with the lost princess. Simple. True. Good. Kids can understand, kids can relate, kids can absorb. And adults? Adults need to be reminded of the simple stuff because we’re too “intellectual” for our own good and we overcomplicate stuff and stop realizing when we’re giving in to fear and selfishness.

But these movies, and these shows, that say they’re meant for kids…when really they’re just meant for people who have the taste for kids’ visuals and kids’ media design, but are actually grown adults obsessed with mental health jargon? They’re walking a dangerous line.

Good parents know not to “awaken” considerations in evil and hard stuff before it’s time in a child. They already have enough to deal with just figuring out how to move on after they scrape their knee, or how to be okay even if their little expectation about their friend coming over to play isn’t met. You don’t need to add on top of that “what happens if nobody needs me” or “what is a panic attack.”

…unless your kid is already having panic attacks. They happen, I know, I was 9 years old. But you get what I’m saying. Kid’s movies should remember that they’re for kids, and simple truths make the best stories. Because usually truth is simple, and it’s our desire to have control over it that overcomplicates it to the point where it’s not true anymore.

Anyway.

#Most of this is unfinished thoughts #but I’m noticing a consistent trend where it doesn’t feel like the kids’ movie is made for kids #kids movies #inside out 2

57 notes · View notes

tornrose24 · 2 days ago

Text

By now a lot of people have seen that post by one of the TGAMM creators about how they’d continue the show if Disney allowed it after completing the last episode. And while the idea is fascinating, it’s really telling when a huge chunk of the fandom actually DOESN’T want Scratch to die for real in order for him to come back to Molly.

On one hand, I get the ‘life is too short and we have to use what time we have to live life to the fullest because you never know when your last day comes.’ Also, there’s the fact that, yes Scratch WOULD have to become a ghost again for that show title to still make sense.

But on the other… I think the majority of the fandom is in agreement that Scratch losing his life after only a handful of years of being a human again is really cruel. We’ve grown to care about him and his ability to find his happiness and finally live his life out after all he went through. He managed to overcome his fears to accomplish his dreams, and to just lose the rest of his life after already spending 10 years as a ghost is just… it’s like a cruel joke you’d expect in a lesser show with mean spirited humor. Considering the fact that a lot of fans relate to Scratch (to the point of seeing themselves in his backstory), it’s also doubly mean.

And then there’s the fact that Scratch never really had a chance to share his regained human life with Molly, beyond that one bus stop conversation, with what little time was left. He was already denied his memories with her, but to be denied that chance to truly be human alongside his friend for longer than a few fleeting minutes…. That emotionally hurts me.

Look, I get why the creators went with him forgetting Molly, but that was already painful as is. Having him die so abruptly makes it even worse.

I could see the plot line of ‘Scratch returning to Molly at her lowest point’ happening, but I’d rather see it with him as a human, and he regains his memories because of the incident that would have killed him. I think there’s more potential for angst where she could assume that he’s still forgotten her and it’s hard for her to get attached to him because he’s already left her before, and combined with the fact that Ollie’s now gone too (plus Patty if they still kill her off), she doesn’t want to open her heart to someone that she knows will just leave again.

But eventually Scratch could convince her that he does remember and that, even if there’s so much bad in the world that she can’t change, she made his life better and he was able to live-and still live-because of her. She was able to make a lot of things better for everyone despite all the bad that happens outside of Brighton. And I think-because of all the real life stuff that’s been happening-we all would need that kind of reassurance.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #molly mcgee #I’d do a fan fic about this if I wasn’t so busy #todd mortenson #thoughts on that one story idea and most of the fans had the same opinion

33 notes · View notes

intersex-cpunk-wolfdog · 13 hours ago

Note

in regard to your shapiro post: trans women don't gain privledge when they pass, they're still visibly a member of a gender minority. trans men when they pass are not. they therefore have a privledge which trans women do not, a privledge related to their maleness. a male privledge.

plus, in trans spaces where you don't need to pass to be seen as your gender (which exist both online and in person) being a man does change peoples perception of you positively. i've seen it, i know it's true.

Firstly: no, that is not male privilege. Male privilege is systemic. What you are describing is somebody seeing a person, assuming things about their identity that aren’t even true, and then proceeding to treat them more positively. If we apply that framework in other areas, then bi people would have straight privilege in m/f relationships, gay people would have straight privilege if they didn’t bring up their significant others, and many intersex people would have perisex privilege if they just didn’t talk about their variation.

Male privilege isn’t being asked what you want first by waiters. Male privilege is not having to worry as much about being drugged and raped (trans men have very high rates of SA and do worry about that), not having to worry about your parents deciding to marry you off at 16 (done by religious fundamentalists to trans men in order to ‘fix’ them), male privilege is having the vast majority of politicians and people in power advocating for your interests (where are all the trans male politicians passing laws that harm women?), male privilege is being able to leave relationships safely (trans men have the highest domestic violence rates out of all of us). Male privilege is never having to think about medical misogyny. Male privilege is not being expected to care for your siblings as a child or adult.

That’s the basic stuff, but I’m putting a lot more below the cut (it got really long, lol).

What about trans men who don’t pass? Why are you assuming all trans men pass? Also, what do you think about transfems who are boymoding? Because if your definition of “male privilege” is “benefits afforded to somebody by individuals who perceive them as cis men,” that would include boymoding transfems, intersex women and nonbinary people, and even some very GNC cis and perisex women.

Why do trans men get told they have privilege for having to hide parts of their identity lest their peers feel betrayed and lash out when everybody else is (correctly!) given sympathy and support? Do you understand how hard it would be to not be able to talk about a significant portion of your life history? What if they were in Girl Scouts? They couldn’t show their peers pictures from their childhood, or else they’d have to be very careful. They’d have to have a reason for why they never use urinals. Or why they might have tampons in their bag or need a place to throw them out in the men’s room. Why they need blood drawn so often, what that undershirt they always wear is. And they’d need to keep quiet while women said things like, “you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be afraid to walk home alone at night, you’re a man!” even if they very much did. They could never talk about things in their past that might have been extremely traumatic.

Point is, being closeted is not a walk in the park and it is certainly not a privilege. I’ve been a woman and had to hold back big portions of my life as a man because I didn’t want them to know I’m transfem. I’ve been a man and had to do the reverse so they don’t know I’m transmasc. There have been times in the trans community where I’ve had to pretend to be just transfem or just transmasc because I’m visibly trans and knew the space was hostile to intersex people?

