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transmalewife · 2 years ago

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apparently i have to say smth so the readmore works

yep, I agree with almost everything here with one caveat. The climate assumptions I'm working under (net zero emissions by 2050) are not "ehhh" they are the recommended course of action and only option we have to avoid catastrophe. Also, like. Even ignoring the catastrophe, we have enough oil left for 50 years at current levels of consumption. Even if we reduce it, sooner or later we either make electric planes or we stop flying. And I personally think there's more important things to use the remaining oil on like medical uses of plastic or yeah, visiting family, than going sightseeing in venice.

Yeah I actually know a lot of people who fit the description of "middle class moved to richer country for work regularly visits family back home." I can think of maybe one out of dozens who definitely go back home forever without looking back if it weren't for money. Thing is, when people get settled somewhere, they tend to make families. At which point they're pretty much stuck between two places forever unless they divorce, split the kids and never look back. The people who would probably go home en masse are working class immigrants working min wage jobs in richer countries, and they don't fly home to visit families very often in the first place

"the fact is that *less time will be spent online*." I disagree. Again, just under half of all people don't yet have access to the internet. Even if so called "edge cases" like me, which actually means most people, since im right around the global daily average time online, cut our time in half, global time online would stay the same. also, you don't have to sell me on socialism itself. I broadly agree and it's just straying from the topic

here we're just gonna have to disagree. you see I believe that for all the horrible uses capitalism has put it to, (and the negative social consequences that leads to) the internet is a good thing. It is not a bug to be removed under global socialism, it is a necessary condition to achieve it. As well as other ideals you meantioned before. say, education removing the need for business travel. there is no other possible tool to implement equal access and level of education worldwide than the internet. also i'm sorry but "much of the planet is currently a parking lot," what are you even talking about. there's 5 times less cars than people in the world. the vast majority of people don't drive. I haven't even been in a car or on a parking lot since like december. This is an extremely american perspective. to most people from europe america looks like a dystopian car worshiping nightmare. it is not however much of the planet.

not sure what you mean here. like yeah tourism under capitalism has capitalistic effects. that was the point of this post. trying to imagine tourism under socialism

"Broadly, problems of sanitation, etc have been solved." again, what are you even talking about? a fourth of all people don't have access to clean water. due to climate change and droughts, people in 'developed' countries don't have drinking water. Bc of the curent drought in spain towns are being supplied with water from a lake that farmers dump literal shit in.

cool, again. I was just looking for ideas on how to do it in the 21st century through a leftist perspective

Also regarding your tags. Not every disabled person needs a wheelchair. I don't. you can carry me down the 4 floors from my studio apartment and stick me in a wheelchair all you want, won't change the fact I spend about a fourth of my time in winter sick in bed with a severe cold. Or that I'm chronically fatigued and if i go outside, whether i need to walk or not, I will make myself sicker and more tired. Not to mention there's a literal fucking plague and the thing capitalism specifically did that killed millions of people was specifically forcing everyone to go outside. I know socialism will accomodate disabilities, again, I agree with socialism! you don't need to convince me! I know habits are hard to break but I swear i am on board with this. But the point is sometimes accomodating disabilities is letting disabled people form friendships and get their education in ways that don't require going outside, or maybe speaking, or maybe having to shower every day. The internet can do that, and I don't think anything else can.

does anyone have any leftist reading on the subject of tourism to recommend? Specifically about how travel for fun, education, sport, friendship or whatever might work in a communist or anarchist or socialist society. Because like yeah, open borders or no borders whatever, cool. But that usually only gets discussed in the context of permanent immigration

Idk I guess I just find it hard to imagine how it could be organized since where I live the most obvious ways capitalism has made things worse over my lifetime have all happened because of and through the lens of tourism. Rents literally doubling over the last five years, while the standard of living falls because apartments are bought, split into tiny pieces and renovated to accomodate a couple days of living at most. The specific kind of gentrification that is NOT being pushed out by richer people moving in permanently, who might cause more expensive shops and services to replace the affordable ones, but do still need the basic necessities everyone does to live. Instead, all hairdressers, repair shops, clothing stores (especially thrift shops), pharmacies, post offices etc etc close and are replaced by luxury boutiques, clubs and stores whre you can only buy snacks, alcohol and microwave meals. Restaurants and bars hiking up prices because most of their clients come from places with stronger currencies etc etc.

At the same time though I believe travel is a crucial part of a fulfilling life for most if not all people. I believe people have the right to see and appreciate the culture and history of other places and also like... maybe go somewhere warmer and lay on the beach sometimes, even if they prefer to live and work somewhere colder. Or go skiing even if they chose to live somewhere warm and without mountains. Or even just like... vacation in a big city if they live in the countryside and vice versa. Or pop over to another continent to visit an online friend maybe. Although obviously intercontinental travel would have to be hugely limited until and unless we find ways to do it that don't destroy our planet.

At the same time some precautions do have to be taken to protect historical and especially sacred sites. Like, I don't think endless crowds should be allowed to trample through historical buildings and also open borders obviously doesn't mean white tourists get to go camping on Uluru. But on some level I do believe everyone who wants to should get to see Venice at least once in their life. But that's probably not feasible so like... who gets to decide? On what merit? Are historians, artists, journalists privileged? Or should it be a lottery?

Also I think there's a significant amount of tourism that would simply die out if going to that place wasn't a status symbol. Like you cannot convince me that if you spend 2 weeks by the pool in an enclosed luxury resort it makes a difference that it's on Hawaii rather than like... in florida. And then theres places like the Hamptons. What the fuck is the point of the Hamptons, other than bragging rights?

Obviously I know none of this is even remotely the main pressing issue to solve about a potential communist society, but then again, that's why I'm asking for reading materials, because it so rarely gets discussed. I mean I bet Marx wrote about it, which, great, point me to the relevant fragments please and I'll have a look but also this is an issue where a modern perspective would be really important. I don't think Marx, for all his wisdom, really has a solution to "what are the ethics of taking an 8 hour flight to visit a tumblr mutual".

Or maybe this whole thing is me being cynical and this is another place where things would sort of just regulate themselves. Anyway. Send me reading recs and let's very unscientifically try to check if it could work. Do try to be honest, like I've been several times as a kid and I would still go again in a heartbeat.

btw the goal of the poll is to get some kind of percentage that can be compared with the world population and how many tourists venice can support per year, though I obviously know tumblr skews mainly american and european

#mine.#they weren't lying about leftist infighting huh?#like this is so funny to me I just wanted a book rec. we agree on almost everything that matters. were not gonna save the world #if this is how it goes

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800-dick-pics · 2 years ago

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Were about to be without power!

TLDR: My mom missed so much work leading up to her heart attack that bills bounced from her accts and now we are scrambling because the internet and power are basically being shut off back to back! CA: $sleepyhen OR $grumblybear

VN: wildwotko OR XochiRose

My mom has been dealing with an increase of various undiagnosed chronic illnesses for the past two months and was in the ER 6 times before her recent heart attack. Since she basically is unable to work right now her last check isnt going to cover much of anything.

