#i want a Job so i can have money and hopefully get out of here as soon as i can

[papus-clown-enclosure]

Thinking about the email my German 101 teacher said about possibly switching to her other 101 class. Like that would mean having 2 classes and a lab on one day. Which could free up my other days for when I get an internship

(I hope I get one bc I have yet to find out if it's needed for my 1st major, or else I'm straight up getting a job if not. )

(Something something self sabotage and something of running away of New possibilities/opportunities even though it's not expect3d but sure would have helped me in the long run)

[bunnihearted]

🚬🧸🧃🎀

[stairset]

I had Spider-Man 2 mailed to my house when I pre-ordered it and it hasn't arrived yet so I've just been spending my entire day dodging spoilery Youtube thumbnails like Tobey Maguire dodging Green Goblin's razor bats in slo-mo in that one scene.

[cherrywperson]

Can't do anything about it.

[nomairuins]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Pairing: Alastor x fem! reader

Background: reader is Lilith and Lucifers oldest, and resembles Lilith more. Lucifer has a hard time bonding with her because of this, and Alastor decides to step in.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"DAD'S COMING?!"

(Y/N) Morningstar, firstborn daughter of Lilith and Lucifer, was currently having a breakdown over the fact that her father was on his way to the hotel.

She'd have no issue leaving, of course, but Charlie tricked her dear old sister into staying by saying she needed help with the hotel. . .and told her their dad was coming when he was two minutes away.

It's not like she didn't miss him, but things became different once their mother disappeared. Lucifer threw himself into his ideas, and (Y/N) tried maintaining their relationship but he couldn't even stand the look of her.

"I'm sorry! But I thought maybe you guys could talk while he's here?" Charlie suggested with a gulp, twiddling her fingers.

"I'm done trying with dad. If he wants to talk, he can come to me," (Y/N) crossed her arms, firm on her stance.

"I never thought I'd meet someone with worse daddy issues, but here you are, cher," Alastor, with his famous grin, looked down at the Princess of Hell. She huffed, not in the mood for his side comments.

"Alastor, please-"

"He's here!"

"-please fucking hide me!" She ran behind him, despite the mass amount of blonde hair making it obvious.

He chuckled.

Honestly, since meeting the eldest Morningstar, Alastor deemed himself her Protector. Not that the girl wasn't capable or needed him persay, but he cared for her. Being on the aroace spectrum, he wasn't plagued by a selfish desire to fuck her, but it was a sweet concern that slowly turned into a need to be near her.

A need to make her his.

"Hopefully he doesn't-"

"Pumpkin?"

"Fuck," (Y/N) silently cursed under her breath before Alastor stepped aside.

"Hey dad," Lucifer felt a pang in his sinister heart at her tone. She sounded uncomfortable and wouldn't even look at him, but he also remembered that he couldn't look at her at times.

It reminded him of happier times.

Times he didn't want to be reminded of anymore.

"So how've you been? Heard you've got a fancy job now. Probably making loads of money, huh?" He chuckled nervously.

"Dad, it's my company. I made it."

And he couldn't even remember that she did that?

Any dad would remember that his child created her own business.

"Ouch."

"And it's got a fucking duck on the logo. God, dad," She rose her voice, "you can't even remember that?"

"I've been busy, pumpkin-"

"Too busy to call? Too busy to even fucking call?!"

Charlie flinched at the harshness in her voice. She's always been a firecracker but she's never seen her so angry.

"I'm not fighting with you, (Y/N)," Lucifer stepped towards her, "why do you insist on fighting? Especially when I'm here for Charlie."

"Oh, you're here for Charlie?" Her horns started to come up through her skin, rolling back like a rams.

Just like her mom.

"I'm not making this about me. I just wish you'd make the effort instead of it having to be me," She missed who he was.

And during this, Alastor could see the pain on her face. She was furious, and rightfully so.

But he let her fight her own battles.

"I'm sorry that I look like mom. Is that what you want me to say?!"

"Yes!"

He didn't mean it. Of fucking course he didn't mean it, but it slipped out.

"Dad! That's enough!" Charlie ran to her, seeing tears well up in her sisters eyes. "How could you say that?"

"Pumpkin, I-"

"Don't," She sniffled, holding Charlie close, "don't come near me."

But he didn't listen.

He hated being the fact that his little girl was crying because of him.

"I think you've come far enough," Alastor spoke, getting infront of Charlie and (Y/N). He is excellent at saving face, so his pure unadulterated rage was hidden beneath his smile.

She hiccuped behind him, sobbing into Charlie's shoulder.

"Don't make me move you," Lucifer glared.

"And don't make me fucking kill you for hurting what's mine."

His voice turned more static-like than before, his eyes a burning red and his horns outstretched. He was a fucking shield for his Princess, and not even the King of Hell could get through. Lucifer recognized this and humbly backed away, retreating with his tail between his legs.

_ _ ☆ _ _

(Y/N) spent the next hour crying in her room. Over the years, she had started to hate herself for looking like her mom, and Lucifers' confirmation only reaffirmed it.

"Need anything else?" Charlie asked her. Although her sister wasn't searching for redemption, she had her own personal room in the hotel.

"Can you get Alasto-?"

A knock sounded at the door.

"Was he there the whole time?" She sniffled, and a muffled "maybe" came through the door.

Her bed was surrounded by napkins that she quickly placed on her bedside as Charlie allowed Alastor inside.

Alone.

The two of them.

Might as well just throw them condoms and say get to it, is what (Y/N) was thinking. She's known about her crush on The Radio Demon for a few months now, having a fantasy dream here and there, but wasn't much of an active person herself.

"Thank you. I know he tried to fix it, but I couldn't stand to look at him," Her puffy eyes made Alastors eye twitch, still a small spout of anger for her father.

"Of course, my dear," He sat himself next to her on the bed.

"Because your father, although the King of Hell, is a fucking coward", is what he wanted to say but kept those words for himself.

"Did you mean it? That I'm yours?" She asked, her hand inching closer to his.

"I never say anything I don't mean, cher," He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and made the she-demon gasp.

"I thought you hated touch."

He chuckled, "Oh, I do, but not if it's you. Your skin is warm, and it brings me comfort. You bring me comfort."

"You'd have me, even if I want to be glued to your side? Even having petty fights with my dad?"

"Darling, I'd wear your skin if you asked."

"Oh, how romantic," She blushed before both his hands came up to her face, bringing her into a needy kiss. With her, he needed to feel her.

Someday, even all of her.

"And I'd eat demons with you," She whispered against his lips.

"Oh my heart may burst, my dear."

Taglist: @lorkai @droopingdatura @tr1coo @randomuser-89 @abbiedail @evelin1o1 @sseleniaa

[nadvs]

cam girl (part ten)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe is on your mind constantly. At this point, you’ve accepted it. There was something about the way he looked at you in his car last night. Possibly. Hopefully.

You stand in a quiet aisle, eyeing merchandise while you hold the charm on the necklace he gave you, the metal warm under your fingertips.

You’d never been in a sex shop before. The guys you hooked up with before Rafe were nowhere near as kinky as him and you bought all the stuff you needed to be a cam girl online.

But seeing all the possibilities makes your stomach twist with excitement. You want to try absolutely everything with Rafe.

You’ve been thinking about coming here throughout all your classes today with one thing in mind. Rafe loves to use toys on you, but you’ve never used anything on him.

With Rafe’s need for control, you assume he won’t be all that open to using a cock ring, but you want to do something special for him. Maybe you can introduce him to something for a change.

