#i hate poverty

[cutest-bunny-writings]

Just cried my eyes out in Walmart because I couldn't afford a drink and a 12-piece boneless honey bbq meal. That's like $12, I only had $3.39 but my bank account said $25. Then the lady at the cash register got mad when I started crying and kept apologizing for having to give the chicken back.

[sophiaslittleblog]

@petitetimidgay can I get a boost for my post please.

Hay guys. I’m $6,500 in medical/personal debt. I had surgery this past September to remove fibroids from my uterus and my insurance refused to cover multiple things. So I changed the uncovered items to my credit card. Any help will go towards my medical/personal debt. Funds can also be sent to $SophiaChes, PayPal- SophiaChester@hotmail.com and my venmo Sophia-Chester-1. Any help would be greatly appreciated!

[lithuvan]

ever since i saw the sam smith airport jeans photos i couldn't stop thinking about this

at least pelle wore some leggings under his jeans

[squarecloud73]

*I worship you Tumblr please don’t remove it

[mueritos]

i hope we continue to see more protests within the US military. i see a lot of leftists and folks who are anti-military who have such an open disdain for the people who are in the military, yet neglect to considering the conditions this country makes to produce ideology, poverty, and the illusion of choice to make all kinds of people choose to enlist in the military. You ever see those videos of ROTC kids recording each other asking why they joined the military and everyone's like, "healthcare", "it helped me go to college", "I was bored" or "free ptsd lol". I hate to remind everyone but folks who are in the military are people, too, and they are the same victims and perpetrators of violence as the rest of you, we have all been shallowly conditioned to view each other as enemies just because one person is wearing army greens and the other is not.

some of the biggest anti-war advocates are those who engaged in war. Veterans who genuinely believed they were protecting the US against "terrorism" come back with blood on their hands, and they choose to realize that it was US imperialism that forced them to carry out violence, instead of doubling down and shielding themselves from the fact that they too are capable of atrocities... This is a class of people who are intentionally conditioned to be as poor and as ideologically aligned to US imperialism so that the military has a never-ending pool to send their youth to destroy other country's youth. The only people I have ever heard say "do not join the military" are those who ARE military.

This is in no way to ever excuse or explain away any of the atrocious war crimes and violence this industry and its people have committed against others. What I am saying is that we absolutely cannot cast aside the individuals who have been victimized within US imperialism, even if they are wearing army greens. I was speaking with my Palestinian classmate last week and another classmate--a member of the US air force-- walked up to me and struck up a conversation. My military classmate showed me her new bird, bid both of us goodbye, and left. My Palestinian classmate asked me if I was close with her, and I said we talked quite often, and she said, "I never met a person who's in the military. I still hate the military, but I never knew that they did, too. I didn't realize that they were also victims."

If my Palestinian classmate--one who is actively watching her own community die--can understand that it is not individuals who are the problem but it is in fact systems, US imperialism, white supremacy, capitalism...why can't we all? And she has EVERY reason to hate any individual military member. A lot of online activism just creates more barriers. if your optics look bad, complicated, or contradictory, you are cast aside. Everyone has got the be the perfect activist, you can never make a mistake or share a half-baked thought, you should always believe every word from a marginalized persons mouth (because being marginalized doesn't mean you're not entrenched in white supremacy too!) and you should never question what you see...Do you know what you sound like? The very imperialists who are convincing poor whites to vote against themselves. Perfectionism is white supremacy. Black & white thinking is white supremacy.

I'd rather have a military member who genuinely believed in the US imperialism machine but was disillusioned after being deployed as my comrade than some leftist who cherishes the performance of "being a good person". I don't want "good people" in our movements. I want humans who care. I want humans who make mistakes and who learn from them. I want humans who accept the messiness of a person. I want humans who hold others accountable and allow themselves to take responsibility for their actions. I want people who change for themselves and others.

fight systems, not individual people. we can change each other, but if we're too preoccupied looking like the World's Perfect Activists, we will only consume each other alive. Connect to your fellow humans, forever and always.

[angadgautama]

There were many desires in my heart,

All remained unfulfilled.

The dam i built with decades of hard work,

collapsed in a few years.

I had only heard about unemployment.

But now I have seen,

How powerful the storm of unemployment can be.

