#now I just try to focus my donations here instead

[boyapologist]

I'm rebloging all of the swiftie fund raisings for palestine on swiftie heritage by the way. I have little to no active followers in here so I just think it's more effective to reblog there, where I know for a fact every one who follows me has been active in at least the past 8 months

[goldfades]

BENEATH THE GLITTER OF DECEMBER ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚ N. HISCHIER (12 days of christmas ask event)

masterlist! requested

as holidays approach, it’s important to remember those who are facing hardships, such as the people of palestine. in times of crisis, solidarity matters more than ever. you can support palestinian communities by donating to reputable organizations providing aid, such as food, medical supplies, and shelter.

help palestine with a click | heal palestine | unrwa | resources for palestine

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | request for my blurb celly -> nico hischier w the prompt “001. under the mistletoe, placed sneakily above a doorframe”

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluffy! a cheeky little kiss at the end.

The holiday party was in full swing, the air thick with the warm hum of laughter and the faint crackle of a well-tended fire. Snow clung to boots abandoned at the door, pooling in little puddles on the hardwood. You’d helped string the lights earlier, the twinkling glow giving the room a dreamy haze, but now you lingered near the edge of the crowd, a warm mug of mulled cider clasped between your hands.

You hadn’t expected to come tonight. It wasn’t really your scene—the loudness, the casual intimacy of shared stories and holiday cheer. But the pull of tradition, of friends gathered together in the thick of winter, had been too strong. Or maybe it had been the quiet, insistent suggestion of someone who knew you well enough to push just the right buttons. Someone who seemed to orbit every gathering like this, his easy laugh cutting through the din, impossible to miss.

You knew Nico would be here. You always did.

Even now, you caught flashes of him between the shifting crowd—dark hair just messy enough to be endearing, his smile too bright to be dulled by the soft golden light of the room. He moved with a natural kind of grace, slipping between groups, trading jokes, and clinking glasses. He was magnetic in the way that only certain people are, drawing everyone in without even realizing it.

You turned your focus back to your cider, the spices sharp and comforting as they filled your nose, though the warmth in your chest couldn’t be entirely attributed to the drink. Your eyes flickered upward once, almost involuntarily, toward the doorframe ahead. You’d noticed it earlier—the sprig of mistletoe perched sneakily above it, as if waiting for the right moment, the right people.

And then you heard his voice behind you.

“Hey,” Nico said, his tone casual, though it always carried that easy familiarity, like he knew exactly how to speak to you without trying too hard.

Your heart gave a small, treacherous leap. The way it always did.

You turned at the sound of his voice, just enough to catch him standing there, too close and yet somehow not close enough. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, the faintest pink tinting his nose and the tips of his ears, but his grin was as warm as ever, effortlessly charming.

“Hi,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady, though you could already feel the corners of your mouth tugging into a smile. There was something about Nico that made it impossible not to respond to him, as if his presence alone carried a kind of gravity you couldn’t ignore.

“You looked like you were trying to disappear,” he teased, his Swiss accent weaving through his words, soft and teasing. He motioned toward your mug. “Did the cider help, or should I get you something stronger?”

You rolled your eyes, though the grin you’d been fighting spread fully across your face. “It’s a party, Nico, not a survival test. I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide. Instead, he shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into your space. “Well, you’ve been standing over here long enough. Come on. They’re about to start the worst round of karaoke you’ve ever heard, and you’re not missing it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Nico was already reaching out, his hand brushing yours in a way that sent an uninvited flutter through your chest. He was always like this, so effortlessly bold, while you found yourself fumbling for the right balance between casual and composed whenever he was around.

“Nico, I don’t think you’re in any position to judge karaoke,” you shot back, falling into step beside him as he led you toward the center of the room.

“Hey, my performance of ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ last year was iconic,” he countered, mock-indignant.

“It was something,” you deadpanned, which earned a laugh from him—one of those rare, unguarded bursts that made the room feel smaller, more intimate, like it was just the two of you in on a secret.