I have a job starting in late Oct but I still need internet to finish my schooling/get certified as an herbalist. I do plan on selling my art again but that also requires internet access, and since my partner is not a legal resident finding jobs is really really difficult for them right now. There is a lot of shit going on in my life right now, Until I get my 1st check at the end of Oct or sell some art between now and then I dont have any income to cover any bills (my own phone has been unpaid as well). We can go without internet for a while but I really dont want all of our food to go to waste, because that was the last food I was able to buy for our house. The electric/gas is $181 and the internet is $320

CA: $sleepyhen OR $grumblybear

VN: wildwotko OR XochiRose

#mutual aid #community care #chronic illness #i dunno what or how to tag this but im poor pls help me #my mom is so sick atm and is trying to work but everytime she tries she comes home sicker #so her last check was 221 dollars #I just wanna finish school and start my job #i can make the food stretch but i cant let this power go out

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softpxls · 3 years ago

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hello everyone, it sure has been three years

i totally forgot about this blog until just now so i thought i’d give a bit of a life update? im not sure how many of my followers are still active/remember me, but idk

a lot has happened! and i’m in a much, MUCH better place mentally than i was when i was running this blog. although i enjoyed making stimboards and posting stim content, i found the stim community extremely toxic and exhausting, and i also perpetuated toxic behavior myself (like advocating that the media you watch reflects on how good of a person you are), and i’m really sorry for that.

i was 16 when i started this blog and i’m 21 now! so that’s wild. i graduated high school, started T, worked on a farm for a while, got top surgery, got diagnosed with fibromyalgia, went to college, got diagnosed with ptsd, realized i want to be a marine biologist, got really really sick, and got diagnosed with lyme disease. i am now finally receiving treatment and even though i’m physically much sicker than i was in high school, i am so much happier and at ease with myself.

im not sure what the stim community is like nowadays but i hope its a more peaceful place now than it used to be lol

currently im working on a biology degree with a focus on ecology and marine science and i’m having an awesome time. i got to actually tag 2 wild sharks this summer and that was pretty much the highlight of my entire life.

not really sure how to end this but i just wanted to post a little update and kind of reflect on this blog

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fyeahnevilleslongbottomsocs · 4 years ago

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YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON MY SKIN, A PAINFUL REMINDER! ⚰️ CAN BE READ ON AO3

❝Catherine Cullen, born out of wedlock to the late Carlisle Cullen and Elspeth Fynch, struggled to live in the village that had ostracized her since birth. At nineteen, her only chance for survival is to sell her body; ironically this is what leads to her mortal demise. Aristide Athanasiou of the Volturi, finds a Blood Singer in the form of Catherine Cullen after intending to kill her, but he spares her. And he spares her over and over again until the painful reminder of her beating fragile heart becomes too much for him to bear.❞

part of PETALS FOR ARMOR a twilight au series of one-shots! please read tags before reading the one-shot!

warnings: mild smut, blood kink ( ??? im not sure about this but just in case ), prostitution, possessive behaviour

pairing(s): OC/OC | Carlisle Cullen/OC ( past relationship )

characters: catherine cullen ( oc ) | aristide athanasiou ( oc ) | aro ( mentioned ) | carlisle cullen ( mentioned ) | elspeth fynch ( oc )

click on ‘keep reading’ if you prefer to read this one-shot on here instead of on ao3!

RED EYES BURN into her pale freckled skin, they belong to a young man of the name Aristide. Catherine Cullen doesn't have to turn around to know it's him, he's the only one who ever looks at her. Her freckled skin and long messy, matted strawberry-blonde hair made her less than attractive compared to the other women in the area, and, of course, there was the fact she was a bastard child. None of the local men wanted her and the village scarcely brought in travelers. Catherine loosens the buttons on her late husband's old white blouse, exposing her the chest before turning around. The young woman nearly gasps when she sees that Aristide is standing right behind her. She had expected him to be across the street, where he normally waited, every night that she came to these parts for the past month and a half. If she thought about it, she would reckon that it was unusual, scarcely any traveler stayed this long but he paid her well so who was Catherine to complain.

She clutches her chest inhaling sharply. Before she can scold him for startling her, Aristide reaches up in a swift movement and brushes over her bruised cheek "My sweet singer, what harm as befallen thy cheek," He questions her in honey-coated voice, his fingers are freezing against her skin but it feels good against her throbbing cheek. Sometimes Catherine thinks that Aristide feels to cold to be truly alive. He was a strange young man, the strangest she had ever encountered.

"It is nothing, Aristide, merely Pastor Cullen," Catherine says, "He does detest me so, and with his old age —"

"You should forbear attending —"

"You know that I cannot do that, Aristide," Catherine says fiercely, more fiercely than she intends to. The last thing she needs to do is scare of the only paying customer she has but that place meant so much to her mother. Even though Pastor Cullen had always treated her and her mother terribly, her mother, Elspeth Fynch, had insisted that they go as often as they could. Her mother had said that the place was very important to her late father, Carlisle Cullen.

"He is old, Aristide. I have heard gossip that he is appointing a new pastor soon."

"Has thou? I am sure it shall be his son, that cannot be much better," Aristide says, sarcasm dripping from his tone and he's met with a solemn look.

"Afraid not, his son went missing nearly twenty years ago," Catherine says quietly, "On one of those vampire hunts, his father planned . . . No one knows what happened to him, we do not talk about it but I have heard many good things about the man."

Her mother had talked highly of him, Carlisle this and Carlisle that, was what had filled Catherine's childhood. Her father was all her mother talked about, his death had left a hole in Elspeth's chest and if he had not died than nobody would have known that Catherine was born out of wedlock and she wouldn't be facing the poverty that she is now. And perhaps her mother would not have perished so brutally upon that pyre all those years ago. Talking about Carlisle Cullen now did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Catherine's mouth.

Aristide frowns, he wonders if it's possible that the missing man had found real vampires and if he did that would mean, he's still around somewhere. Aristide had not sensed any in the area but there are plenty of sewers that they can hide in here. He pulls Catherine closer, she was his and his alone. Aristide had been passing through London when he seen her wandering the streets late at night, in need of money for medicine. In fact, Aristide had not met a single supernatural creature in this town, not even a witch and they were almost everywhere. Although just because he had not sensed another vampire around, it doesn't mean they weren't there, they could have easily found a mundane scent to cover theirs up, the son she spoke of could still be around, hidden in the shadows, it would make sense as to why his father had survived so long without a single uprising to his medieval ways. This son could be hidden somewhere, anywhere in this village which means Aristide would have to keep a closer watch on Catherine.

He had not meant to grow so attached to Catherine, he usually killed his blood-singers hours after encountering them but for some odd reason he found himself besotted with Catherine. Aristide had know her for a month or so by now. It started on a night quite like this and her alluring scent sang to him, her scent was much better than her appearance, she had been near this exact spot looking for anyone willing to pay her for sexual favours. He had given her the money in exchange for her to come back to his home where she believed that they would have sex but he had other plans. Catherine was supposed to be his dinner that night but as soon as the door closed behind her and he moved to pounce, she kissed him hard against his open mouth. The very same mouth that had been seconds away tearing through her jugular and draining her of her life. After that Aristide couldn't bring himself to kill her, he let her kiss him hard over and over, pressing hot and wet kisses on his mouth and down to his neck. It ignited a feeling in him he hadn't felt in centuries and he knew he had to keep her around, for the past month he's been coming to this dump of town just to see her night after night. Some nights, she wasn't there because she had made enough money to pay for the medicine of the little girl that lived near her. Aristide doesn't understand why she bothers to work so hard for someone that isn't herself but he's grown to adore it because that means she has to be here to do it.

Catherine presses a clammy hand to his face "Aristide, are you alright? You have grown tense . . . Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, my sweet singer, I am cold, it has naught to try with you." Aristide says, pressing a kiss to her forehead with causes her to shiver.

"Indeed, you are freezing . . . Shall we go back to your place and warm ourselves up," Catherine offers, pushing herself against Aristide's cold body. She looks up at him through her pale lashes, his red gaze is hot, it feels as though it's burning straight through to her wicked soul.

