#it’s just really nice to have people I think :))

[cosmic-kiwi]

^^shamelessly stole this image from another reblog because I wanted it on this version of the post

Except I would amend it to say that the entire concept of "gender" itself (whatever the term is even supposed to mean) (+ astrology) is to gen z as harry potter houses and, idk, buzzfeed quizzes, are to millennials.

Also, this (at least the money example in the first post and other things people are bringing up in the replies) seems to me like just another manifestation of the internet's ''avoidance of responsibility culture'', where people either victimize, or in this case, infantilize, themselves so that they don't have to take accountability for their own failings.

Except now they're inadvertently projecting it onto and infantilizing all women generally to even avoid having to accept that they're the ones responsible for infantilizing themselves -- wow, layers.

And yes, I know that these are all just jokes, but they are, by definition, sexist ones -- something this site once used to screech about, not join in on. (Not saying we should go back to the former, but... there's a happy medium here.)

All this to say: if you, personally, can't do math or be an adult or you have a shopping addiction, accept those things as you problems. Don't try to drag the rest of us all down with you. It's insulting and makes us all look bad.

saw someone refer to not knowing how to keep track of your money as "girl math" ......why are we in this weird era of treating women like idiots but repackaging it to sound cute and quirky. We All Need To Stop

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away. 

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known. 

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering. 

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready. 

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[bamsara]

hi bam! i have a little ask about trod because this is my first time reading it and i'm in chapter 17. i couldn't stop thinking about a little detail that i don't know if it was asked before or if it's any importance but regardless: how many people there is on lamb's flock? i saw in that said chapter the phrase "hundreds" and wondered how big the cult really is and how information about narinder's... "complicated" behavior is spread and probably distorded. maybe 200 hudrend members? 600? i honestly just curious about the setting of the cult Scenes. anyways, have a nice day!

About 250-400 people, which isn't too narrowed down, but it tends to be about average size for a small kingdom. The temple's sermons held every morning does not contain every single member, but instead rather have a rotating attendance every day/week and is also determined by the sort of job a cultist has.

The cult loves rumors, though. Narinder's behavior can quickly speed through the village, and it will absolutely get distorted depending on who you're talking to. One cultist might tell you that he saved that frog girl very heroically, while another will tell you that he was trying to kill her and was stopped only by their great leader, the Lamb.

There's also a percentage of flock that just Doesn't Care or have the energy to care, but that is only a portion.

[averysmolkirbo]

kind of sort of not really theyre a pretty insensitive but theyre trying i think

probably a blorbo and or a pokemon

of fucking course i do

n-no....... 🥺

single. waiting for someone to materialize in front of me because i refuse to make frens

Dramatically

brownie brittle and hot chocolate

i did gymnastics. for like a year.

so much that theyre permanantly stuck at child nail-bed size.

im gonna go ahead and say never but emotional? different answer

crush? yes. women. pathetic fictional men. yknow.

nope im eepy

many many many many people some of which are fictional

missing someone i havent met

cats. 2 of em. my babis

sick

ive never made out period

of course i am. 3 have landed on/very near my face while i was in bed this year and one bit me

yea knowing im autistic before 17 wouldve been nice

im ace and a virgin

not much. probably pokemon.

NO

nope too scared of needles

science was my best in school but now i suck at everything equally

not really tbh

more brownie brittle and also sleep

apparantly my sister's when i was a kid but tbh im suspicious of her story

nope i have been snitched on tho (f u brendan)

never had one

the fact that im sick and feel like ive been run over

id be edgy/pick me and say "no one 🥺" but thats a lie

deep purple. Used to be blue.

oh so many

i dont remember but probably involved a blorbo

mom

nope i barely give second chances

forget because my memory is shit

nope

romantically, havent had it yet

nope

skips to 51 here but anything bland

everything happens to fuck me over (/sarcasm)