Also, I’m not sure what spaces you’re in, but that last part is not personally something I’ve ever seen, experienced, or even seen transmascs talk about experiencing. In mine, and many others,’ experience, being seen as a man by trans and queer people comes with a loss of support, a weird sense of distaste demonstrated towards us, and a pressure to ‘at least’ be feminine. Do you listen to transmascs at all? Haven’t you ever seen them talking about how part of the reason they didn’t want to be trans men was because they were scared of losing the support from their queer and trans friends for being seen as “evil men?” Or read trans men talking about how lonely and isolating it felt to have those fears confirmed?

And it’s not even just transmascs that experience this! A lot of masc nonbinary people (specifically people who have traditionally male sex characteristics) complain that other trans people see them as men and that they often are not even allowed in spaces for “women and nonbinary people.” And I know transfems who have experienced this after telling people they were trans.

Like, I myself have experienced this from virtually every angle due to my complicated relationship with sex and gender.

Everybody who I’ve spoken to who has been anti-transandrophobia has seemed so clearly to be trying to force a cisfeminist framework on trans issues without even stopping to listen to the lived experiences of many trans men and mascs. I am lowkey considering just writing a masterpost about this topic to redirect people to every time they have such a classic misunderstanding of male privilege and/or transandrophobia.

#transandrophobia is real #transandrophobia #anti transmasculinity #trans men don’t have male privilege

33 notes · View notes

girl4music · 1 day ago

Text

That’s it. Anyone with the “me and my own” ideology will get clapped back.

People that actually care to help people without asking for anything in return will also get their due.

That’s just the way of the Universe.

When you’re already well off, why do you need to be accounted for? Harris specifically was talking about who wasn’t. She was addressing the poor because she knew that’s where things needed to change the most.

The people she didn’t address are not going to be impacted in any negative way. Their lives will stay relatively the same. She didn’t speak to you because she didn’t need to because you’re fine as you are.

On the other hand, Trump is also addressing the poor and minorities. Speaking directly to them. But not with love and care. With hatred and revenge. The opposite.’

He wants to make things worse for them and now he can. So if you voted for him or you didn’t even vote at all - it’s on you why things are going to be much worse from now on. And if you think you won’t be negatively impacted by it because Trump is on your side…

Think again. Because incompetency impacts everyone.

No Harris wasn’t promising the rich and the majorities something. But that didn’t mean she was out to get you. That didn’t mean that she wanted to hurt you.

She simply saw it as you already had what you needed.

There were many others that did not.

She chose to address them.

Look for EVERYONE to live comfortable lives, then everyone has also got to learn to share and to be a community. Giving and getting is a transaction between each other. This is normal. This is natural. This is the way it should be. Greed and hoarding wealth doesn’t really help anyone in the long run and that’s not well understood in America because they’ve lived an entire history through a culture of taking from others. From theft. They never question it not because they’re dumb but because they don’t realize it this is how it’s always been and how it’s always been has always being wrong.

Being afraid of community and socialism. Taught that it’s inherently bad for them and to always look out for themselves and their own first. It’s just not The Way.

Having a black woman as President for the first time would have been revolutionary for them. it would have been a start to setting things right because they’ve never been right. Keeping to tradition doesn’t always mean better because that tradition could be awful. All of this I’m writing right now only sounds so bad because it’s coming from someone that doesn’t live in America but still has lived through a Western culture that’s majorly the same and has never understood it.

See I’m a Westerner but I don’t understand Western culture and I never really have. It’s like I was born with the soul or someone Eastern. Someone whose worldview of philosophy is inherently non-dual because when I look at a person - regardless of what kind of person they are or might be - I don’t see a difference.

We all want to live and thrive and prosper but so many of us have an understanding that goes against that goal just by virtue of “well, what do I get out of it?”

You get what you’ve always had. The means to survive. If you believe that’s not enough then I don’t know what to tell you. It’s more than enough for those that don’t currently have it and are fucking desperate for it.

Bottom line is you’ve got to give a little - to sacrifice or compromise on something - to set the balance right.

Harris was the right person to lead to be able to do this. Or at least make the attempt to. What you have now - with Trump - is a lesson. And I hope you learn it well.

Hatred will never make anything better for anyone. All it does it makes it much much much worse for everyone.

You can call this “virtue-signalling” or being “morally superior” if you want. I don’t care. No, America is not my home. No, I couldn’t vote. It doesn’t matter to me.

But I still very much care about the situation because I am a human being. And I honestly think that’s all that’s needed to do the right thing at the end of the day. If you care about something or somebody other than yourself.

You know politics is whatever but people have forgotten how to be a fucking person and that’s very concerning.

You can play heroes vs villains to your dying day and see how much you’ve “gained” out of doing it then.

Rant over.

White conservative America will vote for whiteness and patriarchy.

White conservative America would rather have Putin in the White House before Kamala Harris.

1K notes · View notes

scary-grace · 2 days ago

Text

Off-Script (Act 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Act 1

Act 2

Tomura’s done stunts on at least four big-budget superhero movies by now, and the one thing he’s learned is that there’s always a lot to do – and at the same time, basically none of it is his job. He’s got a lot of downtime. Tomura counts the time he spends observing Dabi’s scenes as downtime, too, since Dabi’s a perfectionist who will do as many takes as a director will put up with. It takes Tomura a maximum of two takes to memorize what Dabi’s supposed to do, and after that, he’s free to do what he wants.

Nap, usually. Play a game on his phone if there’s WiFi, don’t burn through his data if there isn’t. Watch everything else that’s happening on-set, and since today was set aside from the beginning of the shoot to rehearse the second of the film’s three major battle scenes, there’s a lot for Tomura to look at.

He thought he was going to have to double Dabi for the fight scene, but because Quicksilver’s fighting Archangel rather than Psylocke, there’s no swordfighting involved. Dabi and Hawks got their fight choreography set early on, and it’s boring. Trade hits, banter, trade a few more hits, banter some more, drop a snippy one-liner, and flee the scene. Easy. More complex stuff is happening in the other battle groupings – Storm, played by Miruko, is fighting Cyclops, played by Bakugou, while Nightcrawler, played by a guy named Shirakumo who’s been around forever, zips around in the background. In Tomura’s opinion, having Quicksilver and Nightcrawler in the same movie is kind of pointless, but no one’s asking him.

