#i do not have the money for home repairs. i don't even have the money to get my CAR LOOKED AT

[souliebird]

[[and i will never let you down]]

series: daredevil | pairing: benjamin poindexter x reader

summary: in the same universe as dance of the little swans. dex returns to you after being away for a few hours.

triggers: suicidal ideation & other typical daredevil content tags

No one looks twice at Dex as he strolls into the hotel lobby. 

He blends right in with the elite clientele in his pressed business suit and ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ attitude. His eyes sweep the floor with the paranoia and intensity that only comes from years of being in active combat zones, looking for any hint of a threat as he makes a beeline for the elevators. No one stands out - he chose this establishment for a reason - but he does not allow his posture to relax until he is alone in the small, sealed box. 

Only then does Dex take a deep steadying breath. 

He rolls his neck, trying to release some tension, but the familiar and soothing ‘crack’ never comes. It hasn’t come since they coated his spine in metal. While he is grateful - as much as he can be - that his mobility was saved, the deep aches and pains that the surgery left in his back sometimes make him wonder about how hard a normal recovery would have been. 

But he always quickly dismisses those thoughts, because if he had been left to rot in prison - immobile and trapped - he never would have found you. 

His lips tip up into a smile as lets himself slowly slip from Mission Mode into Home Mode. He looks down to the small, delicate boutique bag dangling from his fingers. He hopes the gift is enough to make up for having to leave you alone for a few hours. 

Dex felt like his soul had been ripped to shreds when he had told you of his plan. You had looked so scared and upset at the prospect of being by yourself, but he hadn’t had many options. 

He had never really cared about money before - his veteran status and the FBI had kept him financially stable, and he had no desire for material things - but now he is starting from scratch and keeping you safe and pampered is at the forefront of his mind. Luckily, Dex has a few contacts who don't care who he is as a person - only that he can make the shots no one else can - and those types of shots cost a pretty, untraceable, penny. 

The ding of the elevator shakes him from his thoughts and Dex exits with another steadying breath. His stomach starts to turn, and his heart begins to race in his chest as he makes his way towards your suite.

He doesn’t know what he is going to find on the other side and that terrifies him.

You could be curled up in bed.

You could be gone.

You could be dead. 

He fears the last one the most. He understands more than anyone the call to the Darkness being alone brings. He understands wanting it all to just Stop when life crumbles around you - and oh life has so terribly crumbled around you.

Your Dreams have been ripped from you and relentlessly mocked. 

Your relationship had ended in the worst kind of heartbreak and abandonment. 

You have given up on being Alive, but you have yet to take that final step because Dex has been the one to hold you back.

Despite his initial plans to put a bullet neatly between your eyes, you have wormed your way in between his ribs and he will burn down the city and cull everyone in it if it gets you to smile for even a moment. He will drop to his knees at your command - he will do anything and everything for you without a second thought.

Because you are his. 

You are his to protect. To hold. To care for and comfort. 

You are his to share sweet little laughs with and to watch bad movies with. 

You are his to slow dance with and dine with. 

You are his to listen to and to hear his words.

You are his.

And he is yours. 

You are so good and kind. 

You know he is a Monster. You know who he has killed and how - you know all about his past with the FBI and Fisk. You know about his anger and how he needs things Perfect and how everyone has left him.

You know Dex is fucked up beyond repair, and yet you cup his jaw and kiss his forehead and thank him for his service. 

Murdock and his little friends are only alive because it is the only thing you have asked of Dex, but if Dex opens the door and you are not there to greet him, all of that will go out the window. He’d neatly explode all of their heads - and yours if you had run away from him - before removing his own. 

But he tries to not think about that, because you have to be okay and waiting for him to return.

You have to be. 

When his feet finally, finally, reach the door, he gives it three, slow, solid knocks - letting you know it is him - before he swipes the keycard with a shaking hand. 

He can’t breathe as enters the room. 

The lights are off in the sitting area, but he doesn’t expect you to be in there. He won’t admit to himself that he hurries towards the bedroom - or that a sigh of relief escapes his lips at the sight of a you-shaped lump under the covers. You are completely hidden under them, but there is a steady rise and fall indicating you are breathing. 

The TV is on across from the bed - one of the network news channels is silently showing breaking coverage of the assassination of the Prime Minister of Madripoor. He lets himself take in the scene for a moment, before picking up the remote and turning off the device. 

He sets your gift on the nightstand closest to him before lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He hesitates before reaching for you - ghosting his fingers over the blanket-barrier. He doesn’t know if you are asleep or awake in your little cove and Dex would hate himself even more if he woke you from the slumber you so desperately need. 

He whispers your name and his heart jumps for joy when you stir. 

A moment later, your head emerges. Your eyes are bloodshot, and it is clear you have been crying, but in that second, you are smiling and look oh so relieved. 

“You came back.”

He mentally Rages at the man who broke you so thoroughly that you would doubt Dex would return to you, but he doesn’t let that show. He clamps it down hard and instead focuses on the beautiful curve of your lips that is all for him. 

“Of course I came back, angel. You are never going to get rid of me.” A promise he’s told you so many times, but he can’t seem to get to stick in your head. 

You sit up, the blankets piling in your lap, and reveal you are once again wearing one of the t-shirts he bought for himself. His body thrums with approval and he moves his hand to cup your cheek. 

“Is it…is it okay?” You ask hesitantly - quietly - as you lean into his touch. Your eyes dart to the blank TV screen before closing and he more than understands what you are asking of him. 

“It is. I’m sorry it took a little longer than I initially planned,” Dex says as he rubs his thumb over your soft skin. “I got you something to make up for it.”

A small amount of light returns to your eyes when you open them to give him a curious look and he internally crows over his success. 

“You got me something?”

Dex reaches back to grab the bag without his other hand leaving your face and presents it to you with what he hopes is a sheepish smile. 

You nuzzle into his palm as you accept his gift, a beautiful soft look overtaking your features. He memorizes it all as you gently push through tissue paper to find your hidden treasure. 