[starscreamingg]

Detroit Become Human and why does this game decide that the problem in society is individual people treating androids poorly because those androids are choking them out of the workforce and NOT the corporations and governments who deliberately designed the androids to do this

[paganminiskirt]

And since I haven’t talked about it yet I want to stress how proud I am of Ryan, how brave Ryan is as a child, how clearly he picked up on his mom’s firm belief in bodily autonomy and how he’s carrying it on for her though she’s dead and gone. I love how right after the series emphasized just how obscenely cruel and gruelingly invasive Homelander’s upbringing was, it gave us a scene where Ryan safeguards himself from the prospect of an adult isolating him to better exploit him - and doing so by using Homelander as an example. Just like Becca did. Just like Homelander’s disenfranchised underage mother, who was taken advantage of and ultimately lost her life for it, never got the chance to do for him. I love how Becca never wanted it to happen again and I love that Ryan’s not gonna let it happen again. Even when he isn’t acting like a “good kid,” even if he hasn’t yet purchased the right to not be abused by demonstrating sufficient “goodness.” Fuck it up Ryan. Fuck it up so so much.

[sheila--e]

These stupid fucking images made me scream at my screen imnot even gonna lie to you... id be embarassed about it but like... ITS HErrrRRRR....

im honestly kinda hyped cuz when the mayor threatens oguma, it makes it seem(to me) like she's gonna have a bigger role than in the manga, since louis did all that show about kines and he's very much involved with all that... so excited to see her move, i wonder who her v.a will be.

[littlefankingdom]

I need y'all to understand that Bruce is not a normal billionaire. He is a billionaire because it's useful to the plot, but he is not a billionaire like our billionaires. Don't make him say or do shits billionaires do, he is not like that.

I just have enough of the posts and fics where people makes Bruce pro-capitalist, a finance bro with nfts or against leftist ideas like free housing because "the economy 😭😭". That's not him at all, and y'all are showing that you only saw the Lego Batman movie.

First, Bruce pays his taxes and hates that other rich don't. It is shown in Future State: Dark Detective, where he literally says that rich people who don't contribute to making society better kind of deserve to be killed by a vigilante. Murder is still bad, but he will not cry them AT ALL.

Second, Bruce hates how people abuse the housing markets, rising the prices, kicking out poor people, you know the drill. This is shown in Batman: White Knight, when Bruce PUNCHES his rich FRIEND at a gala after learning that the guy is buying properties in Crime Alley, kicks the poor people out and build new apartments complexes with rent way too high for the old residents. In Gotham Knights (the comics), he tests Lucius by playing the normal rich asshole and being like "we can't take money from the shareholders, these hard working folks, to help the poor", because he wants to see if it will make Lucius angry. Once it does, he is like "good, you should be" and tell him he will sign it. Not being mad at the inequalities in the world is not acceptable for Bruce.

Thirdly, Batman: The Animated Series often establishes how the real vilains are not the rogues but rich people. Bruce doesn’t disagree with Poison Ivy or Mr Freeze, but with their methods. Bruce doesn’t hate his rogues, because he knows they were pushed to a corner, but he hates the rich in charge. The owner of a company is shown to be a bad guy because he doesn't think his workers deserve to have a say in the company. Seriously, if BTAS was made today, we would be submerged with tweets and videos from people crying that they made Batman a communist.

Fourthly, while we are at it with BTAS, Bruce cares about the environment. I have seen this terrible panel of Bruce, as Batman, being mad that Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn destroyed a WE factory who was heavily polluting, which is ooc. In BTAS, Bruce is shown threatening to fire WE higher-ups because they made a partnership with a company hurting the environment. This partnership is why Poison Ivy targets him in the episode and tries to kill him, btw, which shows once again that they agree on the matter, it's the murder the problem. Outside of BTAS, must I remind everyone that Bruce was going to marry Talia Al Ghul and that Ra's Al Ghul saw a heir in him??? Like, he has to be a bit of an ecologist for ECO-TERRORISTS to love him this much. Also, Alfred said to Dick when he joined their household that Alfred wants ecological issues to be taken care of. No way would Bruce not has been raised to care about the environment, or would harm the planet knowing Alfred doesn't like it.

Finally, WE has multiple charities and organizations dedicated to help people in Gotham. WE gives jobs to ex-convicts and help them in getting rehabilitate. Bruce feeds, clothes and houses the poor, he pays for any damage done by vigilantes or rogues. He has money to give and he gives it. AND all the galas exist so he can take money from the rich to give to the poor. He even encourages Dick in Nightwing (2016) to manipulate as much as possible his guests to milk their money. Bruce wants to take from the rich to help the poor, that's always been the case.