You find a vibrating ring that you know will fit him, then decide to send him a photo of the toys in the aisle behind you and text him: this is a great place to meet guys.

Before you’re even at the register, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: dont joke like that

Rafe: buying something for yourself princess?

He sends you $100.

You reply: something like that :)

You check out at the register and head home, already looking forward to tonight. Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: when can i come over?

You smile at your phone.

You: what about our cam session?

You get a notification that he sent $1000. The alert makes you wonder if he thinks you’re just doing all this solely for the money and gifts.

You’d do it all for free.

Rafe: i won’t wait that long

Not just can’t. He won’t.

You reply: like 8ish?

Rafe: ok

It starts to rain close to 8 and when Rafe arrives at your place, his hair is wet and his face and jacket are peppered with raindrops.

“Is the valet not working today?” you joke, knowing full well he had to find street parking on your busy road.

He breathes a chuckle, stepping into your apartment with his usual ease. You’ve noticed that he walks into every room like he owns it.

Rafe shakes off his jacket and places it on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs while you grab a clean hand towel out of your hamper.

“Sorry this towel’s not a million thread count,” you tease, meeting him to dab the towel over his face.

His blue eyes search your face with a hint of something new. Confusion?

You realize you didn’t even think about it; you thoughtlessly started to dry him off. It was such a mechanical response. Your impulse is to take care of him, make him comfortable.

It’s official. This man is not just a fuck buddy to you anymore.

“What?” you ask, knowing you need to crack a joke to break the tension. “I’m just drying off my seat.”

“Oh, my God,” Rafe groans, trying to act annoyed, but you know he’s not. You laugh and lower the towel, squeezing the cotton in your hands.

“What’d you buy?” he asks, clearly eager.

“I’ll show you later. I wanna hear what you have planned,” you say. “You always have something planned.”

“You first,” he says.

“Rafe,” you whine, dropping the towel to rest your hands on his firm shoulders. “Can’t I surprise you for once? What do you want to do to me tonight?”

“I wanna see what you bought,” Rafe solidifies.

You suck your teeth in frustration, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Please?” you breathe. “I’m always the one waiting. Why don’t you wait for once?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head in disbelief like he can’t believe he’s giving in, but he gives in.

“You ever been tied up?” he finally asks, his voice so deep that it reverberates through you. The air is suddenly thick and any impression of humor that was floating between you has been dismissed by his words.

“Like… bondage?” you say in a short breath, mulling it over as blood rushes to your cheeks. “No. I haven’t.”

He closes the already minuscule distance between you, cradling your jaw in his cool hand.

“I want your hands tied up while I fuck you,” he says. Your mouth goes dry. Just when you think he can’t get any fucking hotter.

Rafe’s hand drops and you hear his belt unbuckling while his hot breath spreads across your cheek.

“Why the fuck are you still dressed?” he rasps. You’re reeling as you strip down to nothing but the necklace he gave you. You hear the clang of his belt buckle falling onto your kitchen table beside you.

Rafe’s hands drag over your hips, pinching down when he turns you to face the other way. He’s still in his boxers, his cock jabbing against your ass. His warm chest is pressed on your back, rising and falling.

“You’re always the one waiting?” he mutters. The belt buckle drags off the table top, and when you feel him roughly grab both your wrists and wrap the thick leather around them, the familiar need for him between your legs aches.

“You’re always waiting,” he repeats with a scoff. “I’m the one who’s always fucking waiting.”

You want to know what he means, but the belt is suddenly tight around your wrists, your chest jutting out. Rafe pushes you by the back of your neck so that your front is down on your table, your cheek flush against the hard plastic.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

The muscles in your thighs are strained and your hips burn against the hard table from the way he has you bent over. He couldn’t even spare the few seconds to go to your bedroom.

You feel his tip press against you, making you wonder which hole he wants to fuck.

“Beg for it,” he orders. His fingers tighten around the back of your neck. Your arms are already burning from being bound like this.

“Please fuck me,” you moan, lips flanged from how hard your cheek is being pushed against the table.

“Say my fucking name,” he tells you.

“Please, Rafe,” you obey. He groans in response, hands settling on your hips.

He stretches your cunt out so fucking slowly that you want to scream. You push back against him, and you swear, he laughs at your desperation.

Rafe finally bottoms out in you, his hips against your ass. He puts his hand over your bound wrists, starting to drag out again.

“This pussy is fucking mine,” he says. As if you need the reminder. He owns you completely.

When he picks up the pace, driving into you, your breath hitches. With every thrust, your hips grind against the hard table, making you ache in pain.

“Ow,” you snip before you can stop yourself.

Rafe immediately pulls out of you, making you writhe in frustration.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you lie, wanting him more than you want the pain to stop. “Keep going.”

“What hurts?” he repeats sternly.

“My hips,” you admit. “I’m fine, it’s just ‘cause of the table. Please just-”

“I’m not making you cry again,” he snaps. He cups a hand on your shoulder. “Go to your bed.”

“Rafe, it’s fine.” You feel oddly ashamed, like you’re not doing your job pleasing him how he wants you to.

“Go,” he mutters. His hand pulls you up and you have no choice but to let him push you into your bedroom.

Your wrists are still bound at your lower back when he bends you over your bed. You sink onto your stomach, feeling Rafe’s fingers spread you open before driving his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Your arms strain against the constrictions of his belt, the sensations so fucking perfect.

“Shit, I’m…” he groans, and you know he’s close, so you try to tilt up your hips so he can get as deep as possible.

Rafe shakes through his orgasm and you think how you could never tire of this feeling, of being the one he finishes inside of and reaches this feeling with.

He’s panting when he pulls out of you. Your wrists burn against the belt as he loosens it. His hand smooths over your ass before he spanks you and collapses beside you.

“Show me what you bought,” he says. “It better make you cum.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Have an open mind, okay?”

“Damn, what the fuck is it?” Rafe asks with a curious laugh.

You’re sore as you get up on your knees and shift to grab the white ring you already took out of the packaging and placed in your nightstand.

When you settle back on the bed and hold it out in front of him, his brows furrow.

“Is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, his tone apprehensive.

“It might feel really good,” you say with a small smile. “I got a vibrating one.”

Rafe sits up, glancing down at your purchase before looking up at you again.

“Come on,” you laugh. “You surprise me all the time. I can’t surprise you?”

He clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says simply, blinking fast. It sounds like a hard no.

“Oh,” you say. You’re shocked he’s not at least a little open to it, considering how kinky he is. “Okay. Sorry.”

You turn to put the toy away, but his next words stop you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fine.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting his eyes again.

“You just look so fucking sad,” he groans.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s just try it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “After everything I do to you…” You smile in response.

Rafe sits up against the head of your bed frame and you straddle him, dipping your head to kiss him. It’s strange how with him, making out feels more intimate than sex does. As good as the sex is, nothing gets your heart fluttering quite like when his lips are on yours.

Your hands settle on his shoulders and you tug at the ends of hair as you kiss him passionately.

Rafe smiles under the kiss, your lips molding together, his tongue tumbling with yours. You feel him getting hard again.

You pull back to slide the ring down his cock and he sighs in a way that tells you he can’t believe he’s actually doing this before he takes you in to kiss you again.

Rafe’s hands roll over your ass, squeezing and kneading as you sit on his naked lap. This is the longest you’ve ever kissed. It feels crazy to realize that, considering everything you’ve done together.

“Shit,” he shifts beneath you. His cock is growing, the ring starting to squeeze around him.