He doesn’t know exactly what the style of top is called - but it certainly borders on some type of lingerie. It is a little sleeping slip that is all lace and sheer fabric - your breast will be fully covered but the rest leaves little to the imagination. There is a slit up the middle, to expose slivers of skin from your sternum down, but it is tasteful. Matching boy-short style panties are included - Dex balked at the idea of offering you a thong or something crotchless. 

You had briefly eyed a similar looking sleeping set when out shopping a few days ago, but the quality hadn’t been up to standard. It had been too lewd - too cheap - to be worthy of you wearing it. 

You are Dex’s angel - his princess - and what he had picked out was what you deserve to lounge around in. 

You apparently agree. Your smile turns blinding and a moment later you are wrapped around his neck, hugging him like he is a lifeline. He hugs you back just as tightly, trying to absorb you into him even if it’s impossible.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much, Dex.” 

“You’re welcome, angel. You’re going to look stunning in it.” 

Your breath tickles his skin as you huff a laugh against him and he’s desperate to stay in that moment forever. 

But as much as he wants it, he can’t bend time to his will and after the shortest eternity later, you pull away from him. 

“I think I need a shower before I put it on and model it for you. Will you join me?”

“Always,” he rushes out, honored you are asking him. He would have followed you into the bathroom anyways - not wanting to be even a room away from you any longer. He’s done it previously - sat on the counter while you spent countless minutes just letting water fall onto your skin. 

You usher him out of the bed, playfully making shooing motions as your mood begins to brighten. He dares to mirror your energy, and once you are standing, he picks you up bridal style. Your arms quickly return to being around his neck and that perfect little smile grows even more.

You let your head rest on his shoulder as he carries you into the bathroom and he loathes that he has to set you down to strip and turn on the shower. He lets you handle the water temperature - you alternate between scalding and barely below skin melting and it feels like the one thing Dex cannot memorize about you. It angers him, but you’ve gently explained it’s based on how you feel in that moment, and it can’t be predicted.  He treasures that you understand his frustration and helped him to find a solution.

Even if that solution is letting you do an iota of work. 

He allows you to help him out of his suit while he removes his shirt from your body. Each touch is slow, methodical, and deliberate - neither he or you are in a hurry, and he likes the care you put in making sure his clothes remain wrinkle free. 

Only when you are both nude and steam has covered the mirrors do you enter into the shower enclosure. Multiple sprays are going, and you hiss with pleasure as the burning water hits your skin, something Dex mimics even though he has no personal preference with how hot it is. 

He has seen you nude many, many times, and has touched almost every inch of your body, but he still turns his back to you to give the illusion of privacy. 

That sort of intimacy isn’t a line you and Dex have crossed yet. Forehead and cheek kisses are plentiful, but his lips have yet to touch yours and he would never even dare to suggest anything sexual with you. He doesn’t crave that release - not like other men do. He wants to bury himself in you to be as close as possible, but he understands that isn’t your desire and he will always be respectful of it. 

You are still his and he is still yours and that is all he needs. 

Dex begins his shower routine using the products you prefer. He would rather use things without a scent - the smell of rich honey tickles his senses a bit but it is what makes you happy and when he was out, putting his nose to his wrist helped to calm his anxieties in a way that reminded him of his long burnt tapes. 

As he starts to dig his fingers into his scalp, he hears you turn to face him. He can see you in the warped reflection of the shower nozzles but pretends he doesn’t as he watches you examine his back. Self-disgust gathers in his chest - from the base of his skull to his tailbone is the thick gnarled scar left over from his operation. The healing process had been hard and the memory of it makes Dex’s teeth gnash. It brings him back to the headspace of laying helplessly on the ground while Murdock failed to kill Fisk. 

The buzzing he hates so much is starting to vibrate within him, but before he can open his mouth to tell you to not look at him, you are stepping forward and hugging him from behind. 

Dex goes completely still, hands on his head, as you nuzzle between his shoulder blades, and then the world stops as your lips find his spine. 

You start at the nape of his neck, then slowly, oh so slowly, begin to place feather light kisses down his scar. 

He can just barely feel it but he thinks this is what is going to kill him. 

Too many emotions surge up into his chest and heart and he doesn’t even know what he is experiencing. He doesn’t know if it is good or bad - but he knows he doesn’t want you to stop despite it being almost too much. He can feel tears starting to mix with the shower spray on his cheeks. 

He is frozen as you trail down his body. 

Your hands start on his chest, making their way south on his front as you lower yourself to get the small of his back, but they never go below his navel. His abs flex under your touch, but you don’t tease or taunt. You just continue with your task, kissing right to the bottom of the scar before starting your way back up. 

His knees are quaking hard when you return to your starting point. You place a firmer kiss to the original start - Dex can hear the wet sounds of your lips against his skin over the sounds of the shower - before turning your head to press your cheek to him and tighten your arms around his chest. 

You press yourself flush to him back as the sweetest words he’s ever experienced begin to pour out of you. 

“Thank you, Dex. For taking care of me. For making sure I’m safe. For being so good to me.” 

“You deserve the world,” he croaks out, surprised he can even speak. 

You squeeze him tighter, and in a soft voice, ask, “would you give it to me?”

“Yes,” he responds instantly. Without question - without thought. Anything - he’d give you anything. He’ll carve out his heart and present it on a platter for you. 

You just have to ask. 

“I can’t give it back,” you whisper against him. “I can’t give you the world.”

He finally is able to move, and he drops his hands to find yours, lacing your fingers with his and gripping you tightly - but not enough to hurt you in any way. 

“You don’t need to. You are my world.” 

It is sappy and pathetic, but it is true. 

You became his world the moment Murdock turned and walked away from you. Murdock abandoned you - he left you to die, from either Dex’s hand or your own - and Dex will never forgive him for it. 

But Murdock’s mistake was Dex’s blessing. 

Dex protects you from your Darkness and you protect him from his. You take the things Dex hates about himself and cradle them close, make him feel like he is a Person instead of a hollow shell of a weapon. 