"That sounds enchanting, ma chérie," Aristide says smoothly, whispering in her ear. And off they go, arm in arm to Aristide's 'place' hardly a block away.

Unlike the last few times, Catherine does not throw herself on him immediately after the door closes behind her and as much as he'd love to see her naked body writhing with pleasure and bathed in the candle light, he assumes she's grown fond of him; she must trust him now. He licks his lower lip, it was naïve of her to trust him but something about the thought of earning her misplaced trust excited him.

He lights the candles and she sits down on his bed, technically not his bed but the person who owned it before he killed them, but Catherine doesn't need to know that. He smiles at her and she smiles back at him albeit a bit hesitantly, her heart speeds up and he wonders why — could it be she possibly fancies him?

Catherine's desperate, desperate enough to give her body time and time again to a man she's quite certain is the devil. He has red eyes and he's perfectly perfect and oh so tempting. There is no way that Aristide is human but she never dwells on it for long, she needs the money. Agatha is sick and her parents are even sicker, Agatha relies on her, Catherine couldn't let her down and she doesn't care if she's sinning or not.

He stalks towards her slowly and comes to a stop between her legs, he lifts her head up with a finger and leans down to kiss her, slowly but passionately. Her heart skips a beat as she kisses him back, she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, he snakes his arms around her waist. Aristide starts trailing kisses down her mouth to her neck, allowing her to catch her breath as he didn't need to stop to do that. He kisses her neck, finding her pulse-point with ease, he kisses the spot again and again, then he gently drags his teeth against her skin which elicits a quiet moan from her. So unaware how close she is to death, he pulls away to study her, her eyes are closed and her pink lips are swollen. Freckles coat her face as well as her exposed shoulders, Aristide is sure that every inch of her is covered in freckles, making her look like a constellation in the sky.

Catherine lies down on the bed, she smiles up Aristide as she slowly begins to untie her dress, he reciprocates her smile as he begins to unbutton his petticoat. By time he's pulled his blouse of, she's untied her outer-layer corset, she shivers again and he wonder if his home is really that cold. He, of course, wouldn't truly notice.

"It is cold in here," Catherine whispers, her pale face flushed, as her thin fingers begin to remove her blouse, Aristide can see that they're trembling and he frowns. He had forgotten how sensitive humans were to temperatures.

"Keep it on, my sweet singer, you will be warmer that way," Aristide says, and it will be easier for her to leave quickly in case something goes wrong. He unbuckles his trousers, Catherine hums in response abandoning her attempt to undress herself and instead busies herself with watching him, she takes in his too perfect features, his long black curls which were pulled back with a thin white lace. His pale skin seems to glimmer in the light of the candles, he was heavenly-looking, almost god like. But every moment with him felt like a sin.

Once Aristide has kicked off his trousers, he crawls over her and listens to her heartbeat race. He settles himself between her legs and pushes her long skirt down to her waist to expose her thin and freckled legs. They're covered in bruises especially her thighs, and they're all from him, as gentle as he tries to be with her he always leaves evidence of his strength. He tugs off her undergarments, his calloused fingertips brushing against her inner most thighs as he does so.

She hisses at the harsh coolness but arches her hips towards him nevertheless, He smirks at her and says "Eager are we now, ma chérie?"

Catherine nods her head, whimpering. Playing it up because she just wanted to get this over with, she doesn't hate it and she quite enjoys their time together but she wishes he would be quicker. She just needed the money, Agatha is relying on her. If they got this done with quicker, she could probably get home in time to make some soup for Agatha and her parents. Aristide was the only good man she had ever been with, outside of her marriage, but this was never about good, this was about survival for not only herself but those she cared about. It was nothing more than that.

He chuckles, grabbing her legs and pulling her close. Their hips meet and Catherine shivers violently at the feeling of his freezing body pressed against her already cold one, Aristide hushes her, stroking her cheek in a gentle manner as he tells her to sit up. Catherine does as he asks, they're so close their bodies were practically one. Although she, herself, felt cold, to him she felt like a raging fire against his own cold, undead skin.

His finger traces her lips before pulling her into a bruising kiss, she hisses against his lips but the hiss turns into a pained moan as he thrusts into her. He's careful as he can be, she's a delicate flower compared to him and he could easily kill her this way. He pulls away from her, muttering "You're beautiful," against her bruised cheek. How he longs to taste her blood, her skin itself was surprisingly sweet and he's sure that her blood is even sweeter.

"Thank you, sir," She mumbles, bucking her hips into his. Quiet pants and moans escape her chapped, swollen lips. She grips her skirt tightly, her eyes screwed shut and Aristide watches her every expression with keen interest from the smallest twitch of her eyebrows to more noticeable action of her mouth falling open as louder moans fall from her lips. He's learned to let her do most of the moving because it results in less bruising, at first he didn't care but as their intimate encounters grew closer together, he had grown fond of her and her safety.

He gently moves his hands so they're entangled in her hair, he pulls on her matted locks slightly. Her strawberry-blonde hair appears almost golden in the glow of the candles. If she had the ability to take care of herself, she would have been breathtaking. Catherine, in Aristide's opinion was unique for a mortal. He could give her the power to be so much more than that, he had thought about it for an agonising amount of time. But, Aristide had never turned someone before, it was usually Aro who did that and Aristide had went alone this time around.

Her heart pounds loudly, mocking him and his cowardice. He was afraid to turn her, he could kill her instead and for the first time in his immortal life, Aristide did not want to kill. He thought about bringing her to Volterra but he thought it unlikely that Aro would turn her, Catherine appeared to be lacking a gift, in other words, useless to Aro. But, she meant everything to Aristide.

His name is whimpered, as he tugs a little harder on her hair, Catherine's hips press into his. Momentum is growing, a feeling akin to being alive grows inside him, Aristide moans lowly. He swallows the venom pooling his mouth and presses his lips to her shoulder, over and over and over, slowly moving up to her jawline.

After a few minutes, her moans get louder and her legs start to shake but Catherine does not cum. Typically the mortal doesn't last this long but Aristide had taken it slower tonight, mostly lost in his thoughts. But now, it was getting harder for him to ignore his bloodlust, he trusts into her hoping that it would be enough to push her over the edge but it's not. All he earns in a loud, pained moan and then she bites down on her lip hard and draws blood which is enough to send him spiraling over the edge. He inhales sharply as he does his best to restrain himself, he grips her skirt so tight that it tears. Aristide doesn't want to kill her, she's too precious, too good to be killed no matter how good her blood smells.

He pulls away from her, stumbling backwards and he hears her whine quietly as she sits up. She goes to ask for her pay but she falls short upon seeing the ravenous look on his face, her grin turns into an uneasy frown "Aristide, are you alright, have I done something wrong?"

"Get out," He hisses, he wants nothing more to tear her apart, he wants to completely destroy her just for a drop of her precious blood, "Get out now!"

Catherine scrambles out of his bed, looking terrified out of her wits as apologies profusely fall from her lips, she tries to move closer to him but he throws the first thing he can grab — a pot — in her direction and he screams "GET OUT!"

For a moment, Aristide expects her to flee, he hopes that she will but Catherine surprises him and she stays. Stupid, foolish girl.

Her eyes, blue as Aristide remembers the Mediterranean Sea to be, are wide with fear. Her bloodied lower lip is quivering but she stands motionless and determined. And although, Aristide would never raise a hand to her, he understands why the pastor raises his hand to her; she doesn't seem to obey what she's been told to do.

"The money," Catherine says, trying and failing to keep her meek voice steady, "I did what you wanted me to do, if you're done I would like my pay."