“How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes low. It makes your heart swell with pride. “Ride me.”

You sink down on him slowly, feeling the ring against you once you’re fully seated. You find the button at the top of it to turn on the vibration.

You both exhale in pleasure at the same time. He skims his hands up to your waist, looking at you while you grind on top of him.

In the dim light of your quiet bedroom, the toy buzzing against your clit, how deep he is inside you, the way his eyes are locked on yours… it’s all so perfect. Everything with him is so fucking perfect that it can’t be true.

The fact that you ended up here all because of a part-time cleaning job and a cam website feels insane.

Your palm is against his hot chest. He looks down at it and his dimples dip into his cheeks as he smiles smugly.

“Your hands are so fucking cute,” he teases. The non-sexual compliment sends you into a tizzy.

“Yours are huge,” you retort, trying to keep cool.

“What else is huge?” he asks.

“Your ego.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs.

“Okay,” you tease, starting to sit up so he’ll slip out of you. He roughly pulls you back down by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rafe mutters. You laugh and start to fuck him faster, your hips rolling in circles.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “I… Fuck, I need to get on top.”

You shift to let him settle over you, your head resting on your pillow. Rafe’s hand runs up the side of your bent leg and he grabs your calf to pull it towards him, silently inviting you to wrap your legs around him.

You hook your ankles together, your entire body hugging him.

You fuck for at least twenty straight minutes, both of you sweating and panting and shaking. You knew he’d last extra long with the cock ring tight around him, but this is unbelievable.

You cum twice underneath him in the span of the session, earning a string of “good girl”s from him. By your third orgasm, he starts to tremble, too.

When Rafe cums inside you, his name tumbles out in his groan. Not princess, not baby, not good girl, but your name, and it gives you a knotted feeling in your stomach that you haven’t had with him yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s elated over coming down from a new level. Or maybe it’s more.

He pulls out, still dripping.

“So… you like my present?” you ask when he falls in your bed next to you.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans. “That was…” He doesn’t seem to have the words, but neither do you. How do you even begin to describe something this unreal?

“I need water,” you say, unsure of how you’re going to even stand up. “Want some?”

He shakes his head in response.

You stand at your kitchen sink, leaning against the counter and swallowing down cold water. On your way back to the bedroom, you notice a lit up screen on your kitchen table.

Rafe must have left his phone here before you moved to the bed. Through pure instinct, you look at the screen. By the time you realize you’re accidentally snooping, it’s too late.

You don’t see the contact name in time, but you do see the message.

bro where are you? too many bitches here for just me lol

A chill rushes through your body. It must be one of his buddies waiting for him at a party.

Of course. It’s a Friday night and you’re pretty sure all the rich people on the island have to do is party.

You feel like an idiot. Expecting exclusivity from Rafe in the arrangement you’re in was ridiculous. Of course he’s fucking around on the side. Someone like him, with his sex drive, can’t be satisfied by one girl.

At this point, you just want him to leave, so you collect his clothes off the kitchen floor.

Thankfully, Rafe’s already sitting up in your bed when you reenter your bedroom. Surely eager to go.

“Here,” you say coldly, handing him his jeans and t-shirt. You don’t look at him when he takes his clothes from you. “Are you gonna head out?”

You realize when you ask the question, it’s like a secret test you’re putting him through. If he stays, he gives a shit about you. If he leaves, he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I should,” he says. He should. Yeah, he really should go look at and flirt with and fuck other girls.

“‘Kay.” You start to collect some clean clothes from your dresser, covering your body with them, feeling strangely insecure around him now.

“You pissed off or something?” he asks behind you as he gets dressed.

You clench your jaw. Honestly, you’re more hurt than anything. But are you even allowed to be? Just because he acts like your boyfriend sometimes doesn’t mean he is.

“No,” you reply. You swallow down the painful feelings and turn to look at him. “Just tired.” You think back to your texts yesterday about how often you’ve hooked up. “Lost count, right? I might need a break.”

You don’t mean it. At this point, you’re just defensive. Wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

Rafe’s face flashes in displeasure.

“What - why? What the fuck happened in the last fucking minute?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be tired?” you respond.

He dips his head, nodding as he buttons his jeans. He seems silenced by his own anger. Your eyes sweep down his muscled body, wishing he’d just hug you and ask you what’s wrong one more time and reassure you that you’re more than just sex to him.

You can tell he’s pissed off and you know you’re not being fair, but you let him leave without any more words exchanged between you.

After a long shower, you lie in bed and wish Rafe didn’t leave his smell on your pillow. You browse your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You tell yourself you’ll go to sleep in five minutes over and over again. You’re working at the estate tomorrow. You need to get up early. But you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll be trapped in your thoughts. You don’t want to think about him.

It’s nearing midnight when a text comes in.

Rafe: princessssssdsssss

You look at your screen in confusion. Is this a drunk text?

Rafe: ur mean

Rafe: but ypur pussy is sooo niiice lol

Yeah. He’s plastered.

Rafe: ans you have cutehands

Rafe: you akwyas smell good how the fuck is fhat possibke

You hate that your heart warms at the fact that he’s clearly fucked up but his instinct is to text you.

You reply: i think someone’s drunk…

Rafe: yes iam

Rafe: idk what i’m gona do with yiu loool

You: what do you want to do with me?

You get an alert that he sent you $69.

Rafe: that

Rafe: looool

Sex. Of course.

You: are you going to make me do every position?

Rafe: you’r efreaky as fuck. i know youd like it

You: true…

Rafe: lowkey ur all i think about

Goddamn it. Your heart is pounding at this point. You try to play it off.

You: oh only lowkey. cool

Rafe: don’t be maddd

You: i’m pissed

Rafe: we should fuck aboutt it :)

You know the answer to your next question, that he sees you as a booty call and that’s all, but you know the confirmation.

You: is that all you want to do rafe? fuck?

Rafe: YES

Rafe: what if i come over again tonigjt lol

You: i work tomorrow. i need to sleep

Rafe: you need this dick

You: omg

Rafe: do you likw this skng

Rafe: song

You: ??? what song

You can’t stifle your laugh at how shit-faced he is.

Rafe: irs good

Rafe: u should giveme a lap dance

You: you’re drunk as hell. i’ll see you tomorrow, ok? goodnight

You think back to the way he looked when you snapped at him earlier and decide to send one more message.

You: sorry i was mean

He doesn’t reply. Maybe it’s better that way.

Your body is heavy the next morning. You barely make it to the Camerons’ estate. You don’t see Rafe at all in the morning. You’re guessing he crashed at whoever’s party he went to.

You wonder how many bitches, as he and his friends say, he talked to last night.

When it’s time to turn over his bedsheets, you take a moment to take in the familiarity of his bedroom. When you pull over a new fitted sheet, you realize just how exhausted you are.

There’s no reason for another maid to come into this room. It’s on your list only. And Rafe is gone.

So, what’s the harm in lying down to rest, just for a little bit? You’ll do a better job when you’re not exhausted.

You won’t close your eyes.

You lie on his pillow. Okay, maybe you can close your eyes for a minute. You’ll count to sixty then stand back up.

The numbers quickly melt away and you slip into a slumber.

When you wake up, nuzzling your face into the pillow, Rafe is in bed with you, his back to you.

It takes a moment to remember where you are. You sit up and he notices the movement, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

{ read part eleven here }

author’s note: shoutout to my readers for being so creative. thank you to this anon and this anon and to another reader (you know who you are) for your contributions to this chapter! ILY!

