#it is so easy for something to be totally illegible to it because of how its written

[autumnoakes]

begging fic authors to not censor curse words in fics, especially ones uploaded to ao3. please don't write them like "f*ck" or "sh*t" or "d*mn". i promise you will not get in trouble for saying the fuck word. it makes it less accessible for people with screen readers or use text to speech because even though people who can read can see that and know "okay, that's a swear word," screen readers/TTS is not as intelligent. it will read what it reads, and only fills in gaps sometimes (e.g. when you put in "2024," it might read "two thousand and twenty-four.") it's been censored for them, but not really for anyone else.

if you feel uncomfortable including uncensored curse words in your fics, here's my advice

don't. use. them.

even if it's in character to do so, even if it feels like it fits. don't use them if it makes you uncomfortable. it's far better to write something that may or may not be accurate than it would be to censor a word and make it inaccessible to people.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon illegally interferes with an historic UK warehouse election

I'm in to TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (Monday, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

Amazon is very good at everything it does, including being very bad at the things it doesn't want to do. Take signing up for Prime: nothing could be simpler. The company has built a greased slide from Prime-curiosity to Prime-confirmed that is the envy of every UX designer.

But unsubscribing from Prime? That's a fucking nightmare. Somehow the company that can easily figure out how to sign up for a service is totally baffled when it comes to making it just as easy to leave. Now, there's two possibilities here: either Amazon's UX competence is a kind of erratic freak tide that sweeps in at unpredictable intervals and hits these unbelievable high-water marks, or the company just doesn't want to let you leave.

To investigate this question, let's consider a parallel: Black Flag's Roach Motel. This is an icon of American design, a little brown cardboard box that is saturated in irresistibly delicious (to cockroaches, at least) pheromones. These powerful scents make it admirably easy for all the roaches in your home to locate your Roach Motel and enter it.

But the interior of the Roach Motel is also coated in a sticky glue. Once roaches enter the motel, their legs and bodies brush up against this glue and become hopeless mired in it. A roach can't leave – not without tearing off its own legs.

It's possible that Black Flag made a mistake here. Maybe they wanted to make it just as easy for a roach to leave as it is to enter. If that seems improbable to you, well, you're right. We don't even have to speculate, we can just refer to Black Flag's slogan for Roach Motel: "Roaches check in, but they don't check out."

It's intentional, and we know that because they told us so.

Back to Amazon and Prime. Was it some oversight that cause the company make it so marvelously painless to sign up for Prime, but such a titanic pain in the ass to leave? Again, no speculation is required, because Amazon's executives exchanged a mountain of internal memos in which this is identified as a deliberate strategy, by which they deliberately chose to trick people into signing up for Prime and then hid the means of leaving Prime. Prime is a Roach Motel: users check in, but they don't check out:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

When it benefits Amazon, they are obsessive – "relentless" (Bezos's original for the company) – about user friendliness. They value ease of use so highly that they even patented "one click checkout" – the incredibly obvious idea that a company that stores your shipping address and credit card could let you buy something with a single click:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1-Click#Patent

But when it benefits Amazon to place obstacles in our way, they are even more relentless in inventing new forms of fuckery, spiteful little landmines they strew in our path. Just look at how Amazon deals with unionization efforts in its warehouses.

Amazon's relentless union-busting spans a wide diversity of tactics. On the one hand, they cook up media narratives to smear organizers, invoking racist dog-whistles to discredit workers who want a better deal:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2020/apr/02/amazon-chris-smalls-smart-articulate-leaked-memo

On the other hand, they collude with federal agencies to make workers afraid that their secret ballots will be visible to their bosses, exposing them to retaliation:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/amazon-violated-labor-law-alabama-union-election-labor-official-finds-rcna1582

They hold Cultural Revolution-style forced indoctrination meetings where they illegally threaten workers with punishment for voting in favor of their union:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/31/business/economy/amazon-union-staten-island-nlrb.html

And they fire Amazon tech workers who express solidarity with warehouse workers:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/amazon-fires-tech-employees-workers-criticism-warehouse-climate-policies/

But all this is high-touch, labor-intensive fuckery. Amazon, as we know, loves automation, and so it automates much of its union-busting: for example, it created an employee chat app that refused to deliver any message containing words like "fairness" or "grievance":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/05/doubleplusrelentless/#quackspeak

Amazon also invents implausible corporate fictions that allow it to terminate entire sections of its workforce for trying to unionize, by maintaining the tormented pretense that these workers, who wear Amazon uniforms, drive Amazon trucks, deliver Amazon packages, and are tracked by Amazon down to the movements of their eyeballs, are, in fact, not Amazon employees:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-drivers-unionized-then-amazon-tried-to-terminate-his-contract/

These workers have plenty of cause to want to unionize. Amazon warehouses are sources of grueling torment. Take "megacycling," a ten-hour shift that runs from 1:20AM to 11:50AM that workers are plunged into without warning or the right to refuse. This isn't just a night shift – it's a night shift that makes it impossible to care for your children or maintain any kind of normal life.

Then there's Jeff Bezos's war on his workers' kidneys. Amazon warehouse workers and drivers notoriously have to pee in bottles, because they are monitored by algorithms that dock their pay for taking bathroom breaks. The road to Amazon's warehouse in Coventry, England is littered with sealed bottles of driver piss, defenestrated by drivers before they reach the depot inspection site.

There's so much piss on the side of the Coventry road that the prankster Oobah Butler was able to collect it, decant it into bottles, and market it on Amazon as an energy beverage called "Bitter Lemon Release Energy," where it briefly became Amazon's bestselling energy drink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/20/release-energy/#the-bitterest-lemon

(Butler promises that he didn't actually ship any bottled piss to people who weren't in on the gag – but let's just pause here and note how weird it is that a guy who hates our kidneys as much as Jeff Bezos built and flies a penis-shaped rocket.)

Butler also secretly joined the surge of 1,000 workers that Amazon hired for the Coventry warehouse in advance of a union vote, with the hope of diluting the yes side of that vote and forestall the union. Amazon displayed more of its famously selective competence here, spotting Butler and firing him in short order, while totally failing to notice that he was marketing bottles of driver piss as a bitter lemon drink on Amazon's retail platform.

After a long fight, Amazon's Coventry workers are finally getting their union vote, thanks to the GMB union's hard fought battle at the Central Arbitration Committee:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/04/26/amazon-warehouse-workers-in-coventry-will-vote-on-trade-union-recognition/

And right on schedule, Amazon has once again discovered its incredible facility for ease-of-use. The company has blanketed its shop floor with radioactively illegal "one click to quit the union" QR codes. When a worker aims their phones at the code and clicks the link, the system auto-generates a letter resigning the worker from their union.

As noted, this is totally illegal. English law bans employers from "making an offer to an employee for the sole or main purpose of inducing workers not to be members of an independent trade union, take part in its activities, or make use of its services."

Now, legal or not, this may strike you as a benign intervention on Amazon's part. Why shouldn't it be easy for workers to choose how they are represented in their workplaces? But the one-click system is only half of Amazon's illegal union-busting: the other half is delivered by its managers, who have cornered workers on the shop floor and ordered them to quit their union, threatening them with workplace retaliation if they don't.

This is in addition to more forced "captive audience" meetings where workers are bombarded with lies about what life in an union shop is like.

Again, the contrast couldn't be more stark. If you want to quit a union, Amazon makes this as easy as joining Prime. But if you want to join a union, Amazon makes that even harder than quitting Prime. Amazon has the same attitude to its workers and its customers: they see us all as a resource to be extracted, and have no qualms about tricking or even intimidating us into doing what's best for Amazon, at the expense of our own interests.

The campaigning law-firm Foxglove is representing five of Amazon's Coventry workers. They're doing the lord's work:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/05/02/legal-challenge-to-amazon-uks-new-one-click-to-quit-the-union-tool/

All this highlights the increasing divergence between the UK and the US when it comes to labor rights. Under the Biden Administration, @NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo has promulgated a rule that grants a union automatic recognition if the boss does anything to interfere with a union election:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

In other words, if Amazon tries these tactics in the USA now, their union will be immediately recognized. Abruzzo has installed an ultra-sensitive tilt-sensor in America's union elections, and if Bezos or his class allies so much as sneeze in the direction of their workers' democratic rights, they automatically lose.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/06/one-click-to-quit-the-union/#foxglove

Image: Isabela.Zanella (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ballot-box-2.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[puppetwoman17]

Imagine if the JL ever need to get passage into Hell, whether it’s to get something or pass through to get somewhere else. They call in Constantine and he’s got a bunch of backwater ways and tunnels and all around illegal ways to access Hell.

Billy just laughs and tells them that he knows a perfectly legal, easy way to get in that won’t leave them in debt. Everyone’s not sure, but they tell him to give it a go.

So Billy takes out his phone and goes to a certain number.

And Constantine hears the voice on the other side and nearly faints because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THAT IS SATANUS.

The JL ask if he’s okay and he vehemently says no and explains how he just heard one of the lords of hell himself on the other line. Everyone is confused at this point because it sounds like he’s talking to an old friend.

That’s when Clark uses his hearing and by Rao he’s right! There’s a deep voice on the other end that he recognizes. Lord Satanus himself is talking to Billy about setting up another luncheon for next month with him, Mary, and Freddy. And Billy at his end looks totally unnerved by this.

Once the call ends, Billy says they’re ready to go and to wait ten minutes.

Literally everyone has questions. Billy just rolls his eyes and says “oh nothing, it’s just my uncle.”

See, now everyone has even MORE questions.

[bots-and-cons]

How about knockout secretly becoming friends with reader who is under autobot protection?

A/N: I’ve got these HCs about Knockout’s s/o being under autobot protection. This is a bit of a different thing though, and I thought it was different enough to warrant its own post. These ended up kinda long, because I got invested, lol

•You and Knockout met by total accident, when a few off your friends had dragged you to watch an illegal street racing competition

•You had snuck out without telling the bots so they didn’t know where you were, hence none of them were there to stop you from being a bit reckless and having a good time

•Your friends wanted pictures with the cars and when you got close to Knockout, you noticed the small-ish decepticon insignia

•You of course tried to get your friends away from him, because who knows what he might do if he recognized you as one the autobot’s charges

•Knockout honestly hadn’t been paying much attention to what any of the humans who were under the autobot’s protection looked like, so he didn’t realize who you were right away

•Your friends wanted to take a couple of pictures despite your protests

•Knockout of course told them “Watch the paint job, I don’t want any scratches” as they leaned against him to take the pics

•Your friends thought it was just the driver saying it from inside the car, but you knew otherwise

•Your friends went away to the next car, but you marched up to Knockout’s driver side window and started talking to him

•”Why are you here?” you asked him

•”To race, obviously. Why else?” he scoffed

•That’s when he took a better look at you, because you were obviously talking to him like you knew him

•”Oh, you’re one of the autobot’s pets” you could basically hear the smirk in his voice

•”I’m not anyone’s pet you idiot, they’re my friends” you retorted

•Knockout found himself enjoying your banter, but the friend comment made him somewhat jealous, he couldn’t really call any of the decepticons his friends, except for Breakdown

•That’s basically where your friendship begun, you talked for quite a while and before you realized, your friends had left and so had your ride

•”Dammit, I’m gonna have to walk home” you muttered as the crowd kept thinning

•You didn’t know anyone else there, and your friends had left you there, so you started walking

•Knockout didn’t really say anything as you left, but a couple of minutes later, he realized it was quite cold outside and human’s don’t handle it very well or at least that’s what he’d understood

•He didn’t want you to die because of the cold, because that would just invite retribution from the autobots

•It actually wasn’t that cold, but you did live on the other side of town, so you had quite a long way to go

•Knockout didn’t know where you lived, but he drove after you and offered you a ride

•”So you can kidnap me and take me to the Nemesis? No thanks” you told him as he drove slowly next to you

•”I’m not going to kidnap you. I’m just not giddy at the thought of you dying in the cold and us getting blamed for it”

•You stopped walking and considered it for a moment, you really didn’t feel like walking over 5km in the chilly weather, and it looked like it was about to start raining too

•”Fine, you can take me close, but I’m not telling you where I live” you sighed, and hopped into the passenger’s seat

•You gave him directions, as he talked about something or other

•Knockout tends to talk a lot when he’s nervous, so he just kept talking to you

•You laughed at some of his jokes and he also commented how your friends were kinda mean for leaving you there like that

•You couldn’t help but agree, and you started ranting about your friends and the idiotic things they did sometimes

•You didn’t understand why, but he was just so easy to talk to, and you didn’t need to hide your opinions/feelings about your friends from him or hear a lecture or anything like that

•You could just talk, and he would listen and also validate your feelings by telling you your friends were in fact assholes 

•Knockout stopped at the grocery store parking lot that you had guided him to, but even then you continued talking

•”I know this is probably a stupid thing to say, but thanks, I haven’t been able to vent like that in a long while”

•”No problem, it was nice for me too” Knockout admitted

•He had talked about what an aft Megatron was and how badly Starscream treated him, but it was kind of funny how the inner workings of the decepticon leadership reminded you of a high school mean girls clique or something

•You told Knockout you weren’t going to mention this to the autobots, because you didn’t want a lecture and there really wasn’t anything to tell, he hadn’t done anything bad

•Knockout decided to leave you his comm link number (idk how it would work, but I decided it’s like a phone) so you could contact him if you wanted to

•You wrote it down on the notes on your phone and hopped out

•He could see you waving in the rearview mirror as you walked away

•It was the start of a rather odd friendship, which was not without its problems, but you grew to be good friends and confidants

•Of course you had to keep the whole thing hidden from the autobots, the same way Knockout couldn’t tell any of the cons

[cuubism]

Dreamling Olympic Equestrian AU, the Sequel (less Olympics, more Equestrian)

-

Hob wished he could say he took a ‘reasonable’ approach to dating Dream after the Olympics. In actuality he basically just went home with Dream and never left. He helped him get Jessamy settled in, and then Dream wanted him to stay over, and then Hob made him breakfast the next morning, and then—

He did eventually have to go take care of his own horses, and generally get back to his real responsibilities, but it was done with reluctance. Damn him, but he’d immediately started missing Dream. Too attached, too quickly, that was always his way.

And then not a week later Dream had invited him to bring his horse and go on a hack, and, well. Maybe Hob wasn’t the only one being unreasonable about it.

Safe to say they had never really gotten rid of each other after that.

By the end of the year Hob did very much the opposite of getting rid of Dream. Which was to say, marrying him. He was now the proud owner of some very cliche wedding photos of them leaning over to kiss each other while on horseback. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterwards, they’d both sold their respective properties, pooled their resources—mostly Dream’s resources if Hob was being totally honest—and bought a place together.

