#it's hell but the benefits outweighed the stress for a time

[blackbackedjackal]

What do you do?

For a Klondike Bar?

[delusionalfanficwriter]

Accident: part 2

Leah burst through the door of Y/n's hospital room, her breaths hurried and eyes wide with worry, having just landed in the States, thirty minutes ago.

"Shhhh," Maya hushed her, her voice a gentle command cutting through the tense air of the room. "We just got her to settle and sleep after another panic attack. She's not in good shape, but she's awake and coherent, which, considering the crash she had, is nothing short of miraculous."

"Another panic attack?" Leah's disbelief hung heavy in the air. "What's that, the seventh one in twenty-four hours?"

"It might've been more if we hadn't insisted she close her eyes and try to rest," Carina chimed in wearily, her hand rubbing circles under her tired eyes.

The exhaustion was palpable in the room, a heavy blanket draped over each of the women as they gathered around the young soccer star.

"Did Dr. Shepard give any update about her legs?" Leah's voice wavered, the question a lifeline thrown into the swirling uncertainty.

Maya and Carina exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before Maya took the lead, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "Dr. Shepard said the scans show inflammation compressing the nerves, but she's hesitant to jump into surgery just yet. The risks outweigh the potential benefits. She's not confident Y/n will regain feeling in her legs, but she did offer a glimmer of hope."

Leah sank back into her seat, the weight of the news settling heavily upon her shoulders. She turned her gaze to Y/n, sleeping peacefully amidst the chaos of uncertainty. "Fucking hell. She doesn't deserve any of this. She fought so hard to rebuild her life and soccer keeps her sane..."

"Maya and I are terrified," Carina added, her voice barely above a whisper, "the mere thought of not being able to play again... it's tearing her apart."

Leah's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean you haven't told her?"

Maya shook her head, her expression pained. "We couldn't. Not with everything she's already been through. The stress, the trauma... telling her now would only push her further into despair. Y/n's mental state is fragile, Leah. We haven’t seen her in that mental state in such a long time. We had to protect her."

“I understand. I haven’t really seen or known of her life before soccer. She still hasn’t shared much of her past despite our two year relationship.”

“Can’t blame her. It took a lot of time for her to trust us enough to let us in even partly but don’t feel any way about it. She doesn’t like dwelling on her past life but I think this might be triggering her to life before soccer.” Carina explained. 

The three women conversed in low whispers until a change in the monitors caught Maya and Carina’s attention. A sudden shift in the monitors' readings drew Maya and Carina's attention like a magnet, their heads snapping in unison towards the glowing screens. Leah, sensing the change in atmosphere, followed their gaze, her heart rate picking up as she struggled to comprehend the significance of the sudden activity.

With a sense of urgency, Carina rose from her seat, her hand outstretched toward y/n's shoulder. Her touch was gentle yet firm, a silent plea for the slumbering figure to awaken. Meanwhile, Maya leaned in towards Leah, her voice a soothing murmur amidst the tension, explaining the possible cause of y/n's distress—a nightmare, triggering an alarming spike in her heart rate.

"Bambina, wake up," Carina's voice cut through the silence, laced with a mixture of concern and reassurance. "Everything is alright. Maya and I are here. Leah is also here with us, but you need to open your eyes to see she really is here. You are okay. You are okay. Bambina, c’mon."

As sweat glistened on y/n's forehead, her features contorted in the grip of her subconscious torment, she struggled to surface from the depths of her nightmare. Carina's words echoed faintly in her mind, but it was another voice—a voice she recognized and cherished—that pierced through the darkness, calling her back to consciousness.

"Hey cookie monster," Leah's voice was a beacon in the darkness, a lifeline for y/n to grasp onto. "I’m here. I just landed not long ago, but I am here holding your hand. I need you to open your eyes."

With each word of encouragement from Leah, y/n felt herself slowly breaking free from the nightmare's grasp, her consciousness emerging. And then, with a sudden jolt, she jerked awake, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings until they landed on the familiar face of her girlfriend.

Leah's hands cupped y/n’s cheeks, their foreheads pressing together in an intimate gesture of comfort. "You’re hot," Leah remarked, a hint of concern tainting her usual playful tone.

"I’m in a hospital gown," y/n chuckled weakly, trying to brush off Leah's observation with humor. But Leah's expression remained serious as she turned to Carina, voicing her suspicions.

"I think she’s running a fever," Leah said, her voice tinged with worry.

Carina wasted no time, her movements swift and decisive as she pressed the back of her hand against y/n’s forehead, confirming Leah's assessment with a muttered curse in Italian. Without hesitation, she retrieved a thermometer, her brow furrowed in concern as she watched the digital display reveal a temperature of 102.1.

“I’ll go grab a nurse to page Shepherd and Bailey.” Maya rushes out. 

“Y/n, do you feel off at all?” Carina asks. 

“I’m just exhausted and cold. Leah, hold me.” Y/n pleads. Leah doesn’t hesitate to sit on the bed and pull y/n in her arms, feeling her visibly shake. 

As y/n's fever began to become known, she found herself sinking deeper into exhaustion, the weight of her illness pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. Despite Leah's comforting presence, a sense of unease gnawed at her insides, the fear of the unknown threatening to overwhelm her fragile resolve.

Leah sensed the shift in y/n's demeanor, her brows furrowing with concern as she watched the color drain from her cheeks. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

Y/n forced a weak smile, but her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. "I'm just tired," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the hum of activity in the room.

Leah's grip tightened on y/n's hand, her concern deepening with each passing moment. "You're not alone, you know," she said gently. "We're all here for you, whatever you need."

Y/n nodded faintly, but a flicker of panic danced in her eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over her, threatening to drag her under. "I don't know if I can do this," she confessed, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm so tired, Leah, and I'm scared."

Leah's heart clenched at the vulnerability in y/n's voice, her own fears momentarily forgotten as she focused on comforting her girlfriend. "You don't have to do it alone," she reassured her, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. “One step at a time. You worry about kicking that fever off first.” 

But even as Leah spoke the words, she could see the doubt lingering in y/n's eyes, the fear of what lay ahead threatening to consume her from within. With a heavy heart, Leah leaned in closer, her forehead pressing against y/n's as she whispered words of comfort and reassurance.

Meanwhile, Maya and Carina exchanged worried glances, their hearts heavy with concern for their friend. Despite their best efforts, they could see the toll y/n's accident and now fever was taking on her, the exhaustion evident in every line of her face.

"We need to keep a close eye on her," Maya murmured, her voice tense with worry. "The fever seems to be exacerbating her anxiety, and if she's not careful..."

Carina nodded grimly, her thoughts mirroring Maya's. "We can't let her slip through the cracks," she agreed, her gaze never leaving y/n's pale face. “We will handle this together, my love. We won’t have her go back to that mindset. We have done it before.” 

[gremlin-bot]

Proof of Death, Please!

Ao3 link: here

Out of everything that happened from his public reveal and the Guys in white being shut down, Danny never expected to have to prove he had died. Especially not for college funding paperwork.

Yeah, he was glad that the United States saw the error of their ways and stoped trying to genocide the beings of another dimension. The benefits of doing this will never outweigh his time being hunted down for less than sport, but not having to worry about a good bit of his college expenses was nice. Fill out some paperwork and he'll be set for college. 

Too bad that it's asking for proof of death. Which for most people wouldn't be too hard to obtain, but he of course can't have anything easy. How does he prove a death that was never noticed in the first place? 

Glaring down at the paperwork wasn't helping but it's what he will continue to do until he thinks of a solution. Ancients, will he have to get a death certificate‽ He hopes not. How would he even do that, get a medical examiner to look at him? He didn't even go to the hospital after he died, just waited for his parents to make a doctor's appointment for him. 

Danny lets his head slide out of his hand, hitting his desk with a soft thunk. It was at this moment that his guardian angel of paperwork decided to check up on him.

"Danny, how's the paperwork going?" Jazz asks as she leans against his door frame. 

"Jazz, I need your help. I have to include proof of my death and I have no idea how I'll do that." Danny pleaded as he dramatically turned in his chair to face her.

"Is this the Financial Ecto aid paperwork?" Her eyebrow raised with her tone.

"Yes," He looked up hopefully at his wonderful big sister.

"Little brother, you didn't read it all did you?" She asks fondly. 

"What- Yes, I did!" Danny defended. Pushing against the back of his chair, barely managing to not fall out of it. She walks across his room. Looking over his shoulder, after a minute of scanning the paper she points to the section just underneath where he was glaring at. 

"See it says here, 'if you can't provide proof of death or haven't died provide proof of an ectoplasm contamination level of 15 (20 fl.oz) or more'." Her finger moved along the page as she read. 

"Oh." Okay, so maybe he didn't actually read all of it. 

"We can have mom do it in the lab when she gets home. So, no need to get stressed out over it." She pats his head before leaving him to the fresh hell of paperwork again.

He takes one more look at the papers at his desk…. 

Danny pushes himself away from the cursed things and flops on the bed behind him. Yeah he's not doing the rest of that today. It can wait for his test results and shit. He's going to take a fucking nap.

[hadesoftheladies]

just throwing this out there, but perhaps the postmodernist psyop that is “neopronouns” queer theory would be more diffused if you simply . . . and hear me out, didn’t spend so much time talking about it. a psyop is literally just there to to distract and frustrate you from organizing and talking. imagine a random man from the park interrupting your talk about, idk, particle physics, and he starts mumbling and muttering about how atoms are actually “tiptoes” and how bigoted you are for believing in the second law of thermodynamics or whatever . . . would you try to engage him, help him see the error of his ways . . . or would you just walk away and continue your conversation with sane people? imagine doing that online. just continuing with your feminist discussion and ignoring all the people screaming about how sex-based violence should be discussed in gender neutral language. what they say is literally irrelevant and that’s why it’s successful. literally just ignore those kinds of people. what’s gonna happen? they’re gonna get mad? who cares? we were talking about separatism, so back to that!

men will never acknowledge what feminists have to say. they’ll never “hear you out.” it’s like asking them to “be nice” to women trying to play chess in a chess champions tournament. like asking them to “not rape.” it’s not that they can’t. they won’t. never in hell is it gonna happen. it has nothing to do with our credibility and character. and it doesn’t deserve a reaction. it really doesn’t.

i personally enjoy reblogging simple thinkpieces or opinions that show the absurdity of gender in clever ways. but i’ve given up trying to convert white or male liberals, even liberal women. if they have character and are worthwhile people, i can only hope they will follow whatever intellectual curiosity and moral ethic they have and find the right resources and information and use their critical thinking, but either way, it’s not my responsibility. (I really had to learn this as an exvangelical. no matter how dangerous someone’s beliefs are, you do not have any control over that person’s journey and you have to let go).

i have a responsibility to women and girls in my life. in my circle of influence. they’ll ask me for advice when they need it. i try to be there for them if they need me. but I don’t want to keep tearing at low-hanging fruit. and im not their saviour. im really just not in control and not the one.

it is imperative as activists that we stop making it our mission to be martyrs, especially as women. like these people can figure it out if you did. you’re not special. isn’t that a relief?

i think if we stopped seeing it as our responsibility to mother or guide men or even liberal or traditional women, we’d conserve energy for what actually works. being intellectually and morally integrous. pushing for justice in our communities.