A thin line of blood trickle down her lip and onto her chin, his red eyes zero in on it. Catherine's words become lost to him, her pounding heart is all that Aristide can hear and he can no longer control himself. He lunges, she screams.

He takes her out easily, his teeth tear into her jugular with ease, her scream becomes muffled by the blood filling her mouth, some of it splatters against Aristide's pale cheeks. It tastes much better than he ever imagined, Catherine was not the first Blood Singer he had encountered the many centuries he had been alive but she was by far his favourite.

Her hand slams against his chest in a feeble attempt to fight him off but all she gains is a broken wrist. The snapping of her bones brings Aristide back to reality, he remembers that he doesn't want to kill her and with great difficulty he pulls himself away from her. Catherine screams meekly, her voice hoarse already, blood pools out of her mouth as she rolls onto her side and curls into herself. Her small frame trembles violently with every sound, the venom spreads through her veins like a forest fire, she has no idea what's happening.

Aristide watches with keen interest, he had seen Aro turn lots of people but it seems different now, a whole new experience for his old soul. Every tremble and every scream from her excites him.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," Catherine screams over and over, she grits her teeth together after every word, eyes squeezing shut as she hugs herself around her middle, writhing violently on the wood floor, her words fade from harsh and hoarse screams to a soundless chant.

Aristide reaches out, brushing her hair out of her face, she looks at him with complete and utter betrayal, she whispers a plea for him to put her out of her misery. He doesn't, his bright red eyes zero in on the bite he left on her neck. It was not as clean as Aro's and it would leave a nasty scar, Aristide thinks that it will look much better than the bruises of his fingerprints ever did on her. His bloodied lips pull into a satisfied smirk, she was his forever now.

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callboxkat · 6 years ago

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Infinitesimal (part 22)

Author’s note: It’s a day late, but it’s here! Also, reminder that there won’t be an update this upcoming Monday, since I will be in Death Valley.

Warnings: illness, injury mention, death mention, a bit of arguing, food mention

Word count: 1617

Look in the notes for the masterpost!

...

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Virgil was relieved to see that Emile seemed to be continuing to improve. His throat was still sore, and he was clearly still tired, but he wasn’t nearly as dizzy, and his fever had gone down. Virgil wished he knew how to help Emile get better faster, but he was glad for the improvements either way.

Virgil looked through their things, trying to decide what would be best to bring Emile for dinner. Their food supply was running very low without Emile’s supply runs, but it wasn’t quite gone yet. At last he chose a piece of cereal, put it in a bowl, and mashed it up with a bit of water. Emile was having a hard time swallowing, so this would hopefully make it easier.

It had been a distressing past few days. Not that he would ever say it out loud—the thought was too terrifying to voice—but Virgil had feared for a while there that his brother was dying. There had been times that Emile had bordered on delirium, coughing and shivering despite how warm he felt to the touch. There was little that Virgil wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again.

As he walked back into the other room with the bowl, Virgil couldn’t help but think about times that he had put Emile in a similar position. When he’d hurt his foot, and later lost part of his tail, Virgil knew that Emile had been terrified. And while Virgil had already understood the reasons for the extreme overprotectiveness that Emile had shown for him afterwards, he did so better now. Having his brother hurting and not knowing what to do to help was a horrible feeling.

A bit of guilt welled up in Virgil’s chest as he thought about how much he had put Emile through in the past—not to mention how he’d probably feel if he knew not only that Virgil still left the safety of the walls, but how often.

Virgil sighed, lowering himself to sit by Emile, who was propped up on bundled up blankets in their nest. He laid his crutch at his side, where he had left its twin. “Here you go,” he said quietly, handing the bowl and spoon over to his brother, who nodded in thanks.

…

Patton blinked awake. It was still dark in the room, so why was he awake? It couldn’t have been too long since he’d fallen asleep. He sat up partway with a yawn, propped up on his elbows, and looked around for what had woken him. He got his answer a few seconds later when he saw the shadow at the edge of the table.

“Virgil,” he whispered in surprise, sitting up fully now.

“Hey, Patton.” Virgil sounded tired, he noticed with a frown.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked. When Virgil only shrugged, he ‘Pat’ted the spot next to him hopefully. Virgil obliged him, coming nearer, and Patton scooted over as he sat down.

“Sorry I haven’t visited.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Patton said. “I’m fine.” He lay back down, his head on one half of his pillow. After a moment, Virgil lay down too, sighing softly. Patton looked at him for a second. “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“Emile’s been sick. My brother.”

Patton frowned in concern, rolling onto his side. “Is he better now?”

“Mostly. It was a bit… scary, for a while, though. That’s why I haven’t come lately.” Virgil let out a soft laugh, not out of amusement, but pent-up stress. “I didn’t want to leave him for that long… but I didn’t even know what to do, so it’s not like I was of much use.”

“He’s better now,” Patton reminded him. “And I’m sure he’s glad you were there for him.”

“Yeah, but….” Virgil rubbed at one eye. “It’s just been a rough few days. I know it’s stupid, but I’m… I’m scared he’s going to get worse again.” His voice was starting to get shakier and softer the longer he spoke.

“We could talk about something else, if you want,” Patton offered. “Or not talk at all, if you just want to hang out.”

Virgil was silent for a moment. It seemed like he was going to choose the option to just stay there in silence together, but then he too rolled over onto one side, so the two were facing each other.

“How about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“How are you doing?”

Patton turned to pull one of his blankets up to cover both of them. “I’m just fine, Virgil, like I said.”

“Are you well enough to leave?” Virgil asked after a second. Patton paused, the blanket only partially pulled up. Virgil waited a moment, but he continued when Patton didn’t say anything. “If you’re really doing better, we should go now,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help the small bloom of excitement in his chest at the prospect of finally getting away from humans. But…. He made an uncertain noise in his throat.

Virgil frowned. He looked down over at Patton’s hands, which Patton knew he would be able to tell were still bandaged, even with how dark it was. Patton pulled the blanket up the rest of the way.

“I think I am ready,” he said. And it was true: while he was still kind of weak, while his hands and bruised torso weren’t quite healed yet, he was almost sure that he could get away now, especially with Virgil’s help. “But I don’t know if leaving is the best choice right now.”

Virgil looked baffled. “Why?”

“Your brother. You need to focus on him right now.”

“I can focus on more than one thing. Besides, he’s getting better.”

“But what if he gets worse again?” Patton asked. “Which I doubt he will,” he quickly added, sensing Virgil tense. “But on the off chance… isn’t this a way to find out what to do if that happens? I could talk to the humans, or—or maybe fake his sickness, to figure out what you should do.”

“Patton… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he assured gently.

“But I haven’t even done anything to deserve this… you deserve to be free, and you’ve been stuck here so long—I haven’t even come to see you in days! Why would you stay here with humans because of something that might happen?”

Patton waited for Virgil to finish, and he was about to answer when he was interrupted by the latter’s stomach growling. He hesitated, studying his face as best he could in the dark. “Virgil, have you eaten tonight? Or at all today?”

The silence served as his answer. Patton pushed himself up and went over to the food dish that had originally been in the cage—Logan still occasionally refilled it, for if Patton got hungry when the humans weren’t there. Patton picked out a few items: a peanut, some dried fruit, and a sunflower seed. He brought them over to Virgil.

“Take these,” he said, putting them down.

Virgil looked like he was going to refuse, but his stomach growled again before he could. He reluctantly sat up, picked up one of the pieces of dried fruit, and bit into it.