Hob still remembers finding the farm on the market and taking Dream to see it for the first time. He’d been so excited for Dream to see it. Dream had such high standards and Hob had been sure they were going to have to compromise on something, but this property had everything Dream had ever expressed wanting in a farm and other things besides. Rolling fields and connections to nearby bridle paths. A massive indoor arena for riding in inclement weather. Three-sided shelters in all of the paddocks. Automatic waterers. Heated wash stalls. The damn floors were heated too, not that they used the stalls much, but Dream’s geriatric ponies would surely appreciate it come wintertime.

(Hob had been extremely charmed to learn, upon first visiting Dream's farm, that Dream still owned the incredibly fancy ponies Hob had correctly assumed he'd grown up riding as a child. They were now ancient and feral and tended to bite anyone other than Dream. It was delightful.)

Hob’s favorite part of the property was the house. It was set a bit off from the main barn, close enough to be an easy walk but out of the way of the traffic if one was to operate the place as a full-service livery. Dream had loved the cottage at Hob’s previous farm, and this house was much the same, quaint and cozy with its own pond and meandering garden path. It even had a screened-in patio for Dream’s persnickety cats to sunbathe.

It was all perfect. Dream had actually squealed when Hob brought him to see it. It was lucky Dream had money otherwise Hob would have probably done something illegal to afford the place just to see that look on his face every day.

Six months and an amount of money Hob didn’t want to think about later, they had their own farm and had started taking on clients. It should have been idyllic. In many ways it was. Jessamy and Hob’s retired event horse, Ellie, were getting along swimmingly in their big field. Dream’s feral old ponies were rampaging about the place. The amount of space was a bit dangerous, as Dream kept sending Hob photos of pretty horses for sale, saying we have the space for it, Hob. He didn’t seem to care that the prices of said horses were upwards of one hundred thousand pounds.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have married someone who came from money.

All the better to get clients in so the stable was actually making some money instead of just bleeding cash in exchange for more horses. And this was where the trouble began. Because Dream may have been disagreeable around people but he had a soft spot for troubled horses. And when troubled horses intersected with the clients that made them that way, well. That was how they got this.

“I was led to believe I’d be getting results,” Roderick Burgess was saying as Hob stepped into the arena, leaning against the wall to watch Dream ride. “Surely an Olympian should be able to do better.”

Hob grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything, yet. Dream could handle himself.

“If you don’t like my methods, you’re free to take your horse elsewhere,” Dream said. He was trotting the horse—its name was Ruby—in a big circle at the far end of the ring, riding on a long rein, just trying to get it to bend and loosen up its neck. It didn’t seem to be particularly easy for the horse, which was troubling considering a horse that had had ‘a few years’ of training—according to Roderick—should be able to at least do basic flatwork. And should be less stiff about it besides.

“We both know that won’t happen,” said Roderick. He was probably right—now that Dream was starting to get a sense of the horse’s poor prior training, he wouldn’t want to send it elsewhere—but Hob nevertheless wanted to walk over to Roderick and toss him out of the ring. Wasn’t the point of owning your own place that you could kick out clients you didn’t like?

“Perhaps if you’d been honest about his issues, we’d have better results,” Dream said, turning across the middle of the circle to change the bend. Ruby tossed his head, struggling with the change in direction, but Dream persisted in asking him to bend and eventually got him to drop his head again, now stepping up into a canter. “I was promised a horse at at least third level yet you’ve brought me one that struggles with basic self-carriage.”

Hob thought expecting any results yet was unreasonable considering it was only the first time Dream had even gotten on the horse. He’d only gotten it in last week, and just lunged it yesterday.

“You have to be more aggressive with him,” said Roderick dismissively. “Just make him do it.”

“Am I paying you, or are you paying me?”

And on it went like that, Dream working through his usual regimen, slowly building up the difficulty, Roderick nitpicking and criticizing all the while. Hob didn’t know what he really wanted. Maybe he just got a kick out of being an asshole.

Hob did love watching Dream ride, though. Watching him work with an inexperienced horse wasn’t nearly as seamless as it was when he rode Jessamy, but his patience and light touch were always a delight to behold.

Dream eventually took up his reins, gauging the horse’s ability to go around in a more collected frame. That ability was dubious at best, but Dream kept at it, working in circles of various sizes, transitioning up and down the gaits. He would get the horse where it needed to be eventually, Hob knew. If Roderick didn’t keep interrupting with unreasonable demands.

“Are you going to do any lateral work at all?” asked Roderick with annoyance, predictably interrupting again, and Hob could almost hear Dream’s jaw clench.

“Yes, I am getting to it. It’s a horse, not a racecar.” He turned the horse down the quarter line, lightly brushing the end of his whip, which Hob hadn’t seen him use yet, against its flank to ask it to step sideways and under.

And at the first touch of the whip Ruby exploded.

If Hob had looked down for even a second he would not have seen it move, it was so fast—the horse bolted sideways away from the whip, head thrown up, legs scrambling. Dream pulled back hard on the left rein, trying to stop through a turn, but Ruby just plowed right through it, tossing its head. Hob heard the bang as they—or more likely Dream’s knee—hit the arena wall, and then Dream yanked harder and managed to turn, spinning the horse into a circle until it was forced by the tight angle to slow to a nervy walk.

Hob had automatically lurched forward to try to help, but realized fast enough that rushing over would only make things worse. He watched, tense, as Dream finally brought Ruby to a halt. A lesser rider would have been thrown; Hob was glad Dream’s seat was better than that.

“Ah, yes,” said Roderick nonchalantly from where he was still sitting, ankle crossed over his knee. “He does not enjoy the whip.”

“Were you planning to inform me of that,” said Dream, out of breath, “before or after we went through a wall?”

“I would have thought you could handle it,” Roderick said.

Hob kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he went over to Dream.

Ruby was standing stock still now, breathing hard, and let out a loud huff, nostrils flaring, as Hob stopped at Dream’s side. Dream scratched the horse’s neck.

“Are you alright?” Hob asked quietly.

Dream nodded, handing the whip to Hob, though his expression was pinched, and Hob worried for his knee. “Once more and then we’ll be done. I don’t want to end on that note.”

“You cannot let him get away with that,” said Roderick sternly, seeing Hob take Dream’s whip. “He must tolerate the whip.”

“And I’m sure persisting now will teach that effectively,” Dream bit back. “Do you want an explosive horse, Roderick? Because that is what you have handed me, and if you insist upon pushing the matter like this, you will only make it worse.”

“I hired you to fix it,” Roderick snapped.

“Then let me.”

Dream brought the horse back up to a trot, did a lap around the ring and then came down the quarter line again, this time asking him to leg yield over just by bending him around his leg. Ruby was tense now, jiggling the bit in his mouth and fighting Dream’s hand, but he did move over, and once they’d reached the wall Dream let him drop back down to a walk, letting his grip on the reins slide down to the buckle. Ruby snorted loudly, dropping his head to the floor as he walked anxiously on the long rein.

“You do not have to beat him to get what you want,” Dream said, turning to Roderick.

“You care too much about their feelings,” said Roderick dismissively.

“Not caring about their feelings has gotten you very far indeed,” Dream said back.

He halted the horse by Hob and hopped down, stumbling on the landing and leaning hard on his left leg. Shit. Hob knew he’d hit the wall. Goddammit, Dream.

Before Hob could take the horse from him, Roderick’s kid, Alex, crept into the arena and came over, eyeing his father as he did. Normally Hob considered Alex kind of a liability to have around the farm—he was convinced the kid was going to get himself kicked in the head at some point—but now he handed him the reins. It was Roderick’s horse, the two of them could deal with it right now.

“Make sure to walk him out,” Hob told Alex, and then, ignoring Roderick, who’d already focused on Alex, presumably to berate him for something, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist and led him out of the ring.

By the time they made it into the lounge, Dream was leaning heavily against Hob’s side, limping on his right leg. God, Hob hoped he hadn’t broken something. He could only imagine how long that sort of knee injury would take Dream out.

Hob sat him down on the couch. “Can I take a look at your knee?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dream said, even as the corners of his lips were still pressed tight in pain.

“Dream, I heard you hit the wall from the other side of the arena.”

Dream sighed, but finally started unzipping his boots.

“Breeches, too,” Hob said.

Dream gave him a look but, having removed his boots, started stripping off his socks and black riding pants as well. He looked small like that, perched on the couch in just his black boxer briefs and short-sleeve polo. Hob winced at the sight of his knee. It had already turned horribly purple from his impact with the wall. Hob crouched by him to look closer, taking Dream’s ankle in his hands, turning his leg this way and that, carefully testing the motion. “How much does it hurt?”

“Tolerable,” Dream said, watching Hob intently. Hob mentally increased all of Dream’s descriptions by several degrees of pain. “I don’t think anything is broken, or sprained.”

Having looked closer, Hob didn’t think so either; he was pretty sure it was just bruised. A nasty bruise, though. “Should keep off it for a few days, though.”

Dream sighed, put upon, but didn’t contradict him.

“I’ll get you some ice.” He had ice wraps in the freezer, and pulled one out, laying it over Dream’s knee.

Dream’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “That is for horses.”

“Well, now it’s for humans, too.” He sat beside Dream on the couch as he iced his poor knee. “We should get it checked out if it’s not any better by tomorrow. Don’t want to risk permanent damage.”

Dream touched Hob’s shoulder with light fingers. Hob was, unfortunately, speaking from experience on this matter. Though in his case it had been less ‘deciding not to get it checked out’ and more ‘completely obliterating the joint to the point that it was kind of moot.’ Hob had shown Dream the video of that fall a while back. It was not a pleasant video.

He still had a mostly functional shoulder, though.

Fortunately, Hob didn’t usually have to worry about that happening with Dream. Having a horse flip on top of you was the kind of thing that was more likely to happen when you decided it was a good idea to gallop at solid objects. Which Hob had done. Frequently.

He was kind of glad he hadn’t married a fellow adrenaline junkie.

“I can’t believe Roderick put you on that horse knowing it was going to react like that,” Hob said. He really should kick the guy out. Prick.  

“Roderick created that reaction,” said Dream. “He hardly cares if it gets someone thrown, so long as that someone is not him.”

“I care!” Hob exclaimed. “It’s our fucking stable. He can’t just use you as a crash-test dummy.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “I am not easy to crash.”

“That’s not the point, Dream. I’ll kick him out, I swear to God.”

“I can handle Roderick Burgess. And the horse. You needn’t protect me.”

“Maybe I want to,” said Hob. He took the ice off Dream’s knee and took another look at it. The bruise only looked more hideous. “Maybe part of being your husband is that I get to protect you.”

Dream touched his cheek fondly, but said, “If we send him away, he will only take the horse to someone else, and nothing will improve.”

Hob knew it was true. He would have just bought the horse and given it to Dream just to get Roderick off the property, but he was pretty sure Roderick would just take the money and go buy another one so that wouldn’t really accomplish anything in the end.

Hob was always going to end up doing what made Dream happy anyway.

“Just…” he rubbed Dream’s thigh, careful of the bruise. “Be careful. God only knows what else he’s taught that horse to do.”

“We will find out, I suppose. Roderick will not be happy with me, though. I intend to take the horse back down to basics. He will doubtless be furious.” He did sound somewhat satisfied by the thought of it.

“Roderick can get on the damn thing himself if he’s so upset,” Hob said.

“That would be entertaining to watch, though less so for the horse,” Dream said. “Perhaps he will make Alex ride it.”

Hob rubbed his forehead in despair. “God help us all.”

“Indeed.”

“You should go back to the house and rest a while,” Hob told him.

“First I want to make sure they haven’t managed to kill Ruby,” Dream said. He levered himself to his feet, handing Hob back the ice wrap. “Besides, I am fine.”

The way he limped about while pulling on his breeches and paddock boots belied that, but Hob knew better than to argue further. At least he wasn’t getting back on the horse.

He went with Dream—only limping a little bit now—out to the barn, where Alex was getting Ruby settled in his stall. Alex looked distinctly nervous brushing the horse down, but hadn’t managed to get it—or, more surprisingly, himself—killed yet, which Hob counted as a win. Roderick was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best.

“Did you walk him out?” Dream asked.

Alex nodded anxiously. He seemed intimidated by Dream—which, to be fair, was a common experience for most people. Hob frequently had to remind himself that the version of Dream he saw every day—curled up in the kitchen alcove with his tea and a cat on his lap, chasing his ponies around the barn, resting his head in Hob’s lap for Hob to play with his hair—was not the version most people saw.

Ruby seemed little worse for wear for his ordeal. Dream pet the horse’s nose fondly, and it tried to nibble at his palm.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, to the horse, now ignoring Alex. “We’ll sort it out, won’t we?”

Ruby just tried to nibble on his fingers again.

With another pat to the horse’s nose, but no more words for Alex, Dream strode away again. Hob followed. Once they were out of the barn, he caught up to Dream and scooped him up in his arms, Dream clutching at his neck with a squeak.

“I’m carrying you home,” Hob said, starting off for the house. “You’re not walking.”

“I am not an invalid,” Dream protested.

“Oh, I should put you down, then?”

Dream clutched at him tighter. “You would not dare.”

“Thought so.”

And so he carried Dream down the short walk back to the house. After all, Hob thought, this was the whole point. He couldn’t necessarily prevent Dream from getting on insane horses or dealing with insane clients. But he could be there at the end of the day to carry him home.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Traditionally, the image of a figleaf was used by artists to cover the body parts (think Adam and Eve) that they were not supposed to show in their paintings. As I use the term, a figleaf is a communicative device that provides just a bit of cover for something that one isn’t supposed to show in public – like racism. To see how this works, let’s first take a closer look at Trump’s call for a Muslim ban. Here is a statement, cast in the third person, that he read aloud in December 2015: Donald J Trump is calling for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States until our country’s representatives can figure out what the hell is going on. The anti-Muslim message is loud and clear, and not hidden at all. But the end of the statement is the bit that I want to focus on: ‘until our country’s representatives can figure out what the hell is going on’. For some people, this phrase provided reassurance that Trump isn’t racist – because a real racist would want to ban Muslims period, not just while we figure out what’s going on. This is a figleaf: it provides just enough cover for the racism that isn’t acceptable to show in public. One reason that figleaves like this work is that many white people accept what the sociolinguist Jane Hill called ‘the folk theory of racism’. This view sets a very high bar for what counts as racist: a racist has to consciously believe in the biological inferiority of people of colour, and intend to be racist. Somebody like this would want to ban Muslims forever, not just temporarily. Similarly, they wouldn’t suggest that ‘some’ Mexican immigrants are good people, as Trump did. Nor would they have a Black friend, or declare themself to be non-racist, this line of thinking goes. A view such as this one makes it very easy for utterances to serve as figleaves for racism. These figleaves allow a voter to continue supporting a candidate who has made a comment that might have worried them. They don’t need to become fully convinced that the candidate is non-racist; it’s enough in many cases to be uncertain about whether the utterance indicates racism. When I examined discussions among Trump supporters online, I found people who worried about Trump’s views on Mexicans being reassured by those who pointed out that he also said some of them are good. ‘I didn’t hear him say anything racist against any race,’ one person posted. ‘What I did hear him say is, “Illegal Mexicans bring drugs, crime, and are rapists, but I’m sure some are good people.” Seriously, whats racist about that?’ Another Tweeted: ‘Trump is not racist … Trump is not against all mexicans just the illegals.’ Another classic form of figleaf involves reporting the words of others, either specifically (‘John Smith says…’) or in a vague, handwavy way (‘Lots of people are saying…’) This is a great way to avoid responsibility for what one is inserting into the discourse. We see this technique in the British politician Enoch Powell’s infamous ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech in 1968, in which he described a constituent (a ‘quite ordinary working man’) as saying: ‘In this country in 15 or 20 years’ time the black man will have the whip hand over the white man.’ Reports like these help to normalise the sentiments expressed, while distancing the speaker from them. Figleaves are not for everyone. Some people don’t need them: fully committed racists are happy with blatantly racist comments, no figleaves required. Many people won’t be convinced by them: antiracist activists, for example, will see right through the attempted reassurance. For others, though, they provide just what is needed – a licence to go on supporting the person they feel drawn to.

