#not in the long term but in the short term

[ashlgcostumes]

Kill the idea that suffering is somehow authentic and worthy, and take the fucking drugs. I lost years of my life to this kind of thinking and I have nothing to show for it other than a handful of embarrassing memories and a house full of clutter I don’t want or need. There’s at least five regularly used different classes of antidepressants! And about four more specifically for anxiety! They’re all acting on your brain in different ways and you will have different reactions to each of them! Don’t give up and accept misery because you’ve mistakenly believed the misery is your real personality!

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[rebeccathenaturalist]

This is such a cool story! Conservation of endangered species cants heavily toward animals and then plants, but you rarely see efforts to try to help endangered fungi, lichenized or otherwise. Part of this is because many fungi are very difficult to propagate, particularly those that have mycorrhizal relationships with plants, and so the best way to save them is to protect critical habitat for those species. Moreover, fungi that produce fruiting bodies like mushrooms are only really easy to observe during their relatively short fruiting season, so unless you're searching the soil or other substrate for DNA traces, your window to actually survey rare fungi is quite short.

But lichens are different. They persist year after year, and so are easier to observe. Growing them is another story, though; most people who give it a try put fragments of a given lichen on a favorable substrate in a controlled environment and hope for the best. However, success is relatively rare in the long term as lichens are quite persnickety about their growing conditions.

So what about just moving the whole substrate? If you have lichens that conveniently grow on tree branches you could cut off piece of branch and then attach them to branches of the same species of tree elsewhere at the same height/sun exposure/humidity level, and hope that the lichens continue to produce spores that then find favorable substrates locally. But it's tougher to chip off chunks of rock and move them to new places, especially if you don't want them getting kicked around.

So it's really fascinating that these conservationists tried out all sorts of different glues to find the most lichen-friendly ones, and then glued them to new substrates in old parts of their range in the hope that they'll use their rhizines to attach themselves to their new homes. It shows how much detail we have to go into in habitat restoration and species conservation to try to replicate the best conditions for a given species to thrive, and how we can't just offer degraded habitats to our wildlife of various sorts and hope that they find it acceptable. Lichens like various Parmelia species or Evernia prunastri may not be as picky in their substrates, but for a rarer species like Gyalolechia fulgens, our task is to give them their Goldilocks substrate--just right. And sometimes helping them along involves a little bookbinding glue.

[tododeku-or-bust]

If a one day boycott in solidarity is "too short, and ineffective" and an ongoing, long-term boycott is "too long and you can't prepare", then I'm starting to think y'all just don't wanna do it.

[bootycallin]

since the oscar’s literally js happened i thought of something. cw: fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus (r! receiving), swearing ig, a lil titty play. written w modern! vi in mind for obvious reasons. not proofread.

“vi… vi!”

you spoke between giggles as vi attacked your chest, kissing your tits, sucking on your nipples. you had jokingly said that if you two’s favorite actress won, you would make love. and, if she lost, you’d fuck. well, you’re in luck.

“terms of service,” she groaned, kissing your sternum, groaning softly. her palm is rubbing your cunt over your little shorts. she was more than a little eager, and stressed, as the awarding went on and on and that damned actress got nothing. she knew you were joking, but she was already horny and prepared the strap.

“vi—vi, she didn’t even get best actress!”

“don’t fucking care,” she grumbled, shutting you up with a kiss, hand slipping under your bottoms and rubbing at your clit. she had already seen you didn’t have panties on. every other minute of the celebration, you were looking sideways at her, teasing. she’s never watching any awards with you, ’cause this is hell.

she swallows your moan, two fingers slipping into your pussy with the ease. you’re so wet, so easy. how is she supposed to wait any longer?

“fuck, she won, right?” she asks, lowering herself till she was between your legs, already in the process of pulling your shorts down. “right?”

“she didn’t even—ah,” you gasp as her tongue licks right over your clit. “she didn’t even get up there y-yet…”

“but her movie won, right?” she didn’t give you time to answer, sucking strong on your clit, kissing and licking the puffy member like she was making out with your cunt. she might as well have been. her fingers are relentless, scissoring you open, until yet another finger fits in, curling up against that spongy spot deep inside you. she fingers and sucks on your cunt, your folds, licking a stripe up the slit. it’s practically worshipful, your pussy a temple for her. she’s drunk off the way you taste alone.

she notices your eyes are fixated on her, and stops just to say, “keep watchin’.”

“vi…”

you turned your head to the tv, shaky sighs and moans escaping you. how long did these speeches even last? she had been down there for five minutes tops and you were already building up to an orgasm. your neighbors would definitely be complaining.