[greater-than-the-sword]

I need someone to tell me that im not stuck here and things are going to get better. Also they have to know what they're talking about

[acutabovetherest]

I wish there was a way for me to die without traumatizing my loved ones 💔

[scarlettmarlens-blog]

All I hear about it’s corporations “losing billions” and “gaining billions” but where is all this fucking money. Thousands of people are losing their jobs for ai, and everyone I know seems to want to kill themselves than work. New big store manager now and my coworker told me the last store manager apparently had a budget for employees bonus gift cards and no one saw a cent of that. We get a block of chocolate at Christmas as thanks as the higher ups get thousands in bonuses bc of profits and the profit come from us working our asses off so they can cut hours and add work. People spend more an purses than I make in a year and we’re the people that NEED the actual money to live. I can barely afford to feed myself while ceos make more money than they can dream of spending. They fucking invent new ways to blow the cash they have for funnies while still having enough to give their great grandchildren. IM SICK OF THE WORLD GETTING WORSE EVERYDAY. Everywhere I turn I see new articles about laws getting repealed, actively making shit worse! Years of hard fought progress thrown in the trash by the most greedy bigots, voted in by the most anti intellectual manipulated bigots. I hate this. I try to keep my fucking head down and do the work to survive but I’m furious!! And helpless to make any change. There are millions of people that share my view but even they can barely make a dent in it all. Why why why why why can’t things just be fair. And even if there is rich people why does it have to come at the cost of common people having to decide if they’ll eat or go to the doctors.

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 4.5k

triggers: death (mentioned, not detailed), childhood trauma, poverty, out-of-body-experience, swearing.

author's note: hope ya enjoy the update.

also posted on ->

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/158293111?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_860724604

Chapter One: Not the Best Birthday Ever

Naturally you were seething with anger. However, this anger only got worse as a second later had you spat out his name, did the very words ink into your skin. There, on the inner part of your left wrist, was the name Tony Stark. Taunting. Laughing. Pointing. You can’t recall if the tattoo had hurt, your boiling hatred was enough of a numbing agent. Something you noticed later was the way it was written. It was not a typical print but instead seemed to follow the characteristics of (what you presumed to be) his handwriting.

            Immediately following the print of his name on your wrist had you felt a light shock of electricity. The kind that told you that it came from the inside, and somehow communicated that the same feeling was sent to him. However, if this is anything like the SIA that you’re familiar with, a name is only printed onto the skin of the one who said the name. As in, he doesn’t know your name because he hasn’t said it, but he knows you know who he is.

            Nevertheless, these events are in the past and when you turned 18 you had a few things that needed to be done. First, you needed to arrange your mother’s funeral because she had recently passed away. Unknown to you, after a soul break the average lifespan of the surviving soulmate is decreased significantly and the survivor only lives for about two more years. Because of this, her health had been deteriorating rapidly resulting in you needing to get a job to help pay for the costs she was no longer able to afford. The government gave your mother a tax-free stipend of $100,000 as reimbursement for the death of your father, but that money was quickly put towards medical bills as your mother started to frequent the hospital as time went on. As bills began to increase, so did the number of hours you put in. It got to the point that you dropped out of high school at 17 to get another job just to afford everything.

            The second thing on your list was to find new accommodation. You had decided that it was necessary to move as far away from Tony Stark as you could; so, New York was going to become your new home. Without a mother or father, nor any social life to speak of, it was high time to change your life and try to start anew.

            Finally, you made a promise to yourself to become better off than what your parents were. If you were to have any children to take care of in the future, you’d make sure they’d never ask for less on any holiday because of a financial burden.

            Your goals were obtainable and within reach, it would just take a bit of time.

            A few months after burying your mother you found yourself stepping out of the airport into New York. Coming prepared, you had already found a small studio apartment that would be called home until something more fitting was found. In the meantime, and one taxi later, you held the keys as you stepped into one of the cheapest rooms you could get your hands on. The floorboards squeaked almost as much as your neighbor’s bed every day late in the evening. The paint was peeling at the edges and bloated in some areas holding what you hoped to be runoff water. As for the ceiling, it was marked with occasional water damage and off-white splotches. This place was not nice, but you came from a life of not-nice things.

