#but I've been focusing on my work ethic

[omnificent-orion]

Thank you so much for reblogging your Atlas stuff. They're still my favorite player character OC in anything and it's a joy to see them on my dash.

Well gosh, thank you ahahaha!

There's a lot of old art of them and KHX that I figured most of my new followers haven't seen, so it seemed like a good time to dredge up the classics while I work on their birthday pic for this year.

Thank you for liking them so much and especially thank you for telling me as much. I've kind of fallen out of love with the posting game, but the kind, thoughtful things people say in comments and tags keeps me coming back here :)

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[akajustmerry]

i've been thinking and i think a lot of celebrity discourse wouldn't be a thing if more people understood how PR works and that these famous people have been carefully curated as products for consumption 99% of the time. the reason a lot of actors seem so much like their characters is because, a lot of the time, they're deliberately playing that aspect of themselves up to promote the project they're in. why do you think so many straight actors starring in gay films have vaguely gay anecdotes prepared for interviews? why do you think leads promoting rom-coms often play up their chemistry in interviews? none of it is accidental. pedro pascal isn't walking around calling himself daddy because he happens to genuinely call himself that. it makes him more marketable. i think a lot of us know that celebrities' public personas are curated, but it doesn't stick because we want to be entertained and to like these people. the more I interact with PR people as part of my job and am made aware of the "rules" surrounding celebrity interactions and interviews - the more I've realised just how much of a performance all of it is. now i am not saying it's a Bad thing, i think this curation is mostly in place to protect privacy and keep promotion focused on the show/film. but i don't think it would hurt for more people and fans to remember that almost everything you know and see about celebrities is incredibly curated and tunnel-visioned to make them living breathing promo material for whatever they're in, which is to say that these are the last people who should be looked to as role models for moral and ethical guidance because they aren't *for* that.

[sporesgalaxy]

LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

[finnlongman]

Can you believe that MOTH TO A FLAME has been out for almost two months now? I can't. The time has flown: ten years of working on this trilogy and already it's been finished and published and complete for two months.

I don't think I've been doing a very good job of promoting it, partly due to my own life circumstances over the past couple of months and partly because it's a weird time to be trying to promote books in general. The news is full of terrible, important things; social media is relentlessly video-driven, which doesn't suit me at all; the cost of living continues to be prohibitive, and it's hard to ask anyone to spend their money on my book.

But here we are. If you've been looking for a YA trilogy without romance, or a thriller that grapples with the moral and ethical dilemmas of murder-focused narratives, or a story that pulls no punches but also doesn't act like violence is a viable solution to the world's problems, or a protagonist processing both the harm that's been done to her and the harm she's done to others... well, maybe THE BUTTERFLY ASSASSIN trilogy might be what you're looking for. And now that book three is out, you can read them all back to back and don't even have to worry about cliffhangers 🥰

If you've already read some or all of them, might I request you leave a review somewhere – Goodreads, Amazon, Waterstones etc? Tell your friends, spread the word, post about them... It would be greatly appreciated 💚

[urinarythreatinfection]

Hello~ I was wondering if you could do a headcannon for a Crocodile x reader who has worked with him since Alabasta. As of late, after forming Crossguild, he's realizing that he has feelings for her and it pisses him off.

It's good I reread this because I almost starting writing you having feelings and it annoying him. Anyway I know headcanons are usually formatted different and worded different so I just tried to copy what i've seen. Sorry if it's weird, it's my first time. Be gentle 🥺. If i did something wrong just tell me. Also my first ask that isn't me squeee!

Crocodile the love struck (reptile) fool

Crocodile x fem reader. Crocodile isn't happy that this is an x reader because he's a control freak. 821 words.

You’re a hard worker, a competent worker, and a loyal worker. Those are facts, viable facts that could be proven in the fact that you work just as hard now as you do in Alabasta despite having less incentive to; despite having the opportunity to leave him when he was in Impel Down. It’s why he’s so in denial about these unwanted feelings at first, then angry that he has them. Things are already so hectic, he doesn’t need anything else to be out of his control.

• It started with your smile, as cliche as it is, the one you wore even though work can be anything but fun.

• He found it irritating at first, work is something to be taken seriously, but came to appreciate it.

• First because it meant you enjoyed your job well enough, something he likes since it means more loyalty.

• Now that he's formed Cross Guild, it's because it brightens his own day; and to the point where now it’s like some sort of drug.

• One where if he doesn’t get it he gets on edge, making work even duller.

• It’s embarrassing, a fully grown old man like him getting cranky because doesn’t get a smile from a pretty girl he likes. Pathetic.

• It ends up putting him in an even worse mood when he notices it.

• Another thing that annoys him is how much he likes your voice.

• You’ve even started having to repeat things to him because he was too focused on how nice it sounds and feels to hear you talk to him.

• He wouldn’t be surprised if you thought he’d gone senile at this point…

• Thankfully you don’t show it if you do feel that way.

• Something he does wish you’d show is distaste for when any of the other men talk to you.

• He knows it’s mostly good work ethic communicating with them well, it helps now that you’re allied with other people, but sometimes he wishes you’d sneer at Mihawk or scoff at Buggy rudely.

• Show that you dislike talking to them, hate talking to anyone that isn’t him.

• There are the childish thoughts again…

• He’s 46 for gods’ sake, someone who’s killed both with his own hands and from his indirect actions.

• Not some schoolboy getting fussy that his crush is talking to someone else.

• Maybe feelings like “fussy” would be better though, would be safer for you; because they’re not always so childish.

• He wants you all to himself, you’re his anyway.

• You worked with him in Alabasta, waited for him while he was in Impel down, and work with him again in Cross Guild even if the work is more taxing; and less rewarding.

• You stayed with him, so loyal for him, so it makes sense that you’re his

• He wants to shower you with things you’d like, not just to dress his pretty girl up, but to guilt you into staying with him.

• To give him more of an excuse to be protective over you than just having feelings.

• What a terrible thing to think, but he’s never been a morally correct person.

• Either way, it’s not like he could actually do anything to hurt you.

• He’s tried, you can become a serious weakness for him.

• But everytime he tries there’s always an excuse.

• “She’s too useful.” “She’s a good worker.” “l still need her for this.” “It’d be a hassle.” “She makes my work easier.” “I’ll do it once I get my power back.”

• Though those are viable reasons that stop him, they aren’t truly the core reason.

• The reason is because he loves you, and it drives him mad.

• As mad as when you smile for others, or your hands brush together, or you call his name while looking up at him with those pretty eyes he wants looking nowhere else.

• You’re so beautiful, he loves you.

• He wishes that the feelings would just go away with time, with the fatigue he gets from working days straight.

• But they don’t, and they only get stronger.

• Especially when you do things to make even the smallest things easier.

• Making sure his cigar drawer is always full, bringing him water, telling him the time when he loses track of it.

• When he notices you telling him the time while looking sleepy yourself, he almost grabs you to pull you into his lap.

• Hold you, cage you into his arms and give you a kiss with all the emotion he’s been building up.

• But he can’t lose control, so he doesn’t.

• He just sends you off with a “Thanks, get some sleep yourself before you pass out on the job.”

• Once you turn, you can’t see the way his eyes follow you with a warmth he didn’t even know he had.

• And once the door is closed behind you, you don’t see the way he puts his head in his hand with a “Fuck.”

[minranghae]

touch | 18+

》 pairing: c.jongho x f!reader

》 genre: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff

》 warnings: ceo!jongho, grumpy jongho, whiny reader, hurt/comfort, smut, piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, piv, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), aftercare, makeup sex, age gap (not a major plot point)

》 wc: 4.2k

》 thank you so much for reading this, it's my first full fic that i've written on here!!!!! if i forgot any tags, please lmk :) reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 also, the main song i listened to when i wrote this was versace on the floor by bruno mars

“Jongho, sweetheart, don’t you think you should come to bed now? I think you deserve a break,” you whine as you enter his office, a pout forming on your lips seeing his still, working figure.

You take a moment to admire his features on your way in. His dark hair that perfectly framed his face, those piercing eyes that seemed to cut through you every time he looked at you, and those strong arms you just loved to be wrapped in whenever he hugged you.

Well, that was if he did decide to hug you. Just as strong as his arms is Jongho’s work ethic. Sure, any CEO is bound to be busy. When you’re busy it’s easy to get stressed, and when Jongho gets stressed, it’s as if you don’t exist. He was never super touchy to begin with, but every morning he retreats to his home office without even a hug or a kiss. Just a simple good morning, or sometimes, nothing at all. With Jongho’s already packed schedule and new business plans, it’s clear you weren’t going to get his attention any time soon. But, who would you be if you didn’t at least try to get some from him? 

Making your way to his desk, you prepared yourself to put on your cutest face; wide puppy-dog eyes and a sad lip bite at the ready, but with the way Jongho looked up at you, the only emotion present on your face was nervousness. You could see the dark bags forming under his eyes, seemingly becoming darker by the second, and paired with his furrowed eyebrows, you began to think maybe it would've been better to just cuddle with your teddy bear tonight.

“I-it’s just when you work so hard like this, you don’t seem happy at all, you know? I just want to see you smile again. I know, I know, work is busy and you have deadlines and all that, but can’t you just come sleep with me… just this once? I miss you holding me every night. I feel so lonely, Jongie,” You pleaded with him in your shakiest voice. Maybe that would convince him, if he just saw how desperate you were to spend some time with him. Fidgeting with your hands, you awaited his response. Too anxious to look up at him, you focused your sight on the floor beneath you.