“shit, vi—“ her fingers curled up just a little bit rougher. she practically growls as she sucks on your clit, rough, eyebrows knit together in concentration. it taken a few more thrusts of her fingers and suctions of her tongue before you’re cumming right on her face, to which she just removes her fingers and mouth from you. you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation, pulling a grin from her, as she just shoves her tongue into your hole, tasting your release.

“ah-shit, vi…!” you moaned, giggled all the same, head thrown back, one hand in her hair to keep her close. she doesn’t stop until your thighs close around her, nearly suffocating. she wrenches them apart with her hands, pulling away from your puffy, abused cunt—not before kissing your clit, tongue and all.

her lips crash against yours immediately. you can taste yourself on her. only parting to lick her fingers, she kisses you again, just to make sure you can taste all of her, all of you. one hand on your nape, yours tangled in her hair, moaning and groaning reverberating, until…

“she lost best actress,” you said, breathlessly, both looking at the tv simultaneously. she shrugged.

“it’s a win-win, then.”

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[lazerpie101]

Demonstration of what long-term advertising of a product does vs. the short term of it.

One day, a couple generations from now, they're going to treat cigarettes like pipes and vapes like cigarettes.

Cigarettes = bad for you and everyone near you but unfortunately the energies and visuals are extremely sexy and erotic. The scent of charred tar alone.

Vapes = bad for you and nobody else but the energies and visuals are extremely asexual and repelling. Even the idea of someone addicted to strawberry vape juice immediately makes anyone dry as the sahara desert. Free birth control

[lolitalovess]

Behind closed doors.

sum: arranged marriage caitlyn kiramman x reader

warnings: this is short but i put my whole pussy into it, reader lowkey has issues, my girl cait does aswell, hardly proofread, INSANE lesbian yearning

you've always appreciated the way the kiramman manor looks at night, after the sun has lulled itself to sleep in orange hues and the moon is reborn - surrounded by black inc and a thousand stars visible through the large windows of you and your shared wife's room, the night-life of piltover with tall buildings and bright lights shown to your tired eyes from linen curtains pulled back.

it distracted you from how your back grew sore from your position of sitting against the headboard, and why you were here in the first place. you gazed down at your resting wife - she's gorgeous, with prussian blue hair fanning over her pillow and framing her face. you're jealous of her peace in her deep state of unconscious sleep the way her comforter is tucked to her chest and the way it rises and falls with every passing breath.

you had been sitting with your busy thoughts for far too long, you could hardly handle yourself anymore. you've never understood the purpose of getting married ever since you first learnt the term as a young girl. to know someone for a few years and finally like them enough to buy expensive rings and voice vowels to one another, which, most of the time, are bullshit.

but caitlyn kiramman, a woman full of so much dark blue woe and sorrow had just taken your heart, and it felt like a sin. was it? to find your arranged wife attractive, to yearn for her love, despite never showing affection or doing anything remotely intimate. it felt like it was.

the area surrounding you consisted of deafening silence like before, though you could swear that the dark shadows of the manor could morth into tall figurines watching you, especially the one heading toward you. you feel a wave of hotness manufactured out of pure anxiety travel through your body until you see azure blue eyes looking into yours with confusion and longing for your warmth next to hers in bed.

"i couldn't sleep." you speak quickly, voice soft in attempt to not ruin her peace. "go back to bed. it's too cold out here for you to just be wearing that robe."

she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, reaching her arms out for you as quickly as you started talking. it was almost like a hug, with her hands interlocking with eachother around your torso from the side, a small frown playing her lips while she studied the side of your face.

“can’t sleep or won’t sleep?” she asked softly, her accent slipping. she knew what it was like being up all night, in her own terms, alone with her thoughts in the empty felt rooms of the precinct. "go back to bed." you repeated, tilting your head to the side to rest it against her chest, which had her instinctively squeezing around her hands around your waist tighter to support you, enjoying the sight and feel of your body against hers. her hands on you would have you feeling like you were on fire if you weren't so tired. "i'll sleep in one of the guests."

it was a rare thing for the two of you to be physical, as much as it always bothered caitlyn how you would never stay close to her unless you needed something, felt unsafe, or was cold. otherwise, they would never touch, as much as your souls yearned for it. "nonsense," she spoke, her hands rubbing gentle circles against your side before speaking again, her deep voice soft and tender, not wanting to wake anyone up, or disturb her wife.