You are much much more than his North Star. 

You're his Angel.

You bury your face against him and Dex lets you - too scared to move and break the moment. He has no idea you stand under the spray, clinging to each other while he still has shampoo in his hair. It could be minutes, hours, or days - he doesn’t know. He just tries to commit everything to memory - how warm and soft you are against him, how your breath skirts over his skin, how your fingers flex against his. 

Eventually, much too soon in Dex’s opinion, you breathe out, “I’m getting cold,” before starting to pull away. 

Shakily, Dex licks his lips before replying, “let's get back to bed.”

He refuses to allow himself to turn around - to see you as vulnerable as you saw him - instead, he quickly rinses out his hair and forgoes the rest of his routine. 

The water stops as soon as the last of the suds fall from him and a second later, a towel is being passed to his hands. 

It is surprisingly easy to compose himself as he dries off. He watches you from the corner of his eye, envious of the cloth that gets to soak up the water that clings to you. He would lick each droplet off you if you allowed it. 

Your post shower routine is longer than his, so he goes to fetch your new sleeping clothes from the bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants for himself as he does. 

You smile at him, soft and sweet and Caring, as he lays out your top and panties on the counter.

“Do you want to wait on the bed, so it will be a surprise?” you ask him, a bit of a playful twinkle in your eye. 

He doesn’t - he never wants to be more than an arm’s length from you again - but Dex humors you and goes to sit on the bed. Through the reflections in the windows, he watches you get dressed - ruining any semblance of a surprise. 

Something warm fills his chest as you turn and examine yourself in the mirror, clearly pleased with the way the fabric swirls up when you spin. You smooth your hands over your breast, belly, and sides, before you finally turn and slink your way to him. 

You look Heavenly. The piece flatters your body perfectly and the little boy shorts make the outfit look far more innocent than he suspects it is supposed to be. His body would have no trouble responding if you wanted to slip out of those pretty panties and crawl into his lap. 

Dex wolf whistles as you do another little spin, giving him a proper full view, and you giggle like a schoolgirl. 

“I love it,” you tell him, voice full of mirth. “Thank you, Dex.”

“Of course, angel. Anything for you.”

Anything. 

And one day, you will know he truly, truly means it. 

--

whoops I wrote more of this au im not sorry

[sleepinglionhearts]

Can the house stop falling apart for five fucking minutes,

[regular-lord-reckoner]

so i took my car in today because i thought it might just need some more brake fluid and although i tried to just look at it myself i couldn't for the life of me figure out which part under the hood was the brake fluid reservoir without having to lean all over my car and get all dirty, so i figured i might just have to pay a service fee and whatever for the fluid itself...

turns out i need all new brake pads !!

ahaha

haha

ha

yay

[heavenknowsffs]

my phone gets drunk at least once a month (gets drenched in beer by accident and stops working for 1 to 2 days) which is incresibly inconvenient but also nice because i can disconnect from social media for a whole ass day!

[fishofthewoods]

I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"

Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.

In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.

In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.

In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?

In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.

The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.

And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?

And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?

Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.

The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.

The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.

They always come home eventually.

[neolithicsheep]

I've been meaning to write this down for some time because there are some fundamental errors that people keep making in crowdfunding/sales that shoot their campaigns in the foot. So here's a list of easy principles.

Who am I and why should you listen to me? I am a freelance chaos marketer who has raised well over $100,000 when totaling up various crowdfunding campaigns, mostly for aid to Afghanistan. In addition I've managed to successfully market everything from stuffed plush koalas to hydration salts. Why am I putting this out here for free? Because despite a years long track record of success in social media marketing no one will hire me because I don't have a college degree, so I might as well help people out who can't afford to hire full time marketing. 

If you'd like to hire me to help you evaluate your marketing and sales and teach you better skills on a 1 to 1 basis then hit me up, I am often willing to barter, esp with artists in a variety of mediums! 

Anyway on to HOW TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU MONEY:

TL;DR: use positive messaging that humanizes everyone involved and make it as easy as possible for people to give you money.

1. Shame and guilt are demotivators. They will not inspire people to give you money. “Why aren't people helping” “I guess people don't care” “This isn't getting enough shares/donations” etc etc. Online fundraising is often frustrating, heartbreaking, and will make you angry, especially when there's a humanitarian crisis involved. It is critical that if you are raising funds for someone else that you have a place to vent that is not the audience you would like to donate to the cause. 

2. Use motivating messages instead! “You can help!” “Even a small donation is important because it tells Recipient they're not alone, and people care” “We can't fix the whole world, but we can make this one thing right, and that means something”. Emphasize that this is a problem that the reader can help fix with even a small effort. With items for sale, tell a story. "I drew this thinking about how safe I always felt under a tree in my childhood backyard". "I chose the colors in this shawl to remind me of sagebrush and piñon pine in my favorite place."

3. Make it easy for people to give you money. Never talk about your product or cause without a link that leads directly to where people can give you money. They should be able to click one link on your post and land at the fundraiser or your shop. Every required click is going to lose people, so minimize the number of them required. This also means if you have a list of fundraisers for people to choose from the ones at the bottom will be neglected - people will hit the ones at the top. Be sure to take those off when they're met or periodically shuffle the list around to make sure everyone gets a chance to be in the first 5 spots. In online stores people will often only look at the first page or two of items so be sure to shuffle things around and remove out of stock items that are taking up prime real estate.

4. Humanize the recipient - this can be tricksy when raising charitable aid because you don't want to be exploitative. But to use my last Afghan campaign as an example, “We need to raise $500 for an Afghan family” is less effective than “This Afghan family's home was damaged in heavy rains that caused extensive flooding. They only need $500 to repair and rebuild so they can stay in their home and not become displaced.”  If possible, tell as much of the recipient's story as they consent to. Eg “Fred is seven and loves dinosaurs. His favorite is brontosaurus, and he carries a stuffed one with him everywhere. He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up and discover a complete brontosaurus skeleton that he can give the same name as his stuffed friend. Unfortunately he's also a trans boy living in Texas and his family needs $1500 to rent a Uhaul and get to Colorado so he can grow up in safety and do that.”