Beast and Colossus are fighting. Tomura’s never bothered to learn their actual names, and he’s not planning on it today. The most interesting fight is the one that’s happening off to his right – a three and soon to be four-way brawl between Mystique, Jubilee, Phoenix, and Psylocke. It’s the most interesting, but also the most complicated. Aizawa hasn’t left you and the other three alone for more than five seconds since rehearsal started.

Tomura’s read the script, but the scene’s gone through some rewrites since then. The choreography hasn’t changed, though – there’s still an extended hand-to-hand exchange between Mystique and Psylocke, and it still ends with Psylocke getting thrown across the battlefield by Phoenix. Aizawa’s made you practice everything but the throw so far, probably in preparation for Midoriya’s sure-to-be-stupid plan to film everything in one take. According to Spinner, it’s getting to be sort of an obsession.

Not that Tomura can really blame him. He got a copy of the single-take fight scene he did with you and he’s watched it at least a few times a day ever since. It looks incredible, even though Tomura’s in it and Tomura knows he can’t act worth a damn. Even with half your face covered up for most of the scene, you’re acting enough to make up for him, and Tomura can’t get over how fluid and natural the exchanges look – like somebody choreographed them and the two of you practiced until it was flawless. No wonder Midoriya wants every fight to look like that.

But most fights never look like that, even with choreography, so everybody’s getting choregraphed within an inch of their lives. Tomura’s just glad he’s not involved.

“Hey, Shigaraki!” The voice belongs to Aizawa’s assistant or apprentice or whatever, who’s hurrying towards Tomura. “Aizawa wants you to come over. We’re going to practice the throw and we need someone to run the new girl through the basics.”

Tomura’s been avoiding you as much as possible. “Did she say she’s got it? If she said she’s got it, you don’t need me. You go over it with her.”

“This is a stunt. If it was Dabi’s scene, you’d be doing it,” Shinsou says. ‘We can’t afford a double for her. Just run her through the basics, and then you can go right back to doing fuck all.”

Tomura was already annoyed. Now it spills over. “Yeah, sure. Why not? I can do my job and yours and still spend the day doing fuck all while you run around in that stupid hat.”

Shinsou yanks the brim of his sunhat down, scowling, a second before he pitches a bottle of sunscreen at Tomura. “Put that shit on. FX will kill me if they have to edit out a sunburn.”

Tomura hates sunscreen, and he doesn’t give a shit if FX is mad at him. But he’s too experienced to make a mistake like that. Only newbies end up with sunburns on set. You’ve probably got one already. Tomura smears the sunscreen on as they walk, and Shinsou updates him on the proposed stunt. “It’s gonna be a launchpad, but it’s angled, so it’ll throw her backwards, not up in the air. Phoenix doesn’t have to be anywhere nearby, since she’s using tele-whatever –”

“Telekinesis.”

“Yeah, that. So it’s literally just going to be the fight, and then she steps back on the pad and gets launched. Easy.”

Tomura can do a stunt like that in his sleep, but you’re new. “How far is she supposed to get launched?”

“They’ll decide once they start filming. This is just to test it out.” Shinsou fumbles the slimy bottle of sunscreen when Tomura throws it back at him. “Come on. Dabi can play this shit off as eccentric, but you just look like an asshole.”

“I am an asshole,” Tomura says, only to realize that Shinsou’s stopped walking, and Tomura’s continued right into the middle of the scene. “Uh –”

“Thank you for sharing,” Aizawa says blandly. “Shigaraki, you’ve met –”

He says your name, and Tomura looks at you. You’re in the same set of practice clothes as everybody else, and your face is smudged with dirt and dust. And you’re not happy. “I can do it myself. You don’t need to bother Shigaraki.”

“You’re not bothering him. He was doing fuck all when I came over there,” Shinsou says. Him and his stupid hat. Fuck him. “Better safe than sorry.”

“The sooner we do this, the sooner we can go hang out somewhere with shade and air conditioning,” Ashido says. She’s wearing a few pieces of her Jubilee costume. Some actors like to. “Come on.”

Shade and air conditioning sounds nice. Tomura’s been out in the sun for three minutes and it’s already too hot. “Let’s get this over with,” he says to you. You nod. “Before you do any stunt, you need to check the equipment. Since you don’t know anything, I’ll do it for you.”

The crash pad you’re supposed to hit is lined up wrong. Tomura drags it into place, then crouches down to examine the launchpad itself. He knows who made this thing. “This had better not be a prototype, Hatsume.”

“It’s not! We already used it today for Kirishima’s student.” Hatsume has even more dirt on her face than you do, and she’s about ten times as hyped. “My precious baby works just fine.”

Even if the equipment’s been used before, Tomura’s not ready to sign off. He turns to you and finds you studying the launchpad yourself. “Hey, pay attention. I know you know how to fake hits. Have you ever done this before?”

“On wires,” you say. When? “Same principle, right?”

“No. Once they launch you off of this, your trajectory’s out of your control.” Tomura studies the distance between the launchpad and the crash pad. “Stay tensed up. You need to be in control of your body the entire time or you’re going to break something.”

You’re listening now. You nod. “This is still a movie and you want it to look believable, even if it’s stylized. Think about what you’re going to do with your arms and legs so you aren’t just flailing around,” Tomura continues. It’s weird to have you looking at him like this. Your eye contact was really intense during the duel, too. “Even if the throw gets out of hand, protect your head and neck. You can absorb a hit anywhere else, but land on either of those and it’s game over. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You’re still looking at him. Tomura racks his brain for something else to say. “If you’re in trouble and you can rotate, try to hit on your side instead of your back. That’s it.”

You nod. “Can you show me?”

“Huh?”

“I want to see what it’s supposed to look like before I try it,” you say. That’s – smart. Irritating as hell, because Tomura wasn’t planning on getting launched today, but smart. “Do you mind?”

“Yes,” Aizawa says. “The temperature is climbing and we’re on a tight schedule.”

“This will take fifteen seconds.” Tomura repositions the crash pad one more time, glances at you to make sure you’re watching as he steps onto the launchpad. You’re watching. It’s weird. “Count off. Three – two –”

Hatsume launches Tomura on one, as usual, and Tomura spends a split second being surprised at the force before he remembers that he’s supposed to be demonstrating. He chooses his arm positioning at random, rolls slightly in the air so he won’t strike the crash pad spine-first, and hits hard enough to wind himself. “I told you it worked,” Hatsume crows.

It works. Like being launched out of a cannon, sure, but it works. Tomura’s not going to hop up looking out of breath. He stays sprawled out for another few seconds, long enough for you to come over and offer him a hand up. You look a little worried. “Are you okay?”