"sleep in the bed with me tonight. it'll be warmer." she added, taking a small step back as if it the action alone would convince you. the weight of your body being tugged along with her ever so slightly and gently had you focused on following her warmth and familiar smell of vanilla and lavender rather than pulling away.

the two of you stood in silence for a few minutes that felt like hours, the quiet beat of her heartbeat present in your ears whilst you felt sleep threatening to take over your conciousness. you knew you could fall asleep like this if you let yourself. "okay."

she was gently tugging you along with her out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom the moment you agreed, where the moonlight filtered through the slightly parted curtains that exposed the view from outside of the city, it was beautiful, even at night. the door was pushed open slowly and closed behind the two of you just as quickly, her feet taking herself to sit down on the edge of her familiar bed, swinging her long legs up and over to get completely on the bed once more. “come here,” she softly spoke as she patted the space next to her.

you complied at the soft demand from your wife, beginning to walk over to the bed opposite side of the bed, the silk covers pulled over your legs and to your waist after you settled. you felt the comforting action of sleep clouding your mind like every other night, the familiar feel of your jade wedding ring cold around your finger.

maybe caitlyn wasn't so bad.

the lesbian yearning goes crazyy... not gonna lie this concept has been in my drafts for AWHILE and i really enjoyed writing something that wasn't vi and smut for once 😭 might do another part to this, lmk what you think and want ♡

[nerdygirlramblings]

someone's in a rut 🤭 and we meet Ren's family (part 1)

a/n: part of this chapter inspired by Broken Beyond Bearing by @lostintransist and by comments from @pyxrin

cw: poorly executed accents, omegaverse biology, heat/rut cycles

previous

Days begin to blur together. A run followed by infiltration and exfil trainings on the moon (what the others called the rubble-strewn field). Or weight training and asset retrieval in the brick, the windowless building in the hangar, before sparring. Grift work, your own term for information retrieval, before the shooting range. Never the same thing two days in a row. On rare occasions, either Soap or Gaz had you along while training recruits. It was the closest thing to working with your old squad.

And each time, just as you find your footing with the advanced field training, Price introduces new elements: time restraints, 'enemy' combatants. You have never felt as lost before, so unsure of your place. The only thing that keeps it from being completely disheartening isn't Gaz's reassurances or Price's praise or Soap's compliments. It's Adam. It's stopping in to requisition a windcheater in your size and hearing how you made it out of the brick faster than Ghost or how Soap struggled for a long time with grift work. It's confirmation from an outside, and thus unbiased, source that your progress is fine. That they won't regret asking for you.

Until Price calls you into his office. All you can think about is how you didn't know about the standardized step size and the trouble it caused on the moon. Or how you went three rounds without finding the needed intel before Price called time. That Soap teasingly pointed out, "Yer thinkin' tae hard," like saying it will make you get out of your own head even though it's all you know how to do. Crowded pubs and loud, dark clubs flash in your memory, each one a failed attempt to manipulate a mark.

You're sure he's going to put you back into the rank and file. Who needs a woman, and an omega at that, who can't master the basic things the task force needs to do. You're terrified and heartbroken before you even get into his office.

The desk seems more imposing than ever, and Price's face, for the first time, is unreadable. Even his scent is locked down, no dying ember smell wafting around. He's smiling, but you've been taking pseudo acting classes from him for more than a fortnight. The smile could easily hide his intentions.

He clears his throat, and you pull your gaze from where you'd been staring at your hands. For the first time since you met the man, Price seems nervous. He reaches up, scratching his beard and running his hand over his scent gland. "Er, we 'ave some leave coming, me an' the others, and I wan'ed ta see if ya'd like to stay here or go home?"

A long moment passes before you respond. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. You take leave tagether, but I'd go home?" The furrow between your brows deepens. Before he can clarify, you ask what's been eating at you. "Is this yer way 'a transferrin' me off the team?" Even you can hear the plea in your voice. Please don't let me go.

"Oh, Ren, no! No. Tha's not what this is," he rushes to say. The blush that creeps up his neck is a surprise. Is he embarrassed?

"'S just, well, we try not to use suppressants unless we're on a mission. Fucks too much wi' the body's natural rhythm, yeah? Throws off anyone on 'em too long." You nod in understanding. If you didn't have such a bad reaction to them - foggy thoughts and slow movements - you'd prefer to be on suppressants all the time. Instead, when your heart hits, you take yourself to medical for a heat-induced isolation. They're horrendous on the system, but it's a short-term problem while you're in the service, though your omega purrs that a pack would remedy that problem.

"So, er, we made the decision years ago to take our leave together when, er, one of the alphas has a rut." He's fully blushing now, and you get it. He's just told you either he or Ghost - he didn't specify, and betas like Gaz and Soap don't have ruts- is going to lose themselves to their base instincts soon.

You're quiet through all these revelations, and he plows ahead, only the faintest hint of ozone in the air to alert you to his distress. "Simon's rut is in another week or so, so we'll take leave from this Wednesday ta the following Friday ta give everyone a cushion on either end for prep and recovery." The room feels warmer, and you know it's because your own internal temperature is spiking, your omega excited about the idea of Simon's knot.