I think we need to starve this internet capitalist campaign by only engaging in it when the benefits of engaging outweigh the cost, e.g. personal release of stress or explaining your point to the genuinely curious.

but let go of the impulse to defend yourself in front of people who can only ever interact with you in bad faith. watch a funny show instead, or something.

if they don’t care, they’re not worth your effort anyways. and it’s really not for you to decide. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[fivveweeks]

favourite verdante relationship timeline progression chart (vergilius pov) goes like this:

Preclocked

hated or at the very least dislikes each other. not to the point of violence but worsties. grated on each other's nerves (on purpose in dante's case). May or may not had hatesex

Postclocked (platonic):

1) started out enjoying how different the new dante is. mix of spite/relief/amusement at their flailing and cowering from him. if only their past self can see them now lol

2) spark of off-kilter uncertainty as dante starts behaving in ways (positive) he was never given the chance to see before (were they always like that?)

3) notices certain traits of them. starts finding their presence far more tolerable than the sinners as dante gets more used to being a manager

4) dante gets comfortable enough around him and isn't as jumpy anymore. takes his sarcasm and jabs in stride (as best as they can) and yet is surprisingly nice? to him? even thanking him (canto 4.5)? notices how they try not to trouble him as much

5) ...were they ever this considerate for him before the amnesia? not that he's complaining. hm.

6) what was just mere tolerance tapers into... something. finds himself gravitating towards them to keep out of what the sinners are fucking up at the moment.

7) starts appreciating their presence bc they're actually the reasonably responsible one out of the group. they actually listens to his advice. if only the sinners (coughcoughdonquixotecoigh) would behave more like their manager-

8) ...wait

10) oh god he's starting to enjoy spending time with dante.

Postclocked (FWB Situationship):

11) verdante gets into an arrangement somewhere down the line where they agree on providing physical comfort for mutual de-stressing benefits but without getting attached

12) vergilius agreeing at first thinking it's just like their prior preclocked hatesex arrangement. turns out, the only thing that stays the same is the fwb sex part without the hate.

13) somehow, it stays low-key chill between them. sometimes one of them stay for the night because the day is too tiring or it's more convenient. one of them starts leaving breakfast for the other. sometimes the sex doesn't even happen so they end up going through work together (bitching about emails) in bed.

14) gradually starts sleeping together in the literal sense. after one or more particularly exhausting fight that leaves dante drained or when the depression soup got to verg so they just knock out the moment they get onto the mattress

15) gets comfortable with each other to the point they actually start spending more time outside of bed together. doesn't realise how disgustingly domestic they are sometimes

16) ...until he does.

17) to his horror, vergilius finds himself enjoying this far more than what they had.

18) 3am kitchen crisis hitting him like a truck again. when did this happen? how did it happen? how could he let this happen? is he taking advantage of dante in their post-amnesia state? especially when he's intending to use them to get Lapis and Garnet back? even if the pros outweighs the cons and the arrangement has a positive effect on the both for them, isn't it unfair when dante deserves far more than the kind of person he is?

19) ends up stewing in constant guilt yet can't bring himself to pull away at the point. because someone having no expeditions or ulterior motives towards him is... nice. a moment of solace and peace from the city hellscape is hard to come by and let go of.

20) vergilius is in a whole new level of personal hell now

21) meanwhile dante is just chilling and making the best of what they can. work is exhausting but rewarding. but why is vergilius more... broody today?

22) oh well, it's not their place to question him. but maybe they'll make him a cup of coffee later and offer to finish the rest of his paperwork for him. he'd like that

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 457

It is day two of training at work.

By the way, I know tech people rag on companies that do not upgrade their systems. Everything from banks to game developers will sometimes (a lot of the time) use systems that are very old, and really should be replaced for security or productivity reasons.

However, I don’t know if people really appreciate the time, effort and stress that goes into upgrading any system you use regularly. 

Like right now, work is in the middle of replacing our whole database with a different database. It means building that database from the ground up, so it may not have all the little shortcuts that we have come to depend on.

(Actually, it’s missing a lot of little quality of life things, but that’s a different topic.)

The current database that exists, work has been using for a bit over a decade now, and everyone at work is trained on it. So you might be wondering, why are we changing databases? Why go through the time, effort, and money to get a new database, take time out to train everyone and then accept that we are going to be running at full speed on this database for a few months as people get use to it.

(Also while the poor souls in charge put in all the little bits and pieces that we might not have thought about earlier.)

And the reason is simple, the long term benefits will outweigh the short term pain this is going to cause. When work got their current database, the one thing they had always hoped for was a secure portal for the clients and their families to use. If you’ve ever been a long term patient of a large hospital, you may be familiar with the idea of a web portal that would allow you to see what appointments you have booked, test results and maybe even allow you to send a message to your specialist’s administrator. 

This system has benefits for both the patients and for the administrators. For the patients, it means they have a one stop place to get their personal health information if needed, and for administrators it can save time. If we can share reports through the portal, we don’t have to mail out as often, or worse yet, mail a copy that someone has lost. If clients can cancel their appointments within the portal, they don’t have to worry which administrator to contact, they can just cancel it and it would be sent to the right administrator by the system.

These examples are only a few of the more basic ways a portal system can be used. At its most complex, you could give a client a form to fill out within the portal. Having a portal form (especially a more modern portal system) means it can be filled out on a mobile device, and wouldn’t be a PDF file, because as everyone on Tumblr knows, the enshittification of technology is a thing, and Adobe can burn in hell. 

(Let us be clear, Adobe works wonderfully if you pay for it, but any free software is the bane of my existence and it’s a crime PDFs are industry standard.)

So having a working portal system is one of the many reasons why a change in databases is terribly needed. Work has wanted a working portal for years but could never get it to securely work on the current database which is a shame. 

But it does mean, we all need to be trained on it while slowly bits and pieces of the current database is made into read-only so no information is lost in the transfer. It is going to be a rough two weeks, and I think I will treat myself to a meal out with milk tea on the last day before the new database goes live as a reward.

[lowtaxsa]

The Profits Plunge and so do i

Lowtax (slurring): Alright, folks, gather 'round for the debate of the century, where logic and historical materialism clash like two drunken uncles at Thanksgiving! I'm your moderator, Lowtax, and I'll be guiding you through this trainwreck with all the grace of a one-legged giraffe. Let's meet our contenders: Ben "Facts Don't Care About Your Feelings" Shapiro and Karl "The Beard" Marx! Give it up for these two intellectual heavyweights, folks!

Marx: I must stress the importance of understanding the tendency of the rate of profit to fall as a direct consequence of the contradictions within the capitalist system. As more capital is invested in constant capital, such as machinery, compared to variable capital, like labor, the organic composition of capital rises, and this leads to a decline in the rate of profit over time.

Lowtax: Ah yes, the classic "capitalism is eating itself" argument. Very original, Karl. hic

Shapiro: Well, Mr. Marx, you see, that's where you're wrong. The beauty of capitalism lies in its ability to adapt and innovate. New technologies and markets arise, which lead to new investment opportunities, and the profit rate is restored. It's just basic economics.

Lowtax: Sure, Ben, because who doesn't love a good ol' cycle of boom and bust? Stability is for losers, am I right?

Marx: But Ben, you're missing the point! While these temporary restorations may occur, the overall trend of the rate of profit to fall remains. This leads to crises, recessions, and the immiseration of the working class, perpetuating a system that benefits the few at the expense of the many.

Lowtax: You tell 'em, Karl! Because what's a good system without a side of mass suffering, huh?

Shapiro: You're ignoring the fact that capitalism has lifted more people out of poverty than any other system in history. The tendency of the rate of profit to fall is an oversimplification of a complex economic reality, and the benefits of capitalism far outweigh any potential drawbacks.

Lowtax: And there you have it, folks! The age-old debate rages on, while we, the pawns of this grand chessboard, watch in awe and wonder how the hell we got here in the first place. The only thing falling faster than the rate of profit is my faith in humanity. Cheers to that! hic

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 ⧼𝑏. 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠⧽

A/N: It’s almost a new year! Figured I’d finish this one off with a bang. Literally. Okay, I’ll shut up. Also, I’ve never written Bucky before, so I apologize in advance for the massacre and disrespect of his characterization. 

Summary: ❝You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.❞

Warnings: Smut with a bit of plot. Sorta. Mostly, just smut. Vaginal penetration. Oral (female receiving). Light Dom themes (specifically, choking). Blink and you miss it cockwarming.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3K

RED

You don’t even know his name.

Don’t know where he’s from, who his people are, where he lays his head at night. None of it. Actually, the last one is a lie. You know it’s not here, in this town of less than 1,000 where the only people of color, including yourself, can be counted on one hand.

It’s not ideal, but when wanting to become consumed by a blanket of invisibility and needing to erase your existence from the greater world, you do what you have to do.

You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.

Privacy. It was all he wanted, and you’d give him that, along with any alcoholic beverage he wanted. And, he wanted a lot.

You’d once commented that his liver had to be nonexistent and asked just how long he’d been drinking, because no matter how much he consumed, he remained coherent enough to leave a kind tip and close his tab. He said nothing.

He was a man of few words, when in public, at least.

You liked that as well. Maybe it was because he recognized that you had a job to do, or perhaps he detected that look in your eyes. It was that same look that he had, that plea for solitude.

You had a feeling that you weren’t the only one who could be in a room full of people and still feel all alone. You lived by that. So did he.

Interactions and meetings outside of the shabby bar commenced through the most generic of circumstance. It was a copy and paste situation. A rowdy, drunk customer became too intoxicated to remain inside the establishment. You calmly asked him to leave, security was preoccupied with another violent drunk, and next thing you knew, he’d grabbed you by your forearm. His grip was relentless but so was your dedication to break free. Unfortunately, mental fortitude didn’t outweigh physical capability.

He’d shoved you into the a nearby table, sending you onto the floor, your head and side loud with its throbbing. Your eyes shut as the pain coursed. However, seconds later, your attacker was outside, flat on his ass, unconscious.

That was the first time he saved you, and it was all it took for you two to progress into something more. You couldn’t say intimacy. For you, intimacy meant feelings, and feelings were nonexistent here.

This was an arrangement, a source of release.

It was mutually beneficial.

You both received something from the other, an ironic arrangement considering you had a feeling he, like you, had little else to give.

The first time occurred in your car, in the back seat. He was big—in more ways than one—so it wasn’t ideal, but he’d stated that he received a ride, so he had nowhere to offer. You certainly weren’t bringing him back to your apartment. Stranger danger and the fact that it was rundown.

So, that left your vehicle, which again, wasn’t the best place, but it wasn’t the worst. And at least you got to be on top, one of your favorite positions

The time after that, despite your initial protest, happened in the storage closet in the back of the bar. He’d shifted an old keg to block the door before he promptly placed you up and ate you out.

You’d received head before, but this was something different. You’d never had a man leave you as delirious and feeble with just his mouth alone. Hell, most of the time, you had to instruct more than a professor.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted not charging tuition.

Especially considering most failed every time.

Not him. No, it was as though he knew exactly what you wanted, and he gave off the impression that he wanted it too.

You’d allowed him to lower you to the ground, hands on your hips as he kept you upright and stabilized. For good reason, your legs were bowling balls, and you needed time to find your equilibrium.

However, when you finally came to and attempted to fall to your knees, he stopped you.

You looked up, not saying a word, your furrowed eyes conveying confusion. What man refused head?

You waited for an explanation. He offered none, bringing you back to your feet as he moved the keg and left you alone, confused and still very much on a high from your orgasm.

And sure, at first, you berated yourself for letting a stranger go down on you. You didn’t know his sexual history, but to be fair, he didn’t know yours either. You were both reckless, but with the mind-blowing pleasure he caused you, you weren’t exactly stressing over longterm implications.