Doomscroll because i wasnt able to sleep all night

Academically? of course. if its stupid youre allowed to cheat

ive never claimed to be nice yall just assume

gonna say 0

sure why not

Snow

as stated directly before this yes

i wanna get married on a windswept cliff where the dinner will be easily digestible ❤️

in general yes but its never happend to me before

yaoi

yes mine is literally meaningless

no but itd probably get them sick

gay/lesbian but i take what i can get

nope

person i was trading pokemon with :)

myself. i keep all my deep conversations to myself. i dont wanna go back to therapy

why not

my blorbos. My cats. a lot of things really

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[thepitlanepress]

I DON'T LIKE IT –

↳ lando norris + bestfriend!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: im actually in a lando phase (maybe its bc i f1 is gone for months) but its effecting me so much so im blessing you all with JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE LANDOOOO AHHEHE. merry christmas my lovelies <33 (also if this is bad im sorry i was extremely tired when i wrote this lol)

usually you don't like going out with lando. the clubs, partying, drinking it wasn't exactly your scene.

so when he insists you come out with him to celebrate the constructors championship, you can't exactly say no. hence, the short fitting black dress, and nicely done, hair and makeup that you've put on. when you go out, you go out, it just doesn't happen very often.

"are you nearly done?" lando's voice calls out from the living room as he waits for you.

"yeah, i'm coming now," you call back, walking down the stairs and mentally preparing yourself to talk and interact with people.

you grab the car keys off the small table in the hallway and make your way into the living room your footsteps announcing your presence to lando, he turns around and slightly falters in his movements when he sees you.

"uh, wow, okay," he says looking you up and down slowly, his eyes raking over your body.

"what?" your brows bunch and you look down at your outfit. "i thought it looked good, is there something wrong?"

"uh... no, no, you look amazing, i just wasn't expecting you to look so nic-"

"you weren't expecting me to look nice?" you raise your voice playfully.

"no, no, no i- uh- no- look... shit," lando mutters looking down and shaking his head. "you look amazing, seriously. i just forgot how well you can pull off a black dress."

you smile, and chuck the keys towards him, "i can pull off anything lando norris, even you. and that's not something everybody can do." you wink and walk back out through the hallway to the car.

"you can pull off me?"

"yeah, not every girl can have lando norris on her arm and still be the centre of attention. there are perks to being your best friend you know."

"and there are perks to being yours," lando says unlocking the car and sliding into the drivers seat. you feel the safest when he's driving, always trusting him when he's behind the wheel.

"oh really?" you ask looking over at him. "like what?"

"you," he murmurs backing out of the driveway. you don't hear him though, too distracted by a text you received from your sister.

–––

he didn't like it, you could tell. was it the murderous looks he was sending in the direction of the guy's - who's name you've already forgotten - or was it the looks he was sending you, heated and something else? both probably.

he wasn't even focused on the crowd around him dancing and drinking their nights away.

when the guy started getting too handsy that is when you felt lando's hand wrap around your waist and causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach - which you promptly ignored.

"leave her alone, mate. she's mine," lando's voice comes out harsh his anger directed towards the man who steps back apologising - typical of him to only step back when another man steps in.

"oh sorry, i didn't know," he slurs and walks off, most likely to go puke in some poor person's handbag.

you're about to spin around in lando's arms and thank him for rescuing you but you stop short at the expression on his face. "what?" you look down at your outfit. "is it the same thing from earlier? what's wrong?"

"i don't like it."

"don't like what?" you ask furrowing your brows.

"when other people touch you," he responds quietly his voice low and tempting. thats new.

"oh," you reply slightly dumbfounded. in all your years of knowing lando norris you've always had hidden feelings for him, sure there were points when said feelings were buried deep deep down, but they were always there.

and you always thought they were never reciprocated but they way lando is looking at you right now is... something new. something you like... a lot.

"i don't like people thinking they can just touch you. they can't. because you're mine not theirs. you're my best friend. you're my person. you're not theirs to touch or hold or flirt with, because you're mine."

his arms tighten around your waist as if he's expecting you to run away at any moment.

"oh my," you breathe. "i don't know what to say."

"tell me you feel the same way, tell me that i can be yours, because you're mine, and i'm not letting you go anytime soon."