“Y/n, you know I can’t do that right now. It’ll get better, but I really need some quiet right now. So…” He looked at you with pursed lips, then quickly looked back towards the door. A silent signal that it was your time to leave. You weren’t going to let him get rid of you that quickly though. No, he just had to see it your way.

“Jongie, are you sure?” You questioned him with a higher pitch, using the nickname you know he usually melts for. He just leaned forward in his chair, pushing his glasses further up on his nose, trying to regain his focus. He let out a soft hum, acknowledging you, but deciding not to indulge you. 

Soon, you find yourself sneaking behind him, your hands resting on his shoulders. You tried to press a kiss to his cheek, but he shrugged you off quickly with a huff of annoyance.

“Y/n, stop bothering me. I’ve got some really important stuff to catch up with here. Stop being so clingy.” Jongho breathed out, frustration evident in his words.

God, you’re such an idiot. Did you really expect this little plan of yours to work? Jongho is a busy man. You really shouldn’t bother him just because you’re feeling neglected. Sure, the bed is cold at night, but he does so much for you. You wouldn’t have the lifestyle you do without him. If you two hadn’t met that day two years ago, you'd still be a broke college student, struggling to make ends meet. Maybe instead of interrupting him, you should just be thankful for what you have. At the end of the day, at least he’s there.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, “I’m sorry for interrupting Jongho. Won’t happen again.”

And with that, you scurried out of the office and back into your shared bedroom. The shared bedroom that was slowly becoming just yours each and every day.

--------

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes shot open. 

“God, what time is it?” You murmured to yourself, words slurring together. The bright light from your phone nearly blinded you as you checked the clock. It was 3 am. He’s just finishing now? I wish he would get some proper rest.

“Can I come in?” Jongho’s voice broke into the room. He sounded serious. What if he was getting ready to break up with you? After all, Jongho had always been one to cut out unnecessary distractions from his life. Normally you admired that; his determination and drive was nothing short of excellence. His maturity and guidance was what first attracted you to him. But it broke your heart knowing that you were next on his chopping block.

Truth is, Jongho heard you crying. Really, you’re not subtle when you’re upset. He went to check in on you a few hours ago, actually. But when he saw his t-shirt draped over the teddy bear he’d given you months ago, your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks pressed into said teddy bear, he knew he fucked up. The past few weeks had just been so stressful for him. With a never ending to-do list, Jongho didn’t have much time to think of anything else. 

He did think of you though. He always did. The picture of you two on vacation that sat on his desk never went a day without being picked up to be examined. It was one of the first things you two did together as a couple, and god, he wished he could go back. Jongho normally didn’t show much affection in public, instead opting to keep his cold appearance up. But being there with you was too much for him. It’s like you two were connected at the hip on that vacation. Everywhere you went, Jongho had his hand on your hip or around your shoulders. You just make him so happy, and he loses himself around you. Not that that’s a bad thing.

He never wanted to make you upset. But, he lost track of himself. Of course, that wasn’t an excuse, but maybe if you saw it his way then you’d be able to forgive him. After checking in on you earlier, Jongho devised a plan. He quickly got to work in his office, this time solely focusing on you. He first made a call to an assistant of his, apologizing for the late notice of his request, and asked for a bouquet of flowers. He wanted something sweet and dainty- something that reminded him of you. Thirty minutes later, the assistant showed up with a bouquet of Lily of the Valley flowers, beautifully tied together with green and purple ribbon. Next, Jongho wrote a sweet note, apologizing for his treatment of you over the past couple of weeks. It was always hard for Jongho to express himself verbally, so this would be the best course of action for him. Finally, he had taken off of work for a week, allowing time for him to devote himself completely to you. He swore to himself that wasn’t going to let himself upset you anymore, and it was finally time to show you that.

You looked up at Jongho as he poked his head in from behind the door. His eyes softened as they met yours. He began walking towards you with his hands behind his back, hiding his surprise for you. But with the way you jumped up and just about sprinted to him, it seemed like he was the one in for a surprise.

“Look, I know I messed up Jongho. I’m sorry, I really am! Just, please don’t break up with me,” you looked up at him, guilt wracking every part of your body, “I promise it won’t happen again. I even cleaned up around here! I figured I’d get some of the more unimportant things out of here for you.”

Jongho looked around the room. He noticed the lack of knick knacks you always seemed to bring home with you after a day out. The sheets were changed from the pink floral set that you adored to a plain white set. Everything in the room seemed dull. The only semblance of normalcy left in the room was the teddy bear sitting on the bed.

“I-” Jongho started, not quite realizing what an effect he’d had on you. You were never one to change so easily; it was one of the things he loved about you. This only made him feel worse. Not only that, but the way your voice shook as you talked and the obvious tears swelling in your water lines, Jongho had to stop himself from crying. 

“Sweetheart, I would never break up with you. You know that, right?” he reassured you, pulling out the bouquet and note he’d prepared. Your eyes lit up upon seeing this, confusion and relief swelling in your features simultaneously. 

“Here,” he said, sitting down on the foot of your bed, beckoning you to join him. Just before you could sit next to him though, he patted his leg, signaling you to sit in lap. As you do, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in as close to him as possible. He hands you the bouquet and note, allowing you a moment to look at the gift and read the note. As you read it, tears begin to fall down both of your faces. Sure, you felt like you needed to be touched like this, but you didn’t expect it to be as emotional as it was. As for Jongho, the guilt of hurting you had really begun to sting. Seeing you so broken up over a few absent-minded words had confused him at first. But once he finally had you in his arms again, he realized it had been weeks of neglect leading up to this point. He was hurting not only you, but himself, too. He just didn’t know he was doing it.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I never meant to hurt you like this,” he explained, wiping the tears away from your face and simply letting his own soak into his skin. His hands raked through your hair gently while he admired your face. “Never gonna let it happen again. Can’t believe I let this go for so long.”

“S’okay, Jongie,” you stammered out between soft cries. You tightened your arms around his neck even more, fingers gripping at shirt, as if he was going to leave any second. “I understand you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Princess, you’ll always be number one on my list. You’re my top priority,” he said, finally regaining his composure and moving you to straddle him. Taking the gifts from your hands, he gently placed them to the side and took your face into his hands. He circled his thumbs on your cheeks, quietly asking you to stop crying. 

“I missed this, Jongho. I just love you so much. I’m sorry I’m such a burden sometimes-” but before you could continue, he cut you off.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one that should be sorry,” he looked deep into your eyes, making sure you internalized each word he said, “and I am. I’m so sorry, baby. I know how much you care, and I want you to know how much I care, too. I love you so, so much, darling. I know I’m not the best with my words, so will you let me make it up to you another way?” Jongho questioned, his fingers tracing the edge of your pajama shorts, occasionally sneaking underneath the fabric. His eyes met yours, looking needier than ever. 

With your nod of approval, Jongho lifted your shirt off your body, exposing your bare chest. His hands were quick to touch you, rubbing and pulling lightly at each nipple. You leaned into him further with each touch, and soon, your lips connected in a sweet, tender kiss. Jongho only deepened the kiss as he let his hands run freely over your body, as if he were rediscovering a terrain that he had begun to forget. His hands snuck inside your shorts, past the band of your underwear, and began to rub soft circles into your clit. Occasionally, his fingers would briefly slip into your hole, gathering some of your slick to use as a lubricant, still circling your clit at a steady pace.

Jongho pressed his forehead against yours in order to catch your attention, “How do you want me, baby?”

“Doesn’t matter, just want you, Jongie,” you babbled, so desperate for him to go faster with his ministrations. Your hips bucked onto his fingers each time they left your clit, hoping he’d slip a finger fully in.

“Mm-mm,” he hummed, “It’s all about you tonight. Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he insisted. Awaiting a response, he pulled his hand from your shorts, eliciting a whine from you. He hooked his arms under your legs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed. Gently, he pulled your shorts and underwear off together in one go. You could almost see the sparkle in his eyes as they traversed your body. He leaned down leaving just inches between your faces, “You gonna answer me, baby?”

“I think I want your tongue-” you began, but before you could finish, Jongho had pulled you to the edge of the bed and kneeled down, coming face to face with your cunt. He lifted your bottom half up, placing one forearm under you and the other on top, letting your legs rest on top of his shoulders. He let one thumb come to your clit, picking up from where he left off earlier. It didn’t take him long to dive into your pussy. Lapping at it like a starved man, he’d drag his tongue up and down your soaked cunt, occasionally dipping his tongue into you. With each drag of his tongue, you could feel yourself getting closer to a release, but everytime Jongho heard an influx of moaning and felt your hips buck up, he’d slow down slightly, not wanting you to cum just yet.

“So pretty, princess,” He said, coming up for air. His mouth and chin glistened as he smiled up at you with nothing but affection. It was as if he were touching you for the first time all over again. He was trying to take things slow, wanting to solely focus on making you feel good, but he couldn’t help but rut himself into the mattress when he heard those sweet moans of yours. He removed his hand from your clit, bringing it down to your hole instead. He toyed at your entrance, not quite deciding if he should go in or not.

“Please Jongie, want your fingers, too.”