[determinate-negation]

IMPORTANT update on mohammed's campaign!

mohammed almanasra @save-mohamed-family has unfortunately been having issues with fundraising. his first campaign was shut down by the bank and GFM without him getting any of the money he raised. recently he had some concerns about the person hosting his second campaign because he has only been receiving a small percentage of the funds raised and the host wouldn’t send receipts. he thought it'd be best if we started a new campaign with me hosting it and shut down the old campaign. i'll be organizing this now so hopefully there will be no problems and i can be transparent with him about the finances. also in a stronger currency (USD)

mohammed has been verified by @el-shab-hussein and is on the Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List #192 with this updated link now

you may have seen my other posts about his campaign, mohammed and i talk frequently and its so awful what he's been through in this genocide:

mohammed lost his mother, father, and four sisters who were killed in a bombing, and is now living in tents with his remaining family members, his wife and three young children. he was seriously injured in his foot and it may need to be amputated, but he told me that hes doesn't care if he loses his foot he just doesn't want to lose his family. his wife has uterine cancer but hasn't been able to get treatment recently because the genocidal israeli army has destroyed health centers. his children are suffering from infectious diseases spreading throughout gaza, and the little medical treatment available is very expensive. here’s a photo of his kids who instead of having a normal childhood have to struggle to survive.

they've been displaced recently again, because of the israeli army changing the location of so called 'humanitarian zones,' and every displacement is expensive and exhausting, with no guarantee that where they are forced to move to is actually safe. right now mohammed told me he doesn't have good enough internet to use tumblr unless he goes to a internet hot spot which are often more dangerous because the idf targets people there. he knows it's risky but fundraising online is the only way he can support his family right now.

mohammed has made posts on his blog about their situation and i do encourage you to read his own words, because i am merely summarizing conditions that are far worse than any of us from outside can really comprehend

the pain of losing so many family members, your home, your job, your city, and everything you have is already unimaginable. please dont let him lose any more of his family. donate to this campaign and if you cant, share it with someone who can.

especially if you have a degree of disposable income i implore you to think about what you can reasonably give. it could be relatively small adjustment for you but make a significant difference for someone else. thank you very much everyone who participated already for starting this out with some donations.

$205 raised of $50,000 USD

[elbiotipo]

So, to get serious for a moment. If you've been following me for a while you're surely aware of how bad Javier Milei's government is for our country and in particular for science and education. This has affected me very personally, as the recent funding cuts mean I'm basically unemployed right now. This is an undesirable situation to say the least, and because of the general crisis we're going through that affects virtually all institutions in the country, my job search is not easy.

This means I might have to move away soon, perhaps to another province or country, if I cannot find a job here, which is a huge expense I must consider and save for. And also, my family is going through legal expenses (nothing bad, but still a money sink) and I am unable to help them right now. Along with many other expenses that get worse every week (not an exaggeration) given our current economic crisis. So right now, I'm looking for any kind of income until hopefully I can get a stable job.

I would really appreciate if you could consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, even a little bit means a lot here on Argentina. And I want you to get something out of it! If there's something my years of study have been useful for, is to learn about how the world works, and if you know my passion for worldbuilding and love the things I write about it, please, do feel free to ask me questions, suggest me things to write about, or DM me to talk about your writing. I often take my time to answer, but if there's anything I have now, it's unfortunately time. So I hope you consider supporting me, and regardless, you can look forward to more worldbuilding, science and history posts. And Argentina shitposting of course.

In a more professional note, I am also a certified and experienced English-Spanish translator. If you're seriously looking for someone with that skill, you can DM me.

So, that's it. Thank you for reading.

[xyriath]

but seriously if you are at all blogging about the i/p conflict you NEED to read that standing together article from that post i just reblogged. please. please please please please please. these are the people who are actually doing something about freeing palestine and have been for years. And here's the thing:

IF YOU WANT PEACE IN ISRAEL, IN PALESTINE, THESE ARE THE PEOPLE IT'S GOING TO COME FROM.

Because yeah. The way this site is spreading around uncritical posts is a huge issue (and a reason I haven't been around since October). Standing Together is doing a hell of a lot more than blogging about it. They're on the ground putting in the work. Nine days before the October 7 attack, they were in Tel Aviv publicly protesting about the systematic oppression of Arabs (not just Palestinians) in Israel.

"The global left has to be synced with what we need." Trust me, the right is. Boy HOWDY is the right synced. I have gotten more support about my Judaism from the far right than the left and it's??? kinda fucked up??? Someone who worked for Pat Robertson should not feel safer than someone dedicated to activism, but here we are. I can feel how easy it would be to be radicalized towards the right, and I'm actively fighting against it. Now imagine that multiplied by millions of people, plenty of whom don't have the same desire to do so, or feel like they don't have the luxury of safety to do so.

Seeing Hamas being portrayed as sympathetic and talked about like they had a right to commit all of the atrocities that they have is making me lose my MIND. They're a group run by corrupt billionaires who actively started this conflict with the intent of silencing the Palestinian people who have been protesting their tyranny. They have been siphoning money from Palestinians for years and this entire attack is them deliberately throwing Palestinians into the path of slaughter to distract from that fact, the same way that Netanyahu absolutely took advantage of the threat and tragedy to try and get himself off the hook for his own corruption.

Also check out the google doc linked in the article. It's not just a good way to learn how to communicate, but a very good resource for finding out if something you're sharing is worthwhile. In fact, it does a really god job of breaking down why I've felt so uncomfortable about a bunch of the posts on my dash. Some excerpts:

This got way longer than I had intended, but hopefully does its job. Go read the article and, yes, if you need to, reevaluate your activism. Because if it's not what people involved actually want or need, then it's just for you. And that's kinda fucked up.

[exhaslo]

Hello! This is something kind of niche but I was wondering if you could write a Pornstar!Miguel x Pornstar!Fem!Reader, where he is a new pornstar and meets with her the day before their shoot. He’s like super sweet to her and they have an informal hangout/date to like be comfortable around each other. Reader tries their best to ease his worry him cuz he seems kinda shy, but the day of their shoot he’s a total freak in the sheets and it totally catches her off guard? Dirty talk, dom and all.

I love your writing so much and I know you’ll do a great job writing whatever your heart desires for this one! Thx in advance <333

No lie this sounds cute as fuck! Here we go!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, rough sex, dirty talk

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another beautiful day. You were ready to receive your next paycheck, but first, you had to help the new guy. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked into a popular coffee shop. You were actually excited for this secret meetup. Normally, it was informal to meet your coworkers before a shoot, but this new guy? Oh, he was your type!

You were a pornstar. It is a long story on how you got into the business, but you were good at acting. A little too good. As you waited in line, you let out a soft sigh. While the paychecks were nice, you were really ready for something new. Cue, your manager making you a teacher and setting you up with newbies.

"Two extra shots of espresso." You muttered, trying to avoid groaning at the thought.

Despite the struggle of your job, you were eager for tomorrow. The new porn star, Miguel, was going to be your next partner. You saw his file and the man was huge and good looking. He was the one who actually asked to meet you in person. It was cute how shy he sounded over the phone.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel waves slowly, sitting in a corner table. You approached him with your drink,

"Hi, Miguel!" You said with a chirp, "My god, you're so tall."

"Sorry," Miguel went to shake your hand before immediately sitting down towards your comment.

You sat across from him, admiring his features. The man chose to become a porn star than a model? He was going to be an instant lady killer! Hopefully his acting was decent.