"possessive are we?" you chuckle trying to diffuse the tension because he's probably drunk, he's going to wake up in the morning and apologise about this insisting he doesn't know what he was talking about and how sorry he was.

its happened so many times before.

your heart gets crushed every time. so you don't go out with him to avoid it.

but tonight this feels different.

"i haven't had a sip of alcohol tonight, this is the most clearheaded i've ever been in a long time... please talk to me."

"lando," you whisper. your heart is teetering on the edge of being shattered to pieces and finally telling the truth. you're walking a thin line between the two hoping to fall on the right side. "i don't want this to be like those other times when you wake up in the morning apologising for what you say."

"i never meant those apologies. i remember all those nights, i lied," he breathes swaying with you to the music. "i freaked out in the morning because you would always want to talk about what happened, and your face was always so distrusting so i shut it down pretending i didn't know what happened."

"really?" you're tilting on the line, swaying from side to side waiting for the words that are going to make or break you.

"really. i've been in love with you ever since the day you stopped to pick a flower that reminded you of me."

"lando," you give him a look. "that was like the second time we met."

"and i've been yours ever since." he smiles at you, his eyes filled with clear adoration, which quickly turns to a pissed off look when someone steps up behind you and asks for a dance. "piss off mate, we're clearly talking."

you smile and don't even bother to look back at the man, everything you've ever wanted is standing in front of you and offering himself on a platter for you. and you're tired, so tired of staying on the ledge between friends and more,

so you take the leap.

pulling him imperceptibly closer you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly whispering in his ear, "i'm yours too."

you can physically feel his body relax and mold around yours - a perfect fit of course.

if you fall, it will hurt for sure, but this moment, right now; flying with him, together, will be worth it if you do.

2024 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

[thrashkink-coven]

Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

[lexirosewrites]

Slick Sunday my beloved

Sorry if this makes no sense, it made sense in my head :)

Think how Steve’s parents are especially shitty and just doesn’t come home for Christmas anymore. And O!Steve knows himself well enough to know that spending Christmas alone = drop that no one can help him out of because he practically lives alone. To fix this Steve, the good dude that he is, volunteers to sit with patients at the hospital who’s family have to leave or can’t get there. He just want to take care of people and make sure no one is alone at Christmas the way he is. So he sits there and he talks to them and he just keeps them company (the old ladies love him).

Anyway a couple of days ago A!Wayne had a fall while working at the plant and while he’s certainly not a week man he did hit his head and arm badly and they needed to keep him for a few days to make sure nothing went wrong. Earlier that week he sent A!Eddie away to visit his aunt in Kentucky for Christmas so he’s kind of alone right now. One of the nurses ask if he want a volunteer to visit him on Christmas Day and he agrees because why the hell not (if they’re rude he can just ask them to leave).

Christmas Day comes and Wayne is a little shocked when a young guy walks in and presents himself as Steve Harrington. Everyone knows the harringtons are pretentious dickheads so he’s a little suspicious. But then Steve starts talking. And asking questions about Wayne and Eddie and the trailer park and suddenly hours has passed. Wayne asks if Steve can come back tomorrow and he agrees, this time he also brings cake. Wayne asks about Steve’s family once and get sad look in reply. That is the moment Wayne thinks to himself ”I already adopted one pup, what’s one more?”

A week later Eddie comes back and walks into to the trailer to see his uncle with his arm in a sling and steve ”prettiest omega in Hawkins” Harrington standing at the stove cooking dinner. He has a very small meltdown and after Wayne explains who Steve is and why he’s there Eddie has another very small meltdown. This is fine, he can handle very pretty nice omega Steve being in their trailer (he cannot). Then Steve turns around and he’s wearing an apron and one of eddies Dio T-shirts (he spilled sauce over his polo) and at this point Eddie is fully planning a wedding in his head. when they’re cleaning up Steve asks Eddie if he could maybe tell him a bit about dnd because ”the kids I babysit really like it” and eddies very logical response to this is

”Will you please have my babies”

Steve blushes, Wayne laughs and Eddie dies of embarrassment.