But before you reached the knot of people now gathering near the speakers, Nico slowed. You glanced up at him, confused, only to find his eyes fixed not on you but above you.

You followed his gaze, and your stomach dropped—and not in a bad way. The mistletoe.

There it was, perched innocently above the doorframe you’d just crossed under, its green leaves and small white berries practically mocking you. Your face heated as you looked back at him, but he didn’t seem fazed. In fact, his grin widened, a hint of mischief creeping into his expression.

“Would you look at that,” he said, his voice low enough that it felt like a private moment, even with the hum of the party around you.

You groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “This was not part of the plan.”

“Plan?” Nico tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What plan? I think it’s fate.”

He was insufferable, and yet, somehow, you didn’t mind. You could already see the teasing retorts forming on his lips, but before he could say anything else, you felt his hand brush yours again—this time deliberate, lingering.

“Only fair,” he murmured, leaning in slightly, giving you plenty of time to pull back. You didn’t.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and warm and surprisingly gentle, like he wasn’t trying to prove anything, just trying to kiss you. It was over in a second, though it left you blinking up at him, flustered and breathless, while he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“There,” he said, his tone entirely too casual for what had just happened. “Now we’re following tradition.”

You swatted his arm, though your heart was still racing, your lips still tingling. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, his grin infuriatingly charming, “you’re still standing here.”

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[yearsbecomingcool]

call me, beep me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader

synopsis | you were an attempted overachiever, but alas your knowledge could only get you so far. your weak attention span was your enemy, the doctors refused to believe it was possible for a girl to have adhd so in an attempt to at least end up salutatorian you had to turn to drastic measures. the solution to your problems was 5’7 with a crooked smile and he just so happened to sit next to you in english.

warnings | drug usage/dealing, mentions of sexual harassment, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, probably inaccurate drug prices, reader has adhd.

word count | just shy of 2k

a/n | i saw gladiator ii and instantly fell back in love with fred hechinger just like everyone else. i know the fear street fandom is dead but that won't stop me writing for one of my favorite characters in horror. the fear street films meant a lot to me when they first came out and i'm having a lot of fun revisiting them. i haven't written for men in so long it feels so weird lol. i didn't edit this because i got sleepy, sorry. requests are open btw <3

You were an attempted overachiever at best. You were vice president of nearly every club, you were on the debate team, you volunteered in the library during your free periods, but your grades just weren’t up to par. During elementary and middle school you had soared above the rest, finishing assignments with ease, blowing through tests like they were nothing. But along came high school and you had begun to struggle. You had never learned to study, you never had a need for it, that overlooked area of school had suddenly snuck up on you and knocked you to your knees. Kate Schmidt had begun to surpass you in…well everything. She was top of the class and you were barely scraping by with low A’s and high B’s. To anyone else it seemed like you were doing alright but to you and your parents it wasn’t enough. You’d be first in the family to attend college and they would only settle for the best. 

You were envious of her, cheer captain, valedictorian, president of every club in the goddamned school. You wondered how she had the time and hated how she didn’t struggle to study like you did. Despite your jealousy she had never been unkind to you, she was just perfect like that. She was for everyone in every clique, her best friends being a band geek and the school’s mascot. You had never really interacted with Deena, but Simon you were more familiar with. Every year without fail he had managed to end up in one of your classes and was always sitting near you. You had become friendly with one another, he’d go to you for homework answers every now and then and you hated to admit that it boosted your ego a bit that he’d come to you instead of Kate. 