"So, er, ye'll all be gone, sir?" you clarify, forcing your omega to think of other things.

He nods, a hint of smoke in the air. You can smell his distress dissipating, replaced slowly by ease and contentment. "Yes. We 'ave a place on the edge 'a the Lakes. We'll head there and be back after the rut. Adam said yer dad's due with a litter soon?"

The idea that Adam shared that bit of your family with Price puts you on edge until he adds, "Adam suggested ya take leave when we do but go an' see yer family." He rushes to add, "If ya want."

Now it's your turn to be embarrassed. Once again, it's Adam to the rescue. It warms you down to your center that Adam made such a thoughtful recommendation to Price and that Price took it. If you hadn't heard it yourself, you'd think he was takin' the piss.

"Yes, sir," you stammer, lost at what else you could say to this plan. "That would be lovely. I know my family pack will be happy ta have me home."

next

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden

[katrinareads]

Creating things provides long-term dopamine production, as opposed to consuming things (entertainment) which is a short-term production. Sure, the show will make you feel good, but if you're making something at the same time? Stacking the buffs!

back again encouraging people to start using the hobby stuff they've been acquiring for years

reasons to start can include:

the hobby industry wants only for us to keep buying and never use, so using the stuff pushes back

some hobby items do not survive long term storage

if there's some craft or hobby thing that you want to do but feel your skills aren't up to, consider that those skills won't improve if you don't practice on other things

using it allows it to move from the hobby hoard to the [whatever you made it into] hoard, where you may be more likely to enjoy it more often than just when you specifically look at the hobby hoard

making things is good for the brain

curious to see what other reasons people might add

[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[niwaart]

Bruce wanted a solution to his family's problems, he always wondered how other families were happy and even if their family was big their problems weren't many, but looking at his children, problems happen every day if not every hour, for example Damian and Tim are trying to prove their worth by killing each other... not literally but close to it... and also Jason who refuses to go home even after things between them became good and better than before, but he is still stubborn to the core, he refuses to leave the weapons even after several lectures from Bruce and Alfred, the biggest problem is that he refuses to return to the pack or even smell him! This hurts Bruce's feelings... a little. As for Dick... he is fine and not fine, he tries to help everyone and forget his problems, he can't even settle in a relationship without ruining it. As for Cass, she has a problem getting to know new people, or even communicating with others, this doesn't make Bruce happy, he wants his daughter to go out with friends, and enjoy life, it's good that Stephanie is helping her and this really makes Bruce happy, but he still wants his daughter to be able to make her own decisions and think about her future. As for Duke, he was shy, there was nothing wrong with him, he was perfectly fine, he just needed some confidence and enthusiasm, his breakup with his girlfriend had made him sad so Bruce wanted to give him new confidence and determination, but he didn't know how. Bruce didn't want to burden Alfred any more, he was getting old, he couldn't keep up with all the family's problems, so Bruce had to find a solution, a quick and good solution for the long term, and luckily for him he finally found the answer, his flock needed an omega! There had never been an omega in his Pack before, he used to hear at his parties that all the families had an omega to take care of their Pack, so Bruce decided to look for the perfect omega for his family, and he found a perfect omega..

"I wonder why Bruce gathered us here and not in the cave, Bruce only gathers us when it's dangerous.." Dick said as he sat between Damian and Tim so they wouldn't fight.

"It better not be something silly." Jason said, examining the furniture in the room.

"Maybe Father decided to kick Tim out of the family." Damian said thinking about how to stab Tim after Tim fed Titus extra food…

"Or maybe he wants to punish Damian by not being Robin." Tim said as he still remembered his room filled with fish and water.

Dick sighed in disgust at Damian and Tim's actions while Stephanie and Duke laughed. "Maybe he wants to bring us a surprise, maybe gifts? What do you think Cass?" Stephanie said cheerfully as she looked at Cassandra who shrugged her shoulders not caring as long as it wasn't anything serious.

"Oh he's here!" Duke said as he looked at the opening door.

Everyone turned to the door immediately expecting Bruce, and yes it was Bruce but there was someone else with him, a short and still young person.

Everyone looked curiously at the stranger. "Well old man, why did you gather us?" Jason said impatiently.

Bruce smiled at his children, "I'm glad to see everyone is here today. I want to introduce you to the Omega of the Pack."

Everyone looked at Bruce in shock, including Dick who was about to faint from what he heard, Jason who was about to suffocate, Stephanie who didn't believe Bruce's words, Tim who was analyzing Bruce's features to know if this was a joke or not, Damian who was a little confused, why would his father bring an omega to the house? Aren't they weak? And Duke who had an expression of shock like Stephanie. And Cass who was strangely calm..