”Can we at least court first?”

Steve blushes more but he’s also smiling as he says this. Wayne looks like he planned this all along (maybe he did). And at this point Eddie is pretty sure he’s hallucinating but he’ll take what he can get and just tackles Steve to the floor to scent him for the first (of many) times.

Hope you like it. Anyways love your work!!!

woohoo instant love steddie is a treasure! thank you for playing along with my slick sunday challenge too!🥰🎁☃️🎄❄️

[orionangeline]

THE COUNTERTOP IS NOT A TRASHCAN. THE SHELVES ARE NOT A TRASHCAN. THE REFRIGERATION UNITS? NOT A TRASHCAN . Workers will gladly point to the nearest trashcan. It is probably really fucking close by

I mean it. Do not. Leave chicken bones. On the shelves. WHY would you do that

If you. Reach over the partition glass. STRAIGHT TO HELL

the workers do not, in fact, have a direct line to the CEO or whoever makes decisions. The cashier thinks whatever is stupid, too, I promise

IF THE FOOD WORKER SAYS IS THAT ALL TODAY AND YOU CHECK THE SCREEN AND SAY YEAH THEN YOU CANT GO OH I THOUGHT I ORDERED THREE!? YOU SAW THE SCREEN!

Please don't rearrange the shelves bc you think it looks nicer your way??

QUESTIONS ARE GOOD AND FINE, NOT PAYING ATTENTION IS NOT

Workers are people too. And like all people, LASER BEAM FROM SPACE

Technically yes they're paid to do that, but really?? you don't need to make more work (in regards to cleaning, etc. Like yes it's someone's job to clean but like... Fr?? You COULD pick up after yourself a little)

WHY WOULD YOU FLIRT WITH SOMEONE AT 6AM AND THEY'RE JUST DOING THEIR JOB

BE NORMAL TO PEOPLE.

a cashier is not a therapist

"will you hate me if I..?" SHUT UP SHUT UP BE NORMAL ABOUT THE VALIDATION OF STRANGERS MAKE YOUR REQUEST WITHOUT THE EMOTIONAL INSECURITY OR LASER BEAM FROM SPACE

Quit chitchatting in the middle of the aisle?? Get out the way! Move to a side! or , you guessed it, LASER BEAM FROM SPACE

It is not sexy to flash a store employee. They won't be secretly pleased. You may have nice tits but no one cares while they're busy doing their job and didn't ask for any boobs. It's unpleasant.

Because the service worker at my local grocery store isn't allowed to tell you and I'm angry right now:

If the makeup product is sealed then it's not a fucking tester sample, you dumb fucking idiot

Get. Your. Fuck. OFF. SKATEBOARD??? HEELIES? Fuckin. RoLLER. SKATES. BICYCLE???? Riding. .In the GROCERY STORE??????? Shut the FUCK your FUCK. BASTARD

(Tears in my eyes) I'm fucking begging you to leave your non-service animal outside. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Surprise inspections happen and they will shut the entire building down for the love of God

Your kid rolling on the floor and making potions out of the shampoo and filming tiktoks in the clinic is the reason you're going to hell and I'm going to take you there myself

If you make a staff member cry on purpose then you're the biggest ugliest bitch in the whole wide world and nobody loves you

DO NOT LOCK YOUR BIKE TO THE SIGNAGE/GARDEN DISPLAY/TABLE THRY NEED TO BE ABLE TO *MOVE* THOSE THERES A FUCKING BIKE RACK RIFHT FUCKING THERE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU ISE THE BIKE RACK

YES YOU *DO* NEED TO WEAR SHOES AND A SHIRT IN THE CAFE WE LIFE IN A GOD DAMNED SOCIETY

If you bring an untrained dog with anxiety out in public on purpose and leave it tied next to tge front door to lose its fucking mind for an hour and a half while you stand around the lotto booth when you just as easily could have not then I will kill you with a rock

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[arc-misadventures]

The Beasts Consort

Jaune slowly shut the door behind him, taking in the features of his new dorm room. It was nice; there was a closet, a nice desk to do his studies, a window with a hell of a view, a bathroom, and a nice big double sized bed. How nice!