“That was nothing,” Tomura says. He’s been doing stunts like that since he was a kid. He ignores your hand and gets up on his own. “Any questions?”

“What happens if it throws you harder than you expected?”

You’re observant. Tomura doesn’t like that very much. That plus the staring makes him feel like he’s under a microscope, and he’s way too experienced to get caught being caught off-guard. “Make sure you exhale when you hit. You won’t get as winded if you knock the wind out of yourself first.”

You nod. Tomura takes a closer look at him, wondering if you’re actually worried about him or just worried about stepping on Hatsume’s rocket launcher for yourself. Probably the latter. “Thanks for showing me,” you say. You’re standing close enough that Tomura can smell your sunscreen, which smells a lot nicer than whatever Shinsou threw at Tomura. “It helped a lot. And thanks for checking the equipment.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Tomura turns away to head back to his spot. He’s got fuck-all to do, so maybe he’ll nap, and maybe when he wakes up he’ll watch the fight scene again. Fighting you is a lot less awkward than talking to you, even if the fight ended with you pinning him to the ground.

“Tomura-kun!” Toga draws up alongside him. Like Ashido, she’s wearing part of her costume – the wig and facepaint for Mystique. “That was a nice throw. But you need to be nicer to the new girl. She’ll never go out with you if you keep being mean!”

“Why can’t you and Spinner drop it? I don’t want to go out with her.” There aren’t words for how much Tomura doesn’t want to think about this right now. Or ever. “Why do you even think that?”

“Why do you keep watching that fight scene?” Toga challenges. Shit. Tomura’s face heats up. “It’s because you have chemistry. I know all about chemistry. You’re mean to her when you aren’t mean to anybody else because you don’t want to have chemistry with anybody. I’ve never met a guy who hates being horny as much as you do.”

“I don’t hate being horny.” Tomura doesn’t even know where Toga dug that one out of. Then again, he’s known her since they both started working on the X-Men films, so she’s got ten years of Tomura’s bullshit to back herself up with. “What does that even mean?”

“You don’t want to like people because you think nobody will like you, but that isn’t true!” Toga pats Tomura’s arm. “But she’s not going to like you if you keep being mean to her. That’s not how you sweep a cute girl off her feet.”

Tomura’s got a lot of problems with that statement – mainly that he’s not being mean to you, that he doesn’t think you’re cute, and that he doesn’t want to sweep you anywhere, let alone off your feet. You don’t need him to do that when you’re doing your own stunts. And there’s something about the stunt that’s bothering Tomura, something that’s got nothing to do with the crush everyone’s pretending he has on you. The launchpad threw him hard. It must have thrown Kirishima pretty hard, too. Tomura’s not as tall as Kirishima, but both of them are taller and heavier than you. If Hatsume doesn’t recalibrate the launchpad, she’s going to throw you into the sun.

Tomura whips around and takes off back towards the practice site. Toga chases after him, but they’re both too late. Somebody’s already shouting, and Shinsou books it past Tomura in the opposite direction, already calling for a medic. Fuck. The others are crowded around you, and Tomura can’t see. He shoulders his way into the huddle and finds himself staring down at you.

You look sort of pale, and you’re smiling, but Tomura can tell it’s faked. Whoever taught you to smile through pain didn’t do a good job. Either that or you’re really hurt. You’re already trying to sit up. “Stay down,” Tomura snaps. He crouches down next to you, looks you over for obvious injuries, but you aren’t bleeding and nothing looks broken. “Where did you hit?”

“Just my shoulder. I’m fine.”

You don’t look fine. You look rattled as hell, and Tomura feels a sharp surge of guilt. He checked the equipment. He knew the throw was going to be hard, and if he hadn’t been so busy being pissed that you were looking at him while he talked to you, he’d have realized that what was a hard launch for him could actually throw you clear of the crash pad. In the bigger picture, this is Midoriya’s fault for not hiring a stuntwoman for you. Right here, right now, it’s on Tomura.

He hates feeling like this. “What happened?”

You don’t answer, but Uraraka, who plays Phoenix, fills in. What happened was exactly what Tomura could have predicted if he’d been paying attention instead of being stupid – you were thrown almost completely clear of the crash pad, and the only part of you that hit it was your shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt,” you insist, and you sit up, getting right in Tomura’s face. He can still smell your sunscreen. “It was just a shock. I’m good. Can we try it again?”

Ashido’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy? That thing almost threw you into orbit.”

“I’m calibrating it down,” Hatsume calls.

“She’s calibrating it down,” you say. “And now I know what it feels like, so I’ll do better.”

“Quit trying to be a hero,” Tomura says. “If you’re hurt –”

“I’m not hurt,” you say. Tomura realizes that short of pushing you back down in the dirt, he can’t stop you from getting up. He gets up first so he can offer his hand. Which you ignore. “I’m not bleeding, nothing’s broken, and I didn’t pass out. Let’s do it right this time.”

Aizawa’s phone buzzes, and he glances at it. “The medics are dealing with three cases of heatstroke. It’ll be a while.”

“Then I’ll go see them after we’re done here,” you say. “Come on. I thought we were on a schedule?”

Schedule is the magic word. It gets Aizawa’s attention, and everybody else still wants to get it over with and get out of the sun. Tomura sticks around to watch, or supervise – after what happened, he doesn’t trust anybody not to fuck things up. He sees Toga check in with you, and the others do the same. People like you. Sure, they like working with you, but based on the way they’re joking around with you, they like you for yourself, too. And they’re probably not the only ones.

Tomura’s stomach cramps at the thought, and his shit brain decides it’s a good time to think about the fight again. Thinking about it turns into watching it, as usual, only this time Tomura knows what your stupid sunscreen smells like. And just like every time he watches the fight, he’s caught off-guard by just how good the two of you are together. How easy you make an improvised fight scene look. Like you know each other’s moves by heart, even though you’d never met before, let alone watched each other fight. That’s chemistry. That’s why Tomura’s been waiting so impatiently for his next fight scene with you. He wants to feel like that again.

Toga was right. Unfortunately, Spinner was right, too, when he said Tomura looked into it. Tomura looks really into it. Tomura puts his phone away so he won’t have to look at his own stupid face any longer.

The second run-through of the four-way fight goes well, and nothing goes wrong with the launchpad, so Aizawa calls it good for the day. The actors scatter to their trailers or to the shuttle back into town with more urgency than usual. There’s some kind of producer party/press thing going on tonight, and all the big-name actors are supposed to go. Dabi included.