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 2 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana has to play against her former club with your former team. You do your best to support each other and slowly become closer.

Part 1

A/N: It took me a bit longer to re-read and edit this than I thought since it made me emotional because of another transfer that I'm still in denial about 😭

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next part. I'm always happy to hear what you think or what you'd like to see in this story.

Just like you had hoped, Ana and you continued to hang out regularly. In fact you spent most of your days off together and even met up fairly often in the evenings, relaxing either at her or your apartment. More often than not you still couldn’t believe your luck that the Swiss woman actually liked being around you too.

You made sure to steer away from any deep topics though, keeping in mind that Ana preferred when you offered distractions when she seemed unhappy. It wasn’t always easy for you because you wanted to know everything about her and you longed to comfort the blonde when she looked at you with sad eyes. However you understood that she had other people, better friends, that she could talk these things over with.

On the other hand Ana with her sweet and caring nature always asked how you were doing and offered to listen to your problems the moment she picked up that something was bothering you. The desire to tell her everything was almost unbearable at times. You wanted to unload all the things weighing on your heart , well maybe not everything, you would never reveal your feelings for her, but other things like the situation at your club or with your family.

However you didn’t. You successfully kept yourself from spilling your sorrows to Ana. For one you didn’t want to burden the Swiss woman with your problems, she had enough going on without you adding to it. And also you didn’t want her to know that she was the only person you would actually feel comfortable opening up to. It was a painful reminder that Ana was so much more important to you than you were to her.

A few days before Atlético was due to play Barcelona in Madrid the two of you were hanging out again. You had cooked some food together and then settled down in front of the TV for the night. You could tell that the Swiss woman was having a hard time focusing on the show you were watching, even though she had picked it.

Ana kept sighing quietly and glancing over at you. You in turn did your best to distract her, offering up your thoughts about what you were seeing on TV. It was getting increasingly difficult not to ask the blonde what was going on.

‘She prefers a distraction. She doesn’t want to talk about it, at least not with you. What she wants from you is a distraction, so try to find some interesting or funny things to say for crying out loud!’ You reminded yourself over and over again.

You were searching your brain to find something good to say when Ana broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?” She asked timidly.

The insecurity in Ana’s voice took you by surprise, that was really unlike her. But you didn’t dwell on it; instead you quickly assured the Swiss woman that she could always ask you anything.

“Okay, so…It’s not really a question but a favor. And it’s totally fine for you to say no, don’t feel bad at all if you say no! Especially because it puts you in a bit of an awkward situation. You know what, I’m just now realizing how stupid and selfish this is and I just changed my mind.”

You reached out to place your hand on Ana’s thigh, hoping to comfort and calm the clearly agitated woman this way.

“Hey, don’t worry. Just ask me. I have no doubt that the answer will be yes,” you encouraged her.

There wasn’t a single thing you could think of that you wouldn’t do for Ana. Well maybe there were some things, most of them illegal in one way or another, but you doubted that the Swiss woman was going to ask for any of them.

Ana took a deep breath before rushing out her request, “Would you come watch our game this week? The idea of seeing all of my former teammates again really hurts and it would help me so much if I knew you were there. I understand that it’s a lot to ask because my team is your former team, so like I said…”

„Yes, of course I’ll come, it’s the least I can do,” you interrupted the Swiss woman.

Sure you weren’t too keen on going back to Atlético’s stadium and see all of your former teammates play together without you, but the simple fact that Ana asked you to come and even said it would help her, was enough to forget all about that. Who cared if it would make you a little sad? Who cared if maybe some people would come up to you and bring up the still painful transfer? You definitely didn’t, not if you had a chance to make the blonde feel better.

For some reason Ana seemed taken aback by your answer. “Wait what? It’s the least you can do? What have I ever done for you? If anything I owe you! You keep hanging out with me; you keep showing me amazing places here.”

You scrunched up your nose at the blonde’s words. It didn’t sit right with you that she made it sound like hanging out with her was a chore for you, not when it was the only thing that brought you any joy lately.

“But I love spending time with you!” You cried out, for once completely forgetting to add the obligatory ‘as a friend’.

A soft smile appeared on the Swiss woman’s face when she heard your words, as well as the indignation in your voice.

“The same is true for me,” she was quick to assure you, before focusing once again on her first question. She wouldn’t let you wriggle out of this so easily. “But seriously why do you feel like you need to pay me back in anyway? I don’t remember ever doing anything for you.”

Slight panic began pumping through your veins, as you scrambled to come up with anything better to offer up than ‘You hang out with me when you’re so much better than me and there are surely so many better people in your life that you could hang out with.’ That just wouldn’t do. It was one thing to be pathetic, but another thing to shout it from the rooftops.

“I didn’t really mean it like that. Just that I’m always happy to do anything for you,” you mumbled finally. This time you caught yourself however and quickly continued, “I love being there for my friends.”

Ana didn’t need to know that there was no one else on the planet you would do this for.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” the blonde cooed, her compliment instantly making you blush. “And I hope you know that I’m always happy to do anything you need as well.”

You nodded instinctively, not believing it for one second. Not that you doubted that Ana would be there for you in a for a friend reasonable manner, but your commitment to her went way beyond that. There was very little the blonde could ask for that you wouldn’t do for her.

Thankfully the conversation moved on to safer topics after thi and you could relax once again. At least as much as you were ever able to relax around the woman you were hopelessly in love with.

---

When you walked to your seat in Atlético’s stadium a few days later you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. With every step you took it felt like the sadness inside of you grew, taking up more and more space until it was almost impossible to breathe.

This was supposed to be your stadium. Your teammates, former teammates you reminded yourself, had often called you the Alexia Putellas or Leah Williamson of Atlético Madrid. Someone that practically bled their team’s color, born and raised there, and honestly set on dying there too.

Not that you had ever been on a level comparable to Alexia or Leah, which had become painfully obvious when Aleti just dropped you like you were a piece of trash. You hadn’t told anyone this yet, but after that conversation you had seriously considered giving up football once and for all. The thought of playing anywhere else had been ripping you apart. But in the end the idea of not playing the sport you loved at all anymore had been even harder to bear.

You thanked your lucky star that you at least made it to your seat without anyone approaching you. At this point you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it together if anyone spoke to you. Maybe the people around you could read as much on your face because you could definitely hear some whispering and felt a lot of gazes resting on you, but miraculously people kept their distance.

Although it was possible you were wrong about seemingly everyone watching you. You didn’t look around to check if the stares you could feel were actually real, instead you made sure to keep your eyes carefully trained on the pitch, avoiding making eye contact with anyone, which might inadvertently  give them the courage to come up to you.

So you sat there, totally rigid, every fiber of your body tense, wishing for the seconds to pass by as quickly as possible, but somehow that only made them crawl slower than a snail. Maybe you should just leave, come up with an excuse why you had to go. Was this really worth it?

You got your answer the moment Ana entered the pitch, looking around the stadium searchingly. The instant she spotted you a big smile appeared on the blonde’s face, all of the tightness leaving her body momentarily. 

Yes, this was worth it. Ana was worth this and so much more.

You kept thinking of the Swiss woman’s happiness and relief at seeing you when people got bolder during half time, walking up to you to tell you that they missed you at Atlético, that it wasn’t the same without you and that they would never forgive the club for their treatment of you. Empty words since they were here supporting them right now.

Not that you wanted them to turn their backs on the team. You understood having conflicting feelings, your own probably the most complicated of them all. Being back in this stadium you played so many of your games, made you furious and sad, but it also filled you with a longing to go back and brought about a sense of worthlessness. Why hadn’t you been good enough to keep around?

Despite Ana’s best effort to act nonchalant you saw the signs of her struggles clearly, even from the relative distance of the stands. So throughout the entire game you kept watching the blonde like a hawk, as if you could help her feel better about this by some sort of telepathic connection that required a laser like focus on your end.

This way you observed how tense Ana was when her former teammates hugged her, almost reluctant to accept the loving touches because she knew she wasn’t going to see them again anytime soon after this night. 

You also saw how lost the Swiss woman looked on the pitch when the game started. As if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she was on the field with the Barça girls, but not as their teammate.

And you noticed that Ana avoided looking over to the traveling Barcelona fans until the game was finished, despite them chanting her name several times. Only once the final whistle was blown did she go over. It seemed impossible from your spot practically on the other side of the stadium, but you were sure you saw the Swiss woman holding back tears as she thanked them profusely.

You kept on watching while Ana talked with her former teammates. She smiled while chatting, but it was a smile filled with sadness. You briefly wondered if the Barça girls could see that as well. Did they even care? Even though you knew this wasn’t their fault at all, you felt an irrational anger towards them. How could they move on from Ana so quickly? They should have raised hell!

If you would have paid the Barça players any attention you would have seen the unhappiness and concern on their faces, clearly missing the Swiss woman a great deal. However your focus lay solely on the blonde.

The moment Ana disappeared into the tunnels, you also began making your way out of the stadium, keeping your head down and brushing off everyone that tried to initiate a conversation with you. They probably thought you were being rude, but you didn’t care. You were on a mission to get to Ana’s car, the agreed upon meeting point, as soon as possible.

If you would have stopped and thought about it for a second you would have realized that there was no way she would be there anytime soon. The Swiss woman still had to shower and stay around for the post match talk, so really there was no rush. Still, you hurried there as fast as you could.

And to be honest you also felt much more comfortable in the parking lot, an area off limits to the public, than in the stadium surrounded by so many curious fans. They had all been friendly and every single one that had spoken to you had stated that they were on your ‘side’, but nonetheless it was a constant reminder of your unwilling departure from your childhood club. And if it were up to you this subject would stay buried underneath heaps of pretending.

Therefore you worked hard to keep your mind away from your own dark thoughts while you waited for Ana, focusing instead on contemplating every possible emotional state the blonde could be in and how you could be a good distraction for her tonight. Because even though the two of you had to leave for your respective national teams tomorrow you had decided to spend the evening together, maybe even have a sleepover.

When the Swiss woman appeared, the first one from the team to get to the parking lot, she was a little out of breath and looked drained. Not physically, but emotionally. You debated giving her a hug, however Ana decided for you by walking directly towards the driver seat and slipping in without pausing for a second.

You assumed that she was just eager to leave, perhaps scared that one of her former teammates would catch up to her and would want to have a prolonged conversation. That was definitely something you were a little anxious about yourself with your own former teammates. Therefore the quick departure suited you just fine.

And when you caught a glimpse of some of your former teammates entering the car park as you drove off, you thanked Ana in your mind.

The truth was that the Swiss woman had actually done it for you. Throughout the night she didn’t have the same opportunity to continuously watch you as you had, but still she kept glancing over at you any chance she got. And Ana had noticed instantly that you didn’t feel comfortable, everything about your posture and your expression had screamed that you wanted to leave. So she had made sure to rush and get you out of there as quickly as she could.

During the car ride home you kept up a constant stream of light chatter, hoping that it posed a good enough distraction for your companion. Now that she was so close, you didn’t dare to outright stare at her like you had done during the game, but with some quick glances now and then you ensured that Ana looked mostly calm, not really happy though.

At your apartment you had everything waiting for a cozy movie night. You ushered Ana to sit down and relax, while you whirled around the apartment getting everything ready. It didn’t take long since you had prepared what you could before leaving for the game.

Once you sat down and flicked on the TV, turning to the Swiss woman with a slightly forced smile, you noticed that something wasn’t right. Ana was chewing her lips nervously, tapping the tips of her fingers together in quick succession.

“Is everything okay?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. “No wait, I’m sorry, forget that. Let’s just watch the movie, hopefully that will be a good distraction and if not, just tell me. Then we can try something else. Maybe play a game? Or just go to sleep?“

Ana sighed deeply, unhappiness etched on her usually so happy face. Anxiety began freezing your veins; you weren’t doing a good enough job at distracting her. You weren’t good enough.

“Look I know I said that stupid thing about preferring distractions once but I didn’t mean it. I just said it because…” Ana trailed off, looking very uncertain if she should continue.

“What?”

That was the only thing you could think of. The idea that all this time you hadn’t actually been giving the blonde what she craved most, felt like a stab through the middle of your heart. But even more so you wondered, if you hadn’t than why had she still been hanging out with you?

Apparently Ana decided that she did want to explain her reasoning some more. She took a deep breath before she continued talking.

“I only said it because I felt so bad complaining about my transfer to Atlético to you of all people. But I’ve regretted it almost every time we’ve hung out. Because I want to talk with you about it, I want to talk about everything with you. And most of all I want you to talk to me about your own unwanted transfer and how it makes you feel. But I felt weird pushing you to open up about it after I said I didn’t want to talk about mine.”

There was too much in Ana’s explanation that you didn’t know how to deal with, so you focused on the things that were easy for you, “You know you can always talk to me about anything. Please never feel bad about that, I’m always happy to listen! And don’t worry about me, I’m totally fine with my transfer. These things happen and it’s not like Real is a bad team or anything, so I can’t really complain.”

That was a flat out lie of course, you had been complaining a lot about your transfer and you definitely still had strong feelings about it, all of them bad. But Ana didn’t need to worry about that, not when she was struggling with her own club situation.