Thought, Jaune as he fell back onto the bed, his hands cupping his face as he groaned in exasperation.

Jaune: That was horrible!

: Well, I think that went pretty well~!

Jaune: Pretty well? Pretty well?!

Jaune opened his hands as he shouted seeing, Salem's elegant, angelic face mere inches from his face. Normally someone would be surprised that someone face suddenly appeared so close to theirs, but Jaune had grown accustomed to, Salem doing this to him so she didn't scare him.

That often that is...

Jaune: I was so nervous about showing you to everyone, and I thought: 'Sure she's deity, but it won't be that bad. I bet everyone has really strong, Spiritual Beasts. It won't matter at all, people won't bat an eye at all when they see her.

Jaune: But, then you showed yourself, and everyone started losing their freaking minds?!

Salem: Well that's not my fault...

Salem moved away from, Jaune as floated she in the air, adopting a posture that looked as if she was posing for a portrait on a fainting couch.

Salem: Those fools thought they were all on top of the mountain, that they were among pinnacle, the cream of the wheat when it comes to being, Spiritual Beast Masters. All because they thought they had some of the strongest, and most powerful, Spiritual Beasts one can master. But, in reality...

Salem turned to stare at her lover with a wide toothy smile showing off her fanged teeth as she game him a most sinister smile.

Salem: They've barely reached the peak of the hill~!

Jaune: Hey! Salem, what did I say about you doing your sinister smile, thingy?

Salem: To not do it...

Jaune: Yes. Because it ruins your beautiful face!

Salem: Ohhh~!

Salem hovered over to, Jaune an cupped her lovers cheeks and squished them together.

Salem: Oh, aren't you such a charmer! I'm so glad you summoned me.

Jaune: Well I'm glad you chose me.

Jaune cupped, Salem's cheek in his hand, she gently rubbed her cheeks with his thumb, this action of affection caused her to melt into his embrace. Jaune held her like this for a moment before he stood up, and made his way to the door.

Jaune: Okay... I'm hungry, let's go grab something to eat.

Salem: You know I don't need to eat.

Jaune: Then why do you keep stealing my food?

Salem: Because it's fun~!

Jaune groaned in despair as he moved towards the cafeteria. Salem floating through the air behind him. Jaune saw people move out of his way, staring at him, and whispering to him as he walked by them, Jaune's head fell as another groan of complete despair left his lips.

Jaune: Great... I'm the talk of the town now...

Salem: What's wrong with that, didn't you always want to be popular?

Jaune: Yes, but I'm not the reason I'm 'popular,' you are.

Salem: Well that's not fair, I am a Goddess after all. I've been 'popular' for eons!

Jaune: Yes, but since when have you actually been partnered with a, Spiritual Master?

Salem: Uhh...?

Salem crossed her legs with her head in her head deep in concertation. Jaune watched her slowly spin, and float in the air, deeply lost in thought.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I was just saying that as an example, have you ever formed a contract with a, Spiritual Master before?!

Salem: Nope!

Salem cocked her head to the side, and stuck out her tongue as she tapped her head., Jaune dropped his face in his hands as he groaned in exasperation again.

Jaune: Don't you act cute with me! The fact I have a contract with a, Spiritual Deity, Is one thing all on it's own! But, everyone will also think I'm crazy, because it appears that I'm not talking to anyone!

Jaune shouted this for all to hear, before his head sharply turned to a couple of students who were watching him. And, he pointed in the air at, Salem.

Jaune: I'm talking to my, Spiritual Beast, she's right there!

Jaune looked over to his side, and notice something important: Salem wasn't there anymore.