And his mind was made up. He plunged two fingers in, focusing his mouth on your clit now. Your pussy basically sucked his fingers in, a sloshing noise coming from it. Jongho watched your face contort in pleasure. Your eyebrows strung together and your cheeks stained with a light blush. What a sight to see. It only made him want to work you harder. Shoving his fingers in up to the knuckle this time, he pistoned in and out of you, occasionally twisting them upwards to press his fingertips into your most sensitive spots. He just couldn’t get enough of how amazing your pussy felt; so soft, warm, and wet. So perfect for him.

“Gonna cum, Jong…So close” you whined out, pleasure filling every inch of your body. It was like he was sent into overdrive, his soft licking at your clit turned into harsh sucking at it, lips surrounding the bud completely. His fingers fucked into you at a pace you’d yet to feel in your life. It was desperate on both ends, each of you melting completely into one another’s touch.

Jongho had almost missed it, too focused on getting you there to notice your quickly approaching orgasm. He lifted his head up to watch you cum, as it had always been one of his favorite sights. The way your head slammed back into the mattress and your back arched up, sending your tits into the air for him to admire made him swear up and down that you were an angel sent for him. Giving you time to come down, he listened to the warbled sounds coming from you and collected the slick that was slowly leaking out of you onto his fingers and pushed it back into you.

“Jesus Christ, I missed that,” Jongho said with a groan, standing up to hold you in his arms. He lifted your back up so you were now sitting on the edge of the bed with him still slotted in between your legs. He brushed some strands of hair out of your face, his hand coming down to trace your jawline. He brought your face up to his and stole a couple kisses from you. You nudged your face into his hand, hoping somehow it could stay there forever. Something about his touch was always so grounding.

“Still okay to keep going, sweetheart?” He looked down at you, hoping to get the greenlight from you. 

You don't answer verbally, instead choosing to undo the buckle of his belt, using it to bring him in closer to you. As you unzip his pants and pull them down, his cock springs out, nearly hitting you in the face. Your tongue poked out of your mouth, getting ready to devour him until you felt his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes then. Lay back, baby. Gonna take such good care of you tonight.” He gently pushed you back, noticing a look of concern on your face. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He said, slightly panicked.

“Don’t you want me to… you know,” You said, making a blowjob motion towards him. 

God, you’re so cute.

“Darling, I’m making it up to you, aren’t I? You don’t have to do anything tonight, just let me make you feel good.” A smirk adorned his face, enamored with how sweet you are. His hands traced up and down your sides, a gentle, but steadying motion. 

You reached your arms up, looping them around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It was chaste, quick and simple, but so passionate. It was as if you were kissing him for the first time again. You let his tongue explore your mouth, enjoying the low groan he let out as he did so. Barely breaking away, you looked into his eyes, deep and glistening, and asked, “Can I have you inside me now? Want’ to feel you inside.”

That was all he needed to hear before he lined himself up with your entrance, pumping his cock a few times before he did so. He teasingly dragged the tip up and down your folds before sinking into you. It was slow, but languid. He wanted you to feel every part of him, every vein and curve on him, just to remind you that you’d never have to go without again. His voice was low and throaty as he bottomed out, letting soft moans fall from his lips. 

“Baby girl, you feel so good,” he stops, waiting for you to adjust to the size. Once ready, he pulls his hips back achingly slowly, almost pulling out all the way, just to force himself back in. Your fingers curled into his hair and your legs wrapped around his waist, begging for him to be deeper in you. 

“Love feeling you inside like this, Jongie,” you whine, “please keep going.” 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he assured you, “never gonna leave you alone again.” 

He took your face into his hands, planting kisses all over your face. His hips pick up their pace, hitting your sensitive spot repeatedly. While his pace was still slow, it was steady and deep. Jongho wasn’t fucking you to get himself off, he was fucking you to get you off. And god it felt so good. As his hips continued to snap into yours, the loud sound of skin on skin echoing in the room, you could feel yourself coming close to your climax. And you knew Jongho was almost there, too, based on the wince he let out each time he thrusted into you. 

“I’m so close, Jongie, are you?” You asked, the heat burning in your core only getting warmer. He nodded, unable to speak through his own groaning. He planted one hand by your head to steady himself while the other took yours into his, lacing your fingers together. Even though his orgasm was slowly approaching, he wanted you to cum first. He forgot how much he loved the way it felt when you came on him. 

Staring down at you, Jongho quickened his thrusts, making sure to hit that spot deep inside you that he knew felt so good. Over and over again, harder and harder. It sent a rush of electricity through your body, limbs shaking and back arching as your orgasm washed over you. He loved how your cunt clenched down on him, a warm rush of arousal pooling around the base of his cock. 

“That was so good, princess. Such a sweet girl,” Jongho barely let out, “Think I’m gonna come now, too.”

“Want it inside me, Jongho.” 

That was enough to send him over the edge. His hips rutted into yours desperately. Spilling his seed into you, he stopped thrusting and just sat there for a moment, basking in the warmth around him. His forehead pressed against yours, noses nudging together and eyes staring into each other with great affection. 

“You forgive me yet?” He pulled out, eliciting a whine from you. 

“I forgave you when I saw the flowers,” you chuckled, sitting up on your elbows. Jongho flopped down next to you. His chest rose and fell shallowly, trying to regain some of his breath. 

“I figured,” he looked at you, eyes gleaming with joy, “but it was still nice, right?” 

“Of course it was. I love it every time, you know that. And I missed it so much, you don’t even know.”

“Baby, I don’t even think I knew how much I needed it,” he pulled you into him, his hand massaging into the skin of your hip, “I know I said this, but I’m never gonna leave you like that again, got it?” You returned a simple nod, too tired to answer verbally. 

“Ready to get cleaned up?” You answered again with a nod, sleep already seeping into your bones. Jongho left the room, heading to the bathroom to clean himself up and fill up the tub. Not long after, he came back for you, pulling you up into his arms to carry you to the bathroom. Checking the water temperature and deciding it was alright, he placed you into the tub. It was silent between you two, but that’s what you liked about aftercare with him. You didn’t need words to bring you back to your normal mindset, his touch was always enough.

His hands massaged your shoulders, knocking every knot and tight spot out of your body. They moved down your body, working until he could confidently say you wouldn’t feel sore in the morning. He then went on to take a washcloth to your body, scrubbing the sweat and other body fluids off of you, paying extra attention to the insides of your thighs. During all of this, he gently hummed one of your favorite songs. It was a ritual for him to care for you like this. It made him feel good, like he protected you like no one else could. Sure, he was always working, but when he was working to please you, it made him feel so much more important. 

Once finished cleaning you off, he drained the tub. Turning his attention back to you, he planted a kiss to your forehead and helped you out of the tub. You purred as he wrapped a warm towel around you, pulling you in for a hug. The two of you stayed there for a moment, just swaying in each other’s arms. 

He didn’t want to say anything to ruin the quiet atmosphere in the bathroom, so instead he hooked a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at his. He placed a tender kiss to your lips, knowing that you’d understand just how much he cared for you in that moment. 

[librarycards]

hello! i apologize in advance this is probably something that you get asked a lot. but do you have any recs on literary magazines to submit to? im a trans poet, ive been writing for over a decade but never shared anything and ive been wanting to try to send my stuff to get it published somewhere. obv ive been google searching but theres so many big and small publications and i was wondering if you have ones you like especially and/or tips on how to choose a magazine/journal to submit to. thanks a lot! <3

no worries, thank you for reaching out!! i've been publishing for like 8 years + an editor for almost 4, so i always appreciate the opportunity to help people new to the world find ethical publications that will treat their work with the care it deserves.

first and foremost: there are going to be pubs out there that are awesome and i don't know about. you may be the one to discover them for yourself! one aid in finding the best mag for your work is the wonderful, writer-created chillsubs. it's a fantastic platform that keeps a huge list of mags and presses and their relevant stats, and lets you create an account and bookmark those you're interested in. everyone i know uses them, and it's very worth it given the sheer volume of mags out there.

i also have some recs of my own, ofc. i'm going to list them below. if they pay (which i prioritize) I'll mark them with a $. some are trans/queer focused and some aren't, but all are pubs i've either edited and/or published with and can confirm their ethics + respect for writers.

manywor(l)ds - my mag! i'm co-founder and eic. break genre _ shapeshift with us. ($)

Sinister Wisdom - old, well-regarded lesbian+ lit mag, now open to everyone who is/loves a dyke. I'm guest-editing an issue on Madness with them, now open for submissions!

fifth wheel press - run by a beloved friend and comrade of mine. i've published here. excellent transparency, care, great for first-timers. ($).

kith books - headed by trans literary icon kat blair. a mag/press/community centered around bodymind non-conformity and noncompliance.

Honey Literary - QTPOC-centered, unabashedly pop-culture + social justice oriented. the vibes are simply immaculate.

Whale Road Review - not queer/trans focused, more oriented toward....'grown up' poetry/prose/pedagogy papers. Katie Manning (eic) is a fucking gem.