"Thanks again for meeting me. As you can tell, I'm a little nervous with this being my first shoot and all." Miguel said. You smiled,

"It's no biggie. It's kind of fun breaking the rules like this. Why don't we just chat about ourselves, get more comfortable with each other? I'm sure it will help you out a lot." You offered.

Miguel took the suggestion and the two of you spoke for hours. There was a chemistry there and you sensed it. You were disappointed when you had to leave for the night. Miguel parted ways with and kiss to your hand. He was such a gentleman! You were already imagining the slow and soft sex he was going to give you tomorrow.

It would be different for sure, but you were looking forward to it. Hopefully, Miguel won't disappoint you like all of your other coworkers. It was frustrating to work in the porn industry, but could never cum in your own videos. You always had to fake an orgasm and pleasure yourself later.

"Let's not think of the negative! Just...look forward for tomorrow," You told yourself.

-----------

"Alright, you know the rules. First shoot, newbie gets to pick the theme. We will go from there afterwards," Your manager called out to the crew.

You glanced at Miguel, seeing him nervously look around, "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise I won't bite, unless you want me too."

"Haha," Miguel smiled towards you, "Is it okay if we do something simple?"

"You get to pick. Why not something that will get you in the mood?" You suggested and showed him the costume room, "Is there something you want to see me wear?"

Miguel looked around, his eyes sparkling at some of the outfits. He glanced back at you,

"I know what I want to do."

---------

"Mhm~ I don't have any money for this massage~ Is there any other way I can pay you?"

You laid against a soft bed, spreading your naked legs apart. Your gaze towards Miguel as you slowly rubbed your own clit. Miguel had chosen a massage sex scene. Something where he could feel your body to get you prepped. How kind and generous of him. You hummed sweetly, faking a moan as you dove your fingers towards your hole.

"No money? That's fine, I'll just have to massage one more place before you can leave."

You're eyes widen as Miguel removed his pants. He hovered over you, stealing your lips in a forceful kiss before his hands roamed your body. You pressed yourself against him, your hand heading towards his cock. Miguel grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head before growling lowly,

"I'm giving the massage. Not you, chica (girl)"

For once, you felt a shiver run down your spine. What happened to the shy man from yesterday? You're eyes widen as Miguel's fingers started to enter your pussy. He started with one, stretching you out more than some of your coworker's dicks. You raised your hips slightly, wanting to help him get more access, but once again he pinned you down.

"Tsk, tsk, do you come onto all your massage therapists?" Miguel spat lowly, "Being such a slut?"

You shivered once more to his cruel tone. He sucked against your breasts while another finger entered your pussy. Miguel's fingers were wandering around your gummy walls, searching for that sweet spot. This was different. You're eyes widen once he curled his fingers, making you moan for real.

"That's right. Pay your bill in full." Miguel whispered.

You gasped lowly as Miguel pumped his fingers against that spot. He removed himself from your breasts, keeping you held down. His thumb pressed against your clit, causing you to squirm under him. Miguel just kept making eye contact with you. It was as if he wanted to watch you break because of him.

"What a slutty face. You like this kind of massage right?"

"Y-Yes." You whimpered, feeling your body burn with pleasure.

This was actually happening. You felt a tight knot growing in your lower abdomen. Miguel's fingers only went faster. It wasn't long until he entered a third finger that really made you break. You arched your back, moaning and whining as he wrecked your pussy with just his fingers alone. With one more curl, you finally felt that tight tension burst.

"You're getting my work area dirty, that's going to cost extra."

You were panting softly from your intense orgasm. Miguel withdrew his fingers, causing you to shiver slightly. You were feeling the need, the want. Your pussy was throbbing and begging to be filled. Miguel was the first person who actually made you cum. You gasped, forcing a smile as you saw him position his dick right against your folds.

He was fucking big! You spread your legs, teasing your entrance for him. This was just part of the job. Miguel grunted as he grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He bit against your inner thigh before pushing his dick inside you. You whimpered, arching your back as you pretended to be fine.

Miguel's dick was stretching you out. This was a first. His dick felt hot and strong. Once he was fully inside you, Miguel pinched your clit, causing you to moan and whine. He smirked, pounding the life out of your pussy, breaking you down even more.

"So fucking tight. You don't get much exercise here, do you?" He mocked.

You moaned in response, focusing a little too much on how good this felt. His dick beating against your pussy with each rough and wet slap of his hips. His tip kissing your cervix each time, threatening to remind you that this was his moment. You were his fuck toy. You whined, your eyes nearly rolling back as Miguel rubbed your clit again.

"You're going to have to come back. I'm going to have to remind this pussy that it owes me payment." Miguel grunted as he went faster.

You felt your growing orgasm once more. Miguel held your body down against the bed, pressing his dick further inside you. Your mouth formed an 'o' as you started to see stars. Whimpers and moans were all you were able to say as you cam hard against his dick. Even after a second orgasm, you still could not believe that this was happening.

"That's a good fucking sign. My little slut is finally relaxing," Miguel spat as he griped your hips tightly, cumming inside you.

Your body trembled as you felt his hot, sticky load fill you. With a pop, Miguel pulled out, leaving your pussy a mess. A mixture of your juices and his cum pouring out of your abused hole.

"Cut! Good job (Y/N), Miguel! I think that's going to be a killer!" You managed yelled out.

"Are you okay?" Miguel asked as he helped you up. You panted softly, regaining your composure,

"Y-Yeah,"

"I didn't go overboard, did I? You're not hurt?" He kept asking, giving you a towel to wrap yourself with.

"You did amazing. I'm the opposite of hurt," You told him as the two of you walked towards the showers, "In fact, you did something none of my other coworkers could do."

"I did?"

"Yes, and I would love to be your partner for ongoing shoots. If not, then...maybe we can meet outside of work?" You whispered the last part to him, feeling slightly embarrassed. Miguel just smiled,

"I would love that."

You watched Miguel enter the shower first, wondering to which part he agreed to. Unsure, you followed him into the shower, still daydreaming about his dick.

You found out afterwards that Miguel agreed to both.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you liked it!!! Not really sure how porn videos actually work, haha

[baby-tini]

Reader sees Dabi in an alley by accident and tries to get away quietly but Dabi sees her and brings her into the alley. He has her up the wall with a hand firmly around her neck but not chocking her but enough to threaten her. He asks for her personal info and takes pictures of her for reference just in case anything happens. And he looks at her more closely and he's like wow she's always more pretty. So he thinks for a bit and makes a deal you get out in one piece if you let me fuck you. The reader already knew he was giving her a false sense of choice so she agrees. Dabi likes her submissiveness so he gave her the choice of the location to fuck. And while she is thinking Dabi is already so handsy with her. Kissing her neck and running his hands up and down her body. He's like 'if you don't pick quick im fucking you here in the alley'. And she eventually picks a love hotel not too far from them. Once they were done fucking it's the next morning and Dabi is gone but she checks her phone messages and there's a lot of photos and videos of them together in different positions and a note at the end

See you next time Doll~

💙Dabi

(the blackmail really gets me fr😭)

TW: DUBCON, blackmail, noncon pictures and video taking, a hint of coercion. Work was always so boring, you wanted something fun. There was nothing fun about serving drunk men alcohol as they thanked you with raunchy comments. Trying to grope you while you were just doing your job. Complaining about their "bitch wife" in a drunken slur then passing out. The money was good though.. and your co-workers weren't awful. But that really didn't mean anything in the end.