Jaune: Oi?! Where did you go?

~~~

Jaune then grabbed a hearty meal full of chicken nuggets, mixed vegetables, and some fries. He took a seat at one of the empty tables, looking around to see everyone staring at him.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: (Sigh)

Jaune: If it wasn't for the law about, Spiritual Masters needing to be trained, I would have stayed home...

Jaune dejectedly picked a chicken nugget, and dipped it in some honey mustard sauce.

Jaune: There goes my chance to make friends I guess...

: Hi!

Jaune was about to place his food into his mouth, but stopped when he saw a girl with black hair with red fringes wave at him.

Jaune: Uhh... Hi. Uhh... Ruby...? Ruby Rose right?

Ruby: Yep! That's me! And, You're, Jaune Arc!

Jaune: Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?

Ruby: I just wanted to talk with you; mind if I join you?

Jaune: Uhh... sure?

Ruby: Thank you!

Jaune gestured to the open seat in front of him, as, Ruby happily took the open seat in front of him.

Ruby: So tell me, what kind of, Spiritual Powers do you have?

Jaune: W-What?

Ruby: I have a, Shadow Wolf, as my, Spiritual Beast, because of that I can use, Shadow, and Wind powers. Considering you have the, Oni Queen, you must have a wide array of powers from her! So what do you have?

Jaune: Oh... well... I have an odd assortment of, Spiritual Powers from, Salem. I have superhuman strength, flight, elemental control, and regeneration. Salem has a few more powers that I can't us, but that's basically it.

Ruby: Whoa! That's amazing! Mine sound lame compared to yours... You can use all of my powers, and some...

Jaune: Yeah, but you still have powers I don't have; Having a, Shadow Wolf as your, Spiritual Beast means you will have a high sense of smell, and be able to run at really fast speeds. Also it shouldn't be hard for your to learn invisibility magic either.

Ruby: Oh. I never knew I could do that... Wait, how did you know I could do that?

Jaune pointed to his side with a chicken nugget in his fingers.

Jaune: Lord of Beasts. She knows basically everything there is about any, Spiritual Beast there is.

Jaune was about to eat the chicken nugget in his hand until he realized there was no nugget in his fingers, he looked to his side, and shouted.

Jaune: Hey?!

Ruby was about to ask, Jaune another question when another person came up on his left.

: Hello, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Hmm? Oh, you're, Weiss Schnee! I love your music; Mirror Mirror is my favourite.

Weiss: Oh... T-Thank you...

Weiss hadn't expected someone to notice her, and complement her because of her music. It took her a moment to remove the blush spreading across her face.

Weiss: Ahem! I was wondering if I could have a few words with you about your, Spiritual Beast; Salem the Oni Queen.

Jaune: Sure, take a seat.

Weiss: Thank you! I wondering if...? Bleh!?

Weiss had taken the seat on, Jaune's left, but as soon as she sat down next to him, and put her tray of food on the table. She suddenly felt an invisible force on her face, pushing her away from, Jaune. Making a two foot gap between them.

Weiss, soon felt the pressure on her face fade away, and then she felt something tap her head. She, and Ruby started looking around, utterly perplexed as to what had just happened.

Weiss: W-What? What just happened?

Jaune: Oh, sorry about that... Yeah, Salem doesn't like it when woman, outside my family, sit next to me.

Weiss: So she pushed me away...?!

Jaune: Yeah. If you were rather... aggressive she would have just shoved you out of the seat.

Ruby: She's done that to people before?

Jaune: Oh yeah. She's sent people flying before. So. sorry about that, Weiss.

Jaune turned to face, Weiss to apologize to her, but, Weiss was touching her face in stunned amazement as if she had just achieved enlightenment.

Jaune: Uhh... Weiss?

Weiss: She touched my face...? A, Spiritual Deity touched my face! And, she tapped me on my head...? EEEEE! This is the best day ever!

Weiss squealed in glee as her body shook in absolute delight. Jaune, and Ruby could only stare on in disbelief as, Weiss seemingly lost it.

Ruby: Has this happened before...?

Jaune: Most people don't even know I have a, Spiritual Beast, let alone the fact of who she is. So, no... this has not happened before.

Weiss: This is a glorious day, for I have been blessed by the, Gods~!

As soon as those words left, Weiss's lips a look of terror wrought it's way across, Jaune's face.

Jaune: Oh shit! She's a, Spiritualist!

Ruby: A, Spiritualist; What is that?