Dick tried to speak without stuttering, "Bruce... what are you saying now?"

"What's wrong with what I said? I told you I brought Omega for the pack. Is there a problem?" Bruce looked suspiciously at his sons, he didn't expect their reaction to be like this.

Everyone was looking at Y/N who was standing silently next to Bruce. "Don’t you have anything to say?" Jason said angrily, he wasted his precious time for Omega!

Y/N looked at everyone and then said, "He kidnapped me."

Everyone except Bruce and Cass "What?!?!"

Everyone turns to Bruce who smiles innocently.

[aledethanlast]

Why do you think Mathilda is hiding Jeremy's papers 🤔

Short answer: because Jeremy is the only one of her kids who will piss on her if she were on fire, and she knows it.

Long answer: because Mathilda consistently, across every family story, makes shit decisions that feed into her own wants in the short and mid term, even as they make everyone else miserable.

Trent Knox told her from the outset of their relationship that he would not make any concessions in his career for their family, and she still chose to have 5 kids by him before she left.

We don't know much about the transitory period when Knox became Wilshire, but we can only assume that the sudden political connection is when the now-Wilshires became image-obsessed to the point of using their entire neighborhood as a spy network, not to mention Warren's brazen leveraging of his family's influence in law enforcement.

Bryson is selling Jeremy prescription drugs and then cocaine, but it's a higher priority to pay off his boyfriend to go away. Noah's mental state turns bad, then worse, but Mathilda won't bother with the subject past blaming Jeremy for setting a poor example.

Then it blows up. Because of fucking course it's going to blow up. But Mathilda is a rich woman with a rich husband, and they've got one answer for everything: throw money at it until it goes away. They bury Dexter, they bury the drugs, they bury the police reports, they bury Jeremy's addiction.

But there is no amount of money that makes Joshua, her youngest living son, be willing to stay in the same house as the rest of them, and has to be sent to live with his grandfather in DC. And I think that's what makes her panic and tighten her hold so much on the rest of them.

Annalise is "allowed" to live alone in her mid-twenties, and Bryson gets to go to college across the country, but Jeremy has described them as emotionally checked out since he was in high school. Two books in, we have yet to hear either of them say something kind. They are here because complying is marginally easier than fighting.

Jeremy is the last one still truly in the house, the last one Mathilda can exercise complete control over, and the last one willing to tell her how much it hurts him.

She knows what she's doing. She knows that if Jeremy had any choice in the matter he would get as far away from her as he possibly could and never, ever come back. But he is also the last of her children who hasn't yet given up on seeing her as a loving mother.

This is why she hides every document he needs to get away from her. Why she tightens her grip even when she can see his face turning blue. Mathilda can't accept that her children hate her, and will justify any abuse to keep hold of the last one willing to look her in the eye and say he loves her, even if it breaks him.

[lilac-air]

Can I just add: certain Leftists insist that dems don't do enough for the working class. I'd argue theyve done quite a bit at the (very difficult) federal level, and they've been politically punished for it every single time.

Dems got absolutely demolished in the midterms after the ACA passed, and the GOP has been chipping at it ever since it passed. States have kept voting to expand Medicaid which shows the ACA was absolutely a viable policy long term, but when it first passed I cannot emphasize how badly routed they were.

Under Bidens admin, the child tax credit extension lifted millions of kids out of poverty, earnings for the lowest earners saw greater gains than anyone else, he got billions of dollars in student loans forgiven, and Dems passed the IRA and CHIPS acts which aimed to address climate change but also create tons of jobs in economically sluggish areas. The Biden admin got absolutely no credit for any of this. There's no reason to believe any admin will attempt anything like these measures again, because at the end of the day being a politician is a job and there's no point in advocating for policies that will cost you your job.

If the left genuinely wants change, we need to start politically rewarding behaviors we want to see continue instead of endlessly criticizing improvements that fall short of absolute perfection.

One thing the analysts back in 2012 were right about is that they’d stop calling it “Obamacare” the second it started working and lo and behold anytime it was actually threatened under Trump it became The ACA and now Leftists who were in Kindergarten when the ACA was passed think Democrats have added nothing to this country.

[tactical-jellyfish]

How the 141 handles long-term relationships

Warnings!: Nothing, other than a reference to Simon's dad. Just silly fluff to tide my sillies (you guys) over until the new chapters of the big boy fic(s) are done :)

Also: Price isn't included in this because I wrote a fic where he's an absolute asshole and accidentally made myself dislike him. Might add him later, idk.

Simon Riley is not nearly the stern man everyone thinks he is when he's at home.

It's kind of funny, really, but he's quiet, and he is stupid in love (assuming he already trusts you as a partner, which, if he's dating you, he does). Something like a cat, really.