It was too much, you just needed a cigarette and then you could finish your shift then go home and sleep the rest of the night away. It was warm outside, pretty too. Sky full of different shades of blue, no clouds in sight. It was quiet surprisingly, considering you weren't in the best part of town. The attacks from the League of Villains ramping up by tenfold, charred bodies appearing in multitudes. Consumed by beautiful azul flames licking away at ash. Some were lucky though, if you could even call it that, some people were burned so bad they were disfigured, leaving ugly third degree burns on their face and arms. Hopefully they weren't in this part of the city yet.

But then again, the heros were on their ass.. so it's possible. Leaning your head back against the wall, you sigh out, closing your eyes for a couple seconds before you hear footsteps. Your eyes snap open as your head snaps to the sound. There's a man in a black tattered coat, he looks exhausted. Purple burnt skin attached to healthy skin by staples. Tattered clothes with mangy boots.

Holy shit, it can't be... they shouldn't be in this part of the city, not this soon anyway. You have too get out, now. You try to be quiet, you really do, but you can't be quiet wearing heels. You mistook a step, catching the eye of the assailant. His piercing blue eyes shoot up towards you, a sick grin crawling up on his lips. As he walks closer, stumbling back you trip over your heels. He chuckles at you, grabbing your arms too lift you up, "easy there doll, what's your problem, hm? You scared?" You swallow down the dry air, shaking your head at him as you try to shake off his grip. But his hold on you just tightens, reminds you of a boa constrictor, trying too keep his prey at bay.

He presses you into the wall with an-unassuming amount of strength, pressing into you as he leans down towards your ear. "Where you goin, doll? I'm not gonna hurt you... if you comply that is." Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod into his chest, trying too control your breathing. You inhale deeply before stuttering out a response. "What did you, uh.. what did you want from me..?" There's a sniffle between your words.

"Mmm, yeah, need something real bad baby, think you can help me, hm?" You swallow down your spit, hesitantly nodding at him. "I- uh... I think, what did you need Sir.." He chuckles at that, running his nose up and down your cheek, inhaling deeply into your hair. "Sir, huh? You into that dolly?" You feel your fingers twitch against his tattered coat as you shake your head at him.

"N-no.. I just- I don't know your name..so," he leans back at that. Eyeing you up and down he grins, "that's cute baby, you really don't know who I am? That makes me a little sad honestly, but it's Dabi... I like Sir much better though, what do you think?" You swallow again, your right hand rubbing up and down your left arm, as your eyes look to the side. Rolling his eyes, he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. "Nah ah, don't look away from me, I'm not done talking to you bitch." Licking your lips, you swallow before looking up at him again. "There you go, you gonna behave for? Gonna help me with my... big problem babydoll, hm? Say, "Yes Sir." Your left hand twitches before you nod up at him, "Yes Sir, i'll help you with your... big problem." He hums at you before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and smirking at you. "I knew you would, you're so good, huh? Gonna let you pick the location cause' you're being so sweet for me... go 'head." You sniffle before licking your lips and nodding again. He hums, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip. "I wanna... can we go to the love hotel.. it's only a couple blocks away.. I want my first time to be.. a little special." He grins, pulling you towards his side with an arm wrapped around you. "Ahh, little slut's a virgin, wouldn't 've guessed." You try to shuffle away at that but he just tightens his hold around you. "C'mon baby, I was just joking, I'll behave from now on, promise," he snickers. It take's a minute to get there, with Dabi trying to get there as quickly as possible... his problem continuously growing as you walk with him. The hotel is pretty run down, smelling of weed and sex. The painting is peeling from the walls as women and men alike are staggering around and theirs people making out just outside the hotel, grinding and sliding their hands down the others clothes. "This is where you wanted your special moment?" He raises an eyebrow at you as he throws a wad of bills on the check-in desk. You huff at him, "it's better then some sleazy alleyway, surrounded by heroin needles." You retort, grabbing the key from him and walking to the room. He follows closely behind not failing to be as touchy as possible while you open the door. He ushers you into the room as he pins you against the wall and getting to work marking up your neck.

You try to slow your heart rate as your hands ball in his shirt, with a hiss he grinds his cock into your thigh. Nipping at your collar bone and running his tongue over your jugular as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as you run your hands up his shirt. He chuckles into your neck, pulling your shirt over your head and sucking your nipples through your bra. He laughs against your chest when you let out a choked whimper, clawing at his stomach. He huffs before snapping your bra from the back and sucking nipple and playing with the other, pinching it and leaving hickeys between your tits. He grabs you by your hair, pulling you towards the bed and throwing on it face first. Your breasts flat against the rough-feeling mattress, as you try to get up, he pushes you back against it, a hand holding pressed into the curve of your lower back. "Nah ah, fucking stay.. don't need you IDing me now princess." You breathe out softly and nod into the sheets, your body relaxing against the bed while he pulls your pants and panties down, letting them fall to your ankles. You hear him groan from behind you, he runs a warm hand over your ass before slapping it a couple times and chucking when you squeeze your legs shut. "Dirty little bitch, you want it real bad, yeah? Yeah you fuckin' do, say please and I might fuck you with the tip bitch." You whine into the sheets, salty tears leaking down your cheeks and staining the sheets. He chuckles, taking a hand and pushing your head down into the mattress as his other hand unzips and takes off his pants, his boxers being pulled down in the process, he spreads your pussylips apart before leaning down and spitting on your clit, before fucking his tip into your cunt and groaning when he feels you tighten around him. Your pussy feels so good, warm and tight, just how he likes it. He fucks into you harder, using a hand to stabilize himself next to your head as he fucks into you harder. He's so big, you can feel him in your stomach, it hurts a little, stretching so wide to accommodate him as he growls in your ear. You're so deep into it, your head so fogged up that you don't hear the camera shutters or feel him spread you wide as he films the two of you locked together. He fucks you good, you'll give him that, you don't remember passing out as he fucked into you, waking up to your familiar ringtone of your phone as you sit up, breasts spilling over the blanket as you lean towards the bedside table... 'Dabi' left you a text, "I had a fun night doll, I know you did too.. or else you wouldn't 've passed out on my cock, It was good wasn't it, I know it was, don't worry you can tell me in person when I come see you again. You're the best pussy I've had in a while if I'm being honest. Pretty wet pussy too, It's like a hug for my dick, if you will lol. Also, don't even think about trying to get away .. unless you want these getting leaked to your boss and family pretty baby." A couple seconds later six pictures and four videos pop up. Now it all makes sense... he wasn't worried about being Ided, you had already seen his face, plue he gave you his name... you're screwed literally.

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I���m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Killing Wanda

Summary: You, Nat and Yelena are successful assassins, damn good at your jobs but there was one woman you couldn’t stay away from, and when you get a job that tells you to kill her, well you needed to be around Wanda all the time now, and she wasn’t getting away from you, no one would get on your way to have her

Words: a lot, like over 3,000 I think

Warnings: Minors DNI 18+ suggestive themes, swearing and adult themes

A/n: God I’m on fire with releasing fics, hopefully my writing drought is over now and I’ll be writing more now

Also this is long so I’m hoping there’s no mistakes but if there is I’m sorry

The door was open when Wanda came downstairs and she started to panic, she closed the door she was sure of it, what could have happened?

A noise from the kitchen broke Wanda out of her thoughts and she stepped quietly towards the kitchen where the noise was, finally seeing someone digging through the kitchen drawers “you really should learn to organise your utensils you know, it’s a mess in here, if you brought a woman home and she looked in here I don’t think she’d want to do the tongue tango with you would she? A disordered drawer isn’t impressive to people Wanda”

You had yet to turn around and face Wanda, content to keep sorting out the scrambled mess “Y/n why are you in my house?” Wanda whispered and you finally turned around smiling at the scared woman “oh my darling you look tired, have you been sleeping well?”