While he ate, Patton spoke. “Kiddo, I really do want to help you. You’ve done your best to help me, and I appreciate that so much. You tried to get me out of here when you first found me, you’ve come to visit—and don’t you feel bad about not doing that recently; family comes first. You even helped sew my outfit.” He paused, admiring the stitching on his new shirt, before looking back up. “You didn’t have to do any of that. Let me do this for you. As soon as Emile is better, you can come get me. Okay?”

“What if something happens to you?” Virgil asked, not looking at him.

Patton thought for a moment, biting his lip. “You know, Virge, I don’t think anything will.”

Virgil looked up sharply at the admission. “You’re starting to trust them, aren’t you?”

Patton shrugged guiltily. “Maybe. I know I shouldn’t, and I am acting sicker than I am, like you asked me to. But I really don’t think anything is going to happen. They’ve been listening to me, so far, on everything.”

“Not everything, clearly. They’re trying to keep you here against your will.”

“They haven’t put me back in the cage since that first night.”

“Only because they think you can’t get off the table.”

“Well… they don’t know that you helped me get down that first time,” Patton pointed out.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated. “Patton—.”

“Can we stop?” he asked, very softly. Virgil broke off immediately. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m getting out of here very soon, right? As soon as Emile is better. So, it doesn’t matter whether the humans are planning anything or not, does it? I won’t be sticking around to find out.”

Virgil looked at him for a moment. He slowly nodded, and Patton’s shoulders dropped in relief. He didn’t want to argue.

The other little seemed to remember then that he hadn’t finished his food, and he slowly lifted the peanut back up to his mouth. Patton lay back down, and when Virgil was finished eating, he joined him again.

“Sorry,” Virgil sighed, adjusting the blanket. “I just want everyone to be safe.”

“I know,” Patton murmured.

Virgil reached out, seeming hesitant, and put his arm over Patton’s side, like he had done the first time he had come to visit Patton like this. Patton smiled and moved closer, closing his eyes.

...

Tag list: @arc852 @thats-so-crash @romanasanders @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @anyay666 @bluebloodstains @nightmarejasmine @side-for-sides @infinitesimal-grey @cobythinks @justanotherpurplebutterfly @punsterterry @dylan-winchesters-blog @wofie-kinz @i-like-cookiez @smol-jar-of-pickles @musicwithalex @brookeisanerd @scorching-scotch @of-swords-and-princes @thepoolofthedead @a-black-pegasus @brooky71 @downrightdanny @rainbow-sides @anxiousvirgilsanderss @picklesandbeyond @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts @gaylotusthatexists @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani #infinitesimal fic #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fanfic #fanfiction

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

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Departed Chap 4 Pt. 1

This is a long chapter so it’s going in two parts YEET

Ship: Slow burn Sprace

Warnings: None for this chapter yet?? But pt. 2 oof

It was 10:30 am by the time Spot was fully awake the next morning. Race was still asleep, his arm draped lazily across Spot’s stomach. For the moment, Spot decided to ignore the warm feeling that their closeness gave him, he’d deal with that later. As of right now, he had to get ready for the class he was instructing at the Tae Kwon Do studio at 11:15. He allowed himself two more minutes to lazily drink in the morning sunlight that shone across his bed, then carefully extracted himself from Race’s embrace and grabbed his uniform off of his desk chair.

Once he was dressed, he got to work cooking some scrambled eggs to eat before he left. A loud groan sounded from his bedroom and a few moments later, Race was dragging himself into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, Champ,” Spot greeted, smirking at Race’s obviously hungover state.

“I never wanna even see eggnog ever again,” Race grumbled, slinking over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out some Advil, “Ya got any orange juice?”

“Yeah, in the fridge,” Spot said, taking the eggs off of the heat and transferring half to a plate, “Ya want any eggs?”

Race nodded and Spot pulled out another plate for him, dumping the second half of the eggs onto it. Race poured two glasses of the orange juice and the two of them ate in peace.

Spot rinsed off the dishes while Race scrolled through his phone.

“How long you at work for today?” Race asked.

“Just ‘til two, itsa short day cuz of winter break.”

“Cool. Al was wonderin’ if we wanted to go ice skating later, should I tell him we’re in?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“Aight, everyone’s meetin’ at five.”

“Okay, I gotta head out.,” Spot said, grabbing his keys off of the hook, “I’ll see ya ‘round two ish. Ya know where ta find me.”

“‘Kay, bye.”

XXX

By the time the last class rolled around, Spot was at his wits end. Winter break having just started for the kids meant that they were exceptionally unfocused today, especially with the promise of snow that weekend.

“Aight, class, Charyut!” Spot called to the orange and green belts he was teaching at the moment, “We’re just goin’ ta go through your combinations real fast. When we move past the orange belt combos, all orange belts start back at the first one while the green belts do theirs, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ rang from the group and Spot silently thanked the gods that this was one of his more mature classes.

“Good. Turn to your left with a loud yell, joon bi!” The class did so and Spot began to lead them through their combinations, only having to stop every so often to help a lost kid catch up. Twenty minutes later, he bowed out the class and went to get the mop from the back. He glanced at the clock, which read 1:30, and sighed.

‘Thirty minutes left,’ he thought to himself, pulling out his phone to listen to music, ‘then I’m off for two weeks.’ He grimaced and got to work cleaning the studio.

“Spot, man, I can clean,” Spot pulled out his headphones to see Elmer, his fellow instructor, crossing the mat to join him, “You’ve cleaned the past two times, it’s my turn, anyway.”

“Ya sure?” Spot asked.

“Positive,” Elmer said, already reaching out to take the mop from Spot, “Head home, man, Happy Holidays.”

“You’re a blessin’, Elmer, seriously,” Spot smiled, “Thank ya, Happy Holidays.”

“‘Course, I’ll see ya ‘round man.”

Spot signed out and waved to Elmer once more before leaving and walking to his car. He got back to the apartment at exactly 1:50 and found Race playing Fortnite in the living room. His eyes flickered away from the screen for a split second to look at Spot before returning his focus solely to the game.

“You’re back, early.” He said, his tone distracted.

“Yeah, Elmer offered ta clean,” Spot said, chuckling lightly as Race stuck his tongue between his teeth to concentrate, “I was wonderin’ when ya’d invade my X-Box.”

“Oh hush up, I’m doin’ better than you apparently have been.”

“Whatever, I’ma shower,” Spot said, already tugging off his black belt.

“Yeah, please do, you smell like feet- even from here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only in ya dreams, Spottie-boy.”

By the time Spot got out of the shower, Race was in the kitchen hovering over the stove.

“Dude, ya don’t gotta cook anythin’,” Spot said, lazily towelling off his still damp hair, “We still have leftover lasagna and meatballs.”

“I know, but I saw this recipe for mac and cheese grilled cheese and ta hell if m’not trying it.”

Spot laughed, “Aight, just don’t make yourself sick.”

Race just shrugged as he pulled every kind of cheese that Spot owned out of the fridge, “Can’t make me any sicker than that goddamned eggnog from last night.” He said, squinting at the expiration date on some parmesan.

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of last night,” Spot said, tossing the towel over his shoulder and sitting at the kitchen counter, “How much d’you remember?”

Race stopped pulling out ingredients for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought, “Not much after I had summa Al’s weed. Why? Did I do somethin’ stupid?”

Spot hesitated, “You brought up Melissa.”

Race’s shoulders flinched slightly and he asked in a clipped tone, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Spot bit his lip, trying to decide how to proceed through the conversation, “You, uh, told me about how she’d, uh, make you have sex-”

“Stop,” Race snapped, “Stop, I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Race, you shouldn’t hafta handle this on your own. I-”

“Sean,” Race said, his voice dangerously low, “Stop talking.”