He had this boy next door charm that made him so lovable to you and a majority of the school. He always greeted you so kindly when you’d see him at the grocery store, flashing you a crooked smile and asking if you had come just to see him. You’d play along, playfully flirting with him till he had finished ringing up your items. Every now and then when you knew you’d be staying up late to try and focus on your studying you’d head to the supermarket. You’d grab two energy drinks and a couple snacks and head to Simon’s register. You didn’t care if there were others open, you would go to him every time. After you paid you’d slide him one of the cans and tell him to pick his choice from your snacks. The first time you did it he refused bashfully and you decided to pick for him, leaving him a can and a bag of skittles on his register and rushing out the door with a smile on your face as you heard him call after you. After that he knew to just accept your gifts, he really needed them during his doubles. 

To many students he was known as the school's resident dealer, everyone from football players to the D&D club buying weed and pills off him at parties. Once you had even kept watch while your friends bought some weed off him, later that night when you toked up they had joked they should’ve had you buy. You rolled your eyes as they told you how he stared at you in your mini skirt and crop top as you stood in the doorway. You would never believe you’d be his type, he was kind and sociable enough to be popular in your mind, you doubted your debate skills would have him dropping to his knees. 

This year he sat next to you in English, you’d look the other way and scoot your paper over whenever you noticed him trying to glance at your answers. He had taken notice and would accidentally apply his employee discount to a few of your purchases. He was your best bet at actually getting the medication your doctor had refused to prescribe. 

You had woken up early that morning to get ready, you wanted to give yourself the best chance at a discount. You slipped on a v-neck black t-shirt and tucked it into your most school appropriate mini skirt, the silky material just barely resting below your fingertips. You had thrown a black cardigan over it and added a pair of sheer plaid tights and your favorite pair of combat boots. You even recreated the makeup you’d worn to the party he had allegedly stared at you at. Soft shimmery silver eyeshadow adorned your lids, thick eyeliner going right over it. You worked to create a cat eye look before applying mascara and a dark burgundy lip gloss. It was much different than how you usually showed up to school but it would be worth it, at least that’s what you told yourself. 

You felt eyes on you as you got onto the bus that morning, you took your usual seat towards the back and pulled out a book, Crash by J. G. Ballard, and read it in an attempt to distract yourself from the stares and shitty comments. A few boys whistled at you jokingly, another asking when you decided to be hot. You ignored them, you just had to get through the rest of the day. Finally English rolled around and you walked to your seat, Simon already sat in this. His notebook covered in messy doodles sat on his desk, his elbow next to it as he rested his head in his hand. When he noticed you walk in, his eyes lit up, going from your face down to your short skirt. You sat next to him, sitting your bag on your lap as you retrieved your notebook and pencil case. He’s staring at you shamelessly. As you sit your bag down beneath your desk you turn your attention towards him, “Could we talk after class?” You ask, giving him a sweet smile. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. I-I’ll see you then,” Simon answers, flustered. He mentally face palms, what the fuck does he mean he’ll see you then? He feels so stupid for saying that. He tries to distract himself by digging through his bag for a pencil, he realizes he definitely left it in his last period. He bites his lip and turns towards you almost bashfully. He scratches the back of his neck, “Hey, could I borrow a pencil? I lost mine.” 

You smile and nod, “Of course.” You unzip your pencil case and hand him one of your pre sharpened pencils, your fingers brushing against his as he grabs it. You see his cheeks turn red and you smile to yourself. Simon has a hard time trying to focus for the rest of class, his eyes always wandering back to you and your short skirt. When the bell rings he breathes a sigh of relief, gathering his things and waiting for you to do the same. You stand and lean in to whisper to him, “You’ve got pills right?” When you pull away he’s smiling wide. He nods and grabs your wrist, leading you out of the classroom and down the hall. He looks around before pushing you into the out of order girls restroom. 

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be looking to buy,” He laughs, going into one of the stalls and opening a vent. He retrieves his box, his candy store as he calls it. He comes back out and flips the top off, giving you a look at his supplies. 

“I can never focus long enough to study right, I just need some adderall to help. You have adderall right?” I ask, sounding a little more desperate than I meant to. I lean back against the sink counter as his eyes scan through the box. 

“How much do you need? He asks, retrieving a bottle out of the box before shutting it and setting it on the sink next to you. 