Wanda didn’t answer instead just moving around the table to sit down still holding your gaze “I’ll ask again, why are you in my house?”

You bit your lip holding in a laugh “oooooh we’re feeling grumpy tonight aren’t we? Maybe you need to relax, I can call Yelena to make us Mac n cheese and I’ll send Natasha to get some wine-

Wanda slammed her fist down on the table cutting you off “don’t fucking play with me Y/n, tell me why you’re here!”

While you were slightly caught off guard you pulled yourself together and reached for a dagger on your person and pointed it at Wanda giving her a warning “I wasn’t finished talking, you’re a grown woman and therefore should know better, it is very rude to do that detka” Wanda’s bravado flew out the window when you rounded the table and held your hand around her throat

“I am here because I was asked to be here, someone paid me a lot of money to kill you slowly and painfully, whoever you pissed off really wants you to suffer and I mean really suffer, the list of things they want me to do is endless”

You eased off the tension on her neck and lent forward kissing her cheek “I like your face, such a shame I have to cut it up, they want picture proof of your death”

Wanda was wavering she was scared, she knew what you did and she knew you did it damn well and left no trace “okay Y/n let’s just calm down, please tell me who put the hit out on me”

Your lips stayed close to her and moved towards her neck kissing her there smiling at the shaky breath she released “I can’t disclose client information Wanda, but it’s someone you know, and from how they speak, someone who’s seen your body in a way that I can only dream of and trust me I do dream of it”

You pushed Wanda gently into the counter leaning into her “how do you dream of me?”

“Oh? I dream of you in the filthiest and most depraved ways, none that I’m willing to discuss here of course but just know that I everytime I kill someone and their blood spills onto me I imagine it’s yours”

“That…that doesn’t sound very sexy”

You smirked letting your hand rest on her hip and the other next to her head “it is when I’m imagining I’m buried deep inside of you cutting up your pretty body-

“Y/n! Have you done yet? We are needed back” Yelena casually walked into the house disturbing your clearly romantic moment with Wanda “I’m in the middle of something Yel”

The blonde scoffed looking at Wanda “yes I can see, she looks terrified, or aroused maybe both”

You glanced down at Wanda “aroused, I can feel how wet she is- Wanda quickly pushed you away at that and you laughed “aw princess are you embarrassed? Its okay I’m glad my intimidation tactics get you this aroused”

Just then Natasha entered angry as ever “Davayte zhe teper'!” She didn’t care what was happening just that you three needed to leave before people started to turn up for them

“Yeah yeah whatever Nat we’re coming” you kissed Wanda on the nose leaving her speechless and still “lovely time we’ve had here princess but I’m needed elsewhere, enjoy your dinner and I’ll see you soon”

The trio left without another word and Wanda sank to the floor controlling her breathing “why is she obsessed with me”

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

“Why are you obsessed with Wanda?” Yelena poked at you while in the car “she’s hot” you said but the blonde just laughed “I’ve seen you with women you find “hot” and it wasn’t that with Wanda, I think you really like her and want to make babies”

You scrunched up your nose and slapped Yel on the arm “we’re two women idiot, and no matter how hard I’d try I don’t think I could get Wanda pregnant, but god I’d give it a damn good go”

You looked out of the car window admiring the views that Nat drove past, actually you didn’t recognise where you were, weren’t you going back to the house?

“Natty I don’t know if you hit your head back there but I don’t recognise where we are”

The redhead shrugged in the front seat “you need to lie low for a while, you’ve been too careless”

You scoffed “don’t be so fucking ridiculous Natalia I’m good at my job and I’ve never let any personal feelings affect it” you defended

Nat slammed on the breaks sending you near enough through the seat and beyond “fucking hell Nat are you on your period or something?”

“You know we don’t get our periods der'mo” Yelena piped up but you both ignored her “last week you spent 4 hours watching Wanda, you watched her eat dinner, watched her drink wine and then even watched her sleep with a man”

You rolled your eyes at that “yeah all of 4 minutes of that man basically humping poor Wanda and her faking an orgasm”

Yelena was intrigued “wait, how do you know she faked an orgasm?”

You patted poor young innocent Yelena on the back “oh my sweet little Yelena, it was in the way she only shuddered slightly when the man whispered he’s close and then immediately said she came afterwords, he left soon after then she picked out her favourite red vibrator placed it against her sweet-

“Stop! I’ve had enough Y/n let’s just go home and sleep okay, I’m sorry I was so angry but it’s been a rough day”

You kissed Nat on the cheek “it’s okay detka you’re our favourite little black widow, very spicy and dangerous”

Nat sighed and gave a small smile “okay let’s not get all mushy, just stay away from Wanda okay?”

You shrugged “well someone still gave a hit out on her, so I’ll have to see her sooner or later again”

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

You said you’d stay away from Wanda for a little bit but you couldn’t help it, you found yourself back at Wanda’s house waiting for her in her bedroom, an open window offered you a perfect entry to the room

Wanda jumped back when she entered her bedroom obviously not expecting you “Y/n what the fuck?!”

You smiled wide “hi Wanda, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay away, I still technically need to kill you you know”

Her face fell and she started to step back but you stopped her holding her wrist and pulling her close “don’t worry Wanda I don’t want to kill you yet, I want to enjoy you”

Wanda let herself be pulled into a hug, you wrapped both arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder “you’re so tense my love, did that man not make you cum again?”

Wanda pulled her head back looking at you “what do you mean?”

“I had to make sure you were being safe and when I saw that man humping you like a dog in heat it was heartbreaking, you deserve so much better”

Wanda pushed you away sitting on her bed with her head in her hands “I cannot believe you’ve been watching me have sex, that’s so fucking weird”

You shook your head sitting next to the redhead “no honey it’s not, I needed to watch you to make sure you were okay and as I said that man didn’t look after you, he didn’t treat you well enough, didn’t do any foreplay, didn’t even kiss you, how ridiculous!”

Wanda stood up from the bed and started pacing around the room “what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you obsessed me why do you watch me? And don’t say it’s because someone wants me dead, if you actually did your job I’d be dead already!”

Your eyes darkened, no one’s ever questioned your job before “I am successful in my work Wanda, I have never ever messed up a job and don’t you ever assume otherwise, I will kill you one day Wanda and when I do it’ll be so quick you won’t even realise until you’re stood in front god himself”

Wanda had backed up against the wall with you following her every step, you ended up pressed chest to chest with Wanda and loved every minute of it “well this is a nice position isn’t it?” You smiled, your demeanour changed from angry to soft way too quick for Wanda’s liking, but she was still slightly nervous

“Okay Y/n I’m sorry just, I’m just stressed that’s all”

“Stressed? Why is my pretty girl stressed?” You ran your fingers across her face and on her stress lines “don’t give yourself winkles my love, why are you stressed?”

Wanda sighed heavily giving in and just decided to tell you “the man-the one you’ve watched in my house, like a weirdo, he keeps texting me and stalking me at work, I didn’t call him back after the last time he came over and I think he’s mad about it”

You nodded along listening loosely while studying her face, she was gorgeous

“I see, he’s a bitch then, doesn’t deserve you, don’t worry Wanda I’ll deal with him” you pushed yourself away from Wanda who instantly missed your comfort surprisingly

“Wait where are you going?” She tried following you across the room to the door but you stopped her “I’ll be back later I promise”

“Are you going to hurt him?” She asked and you just smiled “I’ll be back pretty girl”

You left without another word and Wanda was sure she wouldn’t be hearing from Vision again.