5. If you're not the recipient, humanize yourself while you're at it! “I'd be really grateful if you all could share or donate” “This fundraiser really means a lot to me because…” “Thank you so much for any help, whether sharing or donating” 

6. Treat the audience like humans. Speak to them like they are people you're having a conversation with, not ATMs. This ultimately is the goal of not using shame/guilt and humanizing yourself and the recipient. 

7. Set low goals and bump them up when met. One of the weird things about people is they prefer to give to successful fundraisers. Yeah I don't know either. So you're more likely to get the full amount you need if you set a partial goal initially and then raise it when that's met. Raise it in small increments and raise it repeatedly as those goals are hit to keep momentum going. You can't always control this so if you're boosting someone else's fundraiser you can do it artificially via asks like “Hey y'all can we get together and put $500 on this?”

[xjulixred45x]

NRC Staff with Pregnant Yuu!

Suggestion from @donanimee

Okay, first things first, the odd man out we all hate: CROWLEY.

Now, to be fair, I don't think Crowley would be as bad to a clearly pregnant Yuu as he would to a normal student. Sure, he's still extremely negligent and utterly unaccountable, but he wouldn't give Yuu the same responsibilities (just to maintain the appearance of "someone kind helping a poor woman in a vulnerable moment").

Their interactions remain the same, though Crowley strikes me as the kind of person who treats pregnant women like big babies or as if they're dangerous due to hormones (and yes, he'll use the hormones excuse constantly), especially when Yuu gets mad at him and tries to demand answers. His response? Talking to her like she's a baby in the most frustrating way possible.

If Yuu is especially emotional (again, pregnancy hormones are no joke), Crowley will awkwardly try to comfort her, but he doesn't do much else to support her. Things like doctors, appointments, or clothes will have to be handled by Yuu. 2/10, don't ask for his help, it's the same as nothing.

Sam, on the other hand, is someone Yuu interacts with most often, whether it's for grocery shopping or just when she needs something from her shop. If Yuu goes to Sam's shop alone, he usually accompanies her to Ramshakle and helps her with her shopping (with the help of the shadows, of course). After all, he can't let one of his favorite customers hurt her back.

Sam also tends to "conveniently" have things on sale when Yuu comes shopping, things that make her life easier, ESPECIALLY if Yuu is short on money. Sam is more empathetic towards a pregnant Yuu, and therefore she has better opportunities to negotiate better prices with Sam.

If Yuu needs help with anything, she can ask Sam for help. With ANYTHING, she can ask for things like baby supplies, maternity clothes, etc. Think of it as an investment, free of charge. 8/10, recommended, but he's not available all the time.

VARGAS OH MY GOD. He does a complete 180-degree turn in his attitude toward Yuu compared to how he treats the other students. While the first-years have to do exercises worthy of Spartan warriors, Yuu does basic gymnastics. Yuu even ends up learning several Lamaze exercises thanks to Vargas! It's almost envious that Yuu can skip the hellish exercises, but Vargas doesn't seem to mind.

Even if Vargas isn't the smartest, he's someone who believes men should help women, especially pregnant ones! So he acts like a stereotypical gentleman with Yuu, opening doors, carrying heavy things, etc. And he urges the other students to do the same (if anyone causes Yuu any trouble, that means more hellish exercises).

Definitely helpful and very motivating, 10/10.

Trein is the one who most reproaches Crowley for his neglect of Yuu when he finds out about her pregnancy. His paternal instincts kick in, and he becomes Yuu's main emotional support. Trein can't imagine what it must be like to have a baby far from home, in an unfamiliar place, without your family to help you—it's almost a nightmare. And he won't let Yuu fall into despair.

Trein often comes to Ramshakle to check on Yuu, sometimes bringing food, sometimes even repairing some things in the dorm. If Yuu is in college or some higher education, Trein can give her some private lessons, and generally be there for Yuu when things get... dark. Yuu can afford to be more honest with Trein; he understands her fears and frustrations better than anyone, and he can reassure her that her emotions are valid and that everything will be okay.

Trein can lend her various things for the baby! he still keeps several things from when his daughters were little girls/babies; he could even give her a crib. Yuu could trust him with her baby any day. 10/10, highly recommended, just two parents who understand each other.

Last but not least: Crewel. He's much less demanding with Yuu, even turning a blind eye if he sees her struggling with the subject. Considering that Crewel's class is prone to...accidents, it's likely that even Divus implements some extra safety measures, especially as Yuu's pregnancy progresses. At some point, he even gives her a free pass to skip class and send him her homework from home, it's not worth the risk of Yuu and the baby getting hurt during class.

Did you see how he calls all the students Pup or Puppy? Well, he likes to call Yuu Top Dog! (This applies to all Yuu!Parents), he definitely thinks her diligence and motherly attitude toward the students is adorable, so he tends to go easy on her. Along with Vil, he's one of the ones who takes Yuu shopping for things like pretty maternity dresses (or comfortable shoes).

Yuu is one of the few students who has access to the potions cabinet in case she feels particularly ill due to pregnancy hormones (backache, headaches, vomiting, stomach aches, etc.). 10/10.