The Swiss woman scooted closer to you, putting a hand on your thigh. She looked at you seriously and you knew instantly that the Swiss woman didn’t believe a word you had just said.

“Don’t do that, please. It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to feel bad after being dropped by your club, I know I do and my connection to Barcelona wasn’t even a deep as yours with Atléti.”

The softness of Ana’s voice combined with her words, words that you had been craving to hear for the longest time, brought tears to your eyes. You blinked furiously to get rid of them and quickly diverted your gaze, hopefully blocking the Swiss woman from seeing your watery eyes. Of course you had no such luck.

Ana closed the last few centimeters of distance between you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Still, you didn’t turn to meet her eyes. You were fine. The transfer didn’t bother you. At least not enough to cry about it to the Swiss woman.

“Maybe tonight we can just be sad together? I think we both need that,” Ana suggested, her voice quivering.

This made you look up. When you saw that the blonde’s own eyes were also filled with tears your resolve to be strong crumbled. If Ana needed this than you would give it to her. And if it just so happened to align with what you longed for as well that was just a lucky coincidence.

“Okay,” you mumbled and that was all Ana needed. She drew you against her, practically pulling you into her lap.

You held out a second longer but when you felt Ana’s body shaking from her sobs and heard her crying, you didn’t bother to hold yourself back any longer, letting your own tears fall.

And that’s how you stayed for a long time, the two of you falling apart in each other’s arms. You didn’t really talk about anything that night, simply relocating to your bedroom and falling asleep in each other‘s arms once all the tears had been shed.

That was a first for the two of you. At every sleepover before you had kept a careful distance, both of you sleeping on their designated side of the bed, but that night nothing was keeping you apart.

[sourpatchys]

My personal Headcannons for Daryl Dixon that I will defend with my life

Just a warning! there is some nsfw❤️‍🔥 content in this list (not a ton)

This is a list full of random Headcannons I have, some are xreader related, some are just fun little things I’d like to believe because they’re fun

He l o v e s head scratches and chin scratches, just like a dog, his mom used to do it to him as a kid, it’s just really comforting to him

He is 100% dyslexic, he’s super insecure about it, which is why he leaves reading and writing up to anyone else who’s willing to do it.

This dude is secretly a math wiz. It came super easy to him, but he does tend to keep it on the down low because it was never something he was allowed to be proud of as a child, and it’s not really a needed skill anymore

I personally do not believe Daryl did anything hard while running around with Merle, Shrooms and weed were his limit 99.99% of the time, unless he felt pressured, but even then it would take a lot of convincing

He’s very self conscious about how thick his accent can get, he grew up in a much more rural area than the rest of Rick and Co. (apart from Maggie of course) and he feels out of place with his speech patterns at times.

Daryl was definitely a highschool drop out, assuming his birthday is January 6th, he left as soon as he was old enough to do it without a parent’s consent (18)

I just know this man never got his license. Can you imagine him paying his way through classes and taking a drivers test? I can’t. He probably just got a state ID for booze and just drove around illegally (if he got an ID at all, I’m sure he knew quite a few places that didn’t card)

He runs hot, the cold is a lot easier for him to handle than the heat, which is why he tended to wear sleeveless shirts or half sleeves

He has never had a “crush” in his life. He’s thought people were hot before, of course he has, but romance was never really on his mind

He’s not a total virgin, but he’s not exactly skilled either. His body count is probably 3, and I guarantee you he was not sober before, during, or after.

He’s a thigh and breast man. Hands down.

I know deep in my soul that this man enjoys some face sitting.

He’s not an overly sexual guy, if you were asexual he’d be okay with never doing anything, so long as you were happy

If you’re nonbinary, he was definitely mean to you at the start, with the way he was raised it simply didn’t make any since to him, BUT once you get closer and he starts to trust you, he might (he will) start asking some questions to understand you better

He isn’t a pet name kinda guy. He’s completely on board with calling you sunshine or princess, but anything past that just isn’t for him, and he really isn’t a fan of you giving him one either, unless it’s just a joking matter like how Carol calls him “pookie” from time to time

He’s a morning person and he hates it. He always wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, and every time he wishes he hadn’t.

He is definitely an insomniac, likely derived from having night terrors as a kid

He’s definitely self conscious about his scars, but not enough to cause issues if anyone happened to see them, he isn’t ashamed of them, but he doesn’t want to explain where their from, and he genuinely hasn’t thought of a good enough lie to tell instead.

When rick saw them for the first time Daryl had him fully convinced he was in a fight with a bear for about a week (rick never asked for the real reason)

He has a heavy sweet tooth, and likes to keep hard candy with him at all times (if possible) and he has never, and will never, pass up chocolate in any form.

He genuinely has chicken scratch for handwriting, he does not plan on ever attempting to make it easier to read, he enjoys the struggle people face when he’s put in a position where he has to write anything down. (Plus it helps conceal his errors if they do figure it out)

He does genuinely want kids in his life. Even if they can’t be his biologically. Being “uncle Daryl” is the best feeling he’s ever experienced, and he really wants to experience that with you if you’d allow it/want it (he would never pressure you to have kids)

Headaches and migraines plague his existence and they always have

He had super long hair as a kid and one of his punishments was his dad shaving it all off, which is why he kept it short until after the outbreak.

He would let you paint his toenails, or match his middle finger with whatever polish you decided to wear

This dude HATES clowns. Seeing a walker in a clown get up would absolutely kill him on the inside

You got sick? Don’t worry about it, he will absolutely attempt to make you soup from scratch using bone marrow and whatever else he can find

Fishing is not his thing. He knows how to, but he much prefers just catching them by hand or with a spear.

The closer you two get, the more likely he is to try and convince you that Bigfoot is real

Daryl is a secret star wars fan

He does NOT like country music, Led Zeppelin, Rob zombie, Ozzy osbourne and Lamb of god are much more his thing

He wasn’t a technology kind of guy, so if you tried to explain any aspect of social media to him he’d be completely lost (he didn’t even have a cellphone)

He has a super dry sense of humor

If he had to choose between starving to death or eating plain Cheerios, he would choose death.

One of the reasons he isn’t big on showering is because he doesn’t have a strong immune system from his childhood neglect, and he doesn’t want to shock his body and get sick

He also just hates the way soap feels on his skin. It’s way too sticky

During sex, he’s not strictly dominant or submissive, he’s ready to adapt to whatever you want, even if that means being strictly vanilla

He’s afraid of Santa Clause

And the Easter bunny

He’s willing to try anything once, even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it

He knows a lot of information on plants and herbs, so depending on your mood, he’ll try to find a flower to brighten your day with a little scribbled note explaining its meaning (because you can actually read his atrocious writing)

He’s never once told you he loves you, and your relationship wasn’t a spoken fact. His actions tend to speak louder than words, and if you say you love him, he will occasionally reply with a “back at ya.” Or “me too”

He always has weird shit in his pockets, like cool rocks he found, dead flowers, and fallen leaves.

He genuinely does not understand a single thing that Eugene says, and he never has.

The first time he ever kisses you on his own (you 100% have to make the first move) it’s a very rough and embarrassed act where he just grabs you and plants one in ya before you can even think about what’s happening

He will change his favorite color to whatever yours is, because if you can see beauty in it, then it’s all he can see from then on out

[purrrrplecats]

oh no i found it

the in correct quote generato-

(there a lot so if you don't want to read lots don't click keep reading)(theres loads i think 50-)

Scar: Grian and I are so close we even share a toothbrush. Grian: We what?

(he appoligised abt the joke later on.)

Mumbo: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Grian: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Scar: Yeah? Grian: Bitch.

Mumbo: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Grian: No… not really. Mumbo: Are you going to do something about it? Grian: Hm… nah.

Grian: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Scar: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Pearl: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

Pearl: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Pearl: gasps whErE???!!!??

Impulse: So I have made the decision to trust you. Grian: A horrible decision, really.

Grian: Gem, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Gem: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Gem: You don’t have one like this anymore.

(its and mug with pink and blue snails on it.)

Gem: This should be illegal! Pearl: It is.

Pearl: Okay, let's split 'em up and make 'em sing. Impulse: Two of you take Gem, the other two take Grian. Scar: Right. Bad cop, good cop. Mumbo: You know, it's interesting that they say "bad cop, good cop," because policing in this country is so broken it's really just "bad cop, bad cop". Impulse: Scar, you're with them. Scar: Got it.

Grian: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY! Scar: Then where are Norwegian people from!? Impulse: NORWAY!!

Impulse: Would you slap Pearl- Grian: Yes. Impulse: I didn't even finish! Grian: Sorry, continue. Impulse: Would you slap Pearl for 10 dollars? Grian: I would do it for free. Pearl: Rude…

(you could also swap Grian and Pearl around because I mean, SKYLINGS)

Grian: If you want my advice- Pearl: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Grian: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Scar: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Impulse: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gem: I am strong! I beat Grian at arm wrestling! Impulse: Anyone can beat Grian at arm wrestling! Grian: Hey-

(sure Impulse sure-)

Gem: Grian, I am nothing if not a Woman of principle. Gem: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Pearl: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Gem: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

(again you could swap them around)

Pearl: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Mumbo: Those are Pokemon cards. Pearl: You got a magikarp. Mumbo: … Pearl: It means 'fuck you'.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Gem: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Gem: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Scar: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Impulse: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Impulse: SCAR IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Impulse: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Gem: Hey Pearl, check out this funny .GIF I found! Pearl: It’s pronounced “jif”. Gem: Huh? Pearl: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Gem: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Pearl: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Gem: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Pearl: It’s exactly the same! Gem: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Pearl: Gentrification. Gem: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Pearl: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Gem: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Gem: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Pearl: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Gem: Huh. Didn’t know that. Gem: You’re still wrong, though. Pearl: You just hate me because I’m right. Gem: I just hate you in general. Pearl: You mean in “geh-neral”? Gem: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Scar: What's worse than a heartbreak? Grian: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Mumbo: Waking up in the morning. Gem: Waking up.

Scar: I love you. Grian: Me too.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Pearl: What’s your favorite color? Gem: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Pearl: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Gem: My favorite color is pink.

Grian: Do you love me? Mumbo: We’re literally married. Grian: Yeah, but as friends or—

(logic is that Waffle duo got married as a bit like Clingy duo (Tubbo and Tommy) but G is like Tommy and doesn't want to get a divorce because he wants to commit it the bit.)

Grian: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Pearl: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Grian: They're not. Pearl: Haha, very funny. Grian: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Pearl: No… what happened? Grian: …Why would you fall for this again-

Scar: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Gem: Bees? Scar: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Gem: Wait- Impulse approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Scar: Mx. Grian, I accidentally dropped my seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have a lemon tree grow inside my belly? Grian: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Scar: Yes. Grian: Grian: Alright, let's go to the nurse.

Grian: Some people are like slinkies. Pearl: What? Grian: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Pearl: Pearl: Please don't push Scar down the stairs. Grian, pushing Scar down the stairs: Too late.

Pearl: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Scar: When have I been paranoid? Pearl: Um, when you first met Gem you thought they were an undercover cop…? Scar: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Pearl: And last year you were sure Impulse was a mermaid! Scar: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! Later, when Scar’s theory is proven wrong Pearl: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Scar: I still think Impulse is a mermaid.

Grian: Scar, Pearl keeps bullying me at school. Scar: Ask your teacher for help. The next day… Grian, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Pearl?

Pearl: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Scar: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

(same quote 2 times in a row!?!?!)

Impulse, near tears: Please, Grian, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

Gem: I need to dye my hair. Impulse: … Gem: Or get another tattoo. Impulse: … Gem: Or a new piercing. Impulse: Why? Gem: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

Grian: aggressively throws pencil at Scar Grian, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

(Double Life = soulmates)

Scar : So you like cats? Grian: Yeah. Scar : tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Impulse: What have you done with Scar ?

Grian: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Pearl: Scar , let’s go! Grian : Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Pearl: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Grian : What-? Pearl: Mom, Dad, Scar smoked pot in college. Grian : You are such a tattletale! Grian : Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Jimmy who was smoking the pot but… It was me. I’m sorry. Pearl: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Grian did. Grian : Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Pearl did. Pearl: Grian hasn’t worked for a year! Grian : Pearl and Gem are living together! Pearl: Grian married Scar in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Jimmy: I love Jacques Cousteau! Etho: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Doc: I wanna gooo!!

(I changed some names, aka added Doc, Etho and Jimmy, also Etho is the mum Docs the dad, and Tim is ofc the younger brother.) (the family situation is defo not from TTSBC)

Mumbo: I will send my army to attack! Mumbo: releases a dumpster of raccoons

Gem, throwing their head into Pearl's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Pearl, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

(awwwwww)

Squad is playing Among Us Grian: I believe Pearl is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mumbo, what were you doing? Mumbo: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

(I was gonna change Pearl to Scar and change Mumbo to Impulse because Impulsetor)

Pearl, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Grian: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Headcanon time!

In my head there is a specific reason the Beetles have that house in the show.

Is it because they're poor? That can play into the whole ordeal, of course, but it's not the main reason.

The main reason is they got scammed.

Picture: it is the late 1990s/ early 2000s, and unless you had someone you knew, moving from a whole continent to another wasn't that easy. You had to make plans for even years, search around agencies for a house, buy tickets and decide if you were gonna move ALL YOUR STUFF (aka, more time and money to spend) or if you were gonna buy the place empty and then decorate it from 0 (less expensive, but where the hell are you gonna sleep?).

By the way the house is furnished, I think they went for a mix: some stuff was already there, other stuff was imported, more stuff was bought.

But even if that was the case, it must've been really expensive for them to even just buy the house; you don't pay just for the house, but also for the agency (or agencies) that helped you get the place, the moving etc.

So, of course they wanted something cheap. I know they are played like stupid idiots, but come on, even an idiot can see how bad that place is! So, why don't they move? If they were able to afford a pool, why not a new house?

And here we go to the first point: they got scammed.

They got the house and trusted the agency about the whole procedure. Probably this agency showed them fake pics of another place to sell the thing. It happened a lot and still happens sometimes, unfortunately. So they might've thought they bought some other place for a good price, what a catch!

Of course the agency had them sign papers that wouldn't allow them to get their money back once they got the keys, or some other fishy clause to make sure they wouldn't be able to get out of that situation easily. They had to save their butts knowing they were in the wrong. Probably did something illegal regarding their documents, IDs etc.

So yeah, they move, arrive at the house and... it's shit.

Total shit.

And they can't opt out because they spent all their money for that place, the agency "mysteriously" disappeared, their documents are not all legal so they can't contact police or they might lose the house completely... and they were left with trying to make that place at least look as good as possible and as close to an inviting home for Wally and his future friends.

The end!