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

You decided to bring Yelena on your little trip, she was like a puppy, she needed to be taken out to kill at least 3 times a day or she’d starting biting the furniture and peeing on the carpet

“Are you sure this is okay? We’re assassins for hire not free killers”

“Not free killers? Didn’t you attack a guy because he tried touching that Kate girl?”

Yelena stopped in her tracks and widened her eyes “how do you know about that?!”

“You got drunk and told Nat and I when we were playing uno”

She rolled her eyes “anyway that was because she didn’t deserve to be treated like that”

“And that’s why I’m doing this for Wanda, she deserves better and that’s me clearly so by killing this guy I’m one step closer to that”

“Aren’t you meant to kill her?” You finally found the house you were looking for and saw the man with yet another woman he was sure to disappoint “I am but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, plus there’s no time limit on the request so I can take my time”

You and Yelena stood outside the front door deciding on how to approach the situation “so, sneak in or knock the door down and start shooting?”

You only responded with pulling your gun out and shooting the lock and kicking the door open

“Daddy’s home!” You stormed through the house and held the surprised man at gunpoint

Yelena walked through the door following you “just full on craziness then, okay”

“What the hell are you doing in my house?! Who are you??!” The moustached man was scared and you could tell, he was trying to act tough though in front of his lady friend, it’s okay though she isn’t the one you were here for

“White widow can you take this lovely lady out of here and make sure she gets home safely Spasibo”

Yelena nodded and offered the lady her hand which she took “we are quite sorry about the intrusion, I hope you forgive us”

The lady nodded taking Yelena’s hand “okay” you were glad she wasn’t in the mood for an argument, you didn’t want to kill two people “thank you Miss”

When the two women left you looked back at Vision “so why do you think I’m here?” You asked casually while still pointing the gun at him

“How the hell should I know?? Who are you?!” He was stressed and it nearly made you laugh “you’ve tried sleeping with Wanda maximoff twice, and both times you’ve never made her cum, you don’t deserve her”

The man was perplexed, how the hell did you know what he did with Wanda “how do you know I’ve slept with Wanda, did she tell you? And why do you care??”

You stepped close enough to him to press the gun against his chest “Wanda belongs to me, and watching you try and pathetically fail to fuck her was horrendous, and then for her to tell me you’ve been stalking her, what a pathetic excuse of a man you are”

He tried moving away but your gun pressed harder into his chest “you’re crazy, I’m pretty sure Wanda doesn’t belong to you”

You smiled “she does, she doesn’t know it yet but she definitely belongs to me, and you being a prick is slowing that process down so I do apologise but I have to kill you”

His face went white, all bravado flown out of the window and it made you giddy, you loved when they got like this, all scared, some wet themselves too but you hated that, totally killed the mood when that happened

“You can’t kill me! The police will find you” he was scrambling

“Well it’s been 10 years and I’ve yet to be caught yet so I don’t believe they’ll catch me for this”

“Okay but the gun will make a loud sound and the neighbours will get suspicious!”

“I’ve got a silencer dipshit, as I said I’ve done it for 10 years, I’m no amateur”

You pulled the trigger refusing to let him continue, the bullet went straight through his heart killing him instantly, you didn’t waste time standing around admiring your work instead calling a clean up crew

“Bucky, follow my location and clean up quickly and quietly” you hung up and left the house heading back to Wanda like you promised, she was going to be so happy you were sure of it.

[noellevanious]

NOTE: For now, I'm turning reblogs off on the post. I've gotten enough support that I feel safe doing so, but I may have to turn reblogs back on. Hopefully I won't have to. Thank you so much everybody, for helping or just sharing the post. It means more than you could ever imagine.

Hey so. I despise making this post but I'm kinda fucked over by unemployment right now LOL

basicallyyyyyyy I have no money, a bunch of different bills that I need to pay for (my phone, our internet, my student loans, my car payments, and am still actively looking for a job.

I SHOULD be getting unemployment, but due to some stupid bullshit involving ID verification for a case from years ago, I'm NOT getting it, at least right now. I'm in the process of appealing but I have no clue how long it will take.

So if you can help me at all -

I'm selling stuff on my eBay to try and keep myself afloat. Generally videogame stuff - some handheld consoles, some games, some controllers, maybe a figure or two.

If you wanna support me directly, you can do so on Ko-fi. If you do it through here, mention in your message you want a tiny doodle and I'll draw you anything you want (WITHIN REASON - and these will be minor doodles). I also have Ραyραl, but will only send it to people I trust due to personal reasons.

Please spread around if at all possible, and only help me out if you can manage it yourself - I don't need somebody else going into the negatives for me.

(I will turn off reblogs when my unemployment is handled and/or I don't need assistance anymore, btw)

[collapsedsquid]

What then is the explanation? Why do workers typically push for more consumption rather than for shorter hours? Here I think Cohen’s argument is untypically unclear. He tells us that workers do indeed want more goods (other things being equal) but it is also plain that they dislike the toil then need to engage in to get those goods and evidences that claim by making the point that if workers were granted money such that they didn’t need to work at their jobs, very few of them would choose to do so gratis, and there would be a dramatic decline in the amount of work done. His suggestion seems to be that since there is a permanent propaganda campaign in support of people getting more stuff and no corresponding campaign in favour of free time of the kind one can enjoy without extra spending, extra consumption always has a salience for people that additional leisure lacks. I think Cohen’s uncharacteristically feeble discussion of this point can be explained in part by a blindspot in his thinking. First of all, he neglects the way in which states support and encourage consumer spending and simultaneously encourage a culture of work and effort through moralizing campaigns, stigmatization of “shirkers” and the like. Take the first of these elements: states help establish and support structures of lending to help people to do things like buy their own homes and then furnish their homes. They do this in a variety of ways, by providing support to banks and other financial institutions but also by giving borrowers all kinds of tax breaks. In order to buy the things they want, consumers have little choice but to borrow, but once they have borrowed they have to repay and repaying requires income, which requires work. Now perhaps workers could simply refuse the blandishments of capital and refuse to borrow in order to consume and then the option to work less would be more available to them. But I think this neglects the competitive and social aspects of consumption that Cohen rather dismissively refers to as “keeping up with the Joneses”. One need not be of a particularly competitive or comparative disposition to be caught up in social standards of self-presentation that are inherently comparative in nature, as Adam Smith knew in that famous passage about labourers being ashamed to appear in public without a linen shirt or, in some countries, leather shoes.

Still feels like everyone's discourse on consumerism & capitalism is stuck in the 1960s, he criticizes Cohen's view and maybe I'm out of touch but this doesn't feel much better. Maybe because the only people who write on consumerism are petite-bourgeoisie who unlike most people do live like this.

Speaking as a member of the salaried class, while I do appreciate the gee-gaws I am able to purchase with my full-time job, speaking as I believe a somewhat representative member of the professional-managerial class I am more concerned with rent, health insurance, and the ability to hopefully retire at some point, and these guide my financial decisions. I purchase some fun stuff I didn't choose my career to be able to afford a fancier grill. I crave the respectability of not living in a van.

Now there Is perhaps a discussion of how I could move to somewhere cheaper like Montana or Spain and why I don't do that but if you're going to discuss this issue I think you gotta address issues like that directly