Conclusion: Ask any adult in this school for help, as long as it's not Crowley.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[fashion-runways]

hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

[mixelation]

i try not to get political on this blog, as it is in the end a naruto blog. however im not sure how aware of this the average person is. right now is a REALLY bad time to be a scientist in the US. a lot of grants and funding mechanisms are being canceled with no warning or real explanation, there are freezes on awarding or paying out grants, and there's hiring freezes both in academia and industry. this is includes retroactively cancelling ongoing grants for vague reasons like no longer being in line with the current administration, something which afaik has never really been done at this scale before. talking to scientist friends these past months has just been a wave of stories about early career scientists losing funding (that means for most people, losing their JOB) with no real hope for securing a new one. the proposed 2026 budget will massively cut money to the NIH and NSF (the two biggest funding agencies for biology). no one really knows what is going on, and the tone of most discussions for future planning are uncertain, deeply stressed, and afraid.

some of the end results of this are obvious. the US is a powerhouse for science and research (i've mentioned this a couple times-- i have looked into moving abroad more than once but the opportunities in the US for my field are (were) simply way better career-wise), and shutting down research means cutting research that's immediately applicable to human and environmental health that will have a global effect. it also slows basic research with less immediate application to the average joe, but which builds the foundations of knowledge to be able to do that more applied research and development. science, tech, and higher education is also one of our biggest exports, so this dismantling of research will hurt the economy even more.

some results will be less obvious. a lot of very educated people are about to lose their jobs. i've read a lot of anxiety from early career people about the market being flooded and over competitive, so entry-level positions are not obtainable by entry-level people, essentially pushing them out of science and creating a situation where "the next generation" is cut at its knees. i've seen anxiety about this from people in other countries because academics are, compared to other demographics in the US, pretty likely to look into moving abroad, and also talented scientists from outside the US who might have wanted to move there for career purposes are more likely to stay in their home countries or look into other countries, making those job markets worse. i've even gotten some targeted ads about moving to scandinavia. making the job market more competitive doesn't help anyone-- it means fewer opportunities for good scientists to do good research. also, building up a destroyed system is always harder and longer than tearing it down. if things continue like this, the damage will take decades to repair. that's decades of stagnated research and development with international impact.

so. i don't know. call your reps and ask them to stand up for science. give your local scientist a hug. and let me know if you know any european labs hiring for 2026

[psshaw]

I think [friendships are becoming more transactional] for two reasons. The first is because few people have the skills to be supportive to each other. I don't mean the social skills but the literal skills. It used to be that some people could work on cars and get them going, and some people do simple house repairs like replacing panes of glass and patching plaster, and some people could do simple tailoring, like taking in a dress and shortening pants, and some people could do an at home perm, and some people could tell you which hobby store in town had the best supply of cotton yarn, and some people could tell you the process you needed to apply for community college and get in. Odds were you had the chance to be grateful because there were so many people who could do things for you that you couldn't reasonably to do for yourself. Most people belonged to a social group that had a range of useful skills and information. But now most people do not have a variety of life skills that they can share with other people. If you need cotton yarn, or application forms for the community college, you look it up on the internet. And if your toaster doesn't work, you throw it out because you don't have a friend who can replace the cord. You go to a hairdresser or a mechanic or pick a random contractor to call to fix the hole in the wall so you don't lose your damage deposit. This is not to say that people no skills they can share - you maybe have a go to person who will help you with your excel formulas, and one favourite friend who is the Tetris expert you call to help you when you need to load your car for a move. But there are far fewer ways we can do each other favours now. That means money may be the only thing we have to even the score.

Jane the Brown on Metafilter

[steddieas-shegoes]

Modern AU where Eddie is a tech repair person at an apple store in Chicago while he tries to make it big with his band and Steve is a spoiled rich kid who is trying to cover up that he's been using his macbook to film for his OnlyFans or something similar and he needs that shit wiped.

Eddie is as professional as he can be, but can't help but be amused at Steve being worried that he's gonna see everything.

S: seriously, just wipe everything. nothing has to be saved. don't even look through each file. just start over. E: okay sure. but you know you could just buy a new laptop. S: my dad checks my credit card statements. E: okay, so tell him you bought it for a friend or something. S: just. can you wipe it? E: yeah i can.

Eddie doesn't let him know that he already has seen everything because of course he subscribes to S.H. and often leaves him bigger tips than he can afford. He doesn't even know why Steve does it since he's apparently rich, or his dad is.

It only takes a few hours to wipe it, and Eddie's grateful he managed to help Steve instead of his coworker who is a certified Creep ™️ who absolutely would have made sure to watch as many of the videos as he could first.

He calls Steve and leaves a message for him that it's done, but doesn't hear back and Steve doesn't come by. He does the same thing again the next day, and the day after that, starting to grow concerned.

He goes so far as to check Steve's OF page, just to see if there's an update, but sees it's been shut down, like it never existed.

He finally caves, does the most unprofessional thing he's ever done, and texts Steve's number from his own phone.

This is Eddie from the apple store. Your laptop's ready. Just want you to know after 30 days we usually get rid of unclaimed items.

There's no response.

But two days later, Steve comes into the store wearing sunglasses and a hat, clearly trying to hide.

When he takes off the sunglasses to sign everything, Eddie sees a healing black eye and swollen nose.

He isn't stupid.

And he suddenly feels extremely protective over him.

E: did your dad find out? S: find out what? E: about your online job? S: how do you know? E: I wasn't gonna say anything, and I swear everything got wiped without anyone including myself seeing, but I do subscribe to you and I recognized you when you came in. S, already having a panic attack: shit no. this is bad. okay you can't say anything about this to anyone. please. E: I wouldn't, I won't. but your dad found out didn't he? he did this to you? S: *nods* E: you safe now? S: *shrugs* E: need a place to stay? S: i've been saving. that's why i did this in the first place. so i can pay rent somewhere. E: I have a second bedroom at my place that just opened up. up to you.

And of course Steve takes it because he's desperate, and doesn't have real world experience with a lot of strangers, but has a good feeling about this.

Eddie finds that Steve is a very typical rich kid; ignorant to a lot of the world's struggles, but not an asshole despite his bitchy attitude sometimes coming out, thinks money can fix everything until Eddie shows him that apologies and a cuddle on the couch can be better.

Steve is so touch starved, he doesn't even realize the way he always folds into Eddie's side when they're just relaxing and watching a movie, or how he always lets his hand brush against his side or hand when Eddie gets home from work. Eddie helps him look for a job, and they find that he loves working at a daycare even though the money isn't that great.