But Dabi’s back on his bullshit, of course. When Tomura goes to check on him, he’s lying facedown on the floor of his trailer with music playing in the background and a giant water bottle within easy reach. Water’s not the only clear liquid on the planet. Tomura pries open the water bottle and sniffs it. Just water. This time.

“You really think I’d chug water out of a Nalgene? Fuck off,” Dabi says from the floor. “Who did and made you my sponsor?”

“I’m not your sponsor. You asked me and Spinner to check in with you about this shit.” Tomura wasn’t crazy about being part of Dabi’s official sober support system, but he does spend more time with Dabi than almost anybody else who’s involved. “Are you going to that party tonight?”

“Sure, why not?” Dabi flops over to his back. He’s famous for looking bored whenever he’s not on camera, but this looks worse than usual. “Dress up in a stupid outfit and go watch my coworkers have fun drinking stuff I can’t drink and snorting stuff I’m not supposed to touch. It sounds like a great time.”

It sounds like shit, but that’s how Tomura feels about most parties. “I should make you go,” Dabi says. “If you got trashed you’d just puke in the bushes like a college girl instead of going batshit crazy in front of the paparazzi.”

He sits up to drink some water, then flops back down. “Too bad you don’t look more like me. I’d make you do all the stuff and I could go die in peace.”

The door to the trailer opens and Spinner comes in without asking first. “What are we talking about?”

“Me dying in peace.”

“Okay, are we seriously talking about that? Do I need to call somebody?” Spinner’s a lot better at this than Tomura is. “Or do you just not want to go to the party tonight?”

“Don’t call anybody,” Dabi growls. “If you were me, you wouldn’t want to go to a photo op, either.”

“Yeah, I guess this would be your first official one since the thing,” Spinner says. He sits down on the floor next to Dabi. Tomura leans back against the wall with his arms cross, idly tuning in to the music. “Want one of us to come with you?”

Tomura kicks him, glares when Spinner looks up, but Dabi’s already shooting the idea down. “No. My sister already gets DMed way too much RPF with you dipsticks in it.”

“Okay, then find somebody who’s going to be there who’s not a huge partier,” Spinner suggests. “Just glue yourself to them the whole night and do whatever they do.”

For a second Dabi looks like he might go for it. “They’re all partiers except the lame ones.”

Spinner punches Tomura in the leg. “What do you think, Shigaraki?”

“I don’t care about this,” Tomura says. Spinner punches him again, harder. “Just hang out with Hawks. He only gets wasted at the wrap parties.”

“No,” Dabi says at once. “Not him. I hate him.”

“So go hang out with him and you’ll hate him less,” Spinner says. Dabi groans. “Worst comes to worst, text us and we’ll come get you.”

“Like that’ll happen.” Dabi sits up for another swig of water, but doesn’t lay down again. “Get out. I have to find a ride.”

“Have fun,” Spinner says. Tomura’s out the door already, and Spinner catches up to him before he’s down the steps. “Was that water in there?”

“Yeah, I checked.”

“Good,” Spinner says. “Speaking of parties, though –”

He trails off like he’s expecting Tomura to fill in the blank. “What?” Tomura asks.

“Everybody who’s not at the producer thing is throwing one of our own. Tonight,” Spinner says. “And that means you should –”

“What?”

“Invite her to the party,” Spinner says. Tomura starts walking faster. “Seriously. She’s not a big enough star to get invited to the main one and she might not know ours is even happening. Go find her and ask.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No,” Tomura says. “Leave it alone.”

Spinner shakes his head. “Go ask her or I’m sending everybody that livestream where you played a dating sim and got shot down by all the characters.”

There was a while where Tomura wanted to be a streamer, but what little there is that’s engaging about him in person absolutely fails to translate live on camera. He had to resort to gimmicks to get views, and one of the gimmicks was playing easy games while getting drunk. Or at least Tomura thought they were easy games. Dating sims are harder than he thought they were, and once every single romanceable character had rejected him, he secured the achievement Turbo Virgin, won by the 0.06% of players who couldn’t pull even one fictional girl.

That would have been bad enough all on its own, but Tomura teared up during the last rejection cutscene, too. The fact that the stream still exists somewhere haunts Tomura daily. “You wouldn’t.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help make your dream a reality,” Spinner says. “Go ask her to the party. The worst thing she can say is no.”

In theory, that’s true. In practice there are a lot of ways to say no, and Tomura thinks of all of them as he heads off in search of you. Of course you’re nowhere to be found. You might have caught the bus back to town already, or maybe you got invited to the actor party after all. The only thing Tomura has to work off of is you telling the others that you’d go see the medics after shooting wrapped for the day. He sticks his head in the medic tent and steps back out again in a hurry, his face going up in flames. You’re in there, all right. You’re sitting on a cot with your back to the door and your shirt in a heap next to you.

You’re just sitting there with your clothes off when anyone could walk in. What is wrong with you? Sure, there are plenty of actresses whose costumes are revealing as hell, and sure, half the women Tomura knows dress for a trip to the convenience store like they’re headed to the club, but you? Tomura didn’t think you were that type, and if you are – this is an even worse idea than he originally thought.

Tomura needs to get his shit together. Of course your shirt’s off. You hit your shoulder and the medics need to look at it. He’s pretty sure you’re wearing a bra, and even if you aren’t, you’re facing away from the door. He’s not going to see anything, and if he keeps this bullshit up, he’s going to earn a real-life Turbo Virgin achievement half a decade after he lost his virginity. Tomura steels himself and ducks back inside.

The medic’s talking to you. “I put the rib back in place and it should stay there, but no more launching stunts for the next day or two, all right? And I’m giving you one of these so you’ll sleep tonight – but don’t take it until after the party. It doesn’t play well with alcohol or anything else.”

“I’m not going to the party,” you say, reaching for your shirt. Tomura gets a good look at the bruise darkening across your shoulder blade and back before your shirt conceals it. “I’ll take that and go to bed early.”

“I meant the other party,” the medic says.

“There’s another party?”

Fuck. “Of course,” the medic says, surprised. “Hasn’t anyone – what are you doing here, Shigaraki? You should know better than to just barge in.”

The medics don’t like Tomura very much. He ignores her. “There’s another party,” he says to you, and you turn slowly to face him. “Everybody who’s not A-list goes to that one. I came to invite you, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” you say.”

“Well, now you know,” the medic says briskly. “Remember what I said. Don’t mix that medication with anything.”