Spot nodded, “Alright, sorry.”

Race stood still for a moment before hastily shutting off the stove, “I’m not hungry anymore.” With that, he stalked out of the room. A second later, Spot could hear the bathroom fan turn on.

Spot sighed and got to work putting away all the ingredients and pots that Race had pulled out. It was obvious that Race wasn’t handling this whole ordeal as well as he had let on. He wanted to help him sort through it, but he couldn’t if Race refused to talk about it.

‘Oh well,’ He thought to himself, ‘I’ll let him come to me when he’s ready.’ He glanced at the clock. It was 2:30, which meant that they had about two hours before they had to head out to meet the others at the ice rink.

Race was evidently still camping in the bathroom, so Spot decided to go check on him.

He knocked lightly at the door, “Racer? You good?”

The door opened and Race pushed past Spot, his eyes obviously bloodshot.

“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder,“I’ma take a nap, wake me up when we gotta go.”

Spot felt worry itch at the back of his neck, but it was clear that Race wanted to be left alone, “Alright, I’m gonna do some grocery shopping, you want anything in particular?”

“No.”

Taking that as his cue to leave Race alone, Spot grabbed his keys off his hook and exited the apartment.

Although Race hadn’t asked for anything, Spot decided to pick him up a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. He figured he may as well get Race’s favorite if he was going to stay there for a while.

When he got back, he found Race fast asleep on his air mattress. It was still about an hour until they had to leave, so after putting away the groceries, Spot flipped on the TV and pulled up Netflix. He had just finished an episode of Breaking Bad whe Race stirred from across the room.

“What time’s it?” He mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“4:30, we should leave in fifteen minutes if we wanna get there by five.”

“Okay, I’ma jus’ change and freshen up real fast.”

Spot turned off the TV as Race made his way to the bathroom and pulled himself off the couch to grab a jacket and thicker socks to wear to the ice rink. When he got to his room, he found Race digging through his duffel with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

Spot scoffed, “What’re ya doin’?”

Race looked up at Spot, a bit of toothpaste smudged on his chin. He reached up and plucked the toothbrush out of his mouth, “M’lookin’ for my hat and gloves, but I think I left it back at my-uh..other place.”

“Here, jus’ borrow some of mine,” Spot suggested, strolling over to his closet and picking a blue winter hat and matching gloves out of a bin. He crossed the room to Race and placed the hat on his head.

“There,” Spot smiled, “Looks cute on ya.”

Spot froze, realizing that he had just called Race cute, but Race just smiled around the toothbrush, which was back in his mouth, “Thanks.”

“Uh..no problem.” Spot said, watching as Race stood up and went to the bathroom to rinse. He shook his head lightly- what was getting into him? First they had cuddled through the night before and now he was calling Race cute? Did he even have a right to do that since Race and Melissa were technically still in a relationship? Though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a relationship anymore, but they had never explicitly broken up. Beyond that, since when did Spot think about Race that way? Since when did-

“Spottie-boy, ya good?” Race said, effectively breaking Spot out of his thoughts, “You have the same look on your face thatcha have when you’re tryna do math.”

Spot scrunched his nose, “M’good, ya ready to roll?”

Race nodded and the two of them put on their jackets, hats, and gloves before leaving the apartment and walking down to Spot’s car.

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable @aw-jus-let-em-spook @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @newsies-of-nyc @andthewoildwillknow

#spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies #newsies fic #departed

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donzysguidetofreedom · 7 years ago

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A little introduction

So, I’ve gained a ton of followers in 2018 and wanted to chat for a minute with you all.

First of all, thank you for following me. Checking in and seeing all your new posts and stuff is amazing and makes my day.

So, I’m Donna and I’m 28 years old.

Growing up I was very active in karate, training 5+ days a week. I could run 3 miles in 22 minutes flat after a cardio workout. I was at my peak at 12 years old (haha just kidding). Don’t get me wrong though, I was always a chunky kid. Just athletic too. At 14 I got severe pancreatitis and was hospitalized for 3 weeks. They found a huge cyst on my ovary during this time as well and removed it. I spent months recovering (over the holidays no less). Afterward, I went back to karate but definitely was not working as hard.

Over the next 8 years my weight shot up to 291 pounds. I went through phases of working out and eating healthy-ish, but my relationship with food was (is?) atrocious. I binged regularly. I ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I tried crash diets that just forced me to binge even harder when I failed. During this time I went to college, dropped out of college, moved to Florida for an internship at Walt Disney World, and ended up staying (and screwing my finances in the process).

In 2013 I moved back to New York to get my shit together. I started going to the doctor regularly again. I didn’t have insurance that covered much in Florida so I just avoided it. I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes.

I jumped on a meal replacement diet through Ideal Protein and dropped 40 pounds the summer of 2014. I was doing GREAT. Didn’t hurt that I was living with my grandparents and my grammy cooked and packed my meals for me. Boy, what a simpler time.

During this weight loss, I started getting sick. My stomach was off constantly, and I didn’t know what was wrong. I went to the doctor and they ran some tests and initially blamed the diabetes. Blamed my sugar levels, that I was eating wrong/medicating wrong and it was causing this severe pain and many bowel movements daily (TMI sorry <3). They gave me so many antibiotics and other meds, and finally referred me to a GI doc. At my first appt he recommended a probiotic, and I was feeling mostly better. Because I’m slightly irresponsible, I didn’t go back for follow ups and everything seemed fine! However, I didn’t get back on the Ideal Protein diet and gained some weight back.

I started a new job and moved into my own apartment. I met the man of my dreams (spoiler alert, he’s the one I’m marrying in April). We started a life together and it was lovely.

May 2015 my brother died in a motorcycle accident a block away from his home two weeks before his 21st birthday. It understandably crushed me, and I went numb for a very long time. I kept busy. My fiancee and I took over his house and two pitbulls. I thought I was ok. I was really just avoiding my feelings.

Then I got sick again. I went to my primary care physician and was told it was my diabetes again. I did their tests, and was put on more antibiotics. I got sicker and sicker. I went to the ER twice because my fiancee was so worried about me. Both times I was told I had colitis, and needed to follow up with my primary care doctor. For six months I ate maybe one meal a day, and other than that had ginger ale, ritz crackers, and powerade. I was nauseous and exhausted 24/7. I finally called the GI they had sent me to years before and asked for an appointment. They got me in the same day when I explained my symptoms. I was so tired at this point that I took a nap in the exam room while waiting for the Nurse Practitioner to see me. It wasn’t an extended wait or anything. She wanted a colonoscopy and said we’d get it scheduled. She brought me to the nurse that handles the scheduling. That nurse scheduled me in for three weeks from then. I was devastated but it was their soonest appointment. Halfway home I received a call from the doctor saying he needed me in sooner than that and had me go in three days later for the procedure.

My boss during all of this was not pleased. She was not supportive. Basically, I was screwing her. It didn’t matter that I constantly was light headed. I was nauseous and in the bathroom all day at work anyways. She expected me to work to what she thought appropriate levels. She didn’t care at all. Just like she didn’t care when my brother died, but that’s a whole different story.

When I woke up from the colonoscopy heavily medicated I was told they needed to send me to the hospital. That I had Ulcerative colitis and it was severely flamed up. I spent the next week in the hospital on a liquid diet and was told to relax. I met a ton of doctors and learned a lot in that time.

They got me on some meds, and over the next six months I had to change up my meds until we found a good fit. I was finally feeling better.