“I don’t really know yet…I guess like a week's worth for now? I need to make sure it helps me before I go all in, y’know?” You reply, you eye the bottle nervously, tiny blue capsules filling it to the brim. “How much would that cost me? I don’t have a lot of money to blow, but-”

“How much do you have?” Simon asks, cutting you off. 

“Uhh $15…I know it’s nowhere near enough but-” 

Simon cuts you off again, “It’ll do.”

You furrow your brows, “Really? You don’t have to give me a discount just because-”

He cuts you off a third time and you feel annoyance bubble up in your chest, “I want to give you a discount and you should really take it, I don’t do this for many other people y’know.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask. Sure, you had hoped for a discount but this big of a discount is the last thing you were expecting.

Simon nervously scratches at the back of his neck as he answers you, “You always buy me snacks when you know I’m working, you share your answers with me during English even if you’d never admit it…and you’re pretty so that helps too,” he chuckles.

“So I’m getting the pretty girl discount then?” 

“That’s the one thing you got out of that?” He laughs and shakes his head, “Y’know what, yeah sure, you’re getting the pretty girl discount.” 

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and cross your arms over your chest, taking a step towards him. “Would I get even more of a discount if I gave you my number?” His compliments have boosted your confidence much further than you’d expected. 

He looks down at you, having a great view of your tits in your v-neck. “I could take another $5 bucks off.”

“My number’s only worth $5 to you?” You joke, taking another step towards him, toe to toe with him now. You can smell his cologne from where you stand, it makes you want to bury your face in his chest.

“You’re lucky I’m giving you that, I could always look you up in the phone book, y’know.”

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “I’ll take that $5 off then.” 

He laughs, “I’m sure you will.”

You grab your notebook from your backpack and rip out a paper, scribbling your phone number across it as Simon slips seven of the pills into a bag for you. You hand him the paper and he hands you the bag. 

“Did you wear that hoping to get a discount?” He asks, pocketing the paper.

“I might’ve…did it help?” 

“You could’ve showed up in a sweater and sweatpants and I would’ve given you that discount anyway.” He reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your skirt, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. “This skirt’s cute though, you should wear it more often,” He looks back up at you, hand going to your thigh, “Do you really need to go to next period? We could always skip the phone call and just-”

You sigh, looking down at his hand and biting your lip. “I probably should, unfortunately. Call me after work, we’ll pick up where we left off…promise.” You say as you look back into his eyes. 

He smiles and nods, “I’ll call you, I’ll be off late. Will you be awake after midnight?”

“I will, just for you, Simon.”

Before he can respond the bell rings. “Oh fuck, we’re late!” You exclaim, grabbing your backpack off the sink. Simon kisses your cheek and runs back into the stall to hide the box back in the vent. Your hand goes up to where he kissed you and you speed walk towards the door, “I’ll be waiting for your call!” You yell before running off to class, starting to think up an excuse that’ll sound believable and keep your perfect attendance record untouched.

[myceliacrochet]

I feel so overwhelmed. I have no income, no stable place to live, and hundreds of people coming to me who need thousands of dollars each to avoid getting incinerated, starved, tortured. I make crochet -- when I can get supplies -- and I'm trying to make stickers, when I can get supplies... I'm not very employable and everything is so expensive and it's all falling on my roommate.

I need to hold a fundraising event

Everyone is either stretched to their limits helping or can't be bothered

I'm doing my best to reblog, follow, and react every single campaign I can that is either vetted or has a clean RIS. I'm telling myself that I'm doing enough by contributing art and promoting these campaigns, but the reality is people need money and I'm giving them condolences and things that may not help much.

I had a bit of success promoting Omar's campaign and foolishly believed I could get those kinds of results again. Tumblr staff is being beyond ruthless, attacking even the critical and dangerous vetting work people are risking their lives for on the ground.