[bioethicists]

Genuine question, but is restorative/ transformative justice useful for addressing hate groups?

I was under the impression that the prevention of violence extended to hate groups, but I keep seeing the reoccurring message from some people that incels, for example, don't need compassion or community (reasoning being, that they became incels because of their entitlement and superiority complex, which would not be solved with accountable compassion or community).

But I don't really understand the unspoken alternative? It seems so much worse for the women they'll inevitably interact with to just leave them isolated in their community, edging each other to the extreme.

while i do think some people online genuinely believe that incels are like, broken sociopathic monsters who need to be murdered or abandoned by society because it's their own fault etc, i think most of the time what people mean by that is "the burden of teaching men not to hate women should not be on women; men are still responsible for their own hateful actions; they are not owed my compassion or empathy, even if it would 'help' them". it's also backlash to the fact that people like incels often get painted as poor little victims in a way many other people (like the women they hate so much) do not.

that being said, everything that happens to anyone ever happens in community, whether people like it or not. total individualism is fake + any leftist worth their salt knows this. if the only way you can imagine someone having accountability for their actions is to believe that something is entirely, 100% their fault with absolutely no outside influences or nuance, then nobody can never be held accountable for anything. everyone needs compassion + community (i would argue the benefit many ppl derive from hate group membership is a sense of community), but i wouldn't say they are owed it by any individual. i would also say that the way in which compassion/community is applied (often when there is no political analysis + it's just based on appeals to "everyone has good inside them" or "love away the hate") in these cases can become just a way of reinforcing an echo chamber, refusing to challenge someone's beliefs, or silencing the people harmed (critiquing ppl for not being "good" victims or not having compassion for their abusers).

ppl often misunderstand restorative approaches as being "lesser" or "letting people off" when they can often require more accountability + more demonstration of change than a carceral approach. it is not synonymous with "loving someone's hate" or "letting them off easy". i mean, under the u.s carceral system, membership in most hate groups is not illegal. even when it becomes legally relevant, the people who are actually harmed are rarely centered in these approaches- it's just a bloodfest over how much we can punish people so we can show off how we think misogyny is super bad even as the court system continues to be one of, if not the most prolific perpetrator of misogyny + victim blaming. as if a handful of violent misogynists' suffering is supposed to be vindication or deterrence (when it never rlly is).

ultimately, there are tens of thousands of reasons why someone may be a member of a hate group, but it usually boils down to the fact that they are deriving some sort of benefit- financial, emotional, familial, cultural, interpersonal, etc- for doing so. some people would probably respond really well to a restorative approach because they would be capable + interested in delving into why they believe these things + how they could get their needs met without harming others. others are fully aware of the fact that they are deriving benefit at the expense of others + simply do not care or, worse, that is the benefit for them- the hurting other people/feeling superior to others. part of moving outside of the logic of the carceral system is moving past the idea that every individual person must be either punished or saved, rather than focusing on the conditions which create hate groups + give them power.

there may be a lot of individual members of hate groups who would not benefit from restorative practices, but we can still make hate group membership as undesirable + lacking benefit as possible, minimize the amount of power + resources they have to do harm, magnify the amount of power + resources the people they are harming have access to. to me, this is restorative, because it focuses on minimizing harm rather than punishing perpetrators + centers around people who have been harmed. further, if we understand the needs or desires that often drive hate group membership, we can work to make those needs/desires easier to fulfill through less destructive means + do the structural work of addressing why, for example, so many teenage boys have a need/desire to feel sexually dominant or 'alpha'.

the biggest restorative work to me is not based on any one individual, but on making the pathways into hate groups as narrow as possible + the pathways out as broad as possible, while still emphasizing accountability + capacity for change.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this.

Here we start a new series, at last I regained my love for writing n' reading 🥰

I have no idea how to write Hobie's accent, so apologies for that in advance. Any input and advise is well welcomed ☺️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mention of blood, injuries, fighting, cursing, anxiety.

Words: 2022

Chapter one: What else you got?

"When will you ever grow up?! Going against our path, is going against the family!" My father yelled, speaking about his religion and how I refused to believe in his insanity while punching the table to accentuate his anger.

"Then maybe I was never really a part of this shit family!" A smack on the face, it came from across my step mother that had entered the conversation, "Never come back, insufferable brat" she spit at me.

I had had it with them, so I flipped them off and left with a duffle bag on my shoulder.

As soon as I arrived to the train station and took seat inside the train, my heart broke, tears streamed down my face, like a wild river I tried to hold back when I looked the disappointment in my father's eyes.

Let's start from the beginning, my name is Y/n L/n, and it's been two weeks since I moved to the big city. A friend got me a job on a coffee shop and a small flat near it, without her I would've slept on the streets probably, so I owe her a lot.

Every day is the same! It's going to drive me crazy. I make the minimum for attending crazy fucked up people! Every day is the same compalints, some about the damm prices, the ice cream flavors, the fact that not always we have cash to break a 20, bitch come on, who buys a two dollar coffee with 20 or 100 bucks?? Seriously, people are crazy, and they take it on me just because I'm on the counter almost all the time.

I'm fucking tired.

Then one night, I was doing inventory when Jess, on the subject that I owe her a lot, she practically begged me to accompany her to a very illegal show downtown, on a sketchy bar no less. "I don't know Jess, those shows aren't really my thing, neither is a lot of people on a confined space" you shrugged, "Come on Y/n, my boyfriend is playing the bass, but I don't wanna go alone, maybe I could even present you to a few people, so you have friends, other than me" I looked at her with a stern look, that was the least of my concerns.

"It's just...you look so lonely and sad all the time, maybe you could have some fun, ya' know, to loosen up the stress from work" before she could keep blabbering reasons to go, I caved. "Fine" she yelled a high pitched "Yay" and hugged me.

It's amazing how easy is to get killed in the city nowadays, my first couple of days working I got shocked with how many corpses I encountered as soon as I opened my apartment door, but then I got used to it? I don't throw up as much as before, so that's a start.

But everything is so messy right now, with V.E.N.O.M tasks forces roaming the streets, people instead of being scared, they've become violent. I have no idea how Jess can be so hyped about a show when there's like an 80% chance we'll get killed in the process.

But hey, YOLO right?

Since it was a punk event, she wanted me to "blend in", as to not dress as a total nerd like I always do according to her. So we stopped at her apartment to get ready.

She lend me a plaid mini skirt, mid thigh stockings, a learher jacket that ended mid torso, a dark red shirt with a weird spider logo, a spiky choker and did a very goth or punk-like work on my face.

I didn't recognized myself, but I didn't quite hated it either.

Black boots with chains completed the look according to her, "Ya' look stunnin', honey" she squealed, coming out of the bathroom ready herself, wearing all things similar to mine, with the addition of a oversized denim jacket filled with band related pins and patches.

"Your boyfriend's, I suppose" she turned back to me, blushed slightly, "He gifted this to me, he's so cool and corny, I love him so much".

I am jealous of her. Her boyfriend has stopped by work a few times, he's tough but nice and very likeable. I could tell he would go to hell and back for her.

I was so fucking jealous of that.

The place wasn't really far from my apartment, which would allow me to slip away in case I needed it, oh boy, not even two seconds inside and I already wanted to run away.

It was a mess of all kinds of black dressed people, like the pride parade but goth, punk and violently weird. Jess seemed to be fine around the mess, she was a natural, totally in her element.

There was this feeling climbing up my spine, weakening my knees and my lungs, anxiety making her debut.

"C'mon let's get to the front before they start playin', otherwise we won't be able to see shit!" She pulled me across the sea of leather and spikes, I sensed a lot of stares and wolf whistles, probably not for me, but it felt so alien to me.

The group made its introduction, the crowd wildly started screaming and jumping, shoving us against the fence that kept us away from the stage. The amps to the limit, and the people jumping and shoving, everything begun to spin, in a haze I believed myself to be drunk but totally sober, "Jess! I wanna leave" I tried to scream but she couldn't hear me. Couldn't move either, trapped in between the fence I could only close my eyes in hopes the pain in my ears and my chest would end soon.

A hand took mine, out of a sudden I was on the other side of the fence. Due to the momentum I clashed against a bunch of pins and chains, "Follow me" He said, not ever letting my hand go, he lead me backstage, where the sound of the still going music and cheering was a bit muffled, barely bearable.

"Better?" I looked up to him, he had a wild black mane, piercings on his brows and his lower lip, stunning factions and he was built amazingly. "Yeah, sorry about the trouble" he chuckled at my embarrassment, "S' nothin', stay here all you need" he winked and rushed back to the stage, the screaming intensified as soon as he did.

A while later, Jess got to the backstage by the arm of her boyfriend, "Oh, honey I'm so sorry, are you feeling okay now?" I shook my head, hugging myself in absolute embarrassment. "'m gonna head back, sorry" she held me as soon as I was about to leave, "First, your knight in denim armor, Hobie I can't thank you enough" she thank him.

So that was his name, Hobie.

"No problem, that was a bad edge" his accent was so thick that's all I got to hear him say. "Hobie we need to scram, they are on their way, get the explosives" said none other than Jess's boyfriend, "Another raid? But babe" she whined, not caring about the sudden violence about to be unleashed apparently.

"Jess we need to leave, now!" I tried to take her away, but she resisted and shoved my hand away from hers, "I'm actually gonna stay for this one, Spider-Man might actually appear this time" She excitedly left with her boyfriend.

How could she just left when there was going to be another raid outside?! "Why today, I knew I shouldn't have come to this stupid thing!" Searching routes, but nothing came to mind, the sound of the tasks forces was loud, and the one from the rebellion was even more so.

Everything went down because of Oscorp taking over, then Spider-Man showed up to shake up the masses into a furious rebellion, it bothered me tat the rebels acted as if the destruction, the purchase of weapons from gangsters, and the eternal bustle, would change the fact that V.E.N.O.M had almost completely taken over the streets. The rebellion regained territory in the last assault, but in that hell several young people died, and not even Spider-Man could do anything about it.

Usually I don't get into that shit, because for fun I rather go dancing at the club, though I admit I threw a Molotov at a task forces's car, once the opportunity presented itself.

When I got out, everything was smoke, explosions, people running, crying and shouting with hate. The alley that led to the passage where I would hopefully make it to my apartment was across the fire. I plucked up my courage and ran, a little difficult because of the platforms on my shoes, the damn mini skirt, and because of the shooting that started when I managed to jump over the puddle of burning gasoline.

I fell and hit all the cement on my legs and arms, I got up quickly because the adrenaline was stronger than the bullet that grazed my knee, so I managed to take refuge in the back of the building.

"Where you think you goin' bitch" A cop grabbed my arm, seeing that I resisted him the baton on his other hand hit the back of my knees and then I had no other choice but to fall, the cut on my knee bleeding even more, but I couldn't feel it yet.

He rises the baton to hit me again, but it got swooped off his hand, in about a second that same cop was literally mummified to the wall, all covered in spider webs.

"You okay?" Red and blue suit, spikes on the head of the mask, denim jacket and boots, yeah a hero alright. "Peachy" He just saved me, but the bitterness from my friend bailing on me, the recent anxiety attack, the raid, the pulsing wound that I made the mistake of acknowledge, and the posible bruise from the baton, got to me pretty fast.

"Go save the others, I'm fine" he didn't moved, instead he stretched his hand towards me, "Let me take you some'ere safe first" normally I would've sent him to hell itself, but taking everything into consideration, I ended up agreeing.

As soon as I took his hand, he pulled me up and into his arms. He secured my waist with his arm, "By the green building is alright" he nodded then fired his web, without warning he took flight, taking an even firmer grasp on my waist.

Meanwhile I hid my face on his neck and yelled a bit.

As soon as we landed I shoved myself off of his grasp, clinging to the fire stairs railing for dear life, "Bit nauseous there love?" He joked, "A warning would've been appreciated" I swallowed the bit of puke that threatened the back of my throat, "But thanks, I'll take it form here".

My knees quivered when trying to make a decent step, the pulsing hurt behind my legs, "Ya' sure?" He asked, getting at a safe distance from my pathetic state, "Yeah, now aren't you needed elsewhere?" He slightly laughed at my embarrassment, "That can wait, they were holding it up, a'right" I could hear his smile under that mask.

"Need help there, love?" He offered, making it sound more like a tease, his hand reaching towards me once more, "I'll be careful" He promised. I caved again, after all, I lived in the eighth floor.

"Now we're good, night spiderman" I tried to close the door but he stopped it with his combat boots, "What" he stayed silent for a second, "Not even a kiss?" He joked? I couldn't tell because of the mask, then he just leaned on the doorframe. I genuinely laughed, like I haven't in a while, "Thanks for the laugh, maybe next time you save me, I'll give you that kiss, how's that?" He tilted his head a bit, like thinking, then just nodded.

I think he was about to say something, but an explosion on the raid site got to his attention, "I think you're needed" When I turned my head around he had already left.

[simnostalgia]

If KOSA doesn't pass, something else will.

ugh, this whole KOSA thing makes me roll my eyes. I'm sorry I KNOW I'm just a sims blog but I need to say something and it's going to be long, skip if you want to-

I get it I do, call your reps if you want to. I honestly could see it getting struck down (yet again) but honestly? It's probably gonna get through eventually in our current political and cultural climate. Do you know why? Not because of wanting to protect kids, obviously, but because they can't easily shape the narrative. And children, being blank slates, are obviously not as scared of upturning power structures as their X/Boomer parents. Not that I super needed to tell you any of this, I mean it's obvious.

And I mean, don't be naive, this was cute when it was like 2015 or whatever and we all banded together to stop SOPA but obviously this isn't going to stop. This isn't just a whiny lament about how we can do nothing (Which, total sidebar, isn't it weird when these sorts of things come up and people show up in the comments all "Oh no, there's nothing we can do!! I guess we'll just die!!!" like, get a grip)

ANYWAY, when was the last time you watched something illegally? Probably pretty recently, when was the last time you got a hold of something you probably weren't supposed to have. Do you know easy it will probably be to bypass these measures? You really expect me to believe that they're capable of censoring the WHOLE internet?

Our government. Which cannot do anything competently besides war crimes (and even then...), is really going to plug *every hole* in that regard? The trillion dollar Hollywood machine has been dumping endless amounts of money and time into stopping piracy and they STILL haven't done it. The closest they got was just trying to give us a better option, and they even fucked *that* up. And let me tell you, trying to search for a way stop people from finding very specific files you can create bots to look for is WAY easier than trying to automate a system that just searches for nebulous concepts like "dangerous content".

Like I said, do what you feel like you need to do but it's obvious that those in charge are more and more willing to make increasing machiavellian decisions to try control and public whose opinions are quickly spiraling out of control. And I REALLY doubt that calling your rep all "UwU swir, can you pwease not impede my abiwity to rwead supwernatural porwn onwine??" is going to sway them.