You didn’t see him for a few weeks after that, and as much as you hated to admit that you missed him, you did. Mostly because the sex was addictive, but also because every time he came around, you could just see that something was off.

Something ate at him, but whatever it was, you’d never know. And it was better that way. Converging demons never ended well for anyone. Two fucked up people doing more than just fucking and leaving would benefit no one and harm everything.

That sexual tryst also occurred in your vehicle, but the two of you were more creative that time around. You played around with different positions, testing your both your flexibility and comfortability.

You finally told him your name.

He was mid-stroke when you blurted it out, his pace slowing as his eyes met yours. You swallowed and repeated it, louder. On the second round, he used it, quietly mumbling it into the sheen of sweat on your neck, but you heard it, and he knew it. That was all that mattered.

He didn’t tell you his.

That was a few weeks ago, and no matter how busy you get, your head still turns every time the welcome bell chimes. You know better than to eagerly await for a stranger who you’ve fucked on several occasions and know nothing else about. It’s stupid, but in the litany of stupid decisions you’ve made over the years, this ranks pretty low.

And that’s saying something.

Exactly one month since your last sexual tryst, as you dig in your purse for your keys while walking to your car, you look up, key between your index and middle finger when you jump upon hearing your name.

Spinning around with the key lifted high, ready to be used in a defensive manner, your heart rate settles when you see it’s him. He’s leaning back against the brick, arms tucked in his pocket.

Closing your eyes, you place your hand over your chest and scold him. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me—“

“Your place.”

A couple of things cross your mind in that moment, the main one being that this bastard is insane. You don’t know shit about him, except for the fact that his stroke game is impeccable and his tongue is the 8th world wonder. Other than that, he is a complete stranger.

Him knowing where you work is one thing, him knowing and visiting where you lay your head at night is another.

There are some lines that you just cannot cross, and this one is bolded, italicized, underlined, and in red.

You can’t.

—

The door shuts, forcing the cheap wall key holder that you’d picked up from the local goodwill to shudder against the peeling wallpaper. In the distance, you can hear something else fall, no doubt breaking, but none of that pulls you off of him.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes you against the wall, his tongue dancing with yours. His hands move to your ass, tugging you into his crotch. You moan again, eyes fluttering sporadically.

How the hell you went from telling him to fuck off to having him minutes away from fucking you is beyond you. It’s also above you now.

Just how he’ll be in five minutes.

“Bedroom,” you murmur against his lip, waiting for him to loosen his grip. His shirt is scrunched in your hand as you lead him to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long, your one bedroom, one bathroom apartment can be explored in its entirety in less than five minutes.

You’re thankful that evening approaches and the light dims by the minute. Just as shining a light into your life would ward off any buyers, so would the light into your apartment.

He tosses you on the bed, and in seconds, you’re on your knees, helping him to pull his shirt off. Naturally, your hands roam his chest. As lighting has technically never been in abundance during the sex, you’re only able to feel areas of his skin that are raised. Scars. They tell a story. His story.

One you’ll never be told.

His hands are against your shoulders before you’re flat on your bed. He pulls your legs from underneath you and spreads them. Your fingers grasp at the button of your jeans as you unbutton them. Lifting your hips, you move quickly to slide them off, but he’s already ahead of you. They’re already tossed to the floor.

You sit up and remove your shirt when he once again shoves you back.

Looking down your body, you realize he’s already nude, dick rigid and leaking precum. Stomach coiling with anticipation, you lick your lips and close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips and tugs you down the bed.

“Fuck.” Your back once again arched off the full sized mattress as he grabbed your thighs, holding you against his mouth. Your hands grasped at the wall behind you, nails scraping as his tongue danced against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Once thing you’d learned was that he was a man of limited patience, when he wanted something, he wanted it now. Immediate gratification was his dominant preference, and you had zero complaints, because right about now, you wanted the same thing.

Your body wormed as a natural reaction towards his tongue exploring every bit of your pussy. Your clit attracted him the most, but he was generous in the regards that nothing was left untouched. He sucked with skill and hunger and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

Eyes rolling in the back of your head, however, there wasn’t much you could focus on expect for the man between your legs, even if you tried.

At times, you became too frisky for him, and he’d move one hand to your core, holding you steady. His strength was inhuman. You hated when he did that, though, because your stomach would cave as your insides twisted. It was impossible not to shift away from him, especially when he expertly circled his tongue around your nub.

You could have sworn you felt him spelling something, perhaps your name, maybe even his.

Again, questions you’d never receive answers to.

You weren’t certain, but you got the feeling that he was motivated to continue to push you based on how your body responded to him. And every tryst had shown that you responded almost perfectly to the slightest of his touches. Everything he did wound you up, he got off to that. Maybe that’s why he never wanted you to reciprocate what you did for him, no matter how badly you wanted to.

He preferred to please, not be pleased.

Stars filtered the vision of your ceiling, and even those became blurred and grainy as that familiar feeling bubbled from the deepest part of you and exploded in a majestic display of pants, moans, and breathy profanities.

You were barely coherent as he trailed sticky kisses up your body, past your pupa, over your tummy, both breast, and finally, your mouth. Tasting yourself and him, you brought your hands to his cheeks holding him. You wanted to savor every second of this. He returned your passion, never breaking the kiss as he lined himself at your slick entrance.

You knew the question of readiness was nearing, and quite frankly, you weren’t for it. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

Lifting your hips to speed up his entry, you nearly screamed when he slammed into you. You weren’t expecting it, but holy fuck, you loved it. You weren’t prepared for the rapid and consistent snapping of his hips into yours or the way his hands pinned yours down above your head, but you cherished it.

You felt every inch of him, every ridge of his dick, his balls slapping against the bottom of your ass. All of it. And you loved every second of this. You missed this. You missed him.

The latter realization took you for surprise as your eyes opened, where you were again surprised to find that he was looking directly at you. He was studying you, searching your face for any sign of pain, discomfort, or even dissatisfaction. He would find none.

He never would.

Your thighs tightened around him, and you saw him grit his teeth, his eyes momentarily shutting as he lowered over you. You tugged against his hold on your wrists, thankful when he released you. Your hands immediately went to his back, pulling him against you, your breast against his broad and muscular chest. Every inch of him was chiseled and defined, and you always felt the strength he possessed barely reaching its peak when you two fucked.

This time was no different.

You waited for the moment where his thrusts slowed just enough for you to switch positions, and when it arose, you wasted no time. He was suddenly under you, with you on top of him. Your hands planted on his chest as you rode him. Unlike his rapid pace, you settled for a slow and meticulous pace, gradually working your way up.

You were confident there was no way that you could match his speed, but that didn’t deter you from trying.

Selfishly, you didn’t bother to search his face for any sign of pleasure, too consumed in your own fantasy. Your hands moved from his chest to the wall as you moved to your toes to access a better angle, one that emitted a prolonged mixture of a moan and a groan.

While he was vocal only in the form of occasional profanities and infrequent breathing patterns, you were determined to let the whole building know that you were getting fucked, and you were getting fucked thoroughly.

A letter from your landlord would surely be awaiting for you in the next couple days.

None of that mattered, though.

You’re not sure how long you go at it, but you recognize what’s coming. And so does he. You’re briefly caught off guard when he sits up and holds you against his chest. Both of your mouth are parted, and he never tears his eyes away from you, even as bliss overcompensates will, and your eyes shut. Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, and you close your mouth to quiet your scream when you reach your climax, as you both reach your release.

As his warm seed spreads insides you and yours coats his bottom half, along with your bedding, your heavy breathing and sluggish body alerts you to just how fast and how hard you two were at it. Completely spent and unwilling to move, you fall on top of him, uncaring of the mess that coats you.

Besides, you expect him to carefully peel you off of him. Instead, you receive the opposite, he brings him arms around you, holding you against him.

Your eyes shut. A few minutes of silence fill the void until he fills it with a proclamation.

“I’m not what you need.”

For some reason, his statement causes you to smile. This is the most verbal he’s ever been with you, and you recognize that. You appreciate it.

You appreciate his honesty.

“And I’m not what you need,” you speak into his slick chest while he rubs circles on the small of your back. “But this is what we need.”

He says nothing.

A few minutes go by when you finally gather the courage to ask what you wanted to ask from the minute you saw him standing outside the bar. “You staying the night?”

He takes a few moments to answer, but it’s long enough for you to regret even asking. And then, he speaks.

“I can.”

His answer takes you by surprise. It’s not a no, and it’s technically not a yes, either. However, you recognize the optional aspect in his voice.

You don’t provide a verbal answer. You simply cradle your face into his neck, sighing at the calming feeling of him still being inside you.  

You know he won’t be there when you open your eyes, and that’s okay. He’s here now, and while you don’t know for certain, but you’re confident that he’ll be back.

And that is what allows you to peacefully close your eyes and succumb to slumber.

[fat-worthy-wonderfulll]

law school is ableist as fuck and navigating it while dealing with multiple disabilities is absolutely exhausting.

it has been my dream to be a lawyer for a long time. and i’m good at law school! but it’s stressful, because it’s supposed to be, and stress makes my illnesses worse

right now the benefit of doing what i want outweighs the detriment to my health. also, what job wouldn’t stress me out? there isn’t a place in this capitalist hell scape that allows people to truly care for themselves

sometimes though, i wonder if fighting to access a system that clearly is trying to reject me is worth it

[luxurybrownbarbie]

is the work/life balance at your job well? how is the stress? i’m considering pursuing a career in investment banking.

The work/life balance is what you make of it really. I carve out time for the things that matter. Myself, my relationship, and my family.

But I’m not going to lie, the stress is insane. Very much so. And you are expected to cope with it come hell or high water.

It’s all about the balance. I personally believe the connections and benefits outweigh the stress I may feel. I think it’s similar to working in large law firms.

[isitreallyok]

Therapy, Medication, And Mental Help

I’m gonna level with y’all here. This post will likely not be quite as articulate as some of the other ones. It’s been a really rough morning, but I wanted to address this issue while it is still fresh in my mind. I have yet to ask for advice or feedback on a single one of my posts, but if anyone has any I’m definitely not opposed to receiving it on this one.

Uh oh. That doesn’t sound great. What’s going on?

I’m going to attempt to keep this as brief as possible, and it likely will still be quite lengthy, but I’m going to have to give a bit of context here as well. My current life situation has been radically altered in the last year. 2020 has thrown so many wrenches in my plans and Covid isn’t even the biggest of them. However, lets take this from the top.

When I was 9 years old my parents divorced. Not a huge deal. It happens to a lot of kids as sad as that is to say. I grew up with my mother, brother, and sister in a single parent household with a skewed picture of who my father was and didn’t want too much to do with him. Fast forward a few years, my dad moves to Idaho and remarries and has a wonderful relationship with my stepmother. I wasn’t able to visit too often, but it wasn’t horrible when I was able to make it out there. As much as I minimize the normalcy of being a child of divorce though it still had a horribly impact on my emotional well being and my mental health as a child. Many other kids throughout school came were content with their home life. They were able to enjoy being children and did not have to worry about the pressures of caring for their siblings started at a young age. I, on the other hand, was not content with where I was at in life and wanted desperately to change it.