They fall in love so easily, neither of them actually realize it happens until Steve comes home after a very long day before the Christmas holidays, covered in paint stains from crafts with the kids, and Eddie just welcomes him home with a kiss.

[anonymusbosch]

on wanting to do a million things

prompted by @bloodshack 's

i wanna learn SQL but i wanna learn haskell but i wanna learn statistics but i wanna start a degree in macroeconomics also sociology also library science but i wanna learn norwegian but i wanna learn mandarin but i wanna paint but i wanna do pottery but i wanna get better at woodworking but i wanna get better at cooking but i wanna bake one of those cakes that's just 11 crepes stacked on top of each other but i wanna watch more movies but i wanna listen to more podcast episodes but i need to rest but i need to exercise but i wanna play with my dog but i wanna go shopping but i need to go grocery shopping but i need to do the dishes but i need to do laundry but i need to buy a new x y and z but i need to save money but i wanna give all my money away to people who need it more but i wanna pivot my career to book editing but to do that i have to read more and i wanna read more nonfiction but i wanna read more novels but i wanna get better at meditating but i wanna volunteer but i wanna plan a party but i wanna go to law school. but what im gonna do is watch a dumbass youtube video and go to bed

I think I've been doing slightly better this year about Actually Doing Things. not great! but I do a lot and I've been "prototyping" ways to get closer to doing as much as is possible. and if I actually talk about it it's a bunch of very obvious statements but I'll try to make them a little more concrete

rule number one: experiment on yourself

there's no one approach that's right for everyone and there's not even one approach for me that works at all times. try things out. see what works. pay attention to what doesn't. try something else.

rule number two: ask what's stopping you and then take it seriously

example: I often want to do Everything in the evening at like 2 PM, but then get home and am tempted sorely by the couch, and then get stuck inertia'd and not doing much but being tired and kind of bored. why?

if I don't have plans, it's easy to leave work later than planned and hard to make myself do something by a specific time

i'm generally tiredish after work. 4 out of 5 times, that'll go away if I actually start Doing Something, but 1 out of 5 it's real and I will go hardcore sleepmode at 8 PM and just be Done

i use up a ton of my program management/executive function/Deciding Things brain at work and usually find it noticeably harder to string together "want to do Thing > make list of Things > decide on a Thing > do Thing" after I'm home. Even if I have a list of Things to Do, how does one decide! how does one start! and god forbid there's a Necessary thing. then it's all downhill

therefore, mitigations: have concrete time-specific plans in advance.

if I have an art class at 6:00 PM I need to leave work by 5:15 and NO LATER and I can't get sucked into "oh 10 more minutes to finish this" *one hour later*

that also means I have to have a fridge or freezer dinner ready and can't spend 45 minutes cooking "fuck it, what the hell did I put in the fridge, why don't we have soy sauce" evil meal that is not good

plans with friends: dinner! art night! music night! repair-your-clothes night! seeing a show! occasionally, Accountability Time where a friend comes over for We Are Doing Tasks with tea and snacks etc.

for some reason I'm way better about Actually Doing Things when the plan exists already. magically I overcome couch inertia even though I am the same amount of tired! and while I never learn the ability to decouch without plans I at least learn to make them

still working on:

a "prototype" for maybe next month is a weeklyish Study Session for a thing I want to learn about. I want to somehow make it employer-proof (I am accountable to some entity to being at place X at time Y) and haven't figured out a good way. Maybe I can leverage that the local library is open til 8 on wednesdays and somehow make it a Thing? maybe I'll try it!

oh god oh fuck the thing about plans is that if you want to have them you need to make them. christ. a lot of the time I can cover this with some combo of weekend planning + recurring events (things like weekly friend dinner/weekly class) + having cool friends who reach out proactively but it still requires active planning and it can fall thru the cracks

rule three: cool friends

they can take you to things

they can remind you that you can do whatever the fuck you please

i have a friend who is somehow Always doing cool classes and learning shit. and this reminds me that I can ... do that. and sometimes I do

you can take them to things!!

rule four: try to kill the anon hate in your head

obv this depends on your circumstance but sometimes it's worth it to me to look at constraints that "feel real" and check whether they're an active choice I made thoughtfully or, like, the specters of people I don't know judging my choices

time and money are obvious ones. recently was gently nudged towards looking at whether i could give myself more time to Do Things by cooking less. imaginary specters of judgmental twitterites: "it's illegal to spend money. if you get takeout you're the first up against the wall when the revoution comes. make all your lunches and dinners and hoard the money for Later. for Something. how dare you get lunch at the store. you bourgeois hoe. taking charity donations from the mouths of the poor cause you don't have your life together enough to cook artisanal bespoke dinners every night. fuck you." and obviously eating takeout 24/7 is not the answer, but realizing I was not making an active choice helped me try making the active choice instead. "how much do I actually want to balance cost, time, tastiness, and wastefulness of my food, given my amount of free time and my salary and the tradeoff against doing something else? can I approach it differently to do more quick cheap food + some takeout?" -> current prototype: substitute in 1 takeout dinner or restaurant-with-friends a week, 1 frozen type dinner, and then batch cook or sandwiches lunches w/ "permission" to get fast lunch at the store. we'll see how it goes!

i am really really bad at this and find it helpful to talk to other people who can help point out when I'm being haunted by ghosts about it.

rule five: what would it take? what's the next step?