And the thing that they're really trying to stop, a changing worldview among youth driven by online discourse, is bound to fail because it's going to be hard to put *that* particular genie back in the bottle. If they wanted to curb the amount of sway that the internet could have over young people's opinions they needed to kill social media in its cradle in the mid-2000s. It's WAY too late for that.

You can be mad and disagree all you want but, how about a plan B? Just in case this, or any future law, gets pushed through by the stone age baby boomers. Try things like not using only the 5 largest social media sites for all of your needs. Learn how to use tor. Protect yourself online. Use platforms that can't be easily tracked. Back up shit you like so you have copies.

Alls I'm saying is MAYBE instead of playing the dumb game of "Maybe if we ask really nicely they'll do the right thing" we make a plan to use decentralized platforms that are far to large and varied to effectively police in any meaningful way. In hindsight, maybe we shouldn't have come to use large platforms to criticize power structures when the heads of those power structures also use those platforms. It just seems like bad planning.

Stop expecting that you can fight EVERY bill and start planning to do some illegal shit online.

[sadhours]

simmer down - 2

masterlist • requests are open • read on ao3

previous chapter

warnings: 18+ minors dni, reader x steve, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), swallowing, slow burn, angst, this is end game Billy x reader I promise

summary: you think maybe you can fall back into secretly hooking up with Steve, even if Billy knows. you find that he isn’t going to tell your brother, Tommy. but he’s sure as hell gonna tease you about it.

By some weird force of nature, Billy hasn’t spilled your secret. It’s stressing you out that he even knows at all, because he doesn’t know much of anything about you. And now he’s the sole holder of that secret. You don’t know Billy so you’ve got no clue if you could really trust him to keep his mouth shut. The other night at dinner, Tommy announced that Billy had joined the basketball team and you panicked because Steve is on the team. The possibility of Billy saying something makes you absolutely sick to your stomach.

You used to fuck off with Carol during practice but since Billy’s joined, the two of you sit in the gym and watch now. It’s tough to watch, Billy has this need to antagonize Steve and you end up feeling sorry for Steve. He’s not as good on his feet as the Californian. And Billy’s a fucking show off. He dribbles the ball between his legs and is constantly attempting trick shots. What’s worse is he makes them ninety percent of the time and everyone cheers. You can see the annoyance on Steve’s face, his comebacks aren’t as well executed as Billy’s. Also, how Billy always ends up on skins while Steve ends up on shirts seems intentional, like either Billy asks the coach or the coach really likes to see them compete.

“It’s insane to see Steve like this,” Carol mumbles to you, nudging your shoulder as she does so. “He used to be such a hot shot.”

You wince, watching Billy knock Steve onto his back and grin wildly down at the brunette. It’s definitely a foul, yet the coach doesn’t call it out. No, instead he yells for Steve to get up.

“Billy’s kind of a dick,” you admit, your face scrunched up in secondhand embarrassment for Steve.

Carol shrugs, “He’s just a better player. Steve’s so pathetic, it just looks sad.”

With a sigh you can’t help but agree. It’s only solidifying Steve’s fall from grace. You can’t really imagine Billy taking his place though, he’s in a far different league of his own. He’s exotic in ways Steve isn’t. Billy’s not rich but he has a way cooler car than Steve. He hasn’t spent his entire life in Hawkins and you make a internal note to ask him more about the west coast. Talking to Billy was surprisingly easy. Sometimes you’d catch yourself rambling on and repeating yourself because you’d get so excited about whatever you were talking about and he was an amazing listener. He asked questions, nodded along and laughed when you apologized for talking too much. The crush was kind of growing, but you were pretty sure it would pass. He was pretty regularly hooking up with Tina, she’d tell you and Carol all about it and you pretended not to picture yourself with him while she described their encounters.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Billy’s maniacal cackling and Steve whining, “Coach! Come on! That was totally illegal!”

Carol’s laughing along with Billy, but you can’t help but agree with Steve. He plays dirty, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. It is also glaringly obvious how sexy he is. You find yourself thinking about licking the sweat off his chest. Why did he always have to be skins?

This was torture but you enjoyed it enough to keep following Carol into the gym every other day. And after practice you’d walk with Billy to his car if Tina wasn’t around. Today she wasn’t, so here you are standing next to that pretty blue Camaro looking up at even prettier blue eyes. Billy’s hair is still wet from his shower. He shrugs off the compliments from Tommy and Carol while he lights a cigarette. He gives you this look when Steve walks to his car and your eyes linger, watching Steve’s tall legs as he strides past the four of you.

“So what’s the move?” Tommy asks, “You wanna come over and listen to records?”

Billy shakes his head, sucking on the Marlboro before frowning, “Gotta watch my step sister.”

“It’s Friday,” Carol points out and Billy scoffs, though his lips are turned up in a slight smile.

“I’ll be free around nine,” he says.

“We can go to quarry,” you suggest, raising an eyebrow up.

Tommy grins, “That could be fun. You down, Hargrove?”

Billy smiles, “Sounds like some hick shit. Count me in.”

Your head turns as you hear polyurethane wheels against the gravel, seeing the redhead barreling towards the Camaro. She’s got this pissed off look on her face and Billy’s smile quickly falls as he hands you the rest of his smoke.

“See you then,” he says, looking at you before tossing his bag in the backseat and climbing in the front seat. His step sister doesn’t even spare any of you a look as she climbs in the opposite side. Billy pulls his sunglasses down and shoots you a wink before he reverses out of his spot and speeds off. Carol squeals and slaps your arm.

Tommy groans, “Absolutely not. Do not fuck him.”

Carol pushes him gently, “He totally likes her, who are you to get in the way of that?”

You shake your head, “I’m not going to fuck him. Let’s go.”

;;;

Carol insists you ride with Billy, so you can give him directions. Tommy doesn’t protest but you can see it on his face. Billy’s car is very clean, it’s the first thing you notice. You know he smokes in the car, he’s doing it now, but there’s no ash lingering on the dash and it smells like leather and well… man. It smells like a man. His cassettes are organized alphabetically in the glove compartment, you notice it when he asks you to pick one out. You settle on a Def Leppard album and he doesn’t have anything to say about it but he drums his fingers against the steering wheel along with the music. He’s got a six pack of beer, placed neatly next to your feet and he drives slower than you expected.

“So…” he muses, passing the cigarette to you, “Is King Steve a good lay?”

“Oh my god,” you flush, dragging your hand down your face.

Billy cackles, “That embarrassment tells me yes. If he were shit in the sack, you wouldn’t be so fucking red.”

“Why do you even want to know?” you grumble, taking a hit of his cigarette and passing it back.

He takes it and drags his tongue across his lower lip, “I guess I don’t. It’s just funny to see you turn that color.”

“Is Tina good?” you try to make him feel as embarrassed as you are.

You don’t know what you anticipated, though. He just grins big and wide, leaning his head back to look at you while he says, “She’s alright. I do most the work so I don’t know if I’d say she’s good. But I get what I need.”

“Gross,” you roll your eyes and snatch the Marlboro back from him. “That’s not how she retells it.”

Billy hums and then purses his lips, “She does have a big mouth. She tell you anything you didn’t wanna know?”

You scoff, “Yeah, everything.”

“She describe my dick?” he asks, eyes crinkling up with his cocky grin.

“Feel like I’m old friends with it,” you exhale, trying not to picture it.

Billy laughs, it’s loud and genuine and you hate the way it makes you feel all warm inside. A part of you wants to open the door and roll yourself down the cliff he’s driving along.

“I always knew girls talked about that stuff.”

“It’s all she talks about. You better be careful, I think she’s obsessed with you,” you reply, “Most girls don’t do that, by the way.”

“That…” he starts, “Or you just haven’t had it good enough to brag about.”

“Oh, I could brag,” you say, tossing the cigarette butt out the window.

Billy scoffs, “Then why don’t you? Why not shack up with King Steve? Make it official.”

“Neither of us want that. We’re perfectly fine with no one knowing.”

You don’t dare tell Billy that all you want is for Steve to make it official. You can’t admit aloud that Steve is using you and you’re fully aware of it and so deeply hurt by it but you like him too much to do anything about it. Unfortunately, Billy’s smart and he can see deep into you somehow.

“You mean Harrington’s fine with you being a secret.”

“Tommy wouldn’t take kindly to me hooking up with his childhood best friend,” you supply with a shrug.

“You hook up with him since? Or was it a moment of weakness?” Billy asks, the question makes you squirm in your seat. You don’t want to answer it so you don’t. And you don’t have to.

“Take the next left, it’s like maybe half a mile and then it’s like a grass field you can park on,” you instruct him.

“Yes ma’am,” he purrs, peering in his rearview mirror to see Tommy and Carol behind. “You secretly fuck all your brothers friends or is the King just special?”

“Shut up.”

He does, shocking you as his lips straighten up and he looks ahead intently. You don’t know why he seems upset but you’re not trying to figure it out either. You’re not gonna get your hopes up and assume that was his way of propositioning you.

;;;

You’re three beers in and you feel it, you skipped dinner because you were nervous about tonight. The happy buzz spreading through you is exactly what you needed. It’s kind of dampened when Carol and Tommy sneak off and you’re left sitting in the grass with Billy, staring over the edge of the cliff down to the water.

“Tina’s just… there,” he says and it surprises you. There’s a slur to his words and you’re sure Billy’s just as buzzed as you are. “Like I don’t know she kind of just forced herself on me and it was easy and I’m fucking bored in this stupid town.”

“We’re all bored here,” you admit, “nothing to do but get drunk and fuck.”

“Like she’s pretty and all, but she’s kind of trying to box me in and I’m not into it,” he keeps ranting and it’s odd, Billy let’s you talk and talk and talk but he doesn’t usually do it himself.

“Aw, is Billy Hargrove not a one woman kind of guy?” you fake a pout.

He chuckles, “What’s the point? I’m young and love is bullshit. It’s not real. It’s just what people say to manipulate you into doing what they want you to do.”

You can’t help but think about the way Steve looked at Nancy, like she was the reason the fucking sun shines. He doesn’t look at you like that. You’re an end to a means. Something easy for him to get his rocks off. Either Billy’s been burned or he doesn’t think too highly of women.

“Someone break your heart?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “No one can break it if they don’t have it.”

“That’s smart, I guess…”

“What about you? Anyone break yours?” he asks, laying on his back but turning his body to look up at you.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you admit, laying on your back and turning to meet Billy’s eyes.

He smiles, it’s warm and fuzzy and you can stare at him all night. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“We’re a couple of losers,” you joke, giggling softly when he laughs.

“As long as we’re not idiots.”

“Love makes you an idiot?”

“Oh, it’s not a real thing, but believing you’re in love makes you an idiot,” he mumbles, turning to face the sky. “You know anything about stars?”

You follow his eyes, looking up at the sparkles illuminating the backlit canopy that is the night sky. You don’t but now you wish you did. “They blink when they’re dying apparently, and like… when we see that, we’re watching the past or something? Like the star itself has died but we’re light years away and so it hasn’t happened yet? I guess? I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Billy laughs softly and goes silent for a beat, “Can’t see this many stars back home. There’s too many lights.”

You hum, “What do you miss most about home?”

He sighs, “The ocean, for sure. I surf.”

“You surf?” you ask, a little shocked but you can picture it, the salty water soaking his hair and you wonder if maybe there’s a chance you could still smell it on him.

“Or I guess I used to. No waves here,” he muses, sounding more melancholy than you’ve ever heard.

It makes you sad. You imagine what he was like back home. What else he got up to besides surfing. You have no idea what to say. You want to comfort him but how could you?

“Oh, food too. The food here sucks,” he laughs, “The only Mexican food you fucks have is Taco Bell.”

“I like Taco Bell,” you knit your eyebrows together and Billy giggles.

“I want tamales. I want menudo.”

These foods are foreign to you but you know Taco Bell doesn’t offer them.

“My best friend, Argyle, his mom made the best food,” he says, sounding nostalgic and happy while he reminisces. “I was over at their place like every night for dinner. My dad didn’t cook. We had like TV dinners before Susan came along and she can’t cook for shit, but I mean, she tries.”

“You can come to ours for dinner,” you offer, “Might not be Mexican food but my mom cooks well.”

Billy giggles, again, and you start to feel light headed, you want to say fuck it and pounce on him. But there’s no way he wants you to do that.

“I like your moms cooking, yeah…” he trails off and then points up at the sky. “Did you see that? Shooting star!”

You nod, you were just in the middle of wishing on it, wishing Billy would kiss you. Before the wish can even come true, Tommy and Carol come stumbling back.

“Good fuck?” Billy asks as he remains laid on his back.

You sit up and gag as Tommy answers, “Yeah it was! She let me stick it—“

He’s interrupted by Carol forcing her hand over his mouth, “Tommy! For fucks sake! Shut up!”

Billy lets out a cackle, lacing his fingers together over his stomach as he continues staring up at the sky.

“What did you two get up to?” Carol asks in a sing-song voice as she sits beside you.

“This,” Billy deadpans as you turn to glare at her. “You two fucks know anything about stars?”

“No,” Tommy admits almost sheepishly as he lays next to Billy. “Like I know the Big Dipper and shit but that’s it.”

The blonde hums in response and Carol nudges your side.

“I have to pee, come with,” she says as she stands up, reaching for your hand and helping you stand with her.

When you turn to look at the two boys, Billy turns his head to look at you. His expression is unreadable but there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach do flips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You follow Carol’s footsteps away, a spot hidden by trees but too far away. Carol pulls her pants down and squats, looking up at you with her elbows resting on her knees.

“Did you guys kiss?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes before you answer, “No. We talked.”

“Ugh,” she groans, “That’s all you guys ever do.”

“Maybe Billy isn’t into me, did you ever think about that?”

Carol shakes her head, “No, that’s stupid, he totally is.”

You wonder how she could possibly know that, if maybe Billy’s said something to her and Tommy when you weren’t around. But that seems unlikely. You think that if he was interested, he would’ve already made a move by now. And besides, you’re still so wrapped up in Steve. Anything you’ve felt for Billy has just been because he’s extremely attractive and that doesn’t mean you like him, it just means your eyes are functioning.

“How do you know?”

Carol pulls her pants up and shrugs, “Just a feeling. Come on, I’m so exhausted.”

“Gross,” you shake your head but follow her back. The boys have gotten up and Billy’s standing beside his car.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he calls out before climbing in and driving away. It’s strange how quickly he left but you try not to dwell on it. You can’t help but wonder what him and Tommy talked about.

;;;

Steve looks to you, his elbow is a little close to your face but you don’t mind. How could you when you just swallowed his cum? Not to mention how soft and handsome he looks. His eyes are so big and brown and pretty.