My mother was incredibly supportive of us kids as best as she was able. She made sure that we had routine trips to the doctors, that we had what we needed in terms of food and shelter, and even got us therapy and psychiatric help. I was blessed to have that available to me as a child. Many children going through similar situations do not have access to that level of external help for a myriad of different reasons. However even though I had these things I still ran into trouble. As I was growing up my father discredited mental healthcare as a practice so I always had that rattling around in the back of my head. By the time I was 15, I decided to stop taking my bipolar and depression medications because I didn’t feel like they were helping me. This is honestly the biggest mistake I’ve made in my entire life. I continued to see my therapist, until I not longer had insurance at age 18, but I didn’t feel as if I was making any real strides there either because I had also adopted the mindset that nothing was working and therapy and caring for my mental health was a joke.

Wait. Isn’t this a place where you talk explicitly about your mental health and how to manage and cope with various aspects of it?

Why yes. Yes it is. I’ve been handling my manic depressive bipolar disorder unmedicated for the last 13 years. It has been absolute hell most days. A few years ago I hit rock bottom and realized that I needed help. The girl that I had been dating for a few years, was living with, and planned on proposing to cheated on me and I ended up moving back in with my parents because of the situation, I slept on a futon mattress on the floor for months before we ended up moving, and due to this my mental state deteriorated to the point of suicidal ideation with intent.

This is when I realized that I was wrong in my views on medication and therapy. I had been putting myself in a position where I was running people out of my life due to the fact that I was using my friends as free therapy and they drew a line and I had to respect it. There was only one problem with finally accepting that I needed to get help. That problem is that help is expensive. I had been uninsured for mental health since I was 18. I accepted the fact that I needed to get help, but the fact that I could afford it drove me even deeper into despair about my circumstances.

So what did you do? Did you get the help you needed? Clearly you didn’t give into your suicidal tendencies.

Well. Yes and no. I didn’t get the help I needed, but I managed to find a way to distract myself from the troubles of the real world. I poured myself into my job and decided that that was the time to go to college. I do understand the irony or going to college after complaining that therapy was too expensive. Believe me that is not lost on me. The difference is you can’t get student loans for learning how to take care of yourself.

Rather than allowing myself to begin working through the existing trauma in my life, I decided to put myself in a position to where I could start to try to live a “normal” life again. Whatever the hell that means. I had a routine, albeit a poor one, I was socializing, albeit minimally in my classes and typically only for group projects, and I was too distracted by other pressures to reminisce on how much I hated my life. I started taking steps that I felt like a therapist would tell me to and began working towards chasing a dream again. This felt different, but I don’t think I’d venture as far as to say it felt good. It was just a different kind of stress that I was piling on myself. I still felt like I needed help handling the day to day. Learning to cope with my bipolar unmedicated took years and the singular trauma of living with my family again meant that all the coping mechanisms I had worked to develop became even more difficult to manage and I had to once again learn different strategies to handle all the new challenges.

Instead of schooling and attempting normalcy on your own wouldn’t it have been easier to get help?

Easier? No. More beneficial? Absolutely. The hoops that one has to jump through even to get seen by a therapist nowadays is challenging enough and that doesn’t even include financial ramifications for those without health insurance that covers mental health, which most workplace insurance plans don’t. With that in mind, the benefits of getting the help that you need often are not able to outweigh the cost.

Realistically, even if I had been able to afford to get myself the care that I need I likely wouldn’t have. I have always been the type of person to do everything on my own until I have exhausted all of my options. This is not something I recommend. One of the biggest things that I want to learn to do is ask for help when I need it instead of asking after I am already at the end of my rope. Even as I’m typing this I am beyond frustrated and want nothing to do with with the stress I’m under from today and it took me hitting that point to finally open up about talking about it even though it was among the first topics I decided to address when I first started this blog. Asking for help at appropriate times is a topic all on it’s own so we’ll save that conversation for another day.

So I’m starting to see a bit of where you’re coming from, but what happened today?

So this part of the background info I plan to address more in depth in the future and will keep the context of this very brief. Remember how I said that my dad and I had a strained relationship even after he moved? Well that changed once I was about 20. We reconnected and for years spoke nearly every day and he became a close confidant and more of what most people with a healthy relationship with their father have. We disagreed on a lot of things, but we were able to understand each other. A few years ago my stepmother passed away. Even before she passed my dad was diagnosed with early stage dementia. He had been having memory issues and it felt like he was a completely different person. At the start of this year he moved back in with my family and that has been a challenge having my divorced parents living under the same room without the ability to properly communicate with each other.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up to both my mother and father bickering with each other about something related to Dad’s socks. Rather than handling it like adults they were both fighting like toddlers from what I could hear in my bedroom. This has become an increasingly common occurrence. One gets frustrated with the other, situation escalates, I feel pressured to step in and deescalate the situation, I typically end up frustrated and my mood is shot. Dad feels more comfortable talking and listening to me, Mom backs off because I get what needs to be done done, I wind up once again in the middle of a weird situation between my parents. I tolerate this because of the fact that I am able to assist in my father’s care in a way that is beneficial to his understand of what he needs and it eases the burden on other people that are trying to convey the same message with zero results. However over time this would wear anyone down and that point is where I finally reached this morning.

Rather than being able to calmly handle the situation with a level head I ended up snapping at all partied involved. I snapped at Dad for not wanting to do anything to mitigate the problems he complained of, I snapped at Mom for escalating the situation, I snapped at my sister who was just checking it see if I was okay, I ran the gambit of getting frustrated with people. Instead of handling the situation the way I normally would with patience and dignity, I mismanaged the situation and likely made it worse. 

This is where we get back to the topic at hand. I have finally managed to actually get myself on some half decent health insurance that has wonderful mental health coverage. This kicks in at the start of the year and I will be able to finally get some help with handling the fact that this entire situation has been traumatic and has left some serious scars. I’m excited but this also got me wondering about the part that I need help on.

My bipolar and resistance to most psychotropic medication had to come from somewhere, as it’s a disorder that is tied to genetics, and my mother is not bipolar. This tells me that my father, who exhibits clear symptoms of having bipolar depression, is where I got my proclivity for the development of this condition. That being said, with my father’s resistance towards getting psychiatric care, and being medicated to balance any chemical imbalances, puts me in a weird state for doing what is best for him and his care. Do I force this help on him? Do I accept that he’s not ready for it and sit idly by and continue to watch him deteriorate? With his dementia he’s less likely to be able to receive the care he desperately needs due to his inability to create a coherent thought in regards to what his needs are for the large scale rather than just being fine in that exact moment. So I truly am at a loss. This is the part where I ask for advice. If anyone who has read this far has any experience with dementia and psychiatric care I could really use some advice on how to best have these conversations with my dad. This has been one of the biggest hardships I have faced and I am getting to be at a proper loss for words in how to help the situation which as you can tell by the verbosity of this post is difficult to do.

You’re totally fine in not knowing how to handle this situation. This is a difficult situation to be in regardless of who you are. You’re doing well.

Thank you. All of that stuff is an absolute nightmare to handle and life has been absolute hell, but I hope that that helps you to understand where I’m coming from when I encourage you all to once again remember the three reminders! I know most days, including today, I need to remember them to so lets run through them together before we end things for today. You are so much stronger than you think, you are beautiful inside and out, and jinkies you are worth love, kindness, respect, admiration, and all those things you think you’re not worthy of. Lets turn today around together and kick some butt and take some names.

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

20, 27, 35, 40, 50, 59, 67, 88 for All Eight Characters (one each but if you wanna go Hog Fucking Wild feel free)

Alright so. I’m not going hog wild but! I decided to do two guys per question, one who was my first gut instinct for that question, and then one random character to spice things up! Do some character building in a direction I might not have thought to go, you know? 

Also bro this got so long so just. Putting it. Under a read more because I do respect your time and dashboard.

20. How would your character define love? Caspian: Love is when people stop to listen to you. When they smile when they see you, and sneak you an extra dessert when no one is looking. Love is being willing to bend the rules to make you happy, teaching you to hold your head up high even when you’re getting in trouble, and telling you to always look the world right in the eye when it wants you to back down. Love is giving up whatever you have to without a second thought for the other person’s sake, and knowing they would do the same for you. Love is taking the lessons they taught you, carrying them in your heart, swallowing your fear and setting out to bring them home. Ryker: Love is fleeting, and fickle, and fragile. Love is at best a luxury and more realistically a bargaining chip. It’s real, sure, but its primary use is to blind people to what’s hidden behind it. Some people may get lucky, but only a fool would bet on those odds. ...if you are lucky enough to find it, though, hold on tight. Real love, genuine, honest, reciprocated love, is worth doing anything for. The people you care about should know how you feel by what you do, not by what you say. Show love with discretion, but show it fiercely. 

27. How much have they given up to get to where they are in life, willingly or unwillingly? How much do they think they would give up to get to where they want to be, in the future? Raini: Raini I think is super interesting because I think she’s given up a fair bit, and she’s completely fine with the sacrifices she did make because she decided the benefits outweighed whatever she had to give up to get it. But on the other hand, giving something up unwillingly? Having something taken from her? Absolutely a cause for retribution at any cost. idk if I’m explaining the difference in a way that makes sense, but that distinction means the world to Raini because, even if the sacrifice is hard to swallow, at least she was in control of it. And like, the whole premise of the campaign is giving up shit! Giving up everything! And was it willing at the time? Yes! But coming out on the other side of it and not remembering making the decision and, quite frankly, not agreeing with the decision you made is rough! You’re yourself, you know because you’re you, but you’re also not yourself because that’s the whole point of what you did, so did you really do this? Was it someone else in a body you now inhabit? What happens to this new you when you regain your old memories, because there’s no way in hell you don’t at least try to get them back? It’s a lot to think about!! And that, and the core of this question, is why Raini doesn’t let this end without a Wish to restore the memory of whoever wants it. I don’t think she sees erasing them the first time as a decision “she” necessarily made -although whether that’s a philosophical issue or one of diverting guilt is open for debate- so she wants to reclaim what she sees as having been taken from her unwillingly. Pip: Tbh, the plot and premise of Strahd aside, Pip has lived a pretty charmed life. He fucked up plenty, but he always seemed to manage to stumble his way into where he needed to be when he needed to be there. Honestly, even within the module things didn’t go too badly for him! He lost a good friend at one point, and nearly died in that same fight, but other than that he fared pretty well. The biggest thing he’s given up in his life was his place in his home village, but honestly it’s like 50/50 on whether that was willingly or unwillingly. Like, he feels bad about the accidental arson? But also. It kinda kicks ass that he did then just like. Leave and it was fine. With his campaign over, I don’t really have much in the way of future goals for him! He’s just. He’s just fucking vibing. You know? So! Seems like he’s getting out of giving up anything in the future.