I don't know what to tell people who are coming to me for help in what may be their last moments and I'm like "hey here have a shitty art I made that might make a miniscule difference but probably won't. All the best!" I try to respond through my actions instead of words because like Kurt Vonnegut said there's fucking nothing to say about genocide because no one's meant to say anything they're just meant to get blown up. So then I'm ignoring the people who most need help in the world, coldly turning away. So I say sorry and offer these small useless things as if it means anything and every day I lose more sanity and meaning in my life because doing less than what I can to help people not get genocided takes all the color out of my world. I can't imagine truly relaxing or enjoying anything until there's no genocide happening anymore, and I don't see that happening. I feel hopeless like I did in 2016 but this time there's no back door out.

Every time I start to work on something I feel hopeless like it won't work

I have to get my ass into gear, which means I need to:

- pick up my prescription for strattera, I guess I have that now. That will help me focus

- get back on my antidepressants as soon as Fatima's campaign hits $10,000. That will help me keep moving

- talk to other organizers so we can work together.

I am drowning, I am burning in this hxll created by my own culture. Every day they torture the children and the adults come into my DMs and scream help us please please someone help us.

All I can do is do my best every day. I'll keep moving forward

Doing something is better than doing nothing, gxddammit, which means I'm doing a good job I guess, it's just little comfort as I watch the children get engulfed in flames.

Like, I know I can't end all genocide on my own but there's got to be more effective things that I personally can do.

I guess I'll check out one of those lists of things you can do other than donating money

If anyone has yarn to donate and/or could cover shipping or help me find free yarn in my area, that would be so helpful. Because there's nothing I'd rather do than tune out and crochet most of the time and sell it for myself and others.

Please talk to me about how we can work together to help these precious people!!! I need to do more

@monstermashpotato @sylvianritual @gazavetters @determinate-negation @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@gaza-evacuation-funds @gazagfmboost @fly-sky-high-09 @90-ghost @nabulsi @halalchampagnesocialist @huzni @hussyknee @notallmensheviks @neechees @fuckyeahmarxismleninism @fayruz0-blog @gothhabiba @radicalgraff @marxism-transgenderism @marxist-lesbianism @voyagerprobe @workersolidarity @cheezbot @gayspacemonk @bogleech @slitherbop @butchniqabi

I guess I just need to work on my small business... Idek if I'm even helping by reblogging all this stuff, I'm just spending hours a day spreading stuff around to other people who can't really donate. I just seem to be wasting people's time who are going through genocide, I might even be only adding to their suffering. I don't know if I have the moral fibre to do this work, idk I just seem to cause bad things to happen to myself and everyone around me by dedicating so much time to reblogs instead of just securing an income, paying my bills, and being content to give a "reasonable" portion to genocide relief. I can't do that, I have to give all or most of myself but then I'm just a burden to my roommate and others. Or going all out and doing something really big that could really bring in the money they need

I'm sick but people need me

I guess what I'm seeing here is that I need to switch gears to working on crochet more and that will help me be able to help people and it will also be better for my mental health. I'll work on getting the supplies I need to continue. But idk I'll come back to this later and figure it out.

Thank you for listening I wish I could just let my brain scream to death but like people need me to keep it together so I can actually help but I'm at a loss as to how to help

I'll do it gxddammit I'll fucking get it done I'll crochet for this and it will make a difference and I don't have to suspend happiness until this is over I have to maintain some of that light of happiness within. It's not all on me we are working together

Hey 🩷 So I wanted to let people know that I am safe now. I'm back on my most necessary meds, I've applied for SNAP and general assistance, and I'm feeling stronger after having some more success promoting campaigns.

We are living during multiple holocausts. I take comfort in doing the work. We're making a difference in people's lives.

Thank you for helping me keep my head up. Let's keep going.