“That was awesome,” he says and smiles around the last word, his teeth on display.

You giggle and lean over, cupping his face in your hands as you kiss him. He welcomes you in his arms, smiling against your lips and pulling you closer. His hands feel nice on your waist, you melt against him and you can’t help yourself as you deepen the kiss.

When you pull away he says something that makes your head spin, “You’re so easy to be around.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” you tell him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “I like looking at you.”

He laughs, smoothing his hands up your back, “I mean it… with Nancy, there was like all this pressure and she’s so kind and smart but I felt like I was disappointing her.”

You hate when he talks about her, when he compares the two of you because you’re so fully aware of how different you and Nancy are. You hate the knowledge but you know Nancy wasn’t as eager in bed. You’ve got more experience than her in the field. You think maybe you should be ashamed by your sex drive and how hungry you get when it comes to Steve. But then you think about the sweet and whiny sounds he makes when he’s about to climax and you don’t care, you love to make him feel good.

“Well… I know you. I’ve known you almost my whole life,” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself, Steve.”

“Remember when I used to play Barbie’s with you?” he asks, grinning up at you.

“Remember when you taught me how to kiss?” you smirk, leaning down to brush your lips together.

Steve moans softly, allowing your tongue past his lips and he deepens it, grabbing onto the back of your neck. With that, you’re ready for round two as you reminisce on the night Steve snuck into your room and asked if you’d ever been kissed, how you told him no and he said he’d show you. The way he held you gently and licked slowly into your mouth. You remember how turned on you got and how you could feel Steve’s hard on in his pajamas but the two of you didn’t do anything but kiss until the sun came up and then he snuck back into Tommy’s room before anyone woke up.

He pulls back from the kiss with a loud pop and says, “Remember how I took your virginity?”

You roll your hips against him at the memory. It was your fifteenth birthday. Steve was there for the family party and insisted he threw you an after party at his house. Late into the night, after everyone had left and Tommy and Carol had passed out, Steve lead you up to his room. He slowly undressed you, kissing all over your whole body and asked if you were ready for your present. It was gentle and so wonderful and you were so sure you were madly in love with him by the end of it. He kissed all over your face and kept saying, “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”

Now, in this moment, thinking back, you want to cry. How could he just leave you for Nancy like that? Steve had made you feel so special like he loved you or something. But what sucks… is you feel it again. Looking down at him, naked in his bed all this time later. Well, it hasn’t been that long but still, a lot has happened.

“I’m happy it was you I gave it to,” you say, smiling.

“Me too…” Steve mumbles, pulling you back for another heated kiss.

He’s hard again, you feel his cock fill out against your thigh while you lick into his mouth, tongues meeting and swirling together. It’s so easy, falling back into the routine of secret rendezvous with him. As long as Billy stays under the impression it was one time, you’re safe. You can keep this up, you can keep getting this little piece of Steve.

“Baby,” he whines when you angle your hips so his cock brushes against your aching center.

You love when he calls you that. You can almost pretend he’s your boyfriend.

“Can’t believe you already wanna go again,” he mumbles, grabbing onto your hips so he can help you get him inside. You gasp when you do, wriggling your hips down and grinding against him. You keep your hand on his face as you bounce on top of him, aimlessly stroking your thumb against his cheekbone. He keeps licking his teeth and lips while his eyebrows knit together, eyes locked on yours.

You sigh softly, “S’your fault. You get me so worked up.”

“Uh-huh… me too,” he replies, eyes falling down to where your bodies meet, watching the way your pussy swallows his cock up.

It makes you smile and you want to look as sexy as possible for him, so you press your hands on the bed and lean back to give him a better view. It quickly progresses to you placing your feet on the bed so you can move faster and easier. Steve props himself on his elbows to watch, this needy look on his face; his eyebrows scrunched up with his eyes wide and his kiss stained lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he tells you, voice low.

His words encourage you to work harder, his bed springs squeak and the headboard starts hitting the wall with rhythmic, satisfying thuds. After a moment, Steve can’t help himself and starts jerking his hips up to meet your thrusts. He keeps whimpering and whining, it has you so hot and tingly all over. He wraps his hands around your ankles, watching intently as you ride him.

“Baby, that’s so good,” he babbles, blinking rapidly and it’s one of the tell tale signs that he’s about cum.

You double down, though your thighs and calves are burning from the exertion. It’s all worth it to see Steve fall apart. Once he squeezes his eyes shut and you can see the strain in his neck and jaw, you pull off of him and quickly get your lips wrapped around his cock, closing your eyes tight as you take him as deep as you can and using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—“ he cries out and then empties down your throat.

He tastes sweet, you’ve always found that strange because you’ve been told that cum taste depends on what they eat and Steve doesn’t eat all that healthy, mostly junk food. Maybe it’s the fruit, he does eat a lot of fruit. You swallow it and pull off him with a loud pop. He’s breathing heavy, eyes still closed tight as he recovers. You rub soothing circles against his thighs as you watch, smiling too yourself.

“C’mere…” he breaths, opening his eyes and looks down to you, “sit on my face.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You straddle his head and Steve wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you down on his mouth. He eats you out sloppily, tongue all over and shaking his head while he does it. You whimper and knot your fingers in his hair, trying to keep your body from tipping over at the pleasure. He digs his fingernails into your thighs, moaning while he licks your pussy. The vibrations of it feel immaculate, your eyes start to roll back and you grind against his face, chasing the high that’s so close you can almost grab it.

“Steve,” you whine out, “right there, oh fuck, yes right there.”

He listens, working his tongue harder against your clit until you’re shaking above him, fingers pulling at his hair while your orgasm crashes through you. You try to hold yourself upright but fail, bending over and muffling your cries in his pillows. He lets you ride it out and when you pull off of him, he’s panting with the widest grin you’ve ever seen. You can’t help but kiss it, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

He pats your thigh, “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We can watch a movie or something.”

You nod slowly, “Okay… that sounds fun.”

He kisses you again before climbing out of the bed and pulling on a plain t-shirt and his briefs. You also get dressed but you don’t put your pants back on, just your underwear and then you follow him downstairs into the kitchen. You sit up on the counter as he opens the fridge and pulls out two water bottles, offering one to you. You take it graciously and the pair of you swallow them down quickly, smiling at each other as you pant afterward. Steve chuckles softly and then makes his way back to the fridge.

“Ya hungry?”

“I could eat,” you admit, watching as he picks through the groceries. He pulls out fruit. All kinds. Some you’ve never had before. He places them on the counter and you point to one.

“You just eat limes?”

Steve giggles, picking up the fruit and extending it towards you, “It’s guava.”

You hum, looking over the fruit, “I’ve like had it in juice form, I never knew what it looked like.”

Steve takes it back, places it on a cutting board and reaches in the drawer for a knife and spoon. He cuts it open and scoops a spoonful out, passing it to you. You wrap your lips around the spoon and suck down the fruit. It’s very sweet, kind of like a strawberry but also like a pear. You knit your eyebrows together as you chew.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, smiling as he slides between your legs and places his hands on your bare thighs.

You shake your head and say around the mouthful, “No, it’s good.”

After you swallow, Steve kisses you and slides his tongue along your lower lip before pushing past and rubs his tongue against yours. He pulls back and licks his lips, like he’s savoring the taste of the fruit.

“It’s really good,” he says, smirking at you and you flush all over, wanting to kiss him more but he pulls away and starts cleaning the fruit before cutting it up and arranging it on a plate.

“Come on, let’s pick a movie,” he says as he walks out into the living room and you jump off the counter to follow him.

The movie doesn’t matter, you can’t help but watch Steve instead of the TV. He looks so obscene while he’s eating it, sucking the juices and licking them up from his hand and wrist when they drip down. He seems fully interested in the film, even pauses it when you’ve finished the plate of fruit and he goes to wash his hands. You figure you should wash yours too.

When you get back to the couch, he’s laid on it and he makes grabby hands at so you lay in front of him, getting butterflies when he wraps his arms around your waist and presses kisses to your neck. This is by far the most domestic you’ve ever felt with Steve and it makes you feel dizzy and so so warm. You end up passing out on the couch.

;;;

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice wakes you up and you panic, sitting upright.

“Shit,” you gasp, “What time is it?”

Steve shrugs, “Like nine. Why don’t you…” he shakes his head, “No, never mind.”

“No, what?”

“Why don’t you just spend the night?” he asks, shyly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I… okay,” you can’t believe Steve thought you’d say no to that. “I should probably call home.”

“Yeah, no, totally,” he smiles at you, “You know where the phone is. I’m gonna just clean up the kitchen really quick.”

“Okay,” you tell him and then make your way to the phone. You pick it up and dial home, pressing the phone against your ear.

After two rings, Tommy picks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” you say, twirling the chord around your finger, “Can you—“

“Where have you been?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“At a friends. I accidentally fell asleep,” you explain, “Can you—“

“What friends?”

“Becca’s,” you quickly lie, you can tell her at school tomorrow to back you up. “Can you tell mom and dad I’m gonna crash here tonight?”

“Sure you’re not with a guy?” Tommy asks and you scoff.

“I’m not at a guys house. Can you tell them please?”

“Fine. But tomorrow we’re all going to hang out at Skull Rock. Carol wants you to come,” he says.

“Yeah, cool, I’ll be there,” you say, turning to see Steve leaning against the doorway and smiling at you. “Thanks, Tommy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up quickly and turn to smile back at Steve, “You’ve got me until the morning.”

Steve steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, “Oh, that’s a long time. I wonder how we can spend the time…”

You giggle, melting at his touch.

“Wanna listen to my Abba record?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks down at you.

“Jesus, Steve, again?” you blush, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I bet I we could listen to it like three more times,” he grins and picks you up. You squeal and wrap your legs around your waist, giggling as he carries you up to his room.

;;;

“This is her place,” you tell Steve as he drives, pointing to Becca’s place. He pulls closer to the curb and shifts into park.

“I had fun,” he smiles at you, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Me too,” you gush, “My legs are still like jello.”

He blushes but leans close to kiss you, pressing his palm against your cheek as he deepens it, licking into your mouth. You melt into it, moaning softly as you feel tingles rise up your thighs and heat surges to your core. You pout when he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispers past a smile.

You nod, smiling shyly before you open the door and wave as he drives away. You make your way up the steps and knock on Becca’s door. It takes a while before her mom answers and she smiles around her cigarette, letting you inside and you walk to Becca’s room. You knock before opening the door and Becca’s doing her makeup. She gives you a look up and down before smiling smugly.

“You spent the night here last night?” she asks with a laugh.

“I certainly did,” you giggle and open her closet, looking through her clothes for something to wear.

Becca turns to you, “You look absolutely fucked, like you haven’t had a blink of sleep. Who is he?”

“It’s a secret,” you smile, settling on a pair of jeans and a white blouse. “And I slept like maybe four hours.”

“No way! Who?” she gushes, throwing her mascara down with her eyes wide and mouth open.

You want to tell her so bad. And Becca’s a close friend, but you know she can’t keep her mouth shut. But you really want to tell someone. Carol wouldn’t tell but she’d be mad. Billy already knows but something feels incredibly wrong about telling him the juicy details of your sex life.

“He’s in college, I can’t tell anyone,” you lie as you get dressed.

“Ugh, you lucky bitch!” she squeals and hands you her mirror and makeup bag. “Give me the juicy details, spare his name.”

“I went over there at like four yesterday and he just dropped me off. We had sex seven times. Seven!” you gush, using her concealer to cover up the bags under your eyes.

“I hate you! Is he big?” she asks, leaning against her chair.

You blush, picturing Steve’s cock and immediately feeling aroused all over again, “It’s long. If I had to guess like I don’t know… close to nine inches.”

“How are you not split in half?!” Becca squeals.

“Trust me, I am,” you exhale sharply.

;;;

Billy’s offering you a cigarette as you and Becca walk up to the group. You take it, letting him light it and greedily inhaling the smoke. You need it after the night and morning you’ve had.

The blonde leans close to your ear and whispers, “So how was King Steve last night?”

You glare at him before turning to make sure no one is paying attention to the two of you. You whisper back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

Billy chuckles, “Look at you. Either you were with Harrington or you’re lezzing out with Becca, and by the looks of it, she’s good.”

You flush, your fingertips shaking as you bring the cigarette back to your lips. The lowness of his voice and the implications make you feel warm all over. You’re fucking turned on by it. By Billy knowing. You wish you had the guts to tell him Steve made you cum seven times and by the morning you forgot your own name with how fucked out you were. Wish you could tell him about riding Steve’s face and how you’d almost fallen off the bed with how Steve had positioned you and fucked you relentlessly. Maybe you don’t need to, perhaps he can see it.

He grins wolfishly at you, “Guess that’s how he got the name King Steve.”

You choke on the smoke in your throat and everyone turns to look at you. Billy slaps your back like it’s gonna help, like you actually choked on the smoke and not his words.

Tossing the cigarette you ask, “So what time are we meeting up tonight?”

“Eh, around eight or so,” Tommy says, eyes slanted like he sees something he doesn’t like. Billy quickly shoves his hands in his pockets and inches away from you. That’s suspicious, that makes you feel weird all over. Immediately, you're sure Tommy’s said something to him and it makes your blood boil. It could all be wishful thinking, though, you remind yourself. Maybe Tommy didn’t say anything and Billy assumes he’d be upset. You don’t have much time to think about it when Steve walks by and your group of friends, his old friends, start berating him.

Billy calls to him, “Long night, Harrington?”

Steve stops in his tracks, turning to see you and Billy leaning up against the Camaro and he gives you this look like he’s been betrayed. He exhales, looks like he’s about to say something but stops himself.

“Crying over the princess all night?” Tommy chides, grinning from ear to ear.

Steve steps closer to him, chest puffed out, “You’d fucking die if you knew what I was up to last night.”

You hold your breath, beside you, Billy cackles and elbows your side. You widen your eyes and step further away from him.

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asks, “Try me.”

Steve meets your worried eyes with his own, chews on his bottom lip when he looks back at Tommy. He shakes his head, “You're not worth it.”

He walks away, not turning back to look at any of you. The group stands stunned, but Billy looks at you with this sly smirk and Becca looks at you with persistent eyes and her mouth hanging open.

“The hell did he mean?” Carol asks, her face contorted in confusion.

You stand there, a mess of nerves like everyone knows before Billy speaks up and you don’t expect for him to be the one to save you. “I bet you hit the nail on the head, Tommy boy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to save your own ass. “Bet he was crying over Nancy all night.”

When the herd of you start walking towards the school, Billy leans into your ear and says, “You’re welcome.”

You fucking hate him but also, you kind of love him for it.