Graphic Violence Lit - just had my first experience publishing with them, and their care + consideration for the whole writer is amazing. they publish boundary-pushing work.

beestung - one of the brainchildren of Sarah Clark. nb/gq/2s SFF. I just edited a few guest issues w them and have published with them. amazing work. ($)

A Velvet Giant - genrequeer work. the editors are experienced, enthusiastic, and amazing at promoting writers long after publication. it's a family! ($)

Ethel Zine + Press - handmade with love by Sara Lefsyk (as you can see, trans/nonbinary/2s sarahs dominate indie publishing, as well we should :3). Sara is a sensitive and care-full editor and bookmaker whose every publication is a work of art.

Protean - pro- as in proletariat. awesome left mag with a mix of politics and culture and everything in between. they take reprints! ($)

Mudroom - publish your work along with a picture of your mudroom/shoe rack. very responsive editors who will hype you tf up. ($)

The Institutionalized Review - for psych survivors. the editors concreteness of vision and dedication to their community know no bounds.

Just Femme + Dandy - queer and fashion-focused! led by the inimitable Addie Tsai. They pay *handsomely*. ($)

In addition, there are also some "big" mags I have had excellent experiences publishing with and wanted to shout out. These are harder for a beginner to break into, but worth keeping on your radar + have been fantastic to me as a writer.

Electric Lit

Split Lip Magazine

The Offing

Nat. Brut

Santa Fe Writers' Project

Bodega

New Orleans Review

Augur Magazine

I hope this is helpful to you + others! the literary world is ever-changing and this is just a snapshot. Hopefully you find some that you like!

[starlightsearches]

Heloooos! I've been sober from using tumblr for almost two years but your recent Hux post has me relapsing and its all your doing in the best ways possible. If it gives you any inspo, could you mayhaps write a modern!hux who has reader as their personal guard? My current job has me babysitting a higher up as punishment (the guy makes my life miserable but if was The Armitage Hux I would bark if he asked). Like an enemies to lovers and refusing to just be his friend due to too many feelings ?????

Sleepless Nights

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry if it's not "enemies" enough for you, I have this insane fear of people being angry with me so I've never been good at the whole enemies to lovers thing. Anyways, let me know if you like what you see :0) Comments, likes, and reblogs are very cool!

Warnings: Kind of slutty, kind of rambly, hux is kind of toxic, language. I think that's it!

You're about three bites into your wilty Caesar salad when the alarm on your phone chimes.

You fiddle with the volume buttons for a second before silencing the noise completely, steeling yourself in preparation for the look you just know Veronica is sending your way.

It's worse than you'd anticipated. You actually flinch a little when you meet her eyes.

She stabs at her own food ferociously, but doesn't take a bite of the pad thai she ordered, bringing the fork level with her gaze. Being on the business end of those tines makes your heart beat a little faster.

"I thought you had twenty minutes for lunch."

You sneak the lid of your Tupperware in between your fingers, slipping it back over the top what's left of your food.

"No . . . I said the meeting would be twenty minutes. I have to be back at my desk before he's done."

Veronica chews at her bottom lip, and you just know that—if you were sitting anywhere that wasn't right outside her boss's office—she'd be cussing you out for, once again, letting Hux take advantage of your truly incredible work ethic.

Lucky for you, if there's one thing your friend likes more than violent outbursts, it's office gossip. The urge overtakes her, and Veronica leans in closer with a passing glance at Phasma's open door, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"What's his deal lately, anyway?"

Interesting. You thought you were the only one who had noticed a change in Hux's temperament.

He had a reputation, of course—there was a reason he'd had five different executive assistants in the past year—and everybody checked over their shoulders before they bitched about him in the break room.

It hit you hardest—always in the blast radius, so to speak—with your desk just outside his door. You'd spent plenty of time rolling your eyes behind his back, or muttering curses under your breath when you heard his door latch.

But you'd put up with a lot more for a lot less, and you found you were able to take most of your boss's asshole-ish tendencies in stride.

So what if the hours are long? Sitting at your desk late into the night, filing memos and typing up emails between coffee runs was lonely, but your nights before the job were, too. At least now you were getting paid.

The past few weeks had been strange, though. Longer hours, later nights. His presence hovering over your shoulder or watching you through the crack in his door, that nervous energy always focused on you, waiting for you to misstep.

Then there were the calls during the few moments you were outside of the office, filled with reminders for routines you'd never once forgotten. Hux had been fidgety and restless during those morning debriefs and stumbling over his words half the time he passed your desk with some new directive.

"What's his deal ever?" you counter, and she snorts—then when that feels too mean, "he said he hasn't been sleeping."

Veronica purses her lips, smiling around the next word.

"Oh."

You really don't have the time to wait around for an explanation—the elevator up to the top floor already takes three minutes on its own—but, god, the way she says that word stops you like an ice pick to the heart.

"What?"

"Come on," she rolls her eyes, wondering how you could be so obtuse, "everybody knows that when a guy says he can't sleep it's because . . ."

She waits for you to fill in the rest.

"Uhhhhh . . ."

"It means," Veronica sighs, yanking you closer by the arm so nobody will overhear, "that he's been thinking about you. You know, like—" she mimics the beat of some cheesy porn intro, with the bwops and the chicka-waahs.

As if you didn't already get the message.

Your stomach rolls, and not with hunger—although you're wasting valuable time you could have to shovel the rest of your lunch into your mouth on the way back to your desk.

It takes a moment, but you manage a weak laugh, shaking yourself out of your stupor.

Hux didn't think about you like that. He didn't think about you at all unless he was reading his dictations over your shoulder while you were still writing them, just in case he needed to preemptively correct your mistakes.

"Uh, okay, you're insane."

Veronica's brows come together at the challenge—you know she won't stand for that. She scans the immediate area until she narrows in on a victim.

"Hey, Stephen."

The new intern's on his third trip past her desk since you got here, turning so quick to the side you're surprised his head stays attached to his neck.

He's been waiting for this moment all day.

Stephen's cute—dark, fluffy hair and big eyes—eager like a puppy with his clumsy, loping walk . . . and he's got no fucking chance. Veronica would chew him into pieces.

He runs over to her desk, totally clueless to that.

"What's up?"

Veronica smiles, leaning over her desk so the top of her button-down starts to split open. Stephen develops a twitch in his eye trying to keep his gaze level with hers.

"What does it mean when a guy tells a girl that he's having trouble sleeping?"

He relaxes visibly, like someone just asked him the color of the sky.

"Oh, yeah. It means he wants to fuck her."

Stephen gives the answer to you—well aware of his role—then looks to Veronica, waiting for a good boy and a dog treat and a pat on the head.

You feel like you've stepped into the twilight dimension. When the fuck did that become common knowledge?

"Okay, you're both insane, and now I'm running late."

Your steps are harried on the way back to the elevator, begging the engine to move faster or the second-hand on your watch to tick slower. Trying not to think about your boss, thinking about you every night, twisted up in his sheets.

Because, yeah, you had your daydreams. Everybody needs something to distract from the drudgery of all those fucking emails. It never mattered much to you who had you pinned against the shelves in the supply closet of your mind.

Just a little entertainment to wake you up during the afternoon slump—feverish hands and desperation and the crisp smell of copy paper.

But you've always had a thing for a well-cut suit. And Hux had plenty of those.

So what if you were kind of into him and his weird little hard-ass routine? You'd never dream of going any further than your daydreams.

But was he going further? And what did that look like?

Your palms are sweating when you get back to your desk, and you can't get the image out of your head—Hux with sweat beading down the taut skin of his neck, with his arms caging you against a wall, with his hips pinning yours against the hard edge of his desk.

You hardly have time to plant your ass in your chair before you hear the tell-tale footsteps around the corner.

Speak of the devil—or, you know, daydream about fucking him.

"Any calls?"

Hux barely glances in your direction—always on the move lately—no room in his schedule to actually stop at your desk and speak to you. You'd guess he's only got time for three directives before he's out of earshot.

Good news. Maybe you could make it out of here before midnight.

"I'm still working through them, sir, but I'll let you know if anything important has come through."

Total lie. You haven't even looked at the phone. And you can't look him in the eye either, feeling flushed and frantic.

Oh god. Do you look flushed and frantic?

Hux doesn't notice either way. Maybe Veronica was wrong and decided to ruin your entire life on a whim.

"Make sure you have a car prepared for the event on Friday. I won't stay longer than twenty minutes."

"Of course, sir. I'll call and let him know."

You had already made that call, but you'd have to update Mitaka, still. That's ten minutes less than the original time you gave him.

He's half-way into his office when he turns back for his last demand, "and I'll need you late, again, tonight."

Fuck. So close. You'd have to reschedule that date with your vibrator.

"Of course, sir. Whatever you need."

I'll need you late, again, tonight?

Could he make it any more fucking obvious?

Hux feels like slamming his head against the wall. He would, maybe, if he wasn't sure you'd hear the rattling window and come to see what his problem was. And that would only present more opportunities for him to make a fool of himself.

He certainly doesn't need any more of those.

It seemed like good advice when it was first given to him—"spending more time together" would be an easy first step, if it didn't also involve time-and-a-half for you. The paychecks he was signing were starting to look as ridiculous as the little infatuation he's been carrying.

Not that it mattered. If money was what you wanted, he'd give it. Anything to endear himself to you.

But the extra time—and the money—aren't helping. You're as distant as ever, maybe moreso, with the fog of sleeplessness and your inevitable irritability at his constant demands.

It's his own damn feelings that get in the way. He can't concentrate, not with the shape of your legs in those pencil skirts. He spends most meetings in wondering how to find out the name of the perfume you wear.