            It only took about a week to find a job, then another few days for an additional job. Many occupations required a high school diploma, so a GED was put onto your list of things you needed to do. For now, you were at the bottom of the barrel working as a barista full-time and pizza delivery driver part-time. Again, not ideal but at least you’re alive.

            You’d gotten into a groove of working and sleeping while somehow making time for studying for your GED. Getting the certificate didn’t take much time considering you were already good at school, the long part was just refreshing your memory and dealing with the New York state government. It was when you were about 19 years old had you received your GED, and in the meantime, you also managed to move into a nicer studio apartment in Queens (previously you had been living on the outskirts of New York City, which isn’t exactly known for being the safest). This new location at least didn’t have peeling paint, and no frisky neighbors were an added bonus. Also, since you now had a GED, your employer at the barista job was willing to pay more with the possibility of becoming manager. So now you only need to work one job. Things were looking up! You hadn’t even really thought about your mistake of a soulmate, at least not until you turned 22.

            Being 22 was apparently lucky, at least that was according to your coworker Trish. She was a bit superstitious and tended to become erratic, but otherwise she seemed sane. One day after asking for your age and replying with how you were almost 22, she had a grin grow on her freckled face as her hazel eyes seemed to shine under the coffeehouse ceiling light. Allegedly the numbers 2 and 2 together are incredible special and signify that big dreams were about to come true. Considering you didn’t really have any big dreams, other than hoping for the miracle of sleeping in, you brushed her off.

            Trish’s superstition, however, almost seemed viable when the news station began to release another round of new information. The little box TV was situated in the corner of the coffee bar so that both customers and employees could indulge in the latest information heap. This latest spill seemed to be about, you guessed it, none other than Tony Stark. Your mouth turned sour at the thought of such an evil man. So, he recognized his wrongs and changed his company entirely, so what? Your father is still dead, and no amount of philanthropy (or “hero” work) will change that. But the TV wasn’t discussing the latest scandalous acts of the billionaire, instead announcing his decision to re-instate something called a “Stark Expo” which would begin in roughly a month.

            What made you begin to believe Trish was how the playboy held himself. To the average person he looked fine, but something inside you said he was in pain. He was dying. And so, unsure whether to be uninterested or worried, you chose to ignore the footage they were playing from his announcement. Afterall, if we was dying, that means your days are numbered. You can’t do anything about his soon-to-be demise, and you weren’t planning on trying. Afterall, you ha—

            Wait, what did the news just say?

            “Hey, uh, Trish?” You called out to your sporadic coworker, anxiously adjusting the watch covering the fated soulmate name on your left wrist.

            There wasn’t a response which resulted in you looking towards a customer instead. There in front of you was a man who could’ve been mistaken for Kris Kringle, looking half-attentively at the TV.

            “Excuse me, sir,” you directed at Santa.

            He turned his attention to you and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

            “Do you recall where exactly the Stark Expo will be held?” You asked. “They just said, but I missed it.”

            “Flushing Meadows,” he said softly—perhaps this was old saint nick.

            You nodded in thanks as your mouth went dry.

‘Flushing Medows is in Queens,’ you reminded yourself. Even living in the state for about four years now, it still took time to remember all the subdivisions and boroughs inside New York City.

            No need to panic, this isn’t something you can’t handle. Sure, you live in Queens; but Queens is still large and if you take the day off you should be fine. Besides, when was the last time you stayed home and did nothing? Sounded relaxing to be honest.

            To clarify, this system you’ve worked out isn’t new. If you had gotten wind that the playboy was visiting Queens specifically, you’d effectively take the time off. However, he would typically spend his time in the heart of New York city and Manhattan. So, since he frequented the location so much, it would be expensive for you to take so much time off. Granted, if you had known that the billionaire came to New York so much you would’ve picked a different state, but nothing has happened so far. It’s more cost effective to stay put than move again.

            Typically your boss desired a reason for taking time off, and with your birthday coming up in a month, why not celebrate it this year? Granted, you couldn’t throw a party because you had no one (other than coworkers) to invite. But sometimes the best things are enjoyed individually.

            With the plan formulated, you informed your boss of your actions as everything moved into place.

            Finally, your birthday. As a present to yourself (and an expensive one at that), you had decided to take the whole week off. Might as well, right?