I started a new job. I joined Crossfit. I quit Crossfit because I would push too hard and throw myself into a flare up after two weeks or so and be out of commission for a month. I joined the YMCA and gained a love for Zumba. I swam, a lot.

I went to Disney on the trip my brother and I had been planning. I got engaged on this trip to the love of my life.

I grew, I jumped on and off the diet bandwagon. I remained a pretty consistent weight of 260 pounds.

We planned a wedding for Summer 2018. I started therapy for my feelings around my brothers passing. I realized how severe my anxiety had become in the past two years. I’m still working on this. For the sake of my mental health and our wallets we cancelled our wedding plans and planned a weekend in Vegas with some family instead for April. Best decision I’ve made since saying yes to @sidekicksrstars2.

In 2017 I found so many wonderful fitblrs. I started posting regularly (on fatgirlsguidetofreedom). I eventually made this blog and started joining challenges (I even hosted one but it fell apart, I’ll do another one at some point). I made so many friends. I disappeared sometimes but thats ok. I always come back folks.

Which all leads me to here. This is my story. And its continuing at 100 miles per hour. These days I’m not on a strict diet, but I try and make more healthy choices than unhealthy. I try to start my mornings with a mix of coffee and muscle milk. I try and have a salad every day. I try and avoid fast food (ok the first Chick Fil A came to my town a month ago so thats not going very well). My weight has been sticking around 250 pounds. I won my first DietBet last month (woooohoo!) and I’m currently in two so gotta lose 10 pounds. I’m also in a StepBet with my wonderful cousin and best friend and it’s motivated me to move so much more than I was. There’s no cheating with it, you get your steps or you don’t. Thats it.

I am happy. I am in love. I am getting married next month.

I have a long way to go but I’m proud of where I came from.

@fatmaninalittlesuit you inspired me to make this long post, so I definitely want to tag you but won’t blame you if you don’t read the whole thing, haha.

Thank you to the following people who I’ve interacted with and have really made the past year in the fitnerd community amazing. Even if we don’t chat, know that I love your posts and they make me so happy! If I forgot anyone, please don’t be offended, it’s not intentional!

@apologizetothetree

@evolutionofacosfitter

@im-healthyish

@time2shapeup

@nibsthefitmermaid

@janetlouise93

@mr-rubberlegz

@chocolate-and-peanutbutter

@wanderingbrave

@lizzieslifestyle

@liberatingdreamvoid

@legsgofasterplease

@msbeautifulketo

@fitchris25

@thebarefootemma

@plussizeadventure

I love you all, and I love all of my followers so much. If you read this whole thing, BLESS YOU. Also, drop me a line sometime. I’m always game for new friends.

#About me #Journal #me #long #storytime #aboutme #@fatmaninalittlesuit #fatmaninalittlesuit

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archieimagines · 7 years ago

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Autumnal Imagine Prompts

ok so basically we decided to do one of these things and we’re excited

this is how it’s gonna work - request the number of the prompt you want with a character you want, and our writers will try our darnedest to bust out a really yummy imagine for you (if we get carried away into one shot territory then oops but oh well).

when we receive a request, the prompt will be crossed out and you won’t be able to request it again, because we don’t want a bunch of duplicates! they’ll start being posted in october.

we’ll be accepting the first 15 requests you send, so get on that real quick ;)

your hair keeps blowing into my face and its annoying but I don’t want to stop talking to you (DRACO MALFOY)

can you please help me carry this pumpkin to my apartment it’s like three times my size (CASTIEL)

i laid down on a pile of leaves without realising your dog was in there

im sorry but i just don’t understand why you had to throw your toffee apple at me (PETER PARKER)

im not usually scared of things like this but you keep screaming and making me jump and its embarrassing for gods sake (NEVILLE)

im sure this is like the fifth Halloween party you’ve had why am i never invited

i can’t believe i got stuck in a lift with you, a recovering coulrophobic, dressed as a clown (SAM WINCHESTER)

emergency? it’s not like there’s a troll in the dungeon, is it? (GENDRY)

i dressed down in this slutty catwoman outfit for you and my party boob keeps escaping why did i do this (VERONICA LODGE)

october ain’t october until someone gets their head stuck in a pumpkin (SIRIUS BLACK)

i can’t come in until you invite me, you should know that by now

no, you’re not allowed to float here

you’d think a stab to the neck would kill me but im still here im afraid (BERIC DONDARRION)

sometimes people drink too much on Halloween. this is one of those times (BUCKY BARNES)

your nose is redder than mine are you ok

why does everyone get sick this time of year? im sicker than you are man up

oh pumpkin spice you make me so happy

my favourite thing about autumn is your mittens (BUCKY BARNES)

honestly i want to throw you in the bonfire right now (JON SNOW)

some hairy men have times of the months too (awoo)

oh, this isn’t a costume, it’s my natural state of being (DRACO MALFOY)

something freaky this way comes

my mom locked me out and its getting cold these days can i crash on your couch (BUCKY BARNES)

you look like a drowned cat but i think you’re attractive (PERCIVAL GRAVES)

excuse me but the bobble fell off your hat and i think you might want it back

also these actually came out of archie’s own brain let’s take a moment to appreciate that and tag us if you decide to use one for your own material :)

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southsidesweetpea · 7 years ago

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oh my god i just remembered a dream i had last night

it was about Sweet Pea and how he got his name, and the reason was because when he was a kid his mom had always sung him a lullaby with the words “Sweet Pea” in it, and it was like her pet name for him. and then she died, and i guess he kept the name because it reminded him of her and oh my god this is the plot of Baby Driver isn’t it

sdfghfv well regardless of that, my subconscious supplied me with this spectacularly angsty headcanon and im gonna go with it. also i looked up songs with “Sweet Pea” in them and i’ve decided the version his mom sang him was “Sweet Pea” by Amos Lee. it’s soft and cute and would work excellently as a lullaby.

now i challenge u to listen to this lovely cover of the song and not imagine Baby Sweet Pea’s mother coming home after a long day and singing this while she tucks him into bed:

youtube

oh no i wrote a thing

a few more thoughts:

Sweet Pea was always close with his mom. he never really knew much about his dad aside from his name and the fact that he was in the army. even though he wasn’t around his mom still said he was a good man and that he loved Sweet Pea very much. she gave Sweet Pea his dog tags once - tarnished metal that clinked heavily in his hands - and he found that wearing them made him feel safe somehow. after that he never really took them off.

so it was just the two of them. they didn’t have much, but they made do. his mom was only a teenager when he was born and never finished high school, so she worked two, sometimes three jobs just to make ends meet. but she never blamed him, and if she was ever sad or angry about how her life turned out she never showed it. (when he remembers her now he always pictures her tired, a little bit frazzled, but smiling).

his favourite memories are the nights they’d go to the Southside Pic-a-Flic, rent a movie and splurge on candy. they’d come back to their tiny basement suite apartment and snuggle up under a blanket in front of the TV, laugh until they cried and eat until their stomachs were sore.

she always called him Sweet Pea, since before he could remember. kept calling him that too, even as he got older and started rolling his eyes when she said it. she stopped after a while, and even though that was what he’d wanted it still made him feel guilty.

when she got sick, they didn’t have enough to pay for the bills. he remembers feeling crushed by just how unfair it all was - she kept working as long as she could, but eventually it just wasn’t an option. not like her meagre wages were enough to keep the mountain of debt from climbing, anyways.

it felt like the whole world was rigged against them, and Sweet Pea still remembers the anger he felt whenever he walked past the rows of beautiful, rich houses encroaching on the South Side. how could they go about their lives like nothing was wrong when only a stone’s throw away his mother was dying?

she got sicker, and he wished she’d call him Sweet Pea again just like she used to, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. it felt stupid now.

near the end, she got farther away. when she was awake she got confused, so Sweet Pea sang to her, the same song she’d always sung to him when she tucked him in. well, tried to sing - he felt awkward and self-conscious when he did, but it was worth it, because even on the worst days it always made her smile.

then she was finally gone, and Sweet Pea was alone. really alone.

they put him in foster care, and on the first night in his new home two older boys stalked up to him with their arms crossed and mean, wary looks on their faces. but that was just the way that people looked at each other on the South Side at first, before they got to know you, so Sweet Pea looked mean right back at them.