[yandere-daydreams]

Okok gonna face my fears and send this off anon . . . ♡ I woke up at 6am and have been plagued by the concept of yan!satosugu with idol darling like all morning

Walk with me here okokokokok. So like satoru obviously has like sooo much money. What if just to get a break from focusing on sorcery all the time he became a sponsor or even producer for a very cute girlypop idol group,,, (and yes I do think he would be kinda weird/creepy to idol darling, especially with how he views himself as basically untouchable (I mean he has enough money to pay the right people off) sooo). 

That’s where suguru comes in (I see this as a mostly canon-compliant geto never defected au). Obviously he would want to keep up with what his best friend is up to, so he’s like a day one supporter of said idol group. With how the japanese idol industry seems to have a focus on the youth and purity of female idols, I could definitely see suguru wanting to “protect his oshi’s innocence” . . .

So if (let’s be honest, WHEN) satosugu bring idol darling home, I could totally see suguru just absolutely babying the poor girl to kind of a weird infantilizing degree?? If that makes sense?? Like very much trying to condition darling into relying on them for everything

I would assume that satoru would be a lot more upfront about how much of a gross perv he is (especially since he probably mistreated the group members to some extent)

I think they would expect total compliance from darling, but if darling ever acts up I can’t help but think one of their go-to punishments would be forcing her to perform the groups choreographies with some sort of “handicap” ie vibrator taped to her pussy at the full speed (and yes they would probably reprimand if she messes up - gotta make sure their number one idol isn’t missing practice!!

Speaking of missing practice/group activities, I fully believe it is within satoru’s capabilities to spread the narrative that darling just kinda . . . suddenly “graduated” from the group and left without a trace, so therefore the other members shouldn’t worry about her and should instead just resume group activities!! (I could also see satosugu using this as some kind of mental leverage over idol darling - like “hey, your group is actually way more popular now that you’ve left”)

Sorry gang I fear I let the thoughts simmer for too long . . .

please let me know your thoughts :3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, idol exploitation, long-term stalking, and obsessive behavior.

WAIT may i suggest: suguru and satoru as parasocial ultra-fans of the same idol as kind of an escapism thing from the stress of being some of the world's most powerful sorcerers, with satoru having the fortune to completely devote himself to making him and suguru your #1 fans. you start to recognize them around the fifth time they miraculously appear at the very front of the line for your post-concert meet-and-greet, but since they're a little bit older and they always have a small gaggle of shy, but polite preteens with them, you just assume they're a pair of wealthy fathers eager to fuel their kids' shared fixation. sure, it's a little strange that the white-haired man always seems more excited to shake your hand than his standoffish son, and it does raise a few concerns when the twin girls spend the majority of their time with you gushing about their black-haired father, but you're a very popular idol with a very busy schedule. you don't have a lot of time to think about one strange family out of the hundred or so you'll meet, that night.

you don't have a lot of time to think about them until your group starts getting extravagant, expensive gifts and donations - always paired with the a gushing fan letter and always sent from one of two increasingly familiar names. since you always seem to be the primary focus, you're the one pressured by your producers to film 'thank you' videos that are just a little too intimidate, to post the type of pictures your generous sponsors compliment the most heavily more often than you may like to. it gets to the point where you're being asked how you'd feel about ""private shows"" to ""ensure the support of a select demographic"", but you adamantly refuse every time it's brought up. it's enough to have to deal with satoru's touchiness at your handshake events, suguru's prying gaze from his permanent seat in the front row of your group's concerts. you don't need to be trapped in the same room as them, alone and all-but paid to cooperate, to know that you want as little to do with them as possible.

that is, until your producer slips you a drink that's just a little too bitter during rehearsal and you wake up in a large room decorated entirely with your merch and memorabilia, to satoru's head between your thighs and suguru behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder as he tells you about how excited they are to finally meet their favorite idol in person, how patiently they've been waiting for you to finally retire and take on a more domestic lifestyle. they'll be delighted to find out that, because of how long you've been in the industry and how protective your fans can be, you're still very much a virgin, and you very much need your two biggest fans to show you what you've been missing <3 if you're lucky, they'll even add pictures of your first climax to the shrine they've been building since they day they first discovered you, the shrine they're going to be keeping you inside of from now on. you might be crying, sure, begging to be let go, but that's alright.

in time, you'll realize how lucky you are to have such devoted fans.