And where he can find a bottle of it for personal use.

Nights, still, are worse.

That's where this all started. Hux hardly ever had dreams, and the few dreams he did have in those short, unconscious hours were never memorable.

Then he woke with the feeling soft skin enveloping his cheeks, tasting you on his lips. And god, those noises you were making for him, your fingers through his hair, begging for him to come closer, to give you more.

It flipped the switch. You went from a passive—albeit attractive—body in a chair to a person. A someone.

A need.

He knew it was wrong. He knew, even with his sweat soaking the sheets and his heavy hand resting on his abdomen that this would ruin so much for him.

The mind can be reasoned with, if the body is hungry enough. And Armitage is so, so hungry for you.

On the nights he manages to resist, he imagines, wonders. Are you alone? Do you think of him? Or are you warming someone else's bed, rolling from their sheets with a heavy sigh every time Armitage's contact pops up on your phone screen?

That worry has him sick to his stomach.

So it's best to keep you close. Keep an eye on you.

Hux looks up from the stack of reports he's been reviewing, shifts in his chair just right until he can see you through the window outside his office without you noticing him.

It puts a god-awful crick in his neck if he sits like this too long. His chiropractor commented on it during his last appointment.

Normally there's not much to see—a Solitare window pulled up when you think he won't notice, the shape of your back curved gracefully. Sometimes your bra visible through the fabric of your thin, white shirts.

Not today, though. You're sitting ram-rod straight, one hand brushing some loose hair behind your ear. All your attention focused on the towering man in front of you, his arms propped against the top edge of your desk and a leering grin on his face.

Ren.

Armitage almost falls with the force of his shock, and then settles along with an empty rage in the pit of his stomach.

Of course Ren would have noticed Hux's preoccupation. And of course he would wield Hux's feelings against him.

There's an animal inside his chest, clawing to get out, giving him half a mind to stomp out there, chase Ren away with some biting remark and a hand on the back of your chair.

But there's a fear that runs deeper. Maybe you'd prefer someone like Ren.

A man who is in every way Hux's opposite. Volatile. Domineering. Powerfully built.

Could Armitage compete?

His inadequacy floods him with a distasteful anger. Armitage will put an end to it immediately. Call you into his office and berate you for socializing during working hours, shame you for inappropriate and obvious mooning over a superior.

He'll make you feel small, ashamed. The way he feels right now.

Too late for all his bravado. Ren steps away from your desk with one glance back, a knowing smirk on his face. Hux almost feels like it's a look meant for him, like Ren can find his gaze through the wall.

Armitage stands from the chair, unsure what his purpose is and knowing he'll defer to anger, as always. Knowing it will make you hate him more than you probably already do.

You don't start immediately when the door opens, and he can't tell from his view of the back of your head what you're thinking.

How many times had he wished he could delve into your mind, pull out gauzy strings of your memories, any thought or emotional tug you'd had in his vicinity? How many times had he hoped you might give him a hint or a sign that you felt anything for him at all?

Armitage coughs, and you jump, turning in your chair until you meet his eyes.

"My office," he tells you, and turns back without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your steps are quiet in the already quiet office. Everyone else has gone home by now, leaving the two of you alone, and the lights buzz menacingly over the sound of your heels rustling against the carpet. You take your usual seat across from his desk. Armitage stays on his feet, hoping to channel his anxious energy somewhere, liking the way it feels to tower over you.

"Did you need something, sir?"

He knows you're nervous. You don't try to hide it, fidgeting with your fingers, chewing at your lip, avoiding his eyes. Armitage wishes that it was him that made you feel that way, not his position, not his reputation for anger.

"What did Ren want?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then come back together in hesitation, planning an appropriate answer, wondering how he'll react.

"His assistant put in her two weeks notice today," you tell him.

He hums, waiting for more. Your lips flush a lighter shade when you press them more tightly together, and he knows you'll acquiesce.

"He offered me the position, sir."

Armitage sees red, feels his hands curl into fists where they rest behind his back. That arrogant, underhanded, low-life bastard. Hux would . . .

He keeps a cool tone, arches a brow. "And?"

"I told him I appreciated the offer but I'd prefer keep my current position."

And that gives him pause. Has the strange, effervescent hope alight in his chest, but something else snuffs it out.

"Why?"

Hux can't hide the skepticism in his voice, the aching disbelief that you would choose him in any context, but especially this.

Everyone knew working under Armitage was . . . trying. He saw the looks of pity you received from other secretaries as they packed their bags for the night, knew they were taking some solace at your misery while sipping on their happy-hour cocktails. He's well aware that he is demanding, and stubborn, and always so exacting.

He's like that in his personal life, too. Which is why he is always alone.

Your brows come together in an obvious but uncharacteristic sign of anger.

"I'm not afraid of hard work, sir."

"I am aware of that, but—"

Why is he so desirous to argue against himself? You are the best assistant he's ever had. Unfortunately, pushing people away is a skill he's mastered over and over and over again.

"Do you want me to leave?" you interrupt him, arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Part of him wants to say yes. To rid himself of this weakness you've blossomed in him, to keep everything under his control and eliminate all other variables.

Your lips press tighter together—Hux would assume he's hurt you, if he thought he had that kind of power.

He's been silent too long. You stand from your chair, brush your hands over your skirt to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Alright, then." You speak without meeting his eyes, heading for the door.

Armitage isn't sure what makes you stop, not until you glance down at your wrist, and he mirrors the movement, sees his own hand circling it.

A perfect fit.

"Sir?"

Your voice is hazy, blurred out by the warmth of your skin and the smell of your perfume and the way your eyes go wide when Armitage makes his approach.

Without saying a word or offering a hint of an apology, Hux is kissing you.

[seleniangnosis]

Mid Year Check In 💗🪽

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Hi everyone 💌🧁! My life is keeping me quite busy, and away from the tumblr tarot community for a while now. I've done this spread for me yesterday, so I decided to share it with you as well.

The reading is intended to provide you with some help and answers on how you've been progressing this year, and a bit of what to expect next 🤍. Pick the picture/pile you're most drawn to and feel free to discard any information that doesn't resonate with you. Enjoy! And reblogs are highly appreciated

Pile 1

Hello pile one and welcome to your reading 🧁🤍

You've entered this year with a goal in mind. Whether be it personal growth and development, topping your class , or building on your finances, you were ready to do whatever it takes to get there. You might have been a bit stubborn with your plan, even to the point where you neglected other life aspects, or for others, you've been very driven on changing the circumstances you've found yourself into for a long while.

You seem to have been extremely diligent with your plans, following them trough, or created a very structured way to get you where you want to be. For those who have jobs, or were job searching, this year has been spent for sure on achieving some sort of financial abundance, or create a foundation for your career, this part is highly similar to my own reading and I can say I truly worked hard this year, so pile 2 congratulations on your hard work, and I hope you're enjoying the fruits of your labour.

You've got so many pentacles cards here pile 2 ,so yeah a lot of focus on personal development, finances, and stability.

Something you've learnt is how to be consistent in your work, life , studies etc, rely on yourself, and how to manage ideas, or maybe a situation when something doesn't go the way you planned it. Some of you might have been focused on creating business connections or just create some stable new connections in regards to work / workplace, or maybe you were focused on finding a workplace where you felt like you can grow and develop your skills.

Something that you'll have to pay more attention to, and might serve as your next lesson is related to some self introspective work, and spending some time with yourself. You seem to have been all on the grinding mindset, so much that you kinda forgot about yourself. Good work ethics are great, but I get the impression that you were overworking yourselves, and you got the results, but detached from yourself and some self care.

If you have a certain goal set in mind, go for it, but not on the expense of your health. I got an intresting mix of cards, which leave me with the idea that you're highly aware you're stressed and have been working your brains out, but you keep going because you already have your mind set on something and only after you get that thing done you'll be able to relax.

Whatever it is pile 1, I'm proud of you, but please don't forget to tend to your needs as well 🤍💌.

Pile 2

Hello pile two and welcome to your reading 🤍🧁

The message of this pile seems to be again centered around money, finances, staring a new job / moving to a different job, work. Some of you might have started as an intern in your first job, or changed your career. You might have felt a personal call to change your orientation and start something new. I'm getting that energy of " should I stay ? should I leave ? What if I get into a much worse situation if I leave this place?" . Maybe, for some of you, your workplace was toxic and no longer suitable, but you were afraid of what could happen if you don't find a better one , or none at all.

Some of you might have took a break and some time to reflect and redefine their goals. I feel like even though you were getting some reward and results, they were not worth the mental exhaustion, the stress , and what you were putting yourself trough.

It's highly possible for you to still be in this energy/ situation, because as the next lesson the universe has in store for you I got something about facing what you're afraid to face. You seem to be caught too often and too tight into your own thoughts, that you're blocking your rational thinking, so you keep yourself away from reaching that freedom. Pike 2 , how stressed you are rn? You're thinking about making a move, making a plan, you get distracted by illusory thoughts, you're back to square one.

You should start looking at the good side of the things as well, not only what can fail or go wrong. Have more faith in yourself pile two 🤍💌!