35. What is their most prized possession? If they have one that is. Ryker: For sure have talked about this before: it’s his hammers. He has two enormous hammers that he fights with, named Last Chance and Misery’s End. They’re sturdy orc made weapons with their names hammered into the side of each head in orc, that have been passed down from clan leader to clan leader for generations. They hit well, they don’t do much else, but when you’re regularly shattering knees, ribs, and skulls, what else do you need them to do? They’re sturdy, practical weapons. Reliable, and they remind him of home. He’s more comfortable putting his life in their hands than anything -or anyone- else’s. Brilliance: Her armor! For several reasons: 1. She paid extra to have it enchanted so that it repels dirt and blood and grime. After crawling through cult sewers to clear out some nasty boys, Brilliance decided that never again was she going to spend her short rest having to wipe blood or shit off her nice armor. When she upgraded to splint mail, she absolutely forked out that Armor of Gleaming enchantment. 2. Her shield specifically was decorated by her fiancee! Sienna likes to paint, and when Brilliance first got her shield for guard duty at the church Sienna took it upon herself to get out her paints and paint on a wreaths of vines and roses and birds and other lovely things, so that her love could always have a piece of her with her 💖

40. Do people expect a lot from your character or look up to them for something? Why or why not? Ayen: Unfortunately, Ayen is baybe. And even though she hasn’t outright told anyone how old she is, it’s becoming rapidly apparent that. Hey? They might have figured it out. It’s literally inconceivable how they could have pieced it together though?? I mean, how does anything about her not read as completely mature and put together elf woman thank you I’m an elf??  So, no. I don’t think anyone looks up to her. And that’s okay!! Yes she is a young adult with her own set of skills and her own value to add to the world and the people around her, but she would not thrive in a position of leadership like she thinks she would. She needs time to mellow out and settle down, and to learn how to make decisions quickly and responsibly. I think, one day, she’ll be able to show a lot of people how to do a lot of good. For now, though, she’s happy trotting along after Dad and rowing her and her new friend around in circles in a row boat, just because it’s fun to mess around sometimes. Auriga: Interesting question! Interesting question. I think in the collective sense, as part of the Court of Stars, definitely yes. They’re the rulers! They guide their people through the knowledge and wisdom accumulated over the course of millennia! I think Auriga specifically even is seen as having a closer connection to this wealth of knowledge, being a cleric and all. But I am toying with the thought that outside of the context of the council and the court, the people that make it up don’t have as much weight? There’s still respect of course! But while one star shining on its own is all well and good, without the context of those around it how are you meant to learn from what it has to say to you? Auriga understands this, it’s just part of their culture, and he’s in no way troubled by it. It’s the way things are meant to be, and so they will continue to be until it is clear that something needs to change! 

50. What’s their earliest memory? Auriga: Now full warning this is going to be a lot less detailed than Cog’s is just because I know him less, but I think Auriga earliest memory is something sweet and warm like. Sitting in one of his older sibling’s laps (while he’s the Baby of the family!) and just. Dozing against their chest while the rest of them sit in front of a roaring fire and just talk. He doesn’t remember a word of what was said, he just remembers being little and held and loved. Their family mostly interacts in the council room, I think, because when things get busy with ruling it’s so easy to just fall into work and let family time fall by the wayside. But when things get stressful, when he realizes he hasn’t interacted with his brothers or sisters outside their meetings in a while, I think this is one of the memories that comes to mind and encourages him to set aside whatever he’s reading and go off to be intentional about spending time with his brothers and sisters :) Cog: One of her earliest memories was when her magic first manifested! She was maybe six or seven, and Mama was busy at church and Daddy had gone out to check on some of the folks that lived a bit further out from town, and baby Cog was bored to tears. She knew she wasn’t supposed to leave home alone!! But there were some Cool Older Kids she wanted to impress, and they were going to sneak out and explore the swamp. They were big kids! They were like thirteen! Surely, nothing bad could happen if there were big kids with her! So she followed them out of town, and by the time they noticed their tag-along it would have been Way too much work to take her back home. Whatever. It’s fine. They start poking around the edge of the swamp, looking at weird fish and bugs and poking at mushrooms or whatever kind of shit grows in swamps. Probably getting eaten alive by mosquitos.  Well! Cog is having a grand old time playing with frogs and cattails, and she’d wandered off from the teenagers she was supposed to be staying with. She was up to her calves in the brackish water trying to recapture a frog that escaped her when she looked up to see a long, thin shape darting through the water straight for her. It was a cottonmouth, mutated by the Wasteland and nearly as big as she is. It hissed as it closed the distance between them, mouth open wide as it readied itself to lunge and sink its fangs into her. Cog screamed and threw her arms up to protect herself-  And then there was a burn of something wild and unfamiliar in her chest, a warm hand on her shoulder, and a flash of light so blinding that people swore later they could see it from town. Cog stood there for a moment, frozen and trembling, but when she gathered the courage to open her eyes everything within five feet of her was scorched clean, and the corpse of the snake that had charged her was bobbing, almost completely unrecognizable, in the water in front of her. Mama was furious with her when they made it back home, of course, but after hearing what happened? After hearing that Cog had finally managed to channel a spell, some rudimentary form of Word of Radiance? Well, there were much, much more pressing things to worry about, all of a sudden.

59. Have they ever had an encounter with someone that changed their whole life? Cog: HA Morgan opened up a can of “Talk About Ace” SOUP and folks it’s fucking lunchtime. Drink up assholes!!! I know I’ve talked about this a hundred times but I’ll never be sick of it: they’re JUST such good friends and they’ve been so so good for each other. Before they met, Cog was in a place in her life where she felt trapped and perpetually anxious, and Ace was restless and angry at the world. Neither of them felt like they could measure up to the expectations other people had for them, and Cog had turned that worry self-destructively inward while Ace had turned it outward. Ace’s straining at his leash brought him to Lafaroh, and Cog’s -at the time, Charlotte’s- soft heart had her defying direct orders to slip up to this stranger and warn him that he needed to leave before he got hurt. And Ace looked at Charlotte, at the genuine worry on her face for someone she’d only just met. And he looked at the town around them, at the way the people who passed by looked at him and how that look shifted from suspicion to shock and outrage when they saw Charlotte with him. And he did some math, and he realized whatever the hell was going on in this podunk town was a thousand times more interesting than anything that would ever happen back in New Alexandria proper. So of course, he settles in to pry. Charlotte, bless her, has many, many strengths; reading into people’s intent is not one of them. So when Ace starts asking questions, she’s happy to answer to impress upon him how important it is that he goes home! And the more she talks, the easier it is to just... keep talking? This man, this stranger from the Academy, is talking to her, listening to her like nobody ever has. And more than that, he actually seems to care! He has no reason to care that she’s worried she won’t be able to step up the way she knows her mom wants her to, but he’s clearly concerned and invested in her story. And even though she’s trying to keep things vague, she’s never been very good at deceiving people. Pieces start to fall in place, Charlotte lets more slip than she means to, and by the time they’ve been talking for an hour or so Ace has a pretty good picture of what’s going on here. It’s not safe here, not for him and certainly not for her, so he doesn’t even stop to consider whether it’s an offer he can make when he holds out his hand, both literally and figuratively, and tells her he can take her back to the Academy with him. And to Charlotte, who less than an hour ago had been weighing her odds of surviving the Wasteland alone if she ran away on her own, the door this man just opened to her? The way he’s reaching back through it to offer her a hand, to pull her through to a better, safer life? How can she say no?  They fought their way out of Lafaroh that day. Charlotte almost certainly wanted to try to slip out unnoticed, but they’d already attracted too much attention by letting townspeople see them talking. Charlotte goes home to quickly pack, and she doesn’t come back out of the house. Ace waits, and the sun starts to set, and she still hasn’t come back out. Something isn’t right. He knocks on the door: there’s no answer. He knocks again, louder. Then again. Finally, an angry looking man opens the door and starts to tell Ace to get lost, but there’s clear sounds of arguing inside coming from just out of view of the doorway. The man is big, but Ace is fast enough to duck inside and around the corner in time to see Charlotte struggling to get around a woman who looks strikingly like her in order to make a break down the stairs and toward the door. The next several seconds are messy and disjointed; no one expects someone in high level caster robes to take the staff off their back and start attacking with it, but the next thing Charlotte knows Ace has her hastily packed bag slung over one shoulder, has planted her firmly behind himself, and is holding her hand with one of his own while he levels his staff at her parents with the other. His voice is calm but hard as he explains that they’re leaving, because Charlotte made it clear that she isn’t safe or happy here. If they try to stop them, Ace can and will bring the full force of New Alexandria’s wrath down on their tiny, shitty town. He’s going to take Charlotte away, find her a place in the Academy, and they’re not going to say a word. And so they leave! With all of Lafaroh absolutely seething behind them, with Charlotte gripping Ace’s hand as tight as she can and willing her own not to shake, they set out together into the Wasteland and, ultimately, to New Alexandria.  I have Such a vivid mental image of the two of them camping out in the Wasteland the night before they made it back to New Alexandria, with the lights of the city just peeking over the horizon in front of them. They’re eating dinner over a fire Ace made Such a show of lighting with magic instead of the tinderbox one of them definitely had, and they’re talking about names Charlotte could use in New Alexandria because she’d quietly admitted earlier that day that the name “Charlotte” has so much baggage that she doesn’t want to carry anymore. And Ace, while he is trying to help, is also a dork. He’s throwing out every name that pops into his head, good or not, trying to see if he can get her to laugh at one of them. They spend a few minutes talking, Ace muses aloud over “Charlotte Olivia Grace” a few times, looking for some cute nickname he can pull out of a name like that. And then he pauses, and sits up, and looks at Charlotte, and nods. The suggestion that she go by “Cog” makes her laugh, but that’s a good thing. Ace is grinning too because some dumb shit he said finally got a smile of out Charlotte for the first time since they left her shithole town. She’s sort of laughing in spite of herself, and it eases some of the heaviness that’s been hanging over them the last few days, but after considering it for a moment? She loves it. Taking the name she was given, and making it her own in a way she knows her parents would hate? It feels good! She’s grinning ear to ear when she turns to Ace and nods in agreement. “Cog” it is. “Charlotte” dies in the Wasteland that night; Cog enrolls in the Academy the next day. In Cog’s eyes, Ace’s intervention literally saved her life. She went from being a scared little girl in the middle of nowhere with no future beyond the ramshackle walls of her small town, to an incredibly promising up and coming student of the Academy. She went from being told that the only use her magic had was what it could do for the Church, to blowing away professors who expected her to barely be able to manage a cantrip and being praised for her intuitive understanding of magic. And for Ace! Cog was the first person his actions truly, directly helped. He saw a problem, he stepped in, he fixed in. In a slow moving, insular city like New Alexandria, that wasn’t something he’d been able to do before. He saw how the good he’d done in helping Cog reflected and redoubled in the way she treated the people around her, and saw her making the choice to be kind not in spite of but because of everything she’d been through growing up. Bro like Ace’s character bio says “self-appointed big bro to Cog” and “he sent a letter to Cog thanking her for being a positive influence in his life”. This question got SO out of control as I wrote my Cog and Ace fanfic but! They deserve it! AND the party is going back to New Alexandria next session, so!! More Ace content soon folks stay tuned! Raini: Did you think I ran out of soup?? Did you think lunchtime was over? FUCK you! This is MY blog and I’ll wax poetic about my dnd characters and their friendships for as LONG as I want to! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!!!!! Now this one in fairness probably won’t be as long as Cog’s was, just because I know that all the people who follow me are like. Actively in the campaign and various group chats where we discuss how important our characters are to each other. But do NOT make the mistake of assuming it’s because I love you any less. I love you so much. Yes homo. Where do we start? At the beginning, with our lizard. Y’all ever uh. Y’all ever met a dipshit lizard who you’re pretty sure you can trick into taking you adventuring but plan to ditch the second they become deadweight (i.e. whenever they go down for the first time, probably), except then you became like best friends and siblings by all but blood and you realize you’d rip the world in half for them without them even asking and you can’t even begin to imagine how you’d reconcile the hole they’d leave in your life if they left it? Have you ever slowly realized that you’re adding “except for him” at the end of every generally grumpy statement you make about the world? And then realized even more slowly after years of friendship that somehow the bastard managed to extend “except for him” to “except for them”, and you’re so much less disengaged from and disinterested in the world around you? Y’all ever had that happen to you?? Shit’s wild. And then. Y’all ever met a fucking cop who clearly has, like. An actual metric ton of baggage she’s refusing to even glance in the direction of? And at first, it’s a pain to have to circumvent her “morals” in order to get shit done. Honestly, it’s kind of always a pain. But even your crotchety ass has to admit there’s something about sticking so firmly to your guns regardless of the situation you’re put in that’s admirable, that the world would be a much better place if more people had that same iron will and a refusal to be moved. Even if they’re standing up for stupid shit, at least they’re standing up for something. And maybe you take some of that resolve and tuck it away in your chest, to give you something to grip onto when you need to dig in your heels and refuse to let the world knock you around. And then. Y’all ever met a druid who burns with an anger you, honestly, kind of understand? Who wants to be more than the world wants her to be so badly, in a way that you definitely understand? Have you ever gotten to watch over the course of weeks and months as she time and again made the choice to take that anger and that drive and point it at things that would hurt the people she cares about? By god, she’s leaving her mark on the world, and she’s doing that by burning the shit out of it. But, without fail, there’s always a circle of uncharred, untouched ground around each and every party member. And when you notice this pattern, you can’t stop yourself from noticing it again, and again. And you learn: sometimes, you’re angry at the world. Sometimes! You’re angry at your party members! But that anger points outward. Always, and unequivocally. You have your friends’ backs, even if you’re furious with them. And then you meet a fish and you learn that sometimes things just need to be hit a lot of time in a row, really hard, with a big fucking hammer.  Okay but you meet this fish who, somehow, despite being monotone and weird and a fish and clearly an outsider to like. Land culture? Which you guess is a thing, apparently. Despite all of that, they have an emotional intelligence that’s off the fucking charts. And quite frankly! For a long time, it makes you really, really uncomfortable! If you don’t tell somebody how you’re feeling, and you don’t, then they shouldn’t be able to figure it out. But, slowly, you start to see the value of it. Your lizard is upset about something, and they won’t tell you what, but you’re able to squint at them and slowly figure it out so you can fix it. A few days later a joke a party member makes rubs you the wrong way, and you swallow your pride enough to admit it and they just. Apologize? Just like that? They promise not to say it again? And fish expressions are so hard to read, but you can just Tell that they’re over there looking smug, the bastard. But while you’re definitely not ready to commit to this being a daily thing you can, begrudgingly, admit that you can see the benefits of “communicating” with the people around you. 