He wants to be in your vicinity, always. He wants to know you're safe and okay at every hour he can, but sometimes he can't handle all that lovey shit.

This is why I do think Simon would spring for someone who is very quiet, and not very touchy. He adores that, he really does. It would be even better if you didn't mind having a big, bulky man staring at you while you work for hours on end.

It's to the point that, when the rest of the task force comes over, they aren't sure if you're a roommate or a spouse(?) until they see Simon gently bump his forehead with yours, watch how he follows you the same way a prissy longhair will trail after its nonchalant owner.

Price pulls you over that night and tells you that you have his full permission to marry the lieutenant. Simon hears him, but he doesn't say anything.

Another thing: He wants desperately to take your last name. It doesn't matter if it's stupid, he wants it so badly.

He's a bastard even with a father who was a bastard. His name links him back to corpses and an abuser, he wants to be rid of it. He won't ask, but if you do, he cries.

You've seen Simon cry before. You have. Mostly after nightmares, the especially bad ones. This is nothing like that.

He cries of joy before you twice. The first is when you let him take your last name, and the second is on your "wedding" day.

There is no ceremony, just a short trip to the courthouse. He cries anyway, watching you sign the papers, pulls you into a firm hug as he sniffles into your shoulder, tells you how much he fucking adores you.

He won't let you forget that. Ever.

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

Johnny MacTavish is a harder task.

He's always one very predictable sort of way in his relationships: Playful. Loving and witty, always ready to tease.

Sure, there are days he's tired, days he's beat to the bone and he just wants to collapse and let moss grow over him, but he sees you and he gets a shot of something divine.

It doesn't matter who you are, really. Sometimes he needs you to match the energy a little, but other than that, he could get on well with any partner, as long as love is reciprocal.

Weddings, though... it depends.

This is where most of my more personal headcanons come into play here. I really think Soap's family is very Catholic. And that Soap is very bisexual.

If his family doesn't know (assuming the relationship is straight, too), it's great! It's a packed venue, sure, but it's raucous in the loving, familial way.

Soap wears his best kilt, cries a little as you walk down the aisle and kisses you so long his mother smacks him over it.

If not (he got kicked out, presumably years before)... it's much less fun.

He still adores you, truly, but, again, it's a bit solemn for him. Seeing you, perfect you, ready to marry a man who has no family left who wants him, it's a nasty feeling.

Johnny sees you the way he thinks everyone should. You're a person, yes, but of practically biblical levels of perfection, in his eyes. You've put up with so much, done so much, and you want him.

He won't ever get to show you to his mother, or his sisters, or his cousins, but he wants to. God, does he want to. He just knows they would have adored you, as they should.

But he can't. And it bums him out, it really does.

Still, he takes your face into his hands, and kisses you like the sinner he is, pours himself into your silhouette like he could somehow peel your ribs apart and find a space near your heart, to sit and love you for as long as he can.

No one is there to smack him for taking too long, and you hold him. And that's enough.

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

Kyle Garrick is honestly the least challenging to end up in the good graces of.

He wants, more than anything, a peer. Someone who he can talk shit with and feel good confiding in.

So, of course he fell into a relationship with you. How could he not? Look at you. Brilliant, he'll say that. Brilliant, and an absolute menace with the silveriest tongue he's ever seen.

Again, like most, he's not really crazy about getting married. Not while he has a job so risky and at his age. It's more of an eventually, he feels no pressure to lock you down so fast, he already knows he has you, and that's enough for him.

This is most of the reason why the engagement is so long. I'm talking several years. Yes, multiple years. Moved in together, got a pet or two, even the rings.

And it's great, everything he could ask for. He comes home to a brilliant partner every day he's got the time, and he always wants to see you, because you're you. You can discuss, you can debate, and you can pull him over and tell him when he's being stupid.

The partnership works. And it keeps working.

At some point, you two were effectively married in everything but law, so you just forgot about the "wedding" bullshit and got one of his aunts to officiate in the living room and had a party that night with family.

Like any good soldier, Kyle has many issues with stress when he's home. His ultimate solution is to cuddle you whenever you won't be annoyed with it. Sometimes you talk, sometimes it's quiet, he doesn't mind.

He just wants you. Always.

And he knows he always will.

[grandline-fics]

For Valentine's event! I'm so deeply in love how you write, especially Doflamingo!! So maybe, True love's kiss for him?