Pile 3

Hello pile three and welcome to your reading 🤍🧁

The page of pentacles showed up in all 3 piles, but for this one, the energy is centered more on self work and development. For you I'm not getting much about money, work and finances, but about new start and goals around personal development. Your year was more of a journey in the search of what works and what doesn't for you. What improvements can you be making in terms of how you think about yourself, how can you change your mindset and find more fulfilment, rather than resenting yourself for things that didn't work out. Maybe you've even been unsatisfactory with who you were , and spent time improving yourself, making better decisions that bring you healthy benefits, and enjoying the journey of these small new beginnings. You learned to have more faith in yourself, in the fact that you're capable of improving yourself.

As something that you are still about to learn, well when I picked the cards I got " committing to yourself ", so ... commit to yourself. Maybe you feel guilty about how you've changed, and even though it's a positive change for you, others might make you think you're selfish, or a bad person. Maybe you were too tolerant in the past, and now that you've learnt to take better make better decisions, others see you as too self preoccupied.

For the rest of the year your goal should be yourself. Creating stability for yourself, and share it with those like-minded, who appreciate your presence in their lives💌🤍.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 5!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, stalking, job shenanigans, Billy wiling to protect you in every way possible.

A/N: Babes, I am having the worst day possible. I could use some love. Please, please, send something, anything my way if you have any appreciation for me. ❤

'Billy, it's what my friends call me.'

Was that what you were? Friends?

Or was it an accident?

'Right, sorry for bothering. Just curious.'

Okay, that was a good place to end.

You put your phone down, moving to grab a glass of water, but spinning back excitedly when another alert comes in.

'Don't say sorry. Or else.'

Fucking shit, was he flirting?

No way.

'Or else?' you ask.

Your heart pounds.

'Or else, I'll demand your apology in person, preferably over dinner.'

Holy fucking shit he was.

He liked you?

No, no way.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

Dammit, he was still a client.

Shit, you shouldn't.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I don't want to-' You begin to type it, but quickly backspace.

'Can we do it as friends?' You erase that too.

Yes, you wanted to say yes, yes sir, take me into your arms and then preferrably your bed.

Damn, you didn't know what to say.

the typing bubbles pop up, and you wait patiently.

'Let's table that conversation though, at least until our work relationship comes to an end. Yes?'

You breathe a sigh of relief.

'Yes, that sounds great.' You answer.

You move toward your window, looking over, hoping to catch sight of him.

He's there, shirtless once more, black joggers wrapped around his legs, wide shoulders and large hands.

He sips at his coffee, holding his phone up.

You look down, typing out a little message to send to him. You watch the corner of his lips pull up into a smile as he reads it.

'Happy Sunday.' Is all you'd said.

.

"Anvil accepted the proposal."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good work." Andrew informs.

"Thanks, I thought I was on thin ice for a second there." You say, taking a sip of water in your relief.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"So we'll pass the project on to someone else so you can focus on other things." He says casually.

Wait, what?

He was giving the project to someone else?

"Wouldn't it be easier if I held on to it? I mean, I did all the grunt work for the assessment, I know the building better than anyone else here."

Andrew shrugs.

"It's just a building. Won't be that hard for someone else to pick up. We really need you focusing your skills elsewhere."

No room for argument.

Your shoulders drop, you nod in compliance.

You'd worked so hard, and that was it, someone else would get the credit for your work.

You were going to quit.

Maybe this was for the better, William wasn't a client to you now, maybe you could finally take him up on dinner.

You shake your head angrily, maybe he was the one who requested you be taken off. Maybe he'd only entertained the thought of you because you were a woman.

What if his only goal had been to seduce you?

You sigh, shoulders dropping as you approach your desk, noticing a couple of work documents come in.

You open them absentmindedly, sorting them into the right area on your desk, still deep in thought about what you should do.

Realistically, you should quit, if they didn't respect you now, they probably never would.

Very infuriating, maybe your place of work could use a little brushing up on ethics too.

You pull the last document from the last envelope and you frown.

This.... was a photo of you.

.

Billy was pissed.

He'd been invited in to sign contracts with your company, and discuss lead times and security protocols, and he'd just discovered that you'd been pulled from the project.

For once, he and the predator were in agreement.

He was going to raise hell.

"Unfortunately gentlemen, we have a problem."

He heard Andrew's heart pick up speed.

"What is it?"

Billy leans back in his seat.

"I'd prefer your old specialist, I've had time to watch and assess her work. She's able to answer almost any question I ask, and where she is unable, I don't have to wait long for an answer."

Andrew swallows.

"All my specialists are very much equipped to handle your questions." He protests.

Billy leans back, nods his head.

"I'm sorry, then I'm not interested in accepting your proposal," He leans forward, rises to a stand, "Pleasure doing business with you." He says, extending a hand to shake.

Andrew is sweating now, the stench of his anxiety permeates the air.

"We can come to some other arrangement, keep her on the project, so that she has time to focus on everything she needs to."

Billy hated that idea. It meant you would have to ask someone else's approval for your ideas, that someone else would be able to take credit for your hard work.

In every aspect, Billy found himself protective of you, and he wanted your complete involvement, or none at all.

"Then we don't really understand each other very much now do we?" He says, dropping his hand and turning away.

"Be reasonable, Mister Russo-"

"-I'm not being reasonable? I want the specialist that assessed the weak points in my company and drafted a plan to take lead on carrying out that plan. How is that unreasonable?"

Andrew hesitates, he swallows, the predator pulls hungrily at Billy, demanding blood, enticed by the scent of fear.

"She- she resigned a few days ago. Doesn't work here anymore."

The news shocks him, a little bit of worry snakes down his spine though he keeps himself calm.

He checks his watch absentmindedly.

"We could have saved a lot of time if you'd just told me that from the start." He nods his head at both men.

"Have fun finding someone half as good as her. Goodbye."

He turns finally, walks out of the office, smiles in satisfaction as he hears Andrew swear angrily.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, a quick text in your direction.

'We need to talk.'

.

Except you didn't want to talk to him. You'd been hiding in your house for the last few days, ever since you'd quit your job. The photo sitting on your kitchen counter.

It was you, leaving Amy's apartment a couple of weeks ago. It had worried you, that when you'd felt like you were being watched.... you were actually being watched.

You didn't say anything, wondering if it was just a one time thing. One single photo was barely enough to go to the police with, you'd be overlooked for more important things no doubt, and worse yet, what if things got worse because you reported it?

It just wasn't a good enough risk to take, so instead, you'd rushed on quitting your job, and decided to get back into the job market.

You're studying the photo when his text comes in, you wanted to burn it, pretend it didn't happen, and move on with your life. It was just one photo after all.

You reach for your phone, reading his message, the ominous nature of it sinking into you.

You try to be professional in your response.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I'm not available today.' Is your response.

'I just heard you quit your job.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

You blink, you don't know how to respond to that. You were barely acquaintances, you didn't owe him anything.

'Why would I have told you?' You ask.

You can almost sense his frustration.

'Let's meet. There's a café a block away.' He follows up with a location.

'6 p.m? Yes?'

When you don't respond, his next message is just your name, you find yourself clenching involuntarily, you can almost hear his voice in your head, the casual way he demands compliance.

'Okay.' Is all you say.

You still feel like you're being watched. From the moment you step out into the street, your heart is pounding, your lungs squeeze in your chest.

Was there someone watching you right now?

Would there be another photo?

You look around, and you check your peripherals, and though nothing is amiss, you still feel watched.

It's terrifying, you stop halfway to the café, you almost turn around and run back home.

Despite being afraid of outside, you knew that you were safe inside. You'd done a full assessment of Anvil's security, after all, you knew the weak points, and though there weren't many, you're sure Billy- William would have compensated for most of them by now.

But out here, there were too many places for an assailant to be hiding. It was scary, and you were almost petrified by the thoughts. There was a stalker, or even a new serial killer, just around the corner.

You really needed to book another session with your therapist.

You sit in the back corner of the little café, a very rustic interior decor, filled with stained wood countertops and paintings made out of coffee on the faded red walls.

The sound of the coffee grinder goes off every now and then, the steamed milk foamer next, and you find yourself relaxed by the repetitive sounds. No one looks at you, spares you a glance, and there's even a comfort in that.

But he takes the air out of the room when he walks in.

Your stomach, as knotted as it is, knots even more at the sight of him, heart fluttering, begging for something you've never had before.

Dressed down, grey shirt, black jeans, you want to sit on his firm thighs if only for a moment. He's not wearing a coat, or even a jacket, despite the chill in the evening air. He probably runs hot, and you think about what that would feel like, in bed, beside you, before you come to your senses.

"Would you like something?" He asks, when he comes up to the little booth you're at, palms braced against the table, eyes glancing at the menu in explanation.

"It's on me." He says easily.

The corner of your lip rises.

"Why? Because I left my job you think I can't afford a vanilla latte?"

Something rises in him, amusement perhaps, his eyes move slowly down your body, and then back up to your eyes.

"You think you're funny, but don't worry, I'll get you your vanilla latte."

He straightens, eyes lingering on your burning face. He turns, and walks to the counter.

You gulp.

Jesus Christ.

He comes back, with a cup for you, and one for himself, and you thank him easily.

"Tell me what happened." He starts, and you look up at him, his face composed, no room for argument.

You swallow.

"They pulled me from the project."

He nods.

"And... it made me feel undervalued... overlooked."

He takes a deep breath, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

"I turned the contract down."

You blink in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted your expertise, not some idiot who would lie to me and think they're getting away with it."