67. What was the most acidic remark your character’s ever given to someone? And their reaction? Brilliance: In like our third session, our warlock had disguised himself as a “beautiful woman” in order to flirt with the guy we were there to talk to to get information out of him (Note: They did not ask Brilliance, at any point, if she was willing to flirt with him instead. She would not have been, but they could have at least asked). So Brilliance was hanging out at the bar near this dude’s private booth while the warlock chatted him up, and when the warlock got up to leave the dude reached out to try and grab her arm. He missed, but Brilliance was on his ass in a second with her sword out like “If you had grabbed her hand, you would have lost your own. She’s not interested in you; let her leave.” He thought it was funny and kept calling Brilliance “sweetheart”, but I did get to put my sword through his gut before the end of the night SO. Who’s the real winner? Ayen: I rolled Ayen for this one and I want to respect that and not cop out, but I don’t think it’s super in her nature to snark at people. She’s just gonna tell you like straight up that you’re a dickhead, and that’s that. I think the only time we might get to snarking is if someone (Dad, a party member, etc.) said “leave it alone” and Ayen is Not Done. She might send some parting shots over her shoulder then, like a “You’re lucky I like this guy so much, or we wouldn’t be done here” or “Show your face again when my dad’s not around, if you’ve got the balls.”

88. Assuming they aren’t one already would your character prefer to be a Vampire, a Werewolf, or a Demon? Pip: Potentially a cop out! However. A little..... vampire frog? Hello Mr. Strahd. Are we friends now? Could be a vampire! We have seen that vampires are cool and hot and powerful if perhaps a little amoral but that’s okay, because they’re cool and powerful.  Caspian: I literally spent fucking forever looking at this because. She literally worships and derives her Sun Soul monk shit from Pelor, the god of the sun. So like! How the fuck you gonna be a vampire or a werewolf with that going on. Dude hates the undead too, so vampire struck out twice. Demon’s iffy too, because it very much goes against the whole “good aligned” thing she has going on. So I guess?? Werewolf is the least offensive?? She’ll just pray and hope Pelor is like. Cool. With it. Haha? Also objectively, a werewolf that worships the god of the sun is VERY funny so there is that.

[shit-archaeologists-say]

As a highschool student I'm quite concerned for my future and was hoping to get into archaeology. Would you recommend it as a profession or is it something you regret?(if u are an archaeologist)

Oh boy that’s a hard question, but I’ll do my best. 

First, as a disclaimer: I’m not currently working as an archaeologist. Post-grad degree, my need for a steady income and health benefits is currently outweighing my want to get an archaeology job.  

Second, it’s something you really have to want. I’m sure most archaeologists would agree. Archaeology isn’t one of those careers that you go into thinking “well, it’s not my favorite, but it’ll do.” Tbh it can suck sometimes. You’re never gonna get rich, you’ll probably have to work in shitty, hot, boring, wet, potentially explosive conditions before you get to do anything cool. You’re not going to be finding elaborate golden artifacts every other day and making history changing discoveries. Unless you go into something really specialized, you’re probably going to mostly be on your hands and knees, in a pit digging for long periods of time and, if you’re lucky, spend some time in a lab processing your finds (many of which will be rocks)

Now, this isn’t meant to discourage you. Personally, I love it. I like the outdoors, I like the physicality of it all (though, therein lies my current issue, but that’s a story for a different day). I love the potential to learn new things that could change details of history while you watch (not big changes, mind you, but things like “oh this wasn’t just a shitty little village, it was a hub of administration”). I love even finding weird looking historical shit and going …..um what the hell? and then through some research (and wild guessing) figuring out exactly what it was used for. I love the research and the camaraderie of the people I’ve worked with (cuz hey, archaeologists are weird to outsiders but if you’re one of us, we’re pretty fucking cool).

In conclusion, I don’t regret going into archaeology (other than when I look at my student loan statements cuz yikes). I don’t know if I’d ever be able to find another course of study that satisfies all my niche interests and is in an environment I enjoy (miss me with that 9-5 office job honey). 

So it’s really up to you. If it sounds like something you’d enjoy, give it a go! Especially since you’re only in high school you have TONS of time to try things out. If you think archaeology sounds interesting but you don’t want to lock into it yet, see if theres an open short course or a field school near you. Do some research and figure out what areas you might want to study and figure out where/when/how much it’ll cost to find a professor who focuses on that too. 

In general, just explore everything you can. Even if you really like archaeology, maybe spend some time in chemistry or anatomy classes which will help you specialize down the road. Take some history classes from a wide range of times and places. Just explore a bit and try to stress too abstractly about The Future. Everything you do is going to change it and there’s 1,000,000 ways to get to your end goals. 

Hope that helps a bit

[linyi-is-dreaming]

One Way Out - Part 5

Part 5 of ?

Story: Hoseok // Y/N // Yoongi // Namjoon // Taehyung // Jin // Jimin // Jungkook

Category: Smut, Mystery, Abusive Relationship, Crime

Summary: After Y/N’s last break up, she tried to get her ex off her mind. Parties, one night stands, nothing helped except only one thing that helped her the most: her now boyfriend Hoseok. They became from friends to friends with benefits and after a while they both confessed their feelings for each other and started dating. But the calculation was made without her ex, Yoongi. Who does not come back on good terms.

Chapter 5: Trust no one

Namjoon’s head was spinning around the deal. He doubts that their boss had agreed on it. He wants to question Hoseok about the feedback he had from him, but with her in the room, it would have not been a good Idea. As Y/N gets up from the table to get dressed, Namjoon saw a chance. As soon as she left, Namjoon took his chance. “Are you sure they will sign a deal? I am not sure if our boss will agree with this.”

“Let Yoongi think we do. He will get nothing, that is what it will be.”, Hoseok says calmly as he takes a sip of his coffee. “We will inform our boss when it has to be.” 

“If that is the plan, I wished I would have never typed the word ‘deal’. Are you insane?” Namjoon wipes his hand over his face. “If he smells how fishy this is, do you really think that you can help Y/N?”, Namjoon whispers in case she would be back earlier as expected.

“He would not dare to. He has too much to lose, plus he gave us a name of a member of his crew. We can play them against each other. If one of them is getting against the other one, we find more information than we need.”, Hoseok says calmly with a smile on his face.

“I do not know what you took to make you feel like this but come down again! You are playing a dangerous game at this moment. These guys are not to joke with or have I missed something?” Hoseok sits himself up and leans forward to Namjoon.

“I am not about to help Yoongi and his friend to get out of their situation. I want him to be out of her life and I will not risk losing her. I want all four behind bars, even if it is the last thing I do. I will make sure she won’t be with him under any circumstances.” Namjoon looks pale. He knows that this fire is too hot to touch.

“It was part of the deal, that you let him contact her.” Namjoon shakes his head. “Have you forgotten what your job is, mister I am above everyone else? Even if I do not even like the idea of him being around her, it is even better than this Jungkook guy or his lap dog.”

“She has been beaten by them. Raped through the other one, with the allowance of someone else. You are okay with her being around someone who allowed a guy to rape her? Are you serious?”

“Listen, I am not okay with what he did, nor am I happy what she did in the past. She is smart, she will learn, she will not go back to him. Why are so jealous of him?” Hoseok gazes at Namjoon.

“I am not jealous! I want him out of sight! I want them all out of her life!”, Hoseok screams. Namjoon tries to calm him, so that Y/N would not be able to hear him. “I curse myself for the day I met her.”

“Hoseok, what are you saying?” Namjoon puts his eyebrows forward and tries to read his friend in anyway possible. “You are saying this because of the stress. Since you met her, you said you will marry her, what happened?”

“The truth happened. That is what’s up, Namjoon.”, Y/N says. Hoseok immediately turns around, Y/N holds her hand up immediately. “Do not even dare to say a word. You regret meeting me? Thank you. That is all I needed to know.”  She turns around and walks away. Both are jumping out of their seat to follow her into the bedroom. She has not noticed both of them were already behind her as she turned around with her suitcases in her hands.

“What are you doing? Put the suitcases down! Now!” Hoseok commands. Namjoon pushes Hoseok to the side and hugs Y/N. Hoseok stays in the door with a begging look. “Babe, please. Do not leave me! I am sorry, I should have not screamed at you. I cannot keep you safe when you leave, please.” Namjoon leans back with his hands striking her upper arms, he looks in her eyes and nods. He does not pay attention to what Hoseok tells her. Y/N starts to cry and mumbles some words under her sobs.

“Hoseok, leave us alone in this room please.” Hoseok looked only at Y/N. Hoseok knew that those words were painful, but he did not mean it in the way she understood them, he wanted to make it clear to her. He knew that now, he must trust his friend. Hoseok nods and leaves the room with his eyes directed on the floor. Namjoon waited until Hoseok was out of sight. “Listen to me, closely. We both know, he is under so much pressure. He pressures himself too much because he does not want to let you down, okay? Trust me, I will be there, no matter what. Put your faith in me when I say, he loves you. He is only worried to lose you to Yoongi.” Y/N looks at Namjoon as she puts the suitcases down. Her heart felt like it dropped, her eyes open wide. Namjoon says nothing as he can see that she is thinking about his words. As Y/N sits down on the edge of the bed, Namjoon sits down next to her. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands. Y/N only sits and looks at his hands, as she takes a deep breath when she leans her head back.