[kyra45]

Introduction v2

Please read this too.

Want a dragon design? | Commission me maybe ($30/2,500)

(I am not qualified to verify the legitimacy of Palestine fundraisers if it’s a GoFundMe link. Please check out vetted lists instead of asking me on anon or in general. I can not verify Palestine GoFundMe links.)

Hi! I’m Key (aka Jess from @shadowfoxsilver) and this is a blog where I attempt to document scam posts and scam blogs while also trying my best to post information about easy and simple ways to spot scam accounts. Any information supplied here has been obtained from public sources though sometimes it is only found in private places. If the information is from a private source, I will have personal data redacted while leaving important information visible. While my focus is pet donation scams, other scams can be found here if I have enough to show it. My featured tags are also another way to access information quickly.

The main purpose of this blog is to have a publicly accessible resource of information that can be found if you have searched around. Most of what I post is generally tagged properly or at least to the best of my ability. I also use this post to compile a quick access point to important links as over time the posts get buried. This way opening my blog pulls up a post where you can quickly find any links you look for.

While I do work daily, I do try my best to keep all my information up to date so a post may have new information on it at a later date. All the stuff I do here is only a hobby, but I do have a ko-fi here if you’d like to check it out. Do not feel pressured to send me anything. It is your choice!

As of recently, an anonymous user may send asks to people who interact with me and tell them I’m a scammer. This anon is just a scammer who has been over here for a while now being annoyed that I bust scams. If you have any questions, my asks and messages are always open.

Now listed below is useful links and other places you may find me where I mainly post art. Feel free to share this post, I don’t mind.

—

Keys guide to scam spotting v4 | Laura Deramas | Tips to spotting scams based around Palestine | Daily scam list

Art blog | Main blog | Toyhouse | deviantART | Key and Jess | Mutual aid blog for general fundraisers | Mutual aid blog for pet-related fundraisers

[ifearimaybeanamericanidiot]

Playing with his Hair

Chris x reader, 1st person, reader POV

TW: shitty manager

Summary: you've had a long day. Everything was way more difficult than it needed to be. Chris asks you to come over when you get off of work for a gaming stream.

I hate my job. Honestly, I wish I could quit. Most of my coworkers don't even do their jobs, preferring to dump it onto me and my couple close work friends. I know Chris wouldn't mind if I quit and depended on him until I found a different job for a little while, but I would just feel so guilty about it. He's never say it, but I can tell he's under a decent amount of stress trying to keep up a specific appearance for the triplets' fans. I wish all three of them would take a break and just focus on destressing for a little bit.

Nevertheless, I have about twenty minutes left in my shift before the next person gets here to take my place and I can clock out. The diner I work at is incredibly slow at the moment, so I pull my phone out behind the counter and check the time. Well, "check the time." Really, it's just to see Chris on my lock screen. His name pops up in my notifications. I unlock my phone and click on the little box.

Chris 💖: hey doll, I know you're at work, but do you want to come over after you get off? We're doing gaming stream. You can spend the night?

I grin at his message. He's so sweet. I shoot him back a thumbs up since my manager is approaching and slip my phone back into my pocket.

"Bad news, Kaitlyn is running late, so you'll have to stay late." I hate this man. I hold the string of curses in and respond calmly instead.

"How late are we talking?" I lean on the counter in front of me.

"I don't know exactly. Probably at least an extra thirty minutes past your clock out time." His leans across the counter, putting his face near mine. "That isn't an issue is it?" It sounds like a question, but I know better. I know John better than that. No, if I complain I risk my job.

"That's fine." It's not fine. The time moves slowly. At one point I swear the clock starts moving backwards. Eventually, Kaitlyn runs in, her hair messy and her face tired.