“I won’t.” You get up from the cot and brush past Tomura, stepping back into the sun. The smell of your sunscreen drifts over his face as he follows you out. “So there’s a party?”

“Yeah. We throw one whenever the A-listers call some over-the-top press conference a party.” Tomura falls into step next to you. “You dislocated a rib?”

“Only a little bit.”

“You can’t dislocate something a little bit. It’s dislocated or it’s not.” Tomura glances at you. “You should have made them wait on the second stunt. Keeping going after you get hurt makes you stupid, not tough.”

“Really?” You look up at him. “Where I come from, anything that’s not performance-impairing is something you can push through.”

“Right, because there’s no difference between a Broadway show and a superhero movie.”

“No, there’s a difference,” you say. “Broadway’s a lot hard than this.”

Tomura scoffs. “Nice try.”

“It is,” you say. “Six to eight weeks of all-day rehearsals, plus physical conditioning on the side, and after that it’s seven shows a week – the same thing, over and over again, for however long the show runs or however long you can take it.”

Huh. “The leads have it the toughest,” you continue, “but the ensemble’s made up of understudies, and there are multiple backups for each of the leading roles. You know, because the show must go on. In practice that means being responsible for ensemble work plus one or two entire roles – which you only get to perform if something happens to the person above you. It’s a house of cards, and if enough people fold the whole thing comes tumbling down.”

You stop walking, and so does Tomura. “So yeah, I’d say theatre and this aren’t comparable. I don’t know where we’re going.”

“I was following you,” Tomura says. You give him a frustrated look. “So you’re saying you’d do a whole show with a rib out of place.”

“I did a whole show throwing up in the bathroom every time I went offstage,” you say. Tomura blinks. “Your job’s a lot rougher than mine, though. Catastrophic injuries are kind of rare in theatre. It’s hard to break your neck falling off the stage.”

“It’s a lot easier to break it falling off a building.”

“You – what?” Your eyes widen with surprise – and worry. “How?”

“That one space movie – Venus Rising or something.” Tomura always pretends he doesn’t remember the title. You must know it, though. He sees your mouth twitch. “The villain falls off a building at the end of Act One and comes back as a crazy cyborg. I didn’t double-check my equipment, and my harness snapped right when it was supposed to catch me.”

Your mouth turns down at the corners, in the same moment as Tomura remembers why you wound up in the medic tent in the first place. He grits his teeth against the guilt. “I should have learned from that and checked yours better.”

“I should have known how to do it myself,” you say. “It wasn’t on you.”

Maybe it wouldn’t have been, if Tomura had only checked the device instead of trying it out. “I knew the launch was too hard. If I’d been thinking instead of –” thinking about you “– I would have told Hatsume to recalibrate it before it was your turn. I’m sorry.”

“It happens,” you say. “Nobody died, and now I know to ask about that stuff. It’s okay.”

Tomura wants to tell you that you’re being naïve, but before he can do that, you change the subject. “So, this party. What are crew parties usually like?”

“Like any party. Drinks, food. Games, sometimes.” Tomura thinks about it. “Music. Yamada, the composer – he has this DJ person he puts on. There might be karaoke. It’s not the worst.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. “You think I’d invite you to a party I’m not going to?”

“I didn’t think you’d invite me anywhere at all,” you say, and shrug. And wince. “I’ll see you there, okay?”

Is Tomura supposed to walk with you or something? Is that how this is supposed to work? “Just follow the music. I’ll see you there.”

Tomura watches you walk away, a disgusting knot of anticipation pulling tight in his stomach. He’s pretty sure he asked you out. He’s pretty sure you said yes. And he’s damn sure that whether you show up or not, whether he drinks too much or nothing at all, and whether he gets called to drag Dabi out of some easily-photographed situation he got himself into, he’s in for a really rough night.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #reader insert #x reader #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

26 notes · View notes

thedreadvampy · 4 hours ago

Text

At Meeting today we had a reflective post-worship meeting to share our feelings on Palestine and I was really sceptical tbh because as much as I believe in the Quaker approach to holding space I also. felt like having a sharing circle about your feelings about an actual genocide is unbelievably White Middle Class Leftist Woo?

except the thing is it turns out I really fucking needed that? like I don't think I've really found much space to just give voice to the fucking ANGER and HOPELESSNESS I feel about the fact that this is a thing being done on purpose, by a tiny group of people against the will of the vast majority, and because of that all our screaming and protesting and demanding and letter writing isn't doing shit but I don't have the personal wherewithal to be the kind of guy who risks years in prison to shut down an arms factory because I'm, you know. A coward. And that would make me a liability. and the fucking despair I'm having lately at how much is horrifically inhumanly fucked in our world, ON PURPOSE, and BY DESIGN, and how powerless it feels in the face of that. the grief is too big to feel and the anger has nowhere to go. and in the knowledge that demonstrative action is going to go ignored because politicians have made the active choice to continue this no matter what the people want, everything just starts to feel petty and performative and egotistical instead of meaningful, and I am struggling more and more to hold the faith that anything I do matters. like I know, in my heart and mind, that things m fighting for justice feels hopeless for years or decades or generations and it feels like nothing will change until it does, and it's on us to keep fighting for that. despair is a luxury we can't afford. But still. you can break yourself on this wall without making a dent and it's because this isn't Just Happening, specific people are making specific choices, on purpose and with the full knowledge of what they're doing, and what do you do with that????

anyway I cried a Lot and it was uhhhh it felt good to have done. it felt good to hold and be held by other people in similar places. is it embarrassingly sentimental and privileged to have a sharing circle about a genocide? yeah maybe but unfortunately there might be something to it, also.

#red said

27 notes · View notes

shammers86 · 2 days ago

Text

I’ve slept on it. And I find the breakup to be actually quite good to me. Let me get into it.

Someone else mentioned it but linking Tommy and Abby together is perfection to parallel these two relationships. Despite what people think, Abby was the first serious relationship he had. It may not have been serious for her but it was to him. And we cannot discount that, nor can we discount this relationship with Tommy. But linking the two of them really showcased that Buck really loves with his whole heart and yes he is impulsive when it comes to new relationships.

Buck went from 0 to 60 in this relationship, just like he did with Abby. However, the difference lies in the reasons why they left. And this just came to me.

Tommy left because he didn’t want to get hurt (really the unsaid Eddie of it all). Abby left because she needed to find herself. Buck has held onto relationships so he doesn’t get hurt. But now Buck really has to explore what liking men in addition to women means for him.