“Tell me one thing.” Namjoon sits up. “Promise me one thing.” Her eyes looking for his while his eyes are still look forward at the wall in front of him. “No matter what happens, make sure you two are alright. Can you promise me that?” The worry in her voice so clearly to hear, that it makes Namjoon think, what it is that made her worried. Has the worry in her voice any meaning for her relationship with Hoseok or is it someone else she worries about. “Can you do that, Namjoon?” Namjoon swallows hard. He takes a few deep breathes before he even attempts to give her an answer.

“I do not make promises, you know me… As you are my friend, I will make one for you. I will try to save him from doing anything stupid.” Y/N takes Namjoon’s hands in hers. His eyes were still avoiding hers.

“You are like my brother, Namjoon. You know Hoseok, you know him the best. Answer me, honestly.” Namjoon looks at her face. “Do you think he will hurt Yoongi?”

“Why are you worried about Yoongi? Do you still love him?” Y/N mouth opens her face starring in his in disbelief of his question. “Y/N, if you still do, try to figure out why. I think- “

“No need to think. I love Hoseok, but there are moments were Yoongi was there for me, in a way Hoseok never was. Those memories outweigh the bad ones. I always hoped, me and Yoongi will stay friends if we would ever break up, but I guess that will not be happening after everything.” A tear shoots down her cheek. Suddenly they heard a knock at the door and Hoseok appears in the room.

“I just talked with our boss.” Hoseok says, when he sees Y/N wiping her tear off her face, he starts walking towards her. He kneels in front of her, taking the one hand of her out of Namjoon’s hand and grabs the other one from her face. Y/N does not spare a look at Hoseok. “Y/N, sweetheart?” Namjoon knew Y/N too well that she will not respond to him. She had her pride that made her something special, but sometimes it could just be confusing.

“What did our boss say? I hope it is about the deal you made.”, Namjoon says. He hopes he can drag the attention back to the conversation Hoseok had with their boss. Hoseok does not look away from Y/N’s face, it looks like his eyes are glued on her.

“Of course, he was not happy with the deal, but he agrees. Well, at least to a level. He wants us to meet with Yoongi and Jin, we should talk with them face to face before anything is settled.”

“Who will stay with Y/N?”

“Park Jimin.” Namjoon shakes his head.

“Are we talking about the same guy? Park Jimin who just came back from underground work? Do you think he is a good fit for that?” Jimin used to be best friends with Namjoon and Hoseok, but there was something about Jimin that made him not trustworthy enough. It was weird to them, that he did the underground work with passion. Their boss never lost a bad word about him, even though it is not a secret that he killed people during that time. Jimin always said those rumors are false, but there was too much talking of it to not be true. Especially that he never got into troubles with his attitude even though he left a nasty taste in his colleagues’ mouth because of it. He is to deflectable to be used for protection, he took things sometimes to easy and did things without planning.

“Our boss says that because of his previous works he knows what to do when Jungkook appears. You know damn well, that I would like to stay with her instead. I would even leave you here with her. The last thing I want, is someone else looking after her.” Y/N looks at Hoseok. “Finally, you are looking at me.” He says with a smile. “I am sorry for what I said. I was just annoyed that I am not as good as Namjoon.” She gave him a confused look. Before she can say anything, he looks down and back at her. “What I mean by that is, I cannot turn my emotions off that easily. Especially when it comes to you. I do not want you depend on a friend, I want you to be able to depend on me.”

“What about the regret of meeting me?”, Y/N asks. “Am I such a burden to you?”

“Hell no.” He gets up and hugs her. With a smooth move he picks her up and turns her so that he sits on the bed with her on his lap. “I just love you sometimes too much, that I do not know what to do next. You have been through enough.” He leans his forehead against hers. “I am so worried about you, that it goes over my head. If you would have told us this all much earlier on… The fear of losing you, to someone or worse… It makes me feel like I am not doing enough.”

“I am sorry.”, she says as Hoseok snuggles his face to her neck and places a soft kiss. “I know you are trying. I believe in you, you will do the right thing.” Y/N leans into his hug. “I just cannot remember a coworker from your work with that name.”

“I know you haven’t met Jimin yet, but we know him since police academy. He is calm, you will not notice that he is even here. He will stay inside this house with you and take care of you while we are gone. Other police men are outside, if they do not give the regular okay to the station that everything is fine, they will send some others out here to check on you.”

“When will you meet up with them?”

“As soon as possible. As you still have her phone, may you should text them, arrange a meeting at the warehouse outside of the city.” Namjoon nods and starts to take the phone out. “Do not be sorry for anything, Y/N. I will go with you, no matter where and no matter how complicated, hard or painful. You can rely on me.” Y/N puts her arms around his shoulders. The phone in Namjoon’s hand starts to vibrate.

“I call Jimin, he has to be here on time. I will go into the kitchen for the phone call.” Hoseok only nods. Hoseok and Y/N share some kisses as they enjoy having the little time of privacy they have, who knew for how long it will last.

The appointment was in an old warehouse, outside of the city. When everything was ready, Hoseok walked into the warehouse right behind Namjoon, to their surprise no one was inside. After waiting for almost ten minutes, they could hear some foot steps coming closer to them.

“Pretty late for a deal, don’t you think?”, Namjoon says.

“Well, I hope you could have used the time properly.”, Yoongi responds. Hoseok holds up some paper work. “Jin, are my eyes deceiving me or are these ours?” Jin laughs as he puts his hands in the pockets.

“If you do not mind, we would like you to keep your hands out of your pockets, for us to see. We do not want to start a fire.”

“Is my face not pretty enough for you?” He shows his hands. “Aren’t they pretty? Is it better like that?”

“Yes, beauty queen. Let’s get back to business.”, Hoseok turns his look to Yoongi. “In here are the papers, which promise you will not be charged for small things from your past. Big things will only not be charged, if your help is not good enough for an exchange. Got it?” Yoongi laughs mockingly.

“Only the small things? Give me the paper to read first.”

“Why the hurry?”, Namjoon looks at Jin. “Why should we give him also a deal when we know only you have got the information we need?”

“I can give you some insides of their tactics, I was controlling them. We needed to make sure that we can trust them, I was in charge of that. I know how they do their thing, which is helpful considering to what you need now, you will need me.”, Jin answers arrogantly.

“Who says they are still doing it the same way. What if their tactic changed?” Namjoon was getting suspicious. “What makes you think that we need to know their old tactics?”

“Believe it or not, you only get us in a double package. You should not forget the times, when Jin defended her towards outsiders. Or did she only mention our bad moments?” Namjoon looks at Hoseok, but he does not look back to Namjoon.

“You know that you do not have our trust just because you might have protected her, even though you handed her to a rapist.” Yoongi’s anger was on a rise. How often should he have to apologize until he is forgiven, he wonders. He did not seek for forgiveness directly, but for someone who believes him. “She was hospitalized, do you want to see some nice pictures that we have from the hospital? I mean in the end of it all, she fell off a ladder, right?” Yoongi knew instantly what Hoseok tried to do.

“I did not do this to her-” Before he can even continue Namjoon jumps into his words.

“If you did or not, does not matter to this case. You frightened her, it could become a possibility that the beating happens again. Did she interfere in something?” Yoongi licks his lips. He knew he would have no chance of saying his side of the story, but he needed to try anyway.

“First of all, she was supposed to stay in the other room with the other girls.”

“Like dogs? Simply locking them away?” Namjoon tried to be as provocative as possible to get to Yoongi.

“They were not locked away, I would never have treated her like a dog. I thought you know her?” He was waiting if there was a response of what he had to say. “Good, yes. She was interfering, interfering in a conversation between us and Jungkook’s people.”

“What was it about?”

“First I want to read the deal you are still holding.”

“Nope. Tell us what it was about first.”

“Do you think I will tell you anything without seeing the paper?” Namjoon nods to Hoseok.

“One more thing, before I handle you the paper, if one of you does anything, just a little thing that could mess up our work, you will be in bigger troubles as you are in now.” Namjoon warns them, not just with his words, also with his face expression. Hoseok gives Yoongi and Jin the papers. As Yoongi opens them, he reads it carefully to not oversee any little detail. As he turned to the last page, he saw the pictures of Y/N’s body. Black and blue, these photos were taken by the hospital. He recognized them immediately. He had tried to erase them from his memories, the moment he saw her. Lying helplessly in the hospital bed in her hospital gown, the nightmares she had which followed her after that event. His tears were coming up, but he tried his best not to show. It was clear to see that it was tensing him up. “This photo of her in underwear, where is it from?”

“That photo was found in the safety house. When she saw his lapdog at the kitchen window, and Namjoon stayed by her said, I wanted to make a phone call. See, this would not be unusual, but the bed room window was wide open. It was not her and it was not us, but someone else from the outside. Someone had come in, laid down this picture and a red rose on her pillow. To another surprise, the underwear you see on the picture was brought there too. Any guesses?” Yoongi was swallowing hard. He remembers seeing her on the day, on the day she was raped, getting dressed. He saw those clothes on her before he left her alone with him. He still sees the day like a bad movie in front of him. Seeing her passed out on the couch, with a small bloodstain on her inner elbow. Jungkook smiling at him with a quite comment, he could not understand Jungkook but did not ask him either to repeat as his worries about her were bigger. Yoongi had no clue what happened to her, but he brought her to the hospital right after. Only to get the news that she has been drugged. After telling the doctors a lie of finding her alone passed out, he begged them to check on her if she has been raped. He will never forget the feeling he felt when he received the confirmations by the doctor, that he was right.

“He asked you a question, it would be nice to get an answer by today.”

“I guess you have someone on your mind.” Yoongi looks up at Namjoon. “Let me guess, Jungkook.” Jin and Yoongi looked at each other and took the pen to sign the papers. “I guess you already know about the photo Taehyung sent me from Y/N at the window, you probably want to know which other photo he sent me too. Am I right?”

“Depends if it is helpful. Is it?”

“As you remember my card, there is someone who helps them. Otherwise I do not know how he could have come so close.” Yoongi takes out his phone and searches for that said picture. He shows them a picture of Y/N sleeping alone in the bed at the safety house. “Now tell me, if she is so secure, how come he could have come so close?” Hoseok looks at the photo, it was for sure the same day as she saw Taehyung in front of the house. Namjoon checks the time when the photo was received only to think the same thing as Hoseok, how close were they all the time.

“Did Taehyung send you this one?” Yoongi only nods.

“He also was sending me similar photos as he sent to Yoongi.”, Jin added. “Those are the ones I received.” He gives them his mobile phone to let them look through the pictures. To their surprise, the photos were really close up, some look like they were made directly at the window.

“I absolutely do not mean any harm to Y/N. I let her go, if you get those douchebags off her back. That is the only thing I care more about as anything else.”

“Do you still love her?”, Hoseok asks as he takes the signed paper from them. Yoongi licks his lips as he tries to study Namjoon’s body language before he looks back to Hoseok.

“No. I care for her, but I do not love her anymore.” Jin was extremely calm, which was very suspicious. Yoongi felt as he betrayed himself. Him not loving his queen, was the biggest lie he told anyone in his life.

“What is your relationship, towards her, Jin?”

“Did you not figure it out by now? I was the one who took care of her when he wasn’t there. I made sure that those guys won’t beat her up again. I cared for her like a brother.”