            The actual expo would last the entire year, but you had a hinting suspicion that the man himself would show up some time during the first week of launch—very typical for any orchestrator of events. Even if it was just a hunch, you were not willing to take the risk. Instead, you were huddled up in some blankets and eating ice cream on your second-hand bed/mattress while watching your favorite TV show. Your TV wasn’t anything special, just something you found on the side of the road with the word “FREE” on it. Maybe it was laced with cocaine or had human remains splattered on it, but free is free. Actually, a lot of your possessions were free. Since you rented a studio apartment the living room and bedroom became one, so you had to get creative with decorating. In the center of the room was a small coffee table that was given to you by another coworker who just didn’t want it anymore. Majority of your pots and pans come from the dumpster of a restaurant you pass by every day (that was a good day). Your bed (which currently lacked sheets) was bought from a local thrift shop and pillows from a nearby donation center (technically those are donations to the thrift shop, but it was just out in the open begging to be snatched). Your form of warmth came in the variety of blankets and hoodies gifted to you for holidays and previous birthdays. To save money you keep the apartment at a brisk 60 degrees Fahrenheit, so having many ways to warm yourself up was necessary. Thankfully you lived on the sixth floor, so as heat rises, so does your happiness.

Suddenly in the distance you heard some fireworks go off, most likely a signal to the rest of the city that the expo is live. Uninterested, you continued to binge your show for at least another hour, content with the discounted ice cream you found in the store earlier that day. That was until you heard sirens go by your apartment. This wasn’t unusual . . . except for when several other emergency services were following quickly behind.

Was there a fire nearby?

Glancing out the window you looked to take a glance at any orange light nearby, only to notice there was a lot of noise coming from the direction of the open building that the Stark expo was supposed to be held at. Outside there is what seemed to be tiny, self-driving fireworks almost circling the area of the event. Unable to properly make out what was going on, you deciding to pick up the remote and change channels until you find the news station. When finally getting onto what seemed to be a news report, you quickly discover that the expo was hijacked, rouge military robots were attacking everything (which was not the self-driving fireworks you initially thought), and somehow Iron Man was at the heart of it all.

            “Yeah, fuck that,” you mumbled while getting out of bed.

            Grabbing a backpack, you made the executive decision that you were a little too close to the chaos that followed Tony Stark and perhaps a motel a few miles out would be more suffice.

            Only packing the essentials one would need for a single night, you then made your way outside of the studio and towards the bus stop right across from your apartment. It was already dark outside and so it wasn’t exactly the smartest to be going out, but when facing a possible bump-in with a crook or an encounter with Loverboy, you decided to press your luck.

After hoping on the mostly empty bus, you paid for your fare then rode it for twenty-two stops (the irony). The entire time you tried not to touch anything because who knows what this bus has gone through.

Soon you arrived at something like a Best Western Hotel but if it was a secret brothel. When walking inside you were met with an interior that wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. When looking up motels nearby in a catalog, this one was cheap but only had two stars. Deep inside you found some humor because your brain formulated the idea of discolored carpet and orange-floral wallpaper, but the lobby wasn’t anything close to that. Instead, there was hard-wood flooring, painted walls, and the occasional house plant.

In front of you was a woman who seemed to not of noticed your entrance. Her hair was frizzly and blonde while her face looked to mirror the makeup style of the 80s. As you walked closer you saw a cigarette between her red lipstick-stained lips. Smoking indoors is most certainly not allowed, but you didn’t exactly look for a 5-star hotel, did you?

After making your presence known you then purchased the cheapest room of the night. The woman was completely uninterested but could at least do her job. In her eyes, she kind of reminded you of yourself—tired and barely getting by. Then again, isn’t that most of the citizens in New York City?

She handed you your key (which was suspiciously sticky) and you made your way up the stairs. Many places have elevators nowadays, but that doesn’t mean these older buildings have the same pleasure. So you made your way up nine stories and by the time you reached the top you were ready to fall over.

Jiggling the key into the keyhole you grasped the handle and pulled back like the lady instructed. Apparently, some of the locks get jammed and this was the only remedy. Like magic the key twisted, and the door opened.

That’s when you laughed. Sure, the lobby didn’t look retro, but this room sure did. The exact thought of discolored carpet and orange-floral wallpaper came to fruition inside this room. In fact, it even smelled ancient. If a chain-smoker had been living here for the past decade you’d believe it.

The bed looked innocent enough (even though you were skeptical of bedbugs), so you laid your backpack on it and pulled out your pajamas. Soon after you found yourself in the bathroom that looked to come straight out of The Shinning. Seriously, it was like a miniature version of the film’s bathing room—which made you uneasy. Spending as little time as possible inside the off-putting room, you took a shower and got your nightgown on. The nightgown was modest and was the color of baby blue. It hugged the cuffs of your wrist and ended mid-calve. Thankfully, you expected the floor to be a little suspicious, so you pulled out the fluffy socks from your backpack and put them on.