this one i give a lot of credit to @adiantum-sporophyte in particular for, especially for prompting me with questions when I muse about the million-ideal-lives on car rides. what would it look like to do xyz? what's something I could do right now to move in that direction? what's the obstacle? like, actually ask the question and think through it. with a person talking to you! damn! maybe the obstacle to x is that I don't know if I'll like it or if I just like the idea of it. and I don't want to commit to x without knowing. Okay, so maybe an approach would be to find someone who does x and talk to them about how their life is, or maybe it's "spend 15 minutes looking up intro-to-x near me", or "actively schedule 1 instance of x", or something like that. Or maybe it's that I don't know what it takes to do x. Okay, how about on Tues after dinner Adiantum fixes a sweater at my apartment while I spend 20 min looking at prereqs for x. like, it's so basic to say "to do a thing, you could try figuring out how to do it" but I think the important thing here is the feedback/prompting to even recognize "hey, step back, if you don't know the next step then figuring out the next step is the next step"

rule six: habits

prototyping: exercise

I do a lot better when I exercise in the mornings. I do a lot better when I do PT exercises regularly. For a while I was doing PT with friend in the morning every morning before work (accountability! a friendly face to make it more pleasant!) but that didn't really solve - it's not the kind of exercise that makes me feel awake/active, it's like dumb little foot botherings. but: having the habit of morning exercise made it easier to swap out 2 of the 5 days for more intense exercise, and then to swap those 2 for a different more intense exercise when I needed a break. it's easier to build a low-effort version of the habit and then work in the higher-effort one than to just Decide to be the kind of person who gets up at ass o clock to do cardio or whatever

rule seven: set up the structure of your life to make it easy

this is also a "duh" thing but like. on so many levels it comes down to structure your life to make the choice more doable. this can be something like "i structure my life to make vegetarian cooking baseline and vegan cooking the majority by stocking the pantry with staples and spices from cuisines that work well that way" or "i chose an apartment that lets me commute by bike" or "i have my camping gear put away in a fashion that makes it easier to gather frequently and lowers the barrier to trips" or "i keep physical books around to prompt myself to read xyz" to "i don't use instagram or twitter or snapchat or facebook" to . idk.

and in terms of charitable giving: similar deal. I have an explicit budget at the beginning of the year (~10% of my before-tax income), I know in advance what charities I give to, and I know what timing I will use (basically, alerts for donation matching around specific fundraising times). Anything outside the Plan comes from my discretionary budget/fun money. That makes it less of a mental load (the choice is already made; I don't grapple with every donation request or every bleeding-heart trap because I have a very solid anchor on "I give to xyz, the money's set aside") and it's armor against impulsive-but-not-useful scrupulosity. I structure the rest of my spending/life to prioritize a set amount and it makes it easier to follow through

rule eight: if you can do it at work a tiny bit that counts for real life

(infrequently used)

"hi mr. manager I think it would be great if I could use enough SQL to make basic queries in the database so we don't have to go through the software team for common/basic questions. I'd like to take 1 hr on Friday to go through some basic tutorials and then 1 hr with Pat on Monday so he can walk me through an intro for our specific use case. I estimate this will help save the team a couple hours a week of waiting for answers from the other team." and then you have enough of a handle with baby's first SQL that you can add little bits and bobs as you exercise it. this is responsible for a medium amount of my knowledge of python and all 3 brain cells worth of SQL.

rule nine: life is an optimization problem

not in, like, "you need to optimize your skincare and career and exercise and social life and have everything all at once" that's not what optimization means. optimization is like, maximize something with respect to a set of constraints. i explicitly Do Not do skincare beyond "wash face" and "sunscreen" bc I want to optimize my life for like looking at weird plants in the mountains. explicitly choosing to put time and money elsewhere! can't have it all all at once. so fuck them pores. who give a shit. yeah i ate a lot of protein shakes instead of home cooked breakfasts this week bc i was prioritizing morning exercise. im looking at this beautiful bug and it doesn't know what fashion is or what my resume looks like. im holding a lizard. im not spending time on picking cool clothes or whatever bc i spent that time looking up lizard hotspots on purpose.

that's really long and probably mostly, like, not surprising? but i keep benefiting from ppl being like "hey have you considered Obvious Thing" framed very gently

[lostintransist]

Boys' Home - Part 2

Ghost had noticed the rustling in the bushes where the grass met the trees. Price had convinced him and a few of the guys to buy up a worn-down building in the woods as a fallback base. 

"Think about it, a safe house that is off the books of the 141 and lets us relax on leave if we need to be alone. After the nonsense with Sheppard, I would be more comfortable having a hidey hole in our back pockets."

Simon agreed and pledged some money to the purchase of the property and repair of the buildings on the land. Now he stood among the old trees watching the bushes. Trying to decide if it could be an opossum or family or raccoons, he crept closer. Using all of his special forces training to not startle the creatures before he satisfied his curiosity. 

Four small, decidedly human, faces spilt in fear and sounds he could only compare to the scream of an incoming missile stabbed his ears. They took off into the underbrush and quickly were swallowed by the trees. 

"Donne ye know to no scare the locals?" Johnny yelled to him from beside the dumpster that had been delivered early this morning. 

Simon fired back with a rude gesture and headed back into the house to keep pulling old furniture from the upper floors. Johnny's laughter trailed after him. 

At one point, between the heat and the oppressive moisture of the upper floors, Simon pulled his mask off and shoved it into his back pocket. Trundling down from the third floor Simon dropped his load into the dumpster. Stepping back out he noticed a woman with a collection of faces he had scared away earlier in the day. Interesting.

He knew Price, Johnny, and Kyle were all out in front of the house. He had seen them on his trip to dump the trash. They had been looking over the original architectural drawings. The drawings were stretched across the hood of the truck. They were deciding which changes they wanted to make to the building and if the costs would be worth it. He called out to them, causing them all to come around the dumpster.

Watching your eyes, Simon knew when you decided on who to approach first. More and more interesting. He watches you walk over, introducing yourself to Price. Everyone seemed to agree to ignore the children surrounding you like a skirt.

John straightened and offered a hand.

"John. This here is Kyle, Johnny, and Simon."

Everyone nodded their greetings at their name. Simon folded his arms across his chest. You nod back to each of them. Simon looks from the woman to each child, none of them look remotely like her.

“I wanted to come by and introduce myself. My boys were by earlier and reported that someone was in the old house.”

One of the smaller boys tugs on her hand. "Momma, I don't see the skeleton."

Simon tightens down on his muscles to prevent him from flinching under the eyes of his teammates. Johnny thumbed his nose and winked at him.

John looked down and smiled at the boy.