“Still you let Yoongi hand her to this man to be raped?” Jin’s face was getting angrier. Namjoon tested Jin, because he needed to know how far he can go. He was not dead sure if Jin truly wanted to help Y/N, maybe he already switched the side to Jungkook. He wants to know, if he can be sure that he will not turn on them.

“We both did not think that he would do that!” Jin looked to the ground, as he looked back up, it looked like he used a switched a button. The calm person became an aggressive one. “If one of us would have known that, do you truly think we would have let it happen?”

“I do not own you any answer, but you own us.” Hoseok checked if everything which needed to be signed was signed. Then he looks back at Yoongi. “I am glad you want to cooperate, but we still not know why you and Jungkook are using her against each other.”

“Because he thinks he can hurt me with her death.” Namjoon looks at Yoongi, with a side eye on Hoseok. He knew, anything that might costs Hoseok to jump out of his skin, may be troublesome. “He already killed the rest of our crew, we killed the rest out of his crew. We think someone might be still out there, but he must be hiding.”

“So, only you two against those two?”, Namjoon interrupts.

“As far as we know, that must be right.”, Jin says.

“Why would her death, hurt you more than you losing everyone who works for you?”

“He thinks I still love her. He wants to kill me slowly. That is why he tries to get her first. He wants to destroy her mentally, physically. He wants me to watch it all.” Hoseok swallows hard on Yoongi’s words. There was a similar case he had to take care of at the begin of his career. All the stuff he had seen at the crime scene, the footage of it, it all came right back up. Namjoon explains them, what they will have to do now and what they need from them. Yoongi explains that the deal was about someone who owned both crews money. They were making a plan on that night she interfered.

Back in the house, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Their colleague Jimin, was also gone. The police officers outside the house, gone. When Namjoon and Hoseok have searched the rooms, with no trace of Y/N, they feared the worst. Hoseok immediately calls Y/N’s mobile phone, only to be reminded that Namjoon has it. Namjoon on the other hand tried to get the police station on the phone to figure out if something happened. They told him that they will check on it and get back to them as soon as they have some information. The only information they had, was that Jimin took her outside with a back up.

Hoseok was on the edge to go insane with his thoughts telling him that he failed to protect his own girlfriend. He couldn’t sit still anymore. Trying to get a hold of himself, he calls the police station. Maybe they could tell him where they are, so he can drive to her, to pick her up personally. Namjoon looked outside the window in the living room. He realized three black cars stopping their cars in front of their house.

“If we do not get any information on where they are, I will kill him as soon as he is back.” Hoseok says as he comes into the living room. He realizes the tense look on Namjoon’s face. Both of them taking their guns out and bring themselves in a secure place from where they were still able to see what was going on. It took a few minutes until they realize that it was Jimin, but no sight of Y/N. Jimin was opening the front door, to his surprise it was unlocked. Namjoon jumps up just to catch Hoseok, before he attacks Jimin.

“Where is she!?”, Hoseok yells repeatedly at Jimin. “You little shithead! Where did you take her?”

“She is still in the car! I’ll get her.” Namjoon was struggling to hold Hoseok back. The power his anger gave him, was very strong.

“You left her alone in the car!? Are you insane?”, Hoseok voice was still very loud and full of anger. Namjoon tried to calm him, with no success. As Jimin comes back with Y/N, Hoseok was speechless. Y/N’s skin was pale, and it was obvious that she must have cried. She shows no reaction to Hoseok nor Namjoon. “What happened to her? What did you do to her?”

“Jungkook, saw her.” Namjoon looks at Jimin with an angry look. “As she was getting into a state of shock, I took her right back.” Jimin sees that Hoseok is calming down while he tries to understand the situation.

“Where did he see you with her?” Jimin felt attacked. He knew he messed up, but he knew telling the story more beautifully would not help. “Where?”, Namjoon repeats.

“As she has been locked away the last few days, I thought I get her outside for a bit.” Hoseok who sat her down on the couch, immediately turns to Jimin.

“You took her outside? What the hell is wrong with you!” Hoseok takes Jimin by the collar of his shirt. “You better tell me where and for how long you have been outside. Beg to God he did not follow you here.” Jimin tried to get Hoseok to loosen his grip. “No chance, buddy. You better tell me where you have been.”

“We were at the park. We had back up around us, therefore we went for a walk. I bought her an ice cream since it is a warm day outside. As we were walking around, I realized two guys with black clothes following us. Our backup was also giving me the same information. Therefore, we were leaving the park. But as she got in the car, she looked to the right out of the window. She immediately froze and did not answer me. I recognized him, it was Jungkook waving at her with a smile.” Hoseok lets go of his collar. Namjoon shaking his head as he sat opposite of Y/N. “He chokes me, and you let it happen?”

“Yes. If I would be in his position, I would not just have choked you. I would have killed you!” To say he felt very unwelcomed would have been close to his feelings now, but it still would not feel the way he does now. “You risked her being shot, you idiot!”

“What are you talking about? He wants to use her against Yoongi, therefore he would have not just simply killed her. He is not dumb, you should know.”

“Do you know him?” Jimin was getting nervous. “Did your underground work have something to do with him?” Namjoon looks outside, just to see that the same cars are still standing outside. “Why are they not driving off?” Namjoon walks outside to send them away. If they would follow the car, they must know that she is here. As Namjoon came back he threw an ugly look on Jimin. “Do I have to take you on your collar too or will you finally open your mouth?”

“My underground work has nothing to do with him. You know that I am not allowed to talk about it.”

“It is just kind of weird, that someone who needs protection, can simply go for a walk with a guard.” Y/N’s phone vibrates. Namjoon takes the phone to read the received messages.

“We had back up.”

“Which are useless when we do not know what he has in mind. Do you know more than us?”, Hoseok asks.

“No. But think about it, he wants to hurt Yoongi. Do you really think, he will kill her quickly?”

“According to them he will do it slowly.”

“Yes, exactly. Wait a second.” Jimin gets into the kitchen to get a water bottle for Y/N. “Y/N, drink some.” He sits down next to her. “You remember your first case? It will be similar to her death.” Y/N  looks at Jimin with a questionable face.  “You do not need to know that.” He assures as he pets her knee. “You are safe.”

“Well, no.” Namjoon gets up to handle the phone to Hoseok. He walks around the table only to grab Jimin on his collar and to drag her away from her. “You idiot! They followed you!”

“No, it can’t be. They were not behind us. We drove with three different cars with a distance between us, to be sure to not to gain too much attention. They were standing there, how were they supposed to follow us.” Namjoon pushes his forearm on Jimin’s neck. “It hurts. Stop it. You guys are psychos. Did you forget I am on your side?” As Hoseok finished reading of the message he checked the window. A phone in Jimin’s pocket started to vibrate. Hoseok immediately turns around to take it off him. “What the hell? Give it back.”

“Shit is about to get interesting. Who is this number?” He showed him the number. “Who is it?” Hoseok voice was very loud and full of anger. He could not understand what it all was supposed to mean.

“I do not know. It is an unsaved number, how am I supposed to know.” Hoseok takes his phone out to check if that is the same number which contacted Jin or Yoongi. Jackpot, he was right.

“You knew they tried to hack us when Yoongi met up with her the first time.” Y/N only sits there while she stares at her water. She is listening, but her body was numb. Her body did not want to move. “They hacked yours. How stupid can one person be…” Hoseok’s anger is about to explode out of him. He calls his colleague who was in charge when they phone was first tried to be hacked, only to be informed that it was not the case with Jimin’s phone.

“What are you doing?”, Jimin screams. “You cannot destroy my phone card! Let go of me Namjoon!”

“This is my only number. Destroy it and you destroy my underground work!” Namjoon takes Jimin in a stronger hold. Jimin groans in pain. “Please consider you are destroying a work that I have worked on for over three years!”

“You only have one number?” Hoseok asks not believing his words. “Just so you know, no idiot who walks on this earth will believe this nonsense.”

“It is true! It is true, I swear. Ask our boss if you do not believe me.” Namjoon looks at Hoseok. Both knowing that there is no time for it. They need to leave, but with no new address, they will have to wait.

“What the heck are they doing here?”, Hoseok says as he turns away from the window. Namjoon lets Jimin go, within that second Jimin understood what was going on. “Y/N, come here.” He leads her to a side room with no windows, but still in his sight. Knocks were coming from the door. “Jimin, open the door.” Namjoon and Hoseok got into their position. He opens the door to see Yoongi and Jin completely wet from the rain standing in front of him. Jimin grabs them to drag them inside.

“Why did I know you would mess up?”, Yoongi’s look wander to Hoseok. He did not look at Jimin, but Jin did.

“You? I always knew you were a rat. What are you doing here!?”, Jin asks Jimin. His face shows that there was something going on between those two.

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Yoongi turns over to see Jimin being cornered by Jin. “Maybe you confuse me with someone else.”

“No.” Jin looks at the left side of Jimin’s neck. “I remember this scar. This scar, Taehyung gave you.”

[betterbemeta]

Anon about rich people here, the person has access to their parent's wealth. They did not pay for school. They will inherit millions of dollars. They brought up 'rich people have problems too' almost completely unprompted. That's the context, and I apologize for leaving it out. I'm sympathetic to, say, queer people unable to access any of their parents' wealth due to bigotry. This was not one of those cases

I guess my answer in this case is:

I don’t know how I would react in the moment.

I personally think that they are probably describing a real thing, but a kind of ‘problem’ that most people don’t really connect to. Kind of a ‘mo money ‘mo problems thing, that really once you get into that situation there are so many people you are using to get there and so many other rich people trying to bloodsuck off of you, and so many systems in motion that exist solely to perpetuate wealth, that yeah I guess anything that complicated might eat up emotional space and be a ‘problem.’ But it’s nothing that means they’re going to lose their shot at education or a comfortable life, just that they have shackled themselves to just. an unpleasant ecosystem that happens to benefit them with its outcomes.

Do I think you have to be sympathetic? No. I don’t. I probably wouldn’t be.

Do I think that if it’s beneficial to you to stay in their good standing, you might want to bide your time instead of cutting off a relationship? Yes, especially because the chance that they will understand and listen if you explained why they are full of shit is probably very low. But rich people tend to be connected and unfortunately in this hell world that is probably a valuable reason to at least keep an acquaintance. I’m pretty staunch on my ideals but if it’s a matter of pragmatism the situation can be complex.

But if an acquaintance is not beneficial to you, or if the stress outweighs the point of it, I wouldn’t really push it. Rich people tend to really be socialized to expect that all other people want stuff from them, are crawling up their leg at all times or otherwise distrust that others like them for authentic reasons. It’s a part of why a lot of them just get so mean.

[puppyrazzi]

So I was scrolling through Facebook and the stupidest product popped up. Well, the stupidest ad at the very least. It was for the Bristly dog toothbrush and the ad starts off by calling toothbrushing with a regular toothbrush “inhumane”.  https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/bristly-world-s-most-effective-dog-toothbrush#/ First of all. No. If you pin the dog down and force its mouth open and brush its teeth, that would cause a lot of stress but the benefits still sort of outweigh the stress you are causing your dog. 

Toothbrushing with a regular toothbrush if you work your way up to it can get your dog used to you and/or other people opening its mouth and poking around and lowers the stress when those situations are required. Also it gives you a built-in time to inspect your dogs mouth for injuries or evidence of disease. It can improve the bond between you and your dog. And last of all, it is a hell of a lot cheaper than $28 every four months for this convenience product!  

(I am saying this as a criticism on their marketing strategy and the laziness of the general public of dog owners. If you can’t physically hold a toothbrush, this post is not saying you would be wrong to use this product.)