At the end of your nightly routine you found yourself sitting at the windowsill of the hotel room, gazing at the general direction of the expo. Your mind was running particularly fast. About what, you hadn’t a clue; it was like your brain was on steroids and you could think of a million better things to do than sleep.

            All things considered; this is actually not the worst birthday you’ve had. Sure, running from your soulmate isn’t exactly a pleasant pastime, but it sure does beat turning 16 only for two weeks later your father to die because of your soulmate . . . then your mother to die because your soulmate killed your father. In the grand scheme of things, life isn’t great but at least you’re not dead. At least, you question how long that’ll last when suddenly multiple large-scale bombs detonated and created an expansion of fire near the Stark expo.

Your view from the ninth story of a non-brothel made your jaw hit the floor in shock. Perhaps your slightly erratic choice of moving further away wasn’t insane, but your intuition.

He’s not dead, you know this for certain because your heart doesn’t ache from a soul break. Instead, you believe your increased heartbeat was due to being so close to something so dangerous. Unsure of what else to do other than gawk, you made your move away from the window. Perhaps the less you knew, the better. Everything that this night has given you can be re-thought in the morning after a night of restful sleep.

            Moving to bed you begin to feel your wrist burn—the one with his name on it.

            His name being on your wrist is rather strange; after all, it signifies that you have not one, but two SIAs. Anyone having more than one isn’t common. The first would be the SIA dubbed “In My Shoes” (not your choice in title, that’s just what the GSRA calls it) and the other is “Say My Name.” The second isn’t too harmful (at least in terms of your purpose of never meeting the man) and was most likely the one given to you at birth or one you inherited from him, but the first one is a reason for concern. You haven’t been living in anxiety because of it, however it does loom in the back of your mind. “In My Shoes” is often systematic but how often it occurs isn’t known until it happens a second time. It’s been six years and there’s a good chance that it is a one-off soul aid, which isn’t unhear of.

            Back on task you began to rub your wrist in hopes of soothing it. It wasn’t even a few seconds of trying to remedy the burn, when suddenly you felt like you were falling. Your eyes closed in an attempt to not only ground yourself, but to get rid of the feeling. Then, as quickly as it would be to blink your eyes, you opened them to something that wasn’t there a moment ago.

It was a woman with blonde hair and a well-matched lipstick to her black pencil dress. She had bangs that stuck slightly to the sweat of her forehead as she used both hands to convey a stress you didn’t understand. By the looks of it, she was talking, but her words only began to have meaning when you decided to tune in.

“—kill yourself or-or-or wreck the whole company!” She had yelled in frustration, continuing her rant with little mind to what you were doing.

Confusion laced your features at the odd word choice as you attempted to figure out what was going on. Did you know this woman? Did she know you?

You felt exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath. You’ve never run a marathon (never had the time), but this must’ve been what it felt like.

Taking in your surroundings you noticed you were on top of a roof. Not just any roof, but one that was a lot closer to the Stark Expo than you were a moment ago. Now you’re even more confused; how can this be possi—oh yeah, right.

Looking down you saw your body covered in a roughed-up red and yellow piece of metal. It certainly didn’t take a genius to figure out that the “In My Shoes” aid had taken affect. Definitely not at a good time, but was there ever a good time?

‘Fuck my life, man,’ you tiredly thought to yourself.

Trying to gather your thoughts you decided it was best too—did she stop talking? Opening your eyes after subconsciously closing them, you saw her looking at you.

Something in your brain shifted in place as you paused then tentatively asked, “Did I say that out loud?”

She nodded.

Yep, not the worst birthday ever, but it might just make it to spot number three.

A moment of silence passed both of you as words were exchanged between the intense eye contact. Then, before she could say anything, a voice to the left of you said, “You’re not Tony.”

The lady seemed to jump in her skin, equally surprised by the new voice on the roof. Looking towards the source of the statement you saw a man wearing a similar iron body of armor sitting on top of something metal. He seemed to look as tired as you felt.

“Uhh . . .” you quietly muttered, trying to formulate some type of a response.

The woman beside you seemed to almost snicker in realization, “Definitely not Tony.”