You lean back, sighing.

"They're going to think we're involved."

He shakes his head.

"Because I value your opinion?"

"Do you? Or is this-" You cut yourself off, glancing away.

"Say it."

"Is this... only because you want to be involved with me?"

A long moment of silence, your heart drops. He was going to make fun of you for assuming something like that no doubt.

"It's not that. It's the way you think. It's the way I can see you thinking ten steps ahead. Most people, are too focused on the brushstrokes, when you're looking at the whole painting."

Tears spring to your eyes. You look up, blinking fast to push them away. Your throat tightens.

To be seen like this, shook you to your very core.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You say softly, voice barely above a whisper.

No one, had ever seen you like this before.

It made you want him. You'd been thinking this entire time that he couldn't give two shits about you, when he'd been appreciating your work ethic from a distance.

Did he like you? Probably not, but that was okay, because this was a good alternative.

"I want to hire you as a consultant." He follows up, smiling at you when your eyes widen.

"Mister Russo-"

"-Billy, please."

"Mister Russo," You emphasize with a shake of your head, "this is too much."

"How is it too much?" He asks, leaning back, "You're experienced with the innerworkings of my company, you know the layout, you know the problems. Name a price, and be there on Monday."

You clap a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh of disbelief bubbling through.

"You're insane." You say, eyebrows raised, daring to speak to him in such an informal manner.

He grins, beautiful and alluring, leaning in, eyes filled with mirth.

"I know I am. It's why I'm good at what I do. Think about it."

You nod, deep in thought.

You had a couple months of rent saved up as is, you would be able to survive for a little while if you turned him down.

On the other hand, Anvil was one of the best security companies in New York. There was no safer place. Any potential stalkers would find difficulty in getting random letters to you.

Plus, he valued you, he saw your worth, had made it extremely clear.

Only a fool would turn down what he could offer- or someone extremely smitten.

"To be very clear," You say, avoiding his eyes, "You're not offering this because you're interested in sleeping with me, are you? Because if you are, then I don't want it."

.

"I'm not interested like that." He lies, feels the predator roar in anger, curling one hand into a fist in his lap to fight it.

Her safety matters most, he tells himself, job safety included.

He would protect her.

Even if it meant he couldn't touch her again.

.

You can't help looking around.

It's dark now, and you're so on edge, looking behind you, studying each alleyway you pass, the paranoia pulling at the seams of your sanity, demanding you panic.

"We're not being followed." William says calmly from beside you.

You swallow, looking over at him.

"How do you know?"

He smiles softly, gazing forward.

"Before Anvil, I served ten years in the Marines. Three tours. I know when I'm being watched."

So you were just paranoid then.

You squeeze your fists tightly, releasing the tension in your body before confessing.

"A couple of months ago, someone tried to kill me." You say to him, eyes glued to the ground.

"I'd been camping in the woods with my friends, we did it every year, this time-" The words die, you can't find the strength to speak.

"I know. Anvil runs background checks. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

You breathe a sigh of relief, you'd figured the company had looked into you. Ensuring you weren't a security threat was very important. If it wasn't being done, you would have suggested it yourself.

"Yeah, thanks. After, it's just hard to relax when I'm outside. It's hard to do anything."

He nods, deep in thought.

"It's a good thing you work for a security company then, no safer place to be."

Later, into the night, when you're fast asleep, the predator visits you in your dreams.

"I'll keep you safe," He whispers into your ear, lays a soft kiss on your cheek.

You hum in bliss, arms curling tighter around the pillow you're holding, yearning for something you could only dream of.

.

.

.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Actually, one of the first things I thought of when learning that Liam had passed away was that he was Nora’s favorite. Liam to me was never the most interesting member of all the 1D lads but the way Nora talked about him on every single album had me appreciating him way more. I do think some of his qualities, both musically and personally, were a bit overlooked during the band.

This makes me want to relisten to the 1D related Every Single Album episodes anon.

I've just finished listening to the latest Every Single Album, and I enjoyed hearing more of Nora's perspective. I liked how expansive they were with what they talked about, the way that they emphasised the importance of 1D culturally and musically, and that they started by putting it in the context of fame.

As always it gives a sense of how differently people understand celebrities. I really want to interrogate Nathan about the idea that it's Taylor Swift's work ethic saved her. I think there might actually be an argument there (which is bascially - the fact that she always needed to work meant she always had people with her, and the hardest part of fame is the isolation from others in time), but it reminded me how easy it is to draw obviously untrue causation lines from success to wellbeing. When they basically asked 'is Harry Styles too dumb to be fucked up by fame?' I thought 'here are people who are less obsessed with what Harry has said to and about his therapist than I am.

*********

I'm going to articulate something that has been rolling round my brain, and which I haven't said yet. She mentioned again the clip about being locked in their rooms. Each time I've heard it, I've thought how much I think fans missed the point when they use that as proof of the evil of management. And I do think it's important to talk about the way the music industry is profiting is suffering in that example.

But by focusing on (or pretending to focus on) and literalising the quote (I've never been in a hotel room that you can lock people into). Fans miss the point - what was it that 1D was being protected from? Why couldn't they just go outside? How could 1D have been kept both safe and free while touring?

There seems within fandom a real unwillingness to look at the fact that was our actions that did harm. I'm sure the decisions by people with power did harm. It may not fully be that Eric Andre meme, but there is an element of it. Fans damaged Liam. Fans trapped him in his room with just a minibar. The damage was a result of aspects that were central to what fans love - they weren't avoidable just if better people were in charge.

I sometimes think that fandom's rush to blame someone is a way of avoiding the role we played.

[star-burnt]

Ko-fi SHOP! You buy it you own it rules!

Hello! This is a notice/whatever of my ko-fi adopt shop. Due to issues with selling them figured I'd actually use my brain and make an official announcement. Currently all funds go to these things:

I have a friend who is struggling a lot, and it is the cycle of they need money to get a job, but then need a job for money, etc.

Paying for food or bills as due to issues of my past I have been saddled with a very big chunk of debt and rather try to tackle it as much as I can.

Right now I am focusing on helping my friend out, as I can manage with my debt for the most part thanks to my partner.

I will NOT accept commissions for the foreseeable future due to me working 40 hours a week, and needed that time to work on other things. Plus I've really noticed I have a bad work ethic with these, and rather not make promises I can't keep,

So if you like dragons, monsters, aliens, etc. Come down to my shop and adopt! ko-fi link: https://ko-fi.com/starburnt/shop

[hello-nichya-here]

I have a question that might be offensive, and I'm sorry in advance for any hurt it may cause. I've been trying to search for an answer online for a while but I'm not able to find a proper one, and hoped you could help me.

From what I have gathered, autistic people do not wish for there to be a cure for autism, which I understand because well, it would change your brain and the way you view the world. Some even insist it cannot exist (which I'm not so sure about but whatever). My main question is, there are thousands of people out there who are affected by some kinds of ASD so severe that they can never lead a proper life, will never mentally develop beyond a child, and often have to live through agonizing pain and overstimulation. When it comes to these cases, would they not prefer a cure? So wouldn't it be more ethical for a cure to exist, but taking the cure not be compulsory? Those people are obviously not on social media, so their voices go unheard. But wouldn't they and their loved ones not want them to be in pain?

Thanks in advance.

First off, here's why a "cure" is indeed impossible: autism is a neurotype, not a disease. It's not the brain or any organ/system doing something it shouldn't or being damaged by some internal and/or external factor. An autistic brain functions DIFFERENTLY, not DEFECTIVELY, though obviously there is a variety of ways in which it manifests, and it is very rare for an autistic person to be ONLY autistic, there's often one, or more, conditions affecting them at the same time (anxiety, ADHD, schizophrenia, depression, OCD, etc). It is also likely a result of multiple cromossomes working in atypical ways (unlike with Down Syndrome, which is a result of cromossome 21 and ONLY 21 working differently) - and we still don't know which ones, or even how many said cromossomes are.

What does all of that mean for a cure? It means that:

1 - To make an autistic person non-autistic it'd need to be possible to discover it when they're still a fetus and somehow force their brain and entire nervous system to form differently - both things modern science can't do and that we're not sure will EVER be possible.

2 - It is very likely that even if a cure is possible, it will NOT be a one-size-fits-all kind of deal, and it will work on some cases and be useless in others.

So it is already a far, far, FAR more complicated deal than just "If we put enough money, time and effort into it, we can find a cure." Part of the reason why many autistic people are sick of nearly every fucking charity about autism being focused on a cure is because, instead of that money going directly to us or to our caretakers (be it family or any form of hospice/home) and having a very real positive effective, that money goes into searching for a something that might genuinely not be biologically possible.

This is sadly the common history for nearly every group under the large umbrella of Disabled People. Sign Language was discouraged and even made ILLEGAL in some countries long before there were was a reliable, safe way to allow deaf people to hear. There are THOUSANDS of horror stories about people with any form of paralysis or mobility issues being just let root and die in their beds, even after all kinds of mobility aids were invented because "it's a burden to the caretakers" and a "miserable life to live anyway." A disabled athlete in Canada has recently complained about lack of accessibility and was offered EUTHANASIA as a solution because God forbid someone has to build a ramp.