"My friend over there," hooking a thumb back over to Simon, "Was wearing a skull mask a little bit ago. He uses it to scare away the monsters, do you believe in monsters?"

The child narrowed his eyes at John. Good, someone needed to call his captain on his bullshit.

"Momma says monsters aren't real. My teacher says that they aren't real either. So, I think you're lying."

Kyle and Johnny fought back chuckles, even Simon couldn't prevent a smile from cracking one side of his lips. You glance at Simon as you let out a small laugh, taking his measure before turning back to Price.

“Thanks, Sam. Now, John, we wanted to welcome you and your guys to the neighborhood, such as it is. I wanted to let you know that my boys will not be bothering you,” You toss a look at the boys at your waist, the message clear ‘Do not make a liar of me’. “They aren’t allowed in the old house for safety reasons. And if y’all are going to be fixing it up then they doubly need to leave it alone. If you see them poking around your things or your property, please feel free to follow the trail back to our house and let me know.”

“And if you’re not home?” Johnny asked.

You look to Johnny, “I’m a teacher at the local high school, I will be home if the boys are.”

“Thank you for the heads up. We will be sure to watch out for them,” John replied.

“I appreciate it.” Looking to your boys you lifted a brow, “Ready to race?”

They all jumped back, energy crackling off their bodies, even the preteen looked ecstatic at the prospect.

“Yes!” Their voices overlapped as they all agreed.

“How long of a head start today? Five seconds?”

“Three!” Cried the oldest.

“Alright, one,” they took off. “Two,” your voice a bit louder. “Three!”

You took off after the boys, disappearing between the boughs of the trees.

The men all watched you dart away, stride confident.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Kyle said.

“Pretty lass in the middle of nowhere with four boys who look not a lick like her? Unexpected indeed.” Johnny replied.

“Alright guys, back to our jobs. We only have a few days here before we ship back for another mission, might as well make the best of it,” John put a bit of his captain voice in place and everyone set off to their tasks.

Simon made a mental point to crawl out onto the roof access and see over the tops of the trees the closet building to the east of their fixer-upper. It matched the direction you and the boys had run. He would check it out after dark. 

Ugh these guys haunt my DREAMS. I can't decide who is endgame here. Any thoughts?

Part 1 | Part 3

Masterlist | AO3

[servantofthefates]

Life-Changing Money Manifestation Tip 💰

This is not a technique I learned from books, or a principle my elders taught me. It is simply something I have observed to be unfailingly effective.

I know it might seem counterintuitive, impractical, and perhaps even downright foolish. But it has been consistently true for me and the people around me.

The tip is: Never ever be frugal with money.

Even when you're afraid you won't have enough, be open-handed with your spending. Spend on your needs, spend on your wants, spend on others who deserve your generosity. Just. Keep. Spending.

The fuck, right? What if you already don't have enough to begin with?

Well, you know how they say, "Love is infinite" or "There's enough love to go around" or "Love multiplies, it doesn't divide"?

The same is true for money.

Money is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like coins, bills or gold.

Love too is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like kisses, words or gifts.

And it is common knowledge that if we wish to be loved, we must first love ourselves, and give love freely to those who are worth it. We must let love flow through us.

Same with money. If we want to have it, we must first spend it on ourselves and give it freely to those we deem worth it. We must let money flow through us.

And flow it will.

Just as it is nearly impossible for a cold-hearted person to invite love, it is also very hard for a stingy person to invite money.

I have seen this first-hand many times.

This man owned a boutique advertising agency. He gave out bonuses and free international trips to his team the way corporations give out cheap pizzas to their employees. And back then, this man's business thrived. Some months, he made more than global agencies did. And the awards were pouring in too. He was on top of the world.

Suddenly, his elderly mother got terribly sick, and he panicked. He knew he had to spend a fortune on her medical bills, and his fear got the best of him. So he cancelled the free trips. He stopped giving bonuses. Eventually, he even cut down salaries and moved to a smaller office.

One year later, his business went bankrupt. Because all his talented employees left. And with that, the trust of his clients dried out. His business — which had the potential to become an empire — ended up becoming just a TikTok trend.

Because he held on to money too tightly... money felt suffocated and walked out on him entirely.

The opposite example is me. No, I do not also own an ad agency. But I have learned to never worry about money. And since then, money has never disappointed me.

Last year, someone dear to me had been praying for a MacBook, but her parents couldn't afford it. I too couldn't afford it. Not without digging into my savings. So I did. Because I know money will always come back to me. And it did.

Two days after I placed the order, I received an email from Shareworks that my stocks were ready to be withdrawn. The amount? Double what I paid for the Mac. These stocks are released yearly, so I tend to forget about them. But they came at the right time.

And it is like this every time.

I buy a Louis Vuitton bag with money meant for my holiday. Suddenly, a friend invites me to go with them on a fully paid trip to the same country I was planning to visit.

I buy a bunch of tarot decks with a week's worth of transportation costs, and my company announces we're working from home for a week while they repair some rain damage.

I buy a box of Patchi chocolates when I'm already short on my monthly budget, and my salary gets released early because it's the holidays, and the CEO is feeling friendly.

I know life is not always as sweet as I described it to be. Sometimes, it's not about Louis Vuittons and Patchis, but about diapers and cough medicine. I am perfectly aware some people are struggling — not about holidays and tarot splurges, but about keeping the electricity on and putting food on the table. I will not pretend to know the solution to their hardships.

What I do know is there are people who are considered poor in my community who are seriously way happier than me. And I know I have had bosses who made thrice as I did who were far more miserable than me.

And that tells me that despite our different stations in life, energy is energy. And it's always best to let it flow freely.

So I repeat... never ever be frugal with money.

When it knocks on your door, say, "Hey, nice to see you!" When it leaves your house, say, "See you again soon!" And when it finally seems to be making itself at home, do not lock it in the basement. Cook dinner with it. Invite your friends over. Watch a movie. Do karaoke. Look money in the eyes and say, "I'm glad you've decided to stay."