[cosmicjoke]

As an eruri shipper I wanted to thank you for your callout post. For nearly a year now I have gotten so much hate on my fics that I thought about deleting them, I haven't tho, thankfully. I found out about the spiteful troll and so I did my best to ignore it. However, the hateful comments my work was getting was beyond me because I hardly ever care what people ship or do and was simply minding my business writing what I like only to be told that I'm a jealous loser and I should stop writing Levi together with the "ugly bitch" (referring to Erwin) and that I should touch grass or slit my throat ... which?? And they made it sound like shipping Levi with a man was illegal or that the ship was inappropriate in some way.

I don't know who is really behind those hateful comments but if it's really her I hope karma hits her way very hard. Don't tell people to kill themselves over fiction EVER. That's common decency.

And about some eruris seeing you as an anti shipper. I'll admit I thought you were one as well. It didn't bother me as everyone is free to do whatever they want, but it's a pleasant surprise to know you actually like the ship and write fics for it. If anything, I admire how you can put your shipping goggles aside to write your analyses. It's very impressive.

Don't know if this is relevant but self shippers scare me a bit. Some of them have mean girls energy and I don't want to be attacked so that's why I'm staying on anon🙏🏻

First of all, let me truly thank you from the bottom of my heart for reaching out. It means the world to me, and I admire you for sharing your experience too. I'm super glad to hear that you didn't let the person leaving hateful comments on your stories drive you to delete them. I understand completely where you're coming from, as I've deleted stories of mine in the past due to an overabundance of negative comments. But I've never had anyone actually leave me death threats, or wish for harm to befall me on any of my stories, and to do that is truly the lowest of the low. Not just because it's over something as harmless as a piece of fictional writing, but just in general, it's never okay to wish harm on someone who's never harmed anyone else, or over something as ridiculous as a disagreement.

And yes, given what I've seen from this person on twitter, claiming Erwin is some "old man", they seem to think shipping him and Levi is tantamount to pedophilia, which is so absurd it doesn't even warrant a response. Erwin is at most maybe 5 years older than Levi? If even? They're both in their 30s. Shipping them is totally normal and healthy, lol.

I just think this person has some sort of raging, disgusting prejudice against gay relationships, and they view all gay relationships as perverse in some way. It's truly their problem, not anyone else's. I don't know either if it's the same person I got into an argument with here on tumblr, but so much of the language is the same, and the things they say are so similar to what was being said on twitter and a03, that I'm more than inclined to believe it is the same person. I can only hope my post helps inform more people about them and what a toxic, horrible person they are. Hopefully it will lead to them being blocked so that it isn't so easy for them to harass others. Though I already know they have multiple accounts here on tumblr, since they saw my post and started ranting about it on their blog, even though I had them blocked.

It also means the world to me to know that I've been able to clear up with you my stance on eruri and shipping in general. That was big of you to not be bothered by me when you did think I was an anti, but I'm glad I was able to show you that I'm not. I'm really, really not, lol. I love eruri. It's my favorite ship, and all my favorite AoT fanfics are eruri fics, lol. You can find comments I've left on too many to count at this point. I just try to keep it out of discussions which focus on "Attack on Titan" itself and Levi's role within the story, because I just don't see his relationship with Erwin in canon as romantic. I just think you have to keep the ship separate from canon because if you're going into an analysis of the narrative and Levi's or Erwin's role in it with some preconceived idea that their relationship is romantic in nature, then that's going to color one's ability to objectively analyze the motivations and the reasoning behind both Levi's and Erwin's actions. But I was never, ever against the ship, or against the idea of them being shipped. I think I got the reputation of being an anti because for a long time, I was being inundated with anon asks basically accusing me of being homophobic for saying eruri isn't canon, or anon asks trying to "prove" to me that it is canon and then getting angry at me when I disagreed, or when I lost my patience with them for simply not accepting my stance on this issue. And I think this small group of people then went around to other eruri's and spread to them that I was some sort of aggressive eruri hater. But again, I never was and never will be. I talk more about Levi's relationship with Erwin than any other character, and I find their canon relationship to be incredibly moving and powerful, and further, I love Erwin as a character. One thing I hope all of this will also do is make it clear to other eruri shippers that I'm not against them or their ship at all. I really don't want to be anyone's enemy, least of all eruri shippers. That was never something I set out to do, haha.

But yes, I'm right there with you regarding some self-shippers. Obviously, most of them aren't like this person. Most of them are normal and understand what they write and do is just for fun. But after "Bad Boy" came out, it seemed like the most push back against analysis of that story and its implications came from the self-shipping community, particularly people that seem to actually labor under some sort of delusion of actually, truly being with Levi in a romantic, sexual relationship. I don't understand that at all, because Levi isn't real, lol.

But they seem to get so upset at any discussion of Levi's trauma, or of Levi being affected by his trauma, because acknowledging that trauma and the impact its had on him ruins whatever fantasy, dom-daddy version of Levi it is that they've concocted in their heads. They like to claim Levi is some hard-ass, stoic, unaffected, domineering sex god, because that's what turns them on, and any discussion about what the actual reality of Levi's sexuality would likely be, due to the sexual trauma he's been exposed to, needs to be shut down, because it ruins the fantasy they have. They can't claim that the way they characterize Levi is objective or accurate to canon if Levi's sensitivity or vulnerability as a person is acknowledged, so they like to claim he's not affected at all by his past trauma, that he's just too hardcore to ever succumb to or be profoundly impacted by the things he's lived through. They like to imagine he's just come out the other side totally a-okay and that his stoicism and rudeness is 100% just a product of him being kind of a mean person, again, because they like the idea of being treated meanly by him in a sexual setting.

But Levi isn't a mean person, at all. He's literally the opposite of mean. He's the most thoughtful and considerate character in the series, constantly going out of his way to express his gratitude and ease the suffering of others. He's just awkward, like Dimo Reeves says, and isn't good at filtering his words or expressing himself. That some of these people refuse to acknowledge that the way Levi grew up, the environment he grew up in and the way he was raised, didn't have an impact on his ability to navigate social situations is patently absurd and stupidly unrealistic. It also undermines the severity of abuse Levi suffered in his upbringing, to deny that it had any sort of negative or harmful impact on his ability to interact socially with others. He was raised by a serial killer, for Christ's sake, lol. He wasn't ever taught how to talk to people in a way that would make them more comfortable. He was only ever taught violence and how to kill by Kenny, and he was too young when his mother died to learn anything from her, and he was also abandoned and left on his own at the age of ten, in the most cutthroat, dangerous environment there is inside the walls, surrounded by criminals, rapist, murderers and human traffickers, as well as just desperate people who would resort to plenty of bad shit just to survive. He probably didn't have a single, normal social interaction in his life until he met Furlan and Isabel. I would like these people to explain to me, then, how it is they think that didn't have an impact on the way Levi interacts with others?

He's an exceptionally honest person, too, and he also isn't someone who's concerned with being well-liked, so he doesn't try to ingratiate himself to others by acting friendly. But Levi never sets out to hurt anyone's feelings. He isn't malicious or cruel. He just says what he's thinking and sometimes it comes out sounding unkind. And we see, when Levi realizes it, that he tries to explain himself, again, not because he wants to be liked, but because he doesn't actually ever intend to hurt anyone's feelings. This idea that Levi is a mean person is totally wrong.

Anyway, I went off on a bit of tangent there, lol. Sorry about that. But again I just want to reiterate how much I appreciate you reaching out like this! And don't let these freak shows get you down.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Hold Still ~ X.T.

A/n: Gender neutral pronouns were used, so gn reader for this one! Pure fluff after the last angsty fic <3

Request: “Xavier x werewolf!reader where R gets into a fight with another student that Xavier pulls them out of and helps patch them up. R is still drunk on adrenaline(or like mildly concussed lmao), and they keep being annoying trying to steal kisses from him while he’s literally trying to help stop their face from bleeding.”

Word Count: 1500+

MASTERLIST

Xavier had gotten there too late to see how it had started, but it was quickly quite clear how it was ending. Y/n wasn’t shifted at all, only their eyes glowing as they went to town on the person underneath them. Xavier had only managed to slip through the crowd and hook his hands under his partner’s arms, hefting them up and away. They had fought, and though Xavier was taller they were stronger and they almost got away. If him not groaning as their foot came in contact with the sude of his leg and them recognizing his voice, they probably would have gotten away clean.

Distracted by Xavier though, their focus changed quickly as they turned from the guy that Xavier didn’t even recognize - except that they weren’t from Nevermore. Which made no sense because they were at school. The town people never came here on their own.

He focused on his partner as their hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, eyes scanning for injury.

Despite himself, Xavier smiled. “I’m okay.” Of course they had the time and energy to be worried about him when they had a forming black eye, split lip and bloody nose.

Xavier was a little proud to say the other guy looked worse though. Y/n had handled him well.

Not that he should he encouraging that.

Weems was on the scene in the next breath, leaving no room for further discussion. Her eyes ran over something before her worry turned cold and hard as her eyes landed on the boy still on the ground. No one had even tried to help him up, which confused Xavier even more.

Then he saw it.

When Xavier’s art in town had been painted over last year, Weems had given him permission to do something at the school. He had put all of the effort he had into this one, absolutely sure that it would be safe inside the school at the very least.

The wall he’d had his second painting was white, the paint only on enough to cover what he had worked so hard on, underneath. Over the white was splattered, “Monster” in big blocky red letters. At the bottom of the scene on the wall was an open and prepped bear trap.

Xavier felt himself go pale.

The trap was a message of course, the boy probably hadn’t meant to actually catch Xavier or anyone else. But it would have been easy not to see it if you were lost in a book or practicing some practical magic or in regular school stuff - even if you were in a hurry on the way to class. There was a corner that someone could turn around and completely not see the trap at all.

This kid had not only ruined Xavier’s portrait, he had put every single person at Nevermore in very real danger.

No wonder Y/n had gone for the throat.

Weems leered at the boy at her full height and the boy on the ground shrunk into himself. “You won’t press charges, or spread word on what happened here. If you try to I will expose the instigating actions and very illegal trespassing and assault you’ve done. Don’t even get me started on the physical safety threat you’ve made.” It wasn’t totally accurate, but it would he only too easy to play off if anyone tried anything.

Weems had grown a backbone. That was nice to see.

The boy nodded and, once dismissed by Weems, scrambled to freedom. She then turned to Y/n. She didn’t reprimand them as expected. Her gaze simply softened and she sighed. “I know things have gotten difficult for you since getting arrested,” she said softly to Xavier. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to look at his ruined painting.

For the second time now.

“Make me something for my office instead okay?” She asked.

Xavier nodded, looking at her as she kneeled down to check on how Y/n was doing. “Thanks, Weems.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Now go get your partner patched up.”

Xavier smiled softly, helping Y/n to their feet. The pair left to Xavier’s dorm. Usually they’d be sneakier or at least get some light hearted joking teasing from teachers or reminders of curfew, but today they just walked and everyone left them alone.

Y/n had stepped up for Nevermore ajd taken hits for it. They could have this one.

Once inside, Xavier sat them down on his bed (It smelled like him and he knew they’d like that). Then he got a wet rag, disinfectant and a few bandages. He sat next to Y/n, reaching over to hold their chin as he used the rag to softly dab and wipe the blood away, cleaning the cut.

They hissed, leaning away on instinct. Xavier shot them a half amused look. “We love a knight in shining armor but now I have to patch you up like the good boyfriend I am. So please stay still.”

Y/n did a little pout. “Can’t you just kiss it better?”

Xavier chuckled. Then he sobered a bit as he realized their eyes were dilated and their gaze seemed a little unfocused.

Shit.

“Hey, are you feeling anything abnormal other than the pain from the bruising and cuts?” He asked, trying to move their chin so their eyes would meet his. They seemed to struggling with the task.

Y/n just shrugged. “My head hurts a little. He got like, two good hits in. But only in the beginning. I landed on the ground before he got on top of me and then I sort of flipped us over and-“ They shrugged again.

Xavier frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

Y/n laughed at that. “Several times. Between his fist and the concrete I got a few good whacks.”

Xavier bit back an angry comment. That wouldn’t help them right now. He would chide Y/n for being reckless and apathetic with their well being another time. “Y/n, you have a concussion.” He raised an accusing eyebrow.

Y/n grinned. “Not surprised I got a bit roughed up falling for you.”

Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes and dodging his partner as they went in for a kiss. “You cannot flirt your way out of this. You should have told me that you hit your head. I could have made it worse.”

Y/n sighed, leaning against the end of the bed, first pushing a pillow behind him so the post didn’t dig into his back. “I’m sorry Xav I just. Tired.” They nestled into the bed and closed their eyes, as if to sleep.

Xavier pulled them into a sitting position, heart swelling when they whined. They were so adorable right now…

He had go focus.

“You can’t fall asleep when you have s concussion darling we don’t know exactly how bad your concussion is.”

Y/n rolled his eyes but conceded. “Fine. Continue your treatment Doctor Thorpe.”

A smile ghosted at his lips again, unable to help himself. “Okay sit still and I’ll try to get the rest of your face.”

“Not my face,” Y/n groaned. “My money winner!”

A chuckle bubbled from Xavier as he was caught off guard by the near drunk way Y/n was acting right now. He seemed to be able to focus more easily now and wasn’t slurring his words, and he seemed to be keeping his balancing sitting up fine enough so Xavier was unworried enough to be able to enjoy the shenanigans. “Whatever, Y/n.” He reached the rag forward to wipe more of the blood away. Y/n ducked the rag and leaned in again for a kiss. This time they got a peck before Xavier ducked out of the way. “Y/n,” he chided.

The put on their best pleading face. “One kiss and I’ll sit still?”

Xavier sighed, taking a second before conceding. “Fine.” They made a squeaky noise of celebration before puckering up, leaning in. Xavier chuckled before shifting his hold from their chin to their jaw, leaning in for a long and deep and sincere kiss. When he leaned away they whined and he found himself suddenly sickly in love. “Please let me finish?”

Y/n hesitated, eyes locked on the details of Xavier’s face, drinking in how he was looking at them right now. They pursed their lips. “Xav. You know you’re not a monster, right?”

Xavier felt something warm settle in his chest. Y/n was always so aware and caring of him, even when they were concussed.

God he was lucky. “I know.” His thumb brushed across their cheek, expression soft. He was melted to the floor in love with them.

They smiled. “Good.” They settled into a single spot, lifting their chin and offering their face for cleaning. Xavier went back to work, thanking whoever was listening above that even though people were cruel and mistakes haunted you even when the mistakes weren’t yours - that despite all the bad in the world, Xavier had Y/n. Someone so good they single handedly balanced everything else.

He could paint another picture. They were worth that.