Anyway thanks for your works they're all amazing 🙌💕

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none (at least I don't think so, other than the fact is about Doflamingo)

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,420

A/N: At first I was tempted to link this to Immune To Your Charms but then decided against it so we could have a different version of Doffy and another version of his realisation he's capable of love. I hope you enjoy what I came up with for this for you anon. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

Doflamingo thrived on the adoration and unequivocal loyalty of his family, his most trusted elite officers in the inner circle ready to throw their lives down should he simply say the word. The rush that would flood his system when his subordinates and civilians bowed low before him took him flooding back to his short lived days in his rightful standing as a Celestial Dragon; it’s never quite the same that his nostalgia had preserved in his memory but it's as close as it’ll ever get. The only other thing that ever came close to giving him a surge of true satisfaction and happiness is when you, one of his best and most precious officers, would throw him that sweet smile contrasting with that sharp and dangerous gaze of yours and greet him with a smooth “Hello Doffy.” 

He could always count on you to see to it that any mission he gave you was executed perfectly and without hesitation. Not only did you take pride in your efficiency and skill but seeing it recognised in a man like Doflamingo mattered to you too. You knew that Doflamingo’s trust and reliance on you had nothing to do with the fact that you were Doflamingo’s current lover. As it was, you understood your place in the whole situation, just as you’d witnessed with his previous entanglements.

It was only ever going to last as long as your King wished it to. Should anyone else ever catch his eye and attention and he wished them to warm his bed instead of you, you would be cast aside in that regard. You came to terms with that long ago and idly part of your mind always wondered when that day would come so you enjoyed what you had for as long as Doflamingo wanted you that way.

One morning you were summoned to his office for your latest mission. Wordlessly you accepted the information he handed over to you and began to read it over while listening to his every word. “Seems someone’s been pushing their nose into places that doesn’t concern them. That’s the most recent location we could learn so it’s likely they’ve moved on already.” He explained, his sinister grin in place. “I know it’ll be no issue for you to track them down and taking care of them before returning home to me.”

“Sure you don't want me to take my time?” You asked curiously, finally lifting your head with your own smile curving your lips. “You normally enjoy it when I make them suffer first.”

“You’ll already be spending time away in search of your prey, my dear.” Doflamingo explained while rising from his seat to step around the desk to stand in front of you. Never needing his strings to make you move or respond in the ways he wished, you simply always knew. Keeping your eyes on his face, you turned to face him, stepping back until the desk was now behind you and his hands settled on the wood to playfully cage you in. “I’d much rather have you go and kill and come back, otherwise I’d just miss you too much.”

For the smallest moment his words threw you off but you quickly controlled your expression. Unfortunately you weren’t fast enough and it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Doflamingo. Lifting one hand away to pinch your chin he made you look firmly at him, refusing to let you go until he got answers out of you. Doflamingo knew you wouldn’t have to force it out of you. The second he asked, you’d answer. “Now what was that look for? What could I have said to possibly create such a face?”

“Just surprised my absence would have such an affect on you.” You explained calmly, your smile returning. “There’s plenty here that’ll keep you company if I take too long. Speaking of, with your permission, I’ll go straight away Doffy.” Doflamingo regarded you silently and moved his hand from your chin to thread his fingers into your hair and pulled you in as he leant forward to capture you lips in a harsh, bruising kiss. Under his lead, you effortlessly followed the pace and intensity of the kiss, only breaking apart when he allowed it to. Breathless and dazed you could only stare at Doflamingo when he released you, offering a small but determined nod when he ordered you to complete your mission as fast as you could.

——

Two weeks went by and still you hadn’t returned, leaving Doflamingo to feel restless. Uncomfortably so. He had been receiving updates from you steadily up until a few days ago, everything in code and brief but you hadn’t given him any signal that something was wrong. You were closely on the heels of your target who you were certain you’d catch up to soon. Doflamingo had no doubts about your abilities, you were one of his best so he knew you’d get the job done but still something was annoying him about it all. He was also unshakable in his knowledge of your loyalty to him, there was no way you’d leave him but he still needed to know what was causing his agitation. Thinking back to the day you left he remembered the look of genuine surprise that captured your usually self-assured features when he spoke of how he’d miss you. 

Your little comment about others keeping him company also hadn’t gone unnoticed by him either. Truth be told now that he had the time to think about, you had lasted so much longer than anyone else had as his lover. Those that came before you held no true interest with him, simply attractive things that allowed him to satisfy his needs before he kicked them out of his bed and sought his next source of entertainment in another person. You held his every attention, staying close to him even without having to give your body or touch to him. It was you he wanted and he had meant what he’d said when he said he missed you when you were gone, only now he seemed to realise just how much. 

Two more days passed before you returned to Dressrosa’s Palace, walking slowly and tensed. At your arrival in the entrance hall, you saw a few servants hurrying in different directions most likely in search of Doflamingo to let him know. You didn’t know why they bothered, he was going to be the first person you sought out to report the success of your mission and apologise for taking longer than you should have. You were only halfway up the staircase when Doflamingo appeared at the top, watching you climb the last few steps until you were beside him. 