“What’s your name?” one boy asked him. he had a snake tattoo on his forearm, and he smiled when he saw Sweet Pea looking.

“Sweet Pea,” Sweet Pea said, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his jaw and just daring them to laugh.

but they didn’t. they didn’t even flinch. the first boy nodded and held out a hand, and Sweet Pea took it.

“I’m Joaquin,” the boy said, “and you better stick with us if you wanna make it out of here alive.”

#sweet pea #riverdale #meta #headcanon #long post #sghdvjbkcda #what the f uck #why do i do this to myself #im so fucking sad now #music rec

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marlaluster · 8 years ago

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Richard Tangard Richard Tangard Asked my to tag you in my mind. I talk to people there, so. LH6 n LMIRL -- OMG! Gotta use these! https://scontent.fztf1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s600x600/18581828_10210023688694398_7364661521259470263_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&oh=9a6f3cc10ee3127454deedbab4ead122&oe=599F7063 "I can't keep letting stuff load where im really less. But i can't say that either," the devil said about mr seeing something i just shared to my page didn't show up. It was this post, a version of it as it was as a post on someone's page, Kris Harris . This post ..... https://scontent.fztf1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s600x600/18581828_10210023688694398_7364661521259470263_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&oh=9a6f3cc10ee3127454deedbab4ead122&oe=599F7063 It seems one other post i posted yesterday didn't show up here, it seems it would've been the last post on the page. "I could've taken something else. I have to stop that though. Can you not post this. Bye," the devil said. Then another thing that happened was earlier the devil was making Facebook not load/come up when i was trying to go team some really just unbelievable n sicko thing it was doing to try to make it seem i was to be seen as crazy n be treated per the sicko society's arrangements for something it was trying to make occur very strangely n sickly. I tried writing about what was happening on Tumblr instead. I'll put a link to it, the post I wrote. It does concern one item or occurrence that is kinda gross n the devil was making it seem sicker. Thats very bad w your eyes. The devil threatens a lot to make my eyes look bad in the area like pictured here. Aging is not really real. But very weird n coincidental this is also come up as something for you to post on. Maybe not a coincidence. A cliche response, what people are supposed to say. Youth n young people are worshiped here in a sick way, ie to make others less than. It's very sick here, not a good life. Deformities, diseases, poverty, racism, very sick place. Weird to have frivolous concerns n focus as if it's okay here n not severe issues to acknowledge or take into account. Music going again from the neighbors. Loud noise from the base in the music. "It's not. So I have to tell you I'm not doing okay that people are noticing that," the devil said. It was talking about that it is now more to the surface n just okay that things are so less than here. More to the surface in the awareness is what is meant there by me. But I went to the store you get some chips a minute ago, i ate some crumbs of some chips my sister had n decided to get some more from the store. It wasn't really a such casual n okay tone to things as might seem yo be suggested. The neighbors music going n of course just the usual that it's sicko here n crazy since its devil world n further devil world exposed n the devil fighting to continue it. "I have to go because I'm not allowed to do that but whatever the person is doing is embarassing," the devil said about me saying something stuff I'm saying here n the last couple of things I've written on Facebook specifically. But I went to the store n it was more in the air it was dumb as fuck n less than here. "It was because of what she was wearing right. No. It's because I have to go. That made it worse. Marla wasn't dressed okay," the devil said. But anyway that was tormenting the devil was acting like it was okay it's out as less here n acting like it can continue. I said it wasn't like that before. "It wasn't. I am tormenting about your eyes now. Do you want to leave because I must go," the devil said. Some people are saying stuff in my mind about the eyes issue being a thing for people to post on n that being something. "It means I can't say the person isn't the center of the universe," the devil said. The devil is making my eye feel like it's just having some more eye bag issues by the second. So dumb, that thing is so stupid. The music continues from the neighbors. Yeah people should have space. That's not really valued here. Kris had mentioned this ayuhausca thing. So I thought he'd find this interesting. No pressure, maybe the way of the world will discontinue that hurts people. The only real thing to address or try to attain anyway, so. Everything else is really just hurt n pain. Paycheck to paycheck = hurt n pain but it's preferred people are not having all the advantages over others or are so prepared n set n others not, so you not having a retirement seemed not exactly such bad bad news. People supposedly being or appearing to be so set n okay in a system of hurt n pain that is outwardly this/painful to some/yourself is tormenting to others, actually. Very unfortunate way of things. Really should end. There are movements n such to end the money system, maybe they'll pan out. I'm trying to end the world by outing the devil as ruling it, of course. No money. Aren't You priceless. Thats my bid. Just heard this one the radio so i looked it up. The lyrics made me think of a post I saw today by Brandon Marshall Havener, it said jealousy n insecurity were okay. It gives way to things we wish to say however we feel is something okay, ie is what it is or whatever, you can examine, etc n love yourself, which is pretty much what Brandon said. This is the video, not that it is really great or that I really like it. I like the song. Videos a lot of times aren't really your favorite part of about the song. This is a i guess so so video (for devil world) but I like certain things i say here, so I'm not such a fan of the video really. What an interesting observation, Vincent Smith. I wonder what the US heraldry is. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5b/Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg/270px-Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg.png There's some weird olden times talk of work n poverty in tjis thread. I'd need to do some decoding to figure it out. #theydcallmeschizophrenic #humansgoingdeepcoveroutdis #whatchutalkinbout #thisisntelectionplatformsorpoliticomagazinediscussionorisit #dontmakenokindasense #whatthe #therealdumbkidsinclass Instead of decoding, I've got this for you, boys: If you're going to try to rule someone's life--. Eh hem, let me start again: If you're going to try to offer some kind of living arrangement for people's way of life, it out to be something good n generous n kind n well meaning. Otherwise, go sit down n mind your own business like a less than black person not participating in anything. Please. Please stop offering horrible things for a horrible world. MACEO - GO SIT DOWN: http://youtu.be/M7MXnSrnpEY My comments here (they were removed, the first two n i put them back. The devil had removed them. "I don't know what to do. I don't wish to do this Marla but I have to go for those comments," the devil said.: There's some weird olden times talk of work n poverty in tjis thread. I'd need to do some decoding to figure it out. #theydcallmeschizophrenic #humansgoingdeepcoveroutdis #whatchutalkinbout #thisisntelectionplatformsorpoliticomagazinediscussionorisit #dontmakenokindasense #whatthe #therealdumbkidsinclass ------ Instead of decoding, I've got this for you, boys: If you're going to try to rule someone's life--. Eh hem, let me start again: If you're going to try to offer some kind of living arrangement for people's way of life, it out to be something good n generous n kind n well meaning. Otherwise, go sit down n mind your own business like a less than black person not participating in anything. Please. Please stop offering horrible things for a horrible world. --------- MACEO - GO SIT DOWN: http://youtu.be/M7MXnSrnpEY --------- https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5b/Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg/270px-Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg.png "... Those comments say something that is not possible here about the ....," something reality, the devil said something about the comments why it removed something.

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