Jaune: A religious group that worship, Spiritual Beast. In particular, Spiritual Deities, such as, Salem. They can either be pretty tame in their devotion, or rather zealous. They can be rather... troublesome at times.

Ruby: People worship, Salem?!

Jaune: She is a god, so...?

Ruby: It must be cool having people worship you as a god!

Jaune: Uhhh...?

Jaune gave a worried look to his right, seeing, Salem trying to make as much distance between herself, and Weiss, while still staying close to, Jaune as psychically possible.

Jaune: Depends on the god... Salem doesn't seem to like being worshiped.

Jaune's eyebrow quirked as, Salem said something next to him, something that made his face flush red from embarrassment.

Jaune: That's... You know I didn't mean it like that?!

Ruby: didn't mean it like what?

Jaune: NOTHING!

Jaune shouted at, Ruby, not wanting to reveal his dark secrets. He quickly turned his attention back to, Weiss who was still trapped in a state of nirvana.

Jaune decided to ignore, Weiss, and her whole religious awakening thingy. and, decided to go back to his food. But, just as he was about to take a bit of his meal when he bit on nothing.

Jaune: Hey!? Stop stealing my chicken nuggies woman!

Weiss: How dare you address a god in such a crass manner!

Ruby: She likes chicken nuggies...?

Jaune: Haa... this is going to be a long four years...

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[thurisazsalail]

I encourage people esp the tough guys TM to start with something they don't think of as an assistive device

Doesnt have to be a mobility aid, we're working up here

Hot, long days? Maybe you do fiber cabling, or construction, or you're an amazon worker

Behold, a shower chair

Guys YOU DESERVE TO SIT THE FUCK DOWN

Let that nice, steamy water just pour over you while you sit the fuck down a minute

No kids, no one bothering you

All relaxing

A lot of chairs fold up, too, and some are small enough that they fit in the stupid apartment tub that legally shouldn't be allowed for anyone under 10 years old

You don't need ID

They aren't just for "old people" and people who can't stand up

Try it

If you have space, try the foot scrubby thingy, too. Fill it with soap now and then and just move your feet back and forth

Yeah, it's nice, isn't it. Don't your feet hurt? You don't have to bend over. You do need to scrub them. Prevent fungal infections and gross feet.

Tbh i hate the bristle kind bc they feel weird af

The silicon kind feel nicer but don't lather the same

These are two of several

Once you get used to the idea that you don't need to have "something Wrong" to use stuff we invented, you can think "oh yeah, my ankle is really unstable since that accident, time for... a mobility aid!"

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Phone Call

G/N. Silly. Fluffy. Masterlists

"How's my favourite person doing!" Goo chirps down the phone.

"Fine."

A pause. "Aren't you going to ask how your favourite person is doing?"

"No. I don't have one."

A beat, a blink.

"Your favourite person is me, right?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"Nope." You repeat, matter of fact and popping the 'p'.

Goo pulls a face. It's not that he particularly cared who your favourite person was before, but now that you've spelt it out clearly that it isn't him - he discovers that he cares a whole damn lot.

"Sweetheart," he begins and he knows this is embarrassing to ask,  "it's definitely not Gun... Right?"

"Gun?" He can hear the smile in your voice, "I mean, I think Gun is pretty nice."

"Nice?!" Goo's voice has already risen by a couple dozen decibels and he is this close to shrieking. He can't tell whether you're being serious or not. Who in their right mind would describe Gun as nice.

"Is that pretty head of yours just for decoration?" He asks, sour and incredulous at your response and you chuckle down the phone.

"I think he's nice."

Goo imagines you shrugging as you answer. Nonchalant and casual, probably doing something else like keeping one eye on a shitty kdrama playing because this conversation is silly to you yet your playful taunts and teases make him feel like punching someone.

Someone whose name starts with Gun and ends with Park.

"Cupcake," Goo figuratively and literally swallows his pride. He grits out his next words. "You like me more than him, right? I rank much higher on your list of favourite people than him, right?"

You hum a response. Neither a yes or a no and Goo wants to tear his beautiful, perfectly styled blonde hair out.

"Maybe." A crunch.

And it becomes apparent that Goo really is correct. You're munching on some potato chips, something you like to snack on as you watch your favourite dramas. Your concentration split between some trash on the screen and this conversation which actually matters. It's of utmost importance. A matter of life and death.