The sad reality is that many non-disabled people are only interested in helping us if the help is guaranteed to make us 100% "normal." If it will gives us a decent, and sometimes fully/mostly independent life, but not make us able-bodied/neurotypical it is NEVER considerd "good enough", and is often talked about as a "set-back for the cure." Giving us ways to communicate our needs, find emotional support, employment, or at the very least multiple sources of aid that will allow our families to not be on "caretaker mode" 24/7 and to not fear what might happen to us once they pass away is considered A SET BACK. Because we're not "cured", but are also not dead.

They're focused on trying to "solve the mystery that will totally lead us to the cure IN THE FUTURE", but never on hearing our VERY basic requests for stuff that would greately improve our lives NOW - Autism Speaks, the largest autism "charity" (hate-group that literally uses "therapy" created by nazis to "help" us) literally popularized the myths that we don't know ANYTHING about autism, how it happens or how to help people with it, and making the "official autism symbol" be a fucking puzzle piece.

The "finding a cure is more important than anything" narrative talks over the needs of EVERY autistic person in existence, including the ones that cannot express their opinion or understand their own condition enough to HAVE an opinon, and yes, including the ones that actively WANT to be "cured."

And speaking of people who do genuinely want to be "cured" of their autism: it is extremely naive of you to think there's any change a cure wouldn't be made mandatory if it existed, and that the choice would be left to the individual, or even to a parent/caretaker on the more "extreme" cases.

Like I said before, things like Sign Language were made ILLEGAL in many countries for the crime of helping disabled have a better life without curing them. We still have cases of doctors operating deaf babies/toddlers without the parents consent. Wheelchair users constantly complain that people just randomly decide to "help" them by pushing their chair towards where they assume the person wants to go, without saying a word to them, without letting them change direction and sometimes even being careless enough to fuck up the chair.

Disabled people CONSTANTLY get called stupid or selfish for not opting for long, expensive treatments that will often only TEMPORARELY make them abled-bodied because being "normal/not a burden" should be more important than anything, including the completely unnecessary and often brutal emotional turmoil of getting used to a "normal" life just go then have to get used to being disabled again. And yes, autistic peoplel, from the completely indepent ones to the ones that need constant care, who have said they would NEVER take a cure for it if one existed, ALREADY get condescending, and sometimes openly hateful, comments about it all day, every day, everywhere. For saying we don't want to take the IMAGINARY pill that can "fix" us.

Our lives are already considered lesser, our opinions are already disregarded, and our bodily autonomy is already denied constantly (see the more "harmless" things like people that think it's funny to force hugs and kisses on those of us who hate most physical contact, to doctors that have injured or KILLED us through unnecessary, often violent means of restraining us during meltdowns). If a cure existed, we'd be straight up forced, or at least constantly pressured, to take it. There's a reason WE are the only ones discussing how unethical it'd be to force us to be "cured", while most neurptypicals have not even heard of that objection, and half would get mad at us for being "ungrateful" - after all, they spent so much time, money and effort on this thing (that we've been rejecting from day one), we can't just refuse it like that!

I know you probably mean well, anon, but the sad reality is that nearly every talk of "curing" autism (and almost anything that is considered a disability) is often rooted on nothing but society's very open disgust and disdain towards our very existence, not a genuine desire to make sure we're safe and happy - and as you can imagine, we're mad that we constantly have to justify our right to be alive and actually listened to, not spoken over by people who are "trying to help" by telling us to shut up and be glad that they're trying to make us "normal."

[lizzy-calaxio]

Aftermath

It’s been two weeks since Zenos fell. It’s been one day since Lizzy was released from strict bed rest. The lone auri stands in the middle of her office, cleaned by an unknown entity. A deep pit of anxiety in her stomach flowers into a deeper sorrow. Her eyes water, but she blinks a couple of times to clear them. She trudges towards her desk, and sinks into her seat. She places her cup of untouched coffee on the desk, and starts reading several papers that require her attention.

She starts with important papers that need an immediate response, then important papers that need to be filed away but don’t have as strict a deadline.

She glances up at the clock occasionally, but it speaks of lies and deception. After a large amount of time, she ignores it outright.

A stack of papers becomes a couple of papers. A stack of ungraded tests gets cleared. She contacts several students and helps with their questions.

The productive levels churning out of Archon Calaxio’s office are commented on by her superiors. People seem happier with her. She feels useful. People pass her and comment about how focused she is. What work ethic!

It’s been days. Weeks? Months? It’s been some time.

Lizzy sits at her desk, perfectly organized, crying inbetween tasks. After a few moments, she wipes the tears away and continues working. People compliment her productivity, "Wow! I've never seen you so on top of your paperwork!"

She maintains the bare minimum of contact to ensure people don’t think she’s ignoring them. She sleeps at her office, she eats half of one meal a day, opting more often to rely on the appetite suppression of coffee.

Lizzy makes huge strides with her patients, she sees an increase of attentiveness during class from her students.

The scions visit and ask if she has time to help with a problem, she tells them no. Her friends ask if she could go with them on a short trip, she tells them no.

"Can I help you with anything?" they ask. "Ah, no, I'm ok. I can handle things on my own," she lies.

Can't be burdensome to others.

She feels invisible. She has everyone’s eyes on her. She's happy, but sad. She's taking care of herself.

She's destroying her body.

That’s ok.

"I can just keep helping others." she tells herself, hoping someone notices.

[grison-in-space]

Hi! I've just stumbled onto the dogblr side of Tumblr and it seems fascinating. Could you recommend any fundamental reading/watching material for people who want to start learning about dog training/behaviour/cognition? It would also be cool to hear about how you, personally, got into it if you're okay sharing- it seems like a niche field and I'm curious about what the journey might look like for different people. Thanks! ^.^

Oh, sure! Bear in mind that my particular path is, um, actually much weirder than most folks': the dog training with clients is a very new (and very part time) development in my professional life. In my full time job, I'm a postdoctoral associate in neuroscience working on motivation and decision-making in the context of animal behavior. And even for that, my career path has been bizarre: I started out in population genetics, did the PhD in behavioral ecology with a side of metabolic neuroendocrinology, and have now wound up in a NIH-oriented lab focusing on topics related to sex differences, neurodivergence and addiction.

It just occured to me that the dog training thing puts me squarely on the grounds of applied animal behavior research, which means that I've done it! I've poked into all the disciplines that can be described as Animal Behaviour and collected all the achievements! I really gotta reinvest in the Animal Behavior meeting, huh. Oh, wait, no: I'm forgetting behavior genetics, which is an area of strong interest I've poked around the edges of but never myself published in.

See, animal behavior as a formal study contains at least four different disciplines of study that really only loosely interact with one another. Behavioral ecology often appears in concert within ecology and evolution, and it focuses on the study of animals within their own natural context according to their own concerns and experiences. Neuroscience is typically thinking in terms of understanding the mechanism of the human brain, and behaviorism is similarly trained on the universal mechanisms of learning and behavior. Applied animal behavior involves studying how to most effectively, safely, and ethically manage animals in human care, including both domestic animals and captive wild ones; it also covers finding out how to teach animals to do complex but useful behaviors, like training working animals. Neuroendocrinology involves studying how hormones effect changes in the brain and body: metabolic hormones, stress hormones, sex hormones, the works. Behavior genetics (and epigenetics) include studying the effects of genetic variation on behavior itself.

It's certainly not uncommon for people to jump fields once or twice, or to straddle an intersection of approaches over their careers. It's.... less usual to bounce around one's career to quite this extent, which I attribute to the fact that a) I have quite a bit of fairly obvious ADHD, b) I've never worked for anyone who hasn't had their own case bedeviling our focus, and c) I graduated directly into COVID, which meant that I had to figure out a solution on the fly when all the positions I had intended to cultivate dried up overnight.

Not that I'm bitter.

As for how I got into the dog training gig, essentially I like dog training, I really like this outfit, and I have some credit card debt I would really like to pay down. I wanted to meet and talk to more dog folks in the area and I also really missed teaching—I taught every spring and fall through my 8yr PhD, I'm good at it, and I really enjoy it. Since I've respected (almost) every instructor I've had through this outfit, and the one exception involved being listened to immediately about my concerns and increased supervision in response, and I knew that one of my instructors worked part time with them, I figured it might be a neat side gig. So far, that's been bourne out.

I also do have some longer term plans to do some behavioral genetics and neuroscience work on dogs, and I would like to incorporate some noninvasive experiments that use dogs from the general public. My facility also has a robust doggy daycare program and it'd be rad to work with them to build opportunities for everyone in a few years. I'm hoping to leverage a permanent tenure track job at my institution over it, but I might go in several directions from here. Predicting the direction of my career has been a losing proposition so far, so let's see what seems good at the time and stick around as long as I'm having fun.

As for how I got into dogs and dog behavior specifically? In addition to the ADHD, I'm autistic enough to have been diagnosed as a tween girl in the 00s, and my special interests never quite leave —they just flare up and simmer down in long periods over my life. Dogs are the first and earliest of these; my parents told me that they'd seen me gravitating towards the family Lhasa from pretty much the moment I could roll over on my belly. That seems about right. Dogs have been my gateway to huge corridors of my intellectual world, and dog training specifically have been a hobby for some time. In addition to my training gig, I'm experimenting with functional service tasks to support me as burnout and neurodivergence have limited my capacity.

Books and reading recs I'll try to get to later, mm falling asleep right now.