“He would’ve had something sarcastic to say by now,” the man added, seeming to continue the woman’s train of thought.

Baffled by the ease of flow in conversation between the two people, you tried to rack your brain to figure out who these individuals are. The one sitting down you may’ve seen on the news, but this other lady was only vaguely familiar.

“My name is Pepper Pots, but Pepper is just fine,” the woman introduced herself, seemingly reading your mind.

Ah, there we go, she was that chick who was almost always by Tony’s side (apart from the models that hung on his arms). There was skepticism that she was his secret lover, but other than that bit of gossip, you hadn’t paid much attention. After all, why keep track of someone’s love life when you have no intent in being a part of it?

Out of instinct you reached out your hand to shake hers and replied, “My name is—”

You stopped before you said anything revealing; then, before you could recoil your metal-covered hand, she took it while saying, “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t come for him after all these years, so I think I get the idea.”

A small smile appeared on your face in appreciation for at least one person to understand without knowing the full story. One time someone asked if you had a soulmate. At the time you decided to be truthful and answer with a simple ‘yes’. Then they started to ask more questions, and by that time you were already in deep, so you had to explain that you willingly chose to stay away from him. They got frustrated and almost mad at your choice. Again, you do not hold a popular perspective on how to approach soulmates. It got particularly scary one time when someone caught a vague glimpse of the “Say My Name” aid and felt inclined to ask about it. At this point you had learned from previous encounters, so you would just tell them it was a ‘trick of the light’ and that you don’t have a soulmate.

Early on you learned that convincing others of a lie is easier than admitting the truth.

“I’m curious,” pried the man on the side. He was sarcastically raising his hand (if that analogy was even possible). “Why haven’t you made contact? Tony said he’d given you his address.”

Here it is, the questions. Except this time it’s not going to be as simple as ‘I don’t have a soulmate.’ These people know who Tony is and you are the only one who can do this body exchange.

Pepper chimed in, “I’m also curious. He was so excited about finding out you existed that by the time he got his mind straight, the only thing he could do was write down an address.”

How innocent, this line of questioning. These people seemed so kind, completely contrasting the allies you’d think Tony would’ve made. It almost implored you to give them the whole story, but something inside you said it would be best to just keep it short. The truth didn’t work well in the past, and the less they know, the harder it is to find you.

Licking your lips, you tasted that strong flavor on his tongue again, just like last time. Similarly, it wasn’t great and reminded you of a bad aftertaste that wouldn’t go away. However, now as an adult, you recognized that aftertaste to be some form of liquor. Alcohol never really tickled your fancy, the substance not tasting too great and being an unnecessary cost was enough of an incentive to ward you away.

How depressing, you’ll need to give these two intrigued individuals a condensed version of your store. And if they are his friends, as you suspect they are, they’re going to turn around and tell him the moment you get back into your body. Then again, maybe this is for the best. Perhaps he will get the hint. So, looking up at these people and trying your best to keep a steady tone, you said without a batted breath, “To be honest, I hate Tony Stark.”

Just like that, the water gates have been busted open. You haven’t ever told anyone your opinions of the man, and certainly not with this kind of context. However, without even seeing their reaction, you blinked, and the scenery changed again. This time you stood in the lobby of the motel with the hardwood floor beneath your fuzzy socks. How did he get down all nine flights of stairs so quickly? If he was trying to get outside, he obviously failed, which did comfort you knowing he was unable to spot any street signs. The only downside will be the journey back up.

Glancing around, you saw the frizzy-haired receptionist from before in front of you looking mildly curious about your antics.

“So, is that everything you needed?” She asked with a lack-luster tone.

Confused, you looked at her for a sign as to what she was talking about, only to feel one of your hands holding onto something. Looking down, you saw a rectangular piece of paper which you held up to your face and analyzed.

It was a business card from the motel. The front displayed the company name, phone number, and address. It was then that the printer in your brain began to print out a new message:

This business card has an address and 22 is not a lucky number.

[naramdil]

im so sorry but anyone fawning over the ambani wedding looks needs to reassess their sense of taste. is it actually good or are you just impressed bc theyre billionaires … like be so serious there was not a bit of glamour and opulence worth being impressed by. theyre so busy trying to impress by buying high profile guests that the actual bride had like zero presence and personality. I’m sure that makes her the ideal candidate for a daughter in law but it’s actually baffling to see people being impressed by her wedding looks bc they were genuinely so uninspired