Tommy doing so, knowing Buck is still finding himself, really allows Buck to dig deep down and figure out why he’s fast forward through relationships. It’s selfish really. Tommy knows he’s not Buck’s last but being his first is just a special. Abby was the same for Buck. She helped change his view on casual flings and looking for love.

The one major difference in these two very similar relationships is the Eddie of it all. He went all in with Abby and when she left, he waited. But then Eddie (and Chris) came along and he found a new person to go all in on, even if he doesn’t know that yet.

Tommy, however, comes in with Buck and Eddie already established. If Buck is there, most likely Eddie is there too. And Tommy does go into this relationship knowing how these two are. And he was exactly like Abby, wanting to shoot his shot. Eddie’s straight after all right? Buck is a charmer and Tommy is like ok this could work.

But it doesn’t. Tommy realizes this as they celebrate their six month anniversary and seeing how Buck reacts to Tommy saying he can bring Eddie to the Lakers game definitely tells him he’s gonna get his heart broken eventually.

Him telling Buck this, saying I’m not going to be your last tells me everything in this breakup. Eddie has haunted their narrative from day 1. The minute Buck asks him to move in, he knows. He knows that if he goes further, then he’s gonna get hurt just like he hurt Abby and Abby hurt Buck.

His reasoning is actually kinda perfect if you look at it through the Abby lense. Buck was very offended that Tommy hurt Abby the way Abby hurt him. And once it’s shown they dated the same woman, Tommy is like oh. I can’t say yes because he’s misplacing his feelings again. And that he needs to walk away at this point. For Buck and for him.

Buck does need to see what else is out there. He needs to know that he can be attracted to both men and women and that it’s ok to be.

Tommy (and in part Abby) were stepping stones to his forever love. Tommy knew this and allowing Buck to settle into who he is now, his sexuality, is to be honest good for us and good for Buck.

Because after Abby left, Buck threw himself into the Diaz family. And Buck and Eddie need to find themselves

And love themselves before they can ever be together.

This is one step in the right direction for Buddie.

#911 spoilers #911 abc #evan buckley #buddie #ugh I don’t know if it’s anti BuckTommy or not #either way this breakup really work for the rest of Buck’s story

36 notes · View notes

wowbright · 2 days ago

Text

It's wild looking at my life trajectory of being a young journalist who would have loved to work at The New York Times or Slate or NPR to someone telling spouse over breakfast, after said spouse said they heard/read on these three sources that "the Black and Latino vote gave the election to Trump":

"You really need to stop turning to these sources for analysis. They are fine with straight news. But when they want to do commentary or analysis, they focus on the thing that they find most interesting and surprising and likely to grab your attention, not the thing that is most significant for the outcome"

and then i whipped out the numbers from the NBC exit poll showing that black voter support for Trump had a 0% change since 2020, with black men's support for Trump going up by a single percentage point and black women's support for Trump dropping by 2%.

Commentators are making a big fucking deal about a 1 percentage point change among black men without pointing out that black men make up only 5% of the electorate so that change had zero effect on the election outcome and likely would have continued to have absolutely zero effect even in a much closer race.

I think it's curious that commentators in "liberal" media have decided that this is somehow comparable to the much larger shifts toward Trump in other demographic groups, including Latinx and young people, especially young men. Or, more significantly, the fact that the majority of white people voted for Trump.

Even with the shift among Latinx voters, the percentage voting for Harris (53%) was far higher than among non-Hispanic whites (43%).

I also think it's curious that their commentary talks about members of minority groups "deciding" elections when more than 70% of the electorate are white.

"Oh," spouse said. "They didn't point any of that out."

Of course they didn't. Because that would mean they would have to focus on white people. (I acknowledge here that white men voted for Trump and larger numbers than white women. But also, it appears that the majority of white women voted for Trump, and certainly in larger percentages and raw numbers than Latinas or black women or "other"s.)

If white people who had voted for Trump had voted instead for Harris, that would have affected the election outcome, too, wouldn't it?

But somehow, that is not interesting to the media, because 'white people' is just some abstract immutable force and the individuals who make up that population actually have no agency in the choices they make. /s

Commentators need to stop acting like white people are just going to keep white peopling no matter what, so it's the responsibility of POC to save us from ourselves.

Fuck that bullshit. I don't care if you grew up in the whitest white white town in the whitest county in the whitest state in the Union. White people are just as responsible for our choices as anyone else. It is absolutely bullshit to talk about POC "deciding" the election while ignoring the white elephant in the room.

This is what people mean when we talk about white supremacy. It doesn't mean that every white person thinks that they are better than everybody else. White supremacy means treating white beliefs and choices so much as the default that we forget that they are *beliefs* and *choices* anymore.

White people make up the majority of the electorate. The majority of white people voted for Trump. That is not true of any of any other racialized voter group for which I was able to find statistics.

If we are going to say that any one demographic group "decided" the election, then we are going to have to say that it was white people.

Editorial comment: I feel like this should be obvious from everything I've said above, but to be clear, I think it's bullshit to say that any one demographic group decided the election. Each one of us is responsible for our choices. It's not useless to look at demographic trends, but it is useless to blame entire demographic groups for how the election turned out--unless that demographic group is a self-selected one like "people who had the opportunity to vote and voted for Trump and/or did not vote for the only viable alternative, Kamala Harris."

#us elections #election 2024 #statistics #racism #white supremacy #new york times #npr #slate #misinformation #disinformation #in medicine we talk about clinical significance versus statistical significance #I feel like talking heads could learn something from that #us election #us politics #journalism #information literacy #media literacy

22 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 1 day ago

Text

Papa's Metamorphosis (pt 2)

An Interactive Adventure (hashtag #papas metamorphosis) Part 1

One morning, as Papa Emeritus IV wakes from anxious dreams, he discovers that in bed he had been changed into a tiny, evil little doll.

Hahaha, please I am just razzing you. It's the Dungeon Master in me. (And these options will come up again) OK, enjoy part 2. And Vote on what happens next. CW: Drug References

Onward to the Ghoul Den

Papa takes a small comfort in the fact that despite his predicament, his rats still recognize him. Two of his favorites waddle up to the side of their cage, rubbing their nose against his outstretched felt nub hand. It’s oddly heartwarming to see them at the size of small ponies. Worst case scenario if he never figures this all out he can at least literally cuddle pile with his rats at this scale. “Stay strong for me, my little potatoes,” Papa soothes, more to himself than anything. “I’m sorry your breakfast will have to wait.”