Goo feels a tantrum coming on.

"Ok," you admit with another crunch, "I guess I do like you better."

And just like that, Goo's bitterness and annoyance completely evaporates. It's replaced with insufferable smugness and a surge of affection for you.

"Thought so," he smirks, ignoring the relief that floods his entire being and the blood that rushes to his cheeks.

You snort down the phone and deadpan, "Did you now."

"Of course. Never doubted your good taste."

"Sure. Now why did you call me?"

"I-" Goo starts and his mind blanks. He had completely forgotten.

A pause, a crunch.

"Call me back when you remember," you say, hanging up the phone, cutting off Goo's whines and protests as you shove more chips into your mouth.

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

What Kind of Relationship Will You Have with Your Future In-Laws? Pick-a-Card Reading

Because theoretically you're marrying the whole family.

Cards

Queen of Pentacles (Reversed)

3 of Swords

7 of Pentacles

Right off the bat I am getting that your future mother-in-law does not like you, like at all 😬. Luckily I don't see this influencing your future spoues's decision on whether or not to be with you but I do feel like this is something very important to you. You could be someone that has always wanted to have a super close relationship with your in-laws. Like you're just another kid in the family, I can see you being one of those people that wants to go to brunch with his mother and sisters or have shopping dates with his mother and aunt. I feel like they are a close family but that you just don't quite mesh with them (outside of your spouse). I don't see their siblings disliking you but I don't think they'll be going out of their way to deal with you. A scenario I see is them calling to talk with your future spouse and you walk into the room and your future spouse tells their sibling on the phone you just walked in. And instead of telling your future spouse they said hi to you, they end the call with something like "Okay, I'll let you go so you can talk to them." If you want any semblance of a relationship with his family you are going to have to work super hard and I still don't feel like it'll be enough. You may end up in a situation where it is going to just be you, your future spouse, and your children or pets. Like I said, I don't think their siblings will dislike you, they just won't necessarily see you as a part of the family, they will just see you as their siblings spouse.

Cards

9 of Pentacles (Reversed)

Six of Wands

The Lovers

I feel like the relationship with your in-laws will literally start from the first meeting you have with them. I can see this being a holiday dinner where your future husband takes you to meet his family. At first I think they'll just be nice but a little offstanding but they have met some girls in the past that they didn't care for or that just didn't fit their family dynamic. I feel like this is an incredibly close family, like when children are born into the family that child truly has a village full of love and support. As his family is talking to you and feeling you out they're going to start to realize they really like you! I feel like by the end of the dinner his parents are going to be pulling him aside and practically begging him to marry you. And you're future husband could be the type to want to take his time but his parents like you so much they'll basically be saying to him how much more time do you need, she's the one! So I actually feel like your in-laws will be a big part of the reason why your future husband realizes you're the one. I can also see them helping to prepare a big engagement!

I can also see his family cracking jokes like "I think we like her more than we like you." Or "Don't come back here unless you bring her with you."

Cards

The Hierophant

The Lovers (Reverse)

Knight of Pentacles (Reverse)

I feel like your relationship with your in-laws will be a cordial one, you aren't close but you don't dislike each other, the connection just exists because you married into the family. I don't think anyone in the family is particularly close though, they really only see each other for the holidays and special occasions and that's only out of obligation. I feel like this family is very into image and how others perceive them. But I don't see many pleasantries and heartfelt moments between you and anyone in his family. They seem kind of cold and uncaring.

Let me know what pile you chose and if it resonated!

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.