Carefully he inspected your face. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders slumped slightly. You were barely staying awake, he could see the steeled focus in your gaze as you were determined to remain conscious enough to greet him with an attempt at your usual sweet smile. “Hello Doffy. Sorry I took longer than intended.”

“Was the mission successful?”

“Mhm.” You nodded before covering you mouth to yawn. “Target was a nuisance though.”

“In what way?” Doflamingo lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you to his quarters.

“Devil Fruit user.” You explained with a mumble, a small hum of contentment breaking from your lips when you were laid down on his bed, sinking against the pillows. Doflamingo tilted his head curiously at that revelation. Had he known that the target had an ability, he would have ensured you were better prepared for that. Doflamingo felt relief wash over him to see you’d been unharmed, knowing better than anyone how monstrous Devil Fruits were, and made sure that in future you would be better prepared so there would be no surprises like that on your missions. “Doffy? Why am I in your room?”

“I had your things moved here while you were away, of course.” He chuckled watching you struggle to open your eyes to look at him in confusion. “It seemed as though you had a lapse in awareness about your standing with me. Your place is beside me always and there will never be any room for anyone else. Understand, love?” For emphasis he pressed a tender kiss against your lips.

“I understand.” You hummed softly, the loving smile gracing your lips suddenly securing itself in Doflamingo’s regard as something no-one else could ever come close to competing with.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover , @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/776643370692034560/unhinged-confession-time-i-used-to-functionally?source=share

The neat thing about not having written self-inserts and being a man is 1. being accused of being a trans man with internalized misogyny (even though trans men would have regular-ass misogyny due to, y'know, being men) and 2. being posted to r/notlikeotherguys for mockery. A lot of people have noticed the group most likely to admit to not writing self-inserts are AFABs and have punished them for their honesty by making it both a lying women thing and a special snowflake red flag.

But yeah. Dude here. Never fantasized about myself sexually. Don't write self-inserts. Tried once, aaaand ended up writing a very different person anyway because the opportunity to go, "what if someone had the same setup as me in terms of a lot of things, but a few things were tweaked and now his life is in ruins?" was impossible not to give into. I don't project onto main characters. I don't see myself in characters that authors admitted they designed to be projected onto, like Eragon or isekai leads or that gamer dude from Ready Player One. I rarely appear in my own dreams.

I got sent to the counselor's office in middle school for not wanting to write about myself in English class. The prompt was writing yourself getting everything you wanted from a genie. I thought that sounded boring. I wanted to live that, not write it. This was deemed concerning, unwell behavior and I spent an hour a day for one week trying to convince the counselor it was not. Eventually I had my parents meet with the principal, my English teacher, and the counselor where my parents had the very arduous task of explaining I was fine. I had good grades, good friends, career ambitions, I wrote short stories, fanfic, poetry and comics, I was on the swim team, and I was not, in fact, depressed. No one was bullying me. No teacher ever tore up my writing when I was a child, a thing my English teacher insisted would be the "only way" someone would consistently grumble about how boring it was to write themselves in a story.

After an hour-long discussion, it was agreed that fine, okay, I wouldn't have to talk to the counselor anymore, but "concerned people" would be watching me.

So OTNF, prepare yourself. You may one day have to convince people your very happy, social, outgoing child is fine even though they have committed the mental health red flag of not wanting to write self-insert wish fulfillment. And my reaction was only that it was boring. God only knows what they'd have thought if I was actually repulsed by it.

--

*cackling*

[fromchaostocosmos]

Sometimes the choice is between like walking into a puddle in socks on or a tsunami.

Sure your socks will be wet and squishy. It is uncomfortable and feels gross, but you will get to take them off. You will be survive.

A tsunami on the other hand well there is no guarantee you will survive and even if you do others won't. And with a tsunami it is not just the right then and there, but also about the damage that happens after it is done. The death, destruction, and wreckage that is left even when the tsunami is over.

Sometimes you are voting between choices where one option is uncomfortable and unpleasant, but survivable and the other option is just pure devastation in both the short and long term.

You can't go well I'd rather not be uncomfortable so I'll go for the other choice. Not when the other choice is devastation.

Sometimes you just have to be pragmatic and think about what does the most good for the most amount of people and what does the least amount harm possible.

And that is what you go with.

I feel like there's a certain type of "ex-evangelical" progressive who obviously supports mandatory progressive causes like abortion access and LGBT rights, but then in practice supports them "so strongly" that they can't compromise on anything. And if that means that they can't vote for candidates who support those issues because they aren't "good enough" and those issues get set back, well... That's a trade-off they're willing to make!