Papa steels himself with a fortifying breath, preparing for the journey ahead. His ghouls would know what to do. And would probably not laugh at him for whatever he looked like right now. He slips out of his rooms and into the hallway, flattening himself against the walls to avoid detection as he scurries towards the ghoul den. Luckily the ghouls lived downstairs and therefore he could simply throw himself down the steps, bouncing stupidly the whole way and remain relatively unharmed. Upstairs would be a tough climb stair by stair but Papa does what always has and looks on the bright side. The ghouls will immediately solve all his problems painlessly and he would emerge from this situation completely unscathed and able to climb stairs with ease.

Naturally.

Papa knew ghouls are nocturnal but as far as he was concerned this was an emergency situation that warranted an urgent wake up call. He’s now in front of their rooms in the basement of the ministry, preparing himself for one of the most impossible challenges he’s yet faced in his life: opening their heavy front door.

He gets a running start from across the hall, slamming his body against the door. He bounces back and skitters across the floor, the door still shut. Cazzo. He rubs his head and tries again, putting his weight into it and again he flies back, gasping.

As he dusts himself off and swears, his rats come to mind. He knows rats can squeeze under a place as long as their skulls can fit. They're very collapsible and resilient. He eyes the crack under the ancient door. It's quite large now that he looks at it. He presses his head in his hands, then holds them out to measure. Yes, he could do it.

And so Papa maneuvers his head under the door, and his plush body compresses as he slides through, groaning through gritted teeth as he forces himself through the vice made by the door and the floor. But he’s through. It worked. He makes a mental note to never do any major upgrades to the Ministry as long as he’s Frater Imperator. They really don’t make shitty, drafty doors like they used to.

All at once Papa is hit with the strong, pissy herbal scent of cannabis in the air, and he hopes it doesn’t leech into his stuffing. Merde, these ghouls need to get a grip, he thinks. Their common area is relatively clean except for several empty pizza boxes stacked beside the sagging couch. There’s a few towering water pipes and empty soda bottles on the coffee table. Papa sees three of his ghouls distorted through all the glassware, dozing across each other on the couch: Swiss Ghoul, Mountain Ghoul, and Aurora Ghoul.

“Ghouls! Ghouls!” yells Papa as loud as he can. “My Ghouls!”

Swiss blinks his puffy red eyes several times, assessing and reassessing his vision. Copia bounces in place by the couch, muttering the whole time. Swiss regards the mess on the coffee table, coughs, then taps the other ghouls awake. They all slowly come back to life, rubbing their heads.

“Am I seeing this?” Aurora asks, swiping at the air. Papa jumps back, narrowly missing her claws. “Like…is this guy real?”

“This is the wrong shit to be seeing tiny people with, Rory,” mutters Swiss. “Yeah. This thing is real.”

“Erm, this eh, thing, is your Papa,” sputters Papa. “Copia. Your summoner. You, uh…have to help me?”

“Holy shit he’s small.” Aurora Ghoul is shaking, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Or am I big? Am I like, super big now? Hoooly shit, guys—”

“Rory, stop being dramatic,” Mountain says, still leaned back on the couch. “You had like, half a puff of this. Honestly.”

Copia attempts to climb the coffee table, but the smooth wood legs slip under his little felt hands. “Don’t you ghouls em, know magic? You know…spells?”

The three ghouls exchange glances. They silently decide Mountain is the one articulate enough to break the bad news to their Dark Master. “Well…did you specify we’d be able to do magic? When you summoned us?”

“I don’t…” Papa frowns, stamping a little foot on the rug. “Listen, it’s not that important right now! Do you know spells or not?”

”I mean…thing about magic is, you gotta be real specific,” Swiss adds, with a shrug and a phlegmy green cough. “That’s kinda its whole bag. You wanted musicians and uh…well, you got ones.”

”With all the musical talents of Satan himself,” Aurora Ghoul adds with pride. “And I’m pretty good at making cocktails.”

“She really is good,” says Mountain.

“But that was that bartending course I did during off season, nothing magical about that.”

Papa feels the vibration of heavy, sleepy footfalls arriving from the bedrooms and Cumulus appears, bleary eyed and wearing a massive purple silk sleep bonnet. She already begins her tirade against the noisy ghouls as she enters the main room, crossing it to get to the fridge. “What the fuck are you going on about? I swear if you bought more of that gas station weed again—”

Swiss tosses his arm at her. “No, no, that was a single stupid mistake!”

“Yeah we test it all on Phantom first now,” says Aurora.

Cumulus rips open the fridge and removes the carton of orange juice, snatching a clean glass from the counter. “Yeah well, about that…” She is mid-pour when her eyes land on Copia standing by the coffee table and waving his little felt arms. Her face falls into a mask of confusion, and for a few seconds she forgets her glass is full and juice splatters across the floor. “Do we have…pests?”

“It’s me!” cries Papa. He hops up and down, attempting a friendly smile. “I’ve been cursed!”

“He’s been cursed, ‘Lus,” Mountain says helpfully.

Cumulus Ghoul places her glass on the counter, her brow furrowed, her head slowly tilting in bewilderment. There’s a tense silence as she studies the paraphenalia scattered across the coffee table, then her packmates, and then the impossibly tiny version of her boss fretting on the shag rug. She blinks, once.

“I’m going back to bed.”

And she does.

“You all are just….just!” Papa crosses his arms. “A real em—drag!”

“Sorry, Papa,” says Swiss. “That's fucked up. That's a total bummer, man.”

“You want to retrace your steps or something?” Mountain suggests.

“No, certainly not!” Papa is incensed and in his mind he’s done with these ghouls. He marches through the common room, his thin felt legs flailing in a determined and irritated goose step. “I'm looking for ghouls with er— brains! Some common sense!”

He reaches the hallway with its bathroom and three adjacent dorm rooms for the rest of his dark army. Certainly not all of them are lazy degenerates, Papa thinks as he adjusts the tiny hat on his head. One of them at least would have a good head on their shoulders…

Your vote contributes to how this story goes. As for the "Other" option I have a right to pick and chose what works for me personally. This story is PG-13.

The polls are 24 hours but I may not post every day.

Please reblog for maximum impact! Let's have fun here.

#shitghosting #papa emeritus iv #plushia #papas metamorphosis #nameless ghouls #can you tell how fucking stressed i am based on how much stuff i am anxiously churning out right now

32 notes · View notes