"I'm so sorry, babes." She says to me quickly. "I had no idea you were the one stuck here with John. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"You better." I say lightly, mostly joking. "I'm out of here. I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers though." I say as I walk towards the back to clock out. I bump into John. "Kaitlyn just got here, so I'm going to clock out now." He rolls his eyes at me, but says no protest.

I get into my car after clocking out and pull my phone out. I shoot Chris a text.

Me: sorry I'm running so late, Kaykat was late 😭😭 I'm heading over now.

Chris 💖: okay ma, I'll have fresh clothes waiting for you <3

He really is sweet. How did I get so lucky? I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. The drive goes by quickly and before I know it, I'm pulling into the familiar drive way. I park my car, and let myself into the house.

"Honey, I'm back from hell!" I call out. I make my way down to Chris's room when I get no answer. He's not there, but some of his clothes are laid out on the bed. He's laid out one of his hoodies and some sweats. It just seems a little hot for all of that. I grab a shirt from his closet, one that's been worn soft and open the drawer he had kindly donated to hold my growing collection of clothes at his house. I grab a pair of shorts, then change my mind. I grab a pair of his boxers and a pair of black thigh high compression socks. My legs are already aching from that shift, so I'll need the support. I set it on his bed and go to his bathroom. I take my make up off and let my hair down before going back into his room to change.

Once I'm changed and I've deemed myself suitable for public sight, I head upstairs to the room they always stream in. I can hear them yelling from down the hall. I softly open the door and slip in. Nick and Matt are busy yelling at Chris for dying.

"You're done! No more playing until you can stay alive for longer than five fucking minutes!" Nick yells. Matt takes over on playing the game. Chris turns around and spots me.

"Baby!" He rushes me and pulls me to his body. "I missed you!" He brings me to the couch they kept in the room against the wall.

"I missed you too. What are you guys playing?" I ask, sitting down. Chris takes my legs and puts them over his lap, sitting close to the rest of my body.

"Skyrim." He answers, taking one of my aching legs into his hands and begins rubbing. I let out a hiss. "You okay, doll?"

"Yeah, just a long ass shift. So fucking tired of John." I express to him.

"Tell him to fuck off." He makes his way up my leg, working his magic hands to ease the aches throughout my leg.

"I'd like to keep my job." I roll my eyes at him.

"Really? I heard there's a position open for my stay at home cutie. Pays seventeen kisses, twenty hugs, and unlimited cuddles and hour." He switches to the other leg.

"Really now? What about health benefits? Huh?" I try to keep my voice steady through his beginning ministrations on my other leg. From the look on his face, I didn't do a great job.

"You got me there, doll." He finishes with both legs after a few minutes and leans his upper body to lay on mine. This just so happens to put his head perfectly within range of my hands.

I reach one hand up and burrow it into his hair. I place my pointer and thumb on the outer sides of his nap and begin rubbing small circles into his skin. He groans softly.

"Baby, let me take care of you." He protests.

"No, this is what I want to do. I want you to lay here against me and let me play with your hair. Please?" I throw out a pout. He huffs.

"I'm making you something to eat in a little bit." He squints at me.

"Okay, monkey." I say, driving both my hands into his hair. I rub circles across his head, then I switch to lightly tracing his scalp with my nails. He lets out the smallest whine.

I start gently moving his hair around, running my hands through it and pulling them up before slowly releasing his hair so it drops back down to his head. He practically whimpers at the sensation. "Fuck ma, feels good. You're real good at this." He moves against my hand. I giggle. In my opinion, there's nothing more relaxing than playing with my favorite boy's hair.

"Good." I say. My stomach growls loudly.

"I think it's time I go make you something to eat." Chris perks up. My shoulders drop. "Don't worry, doll. I'll carry you, and you can continue playing with my hair once you've eaten." He places a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Okay, okay." I sigh. "Come on." He smiles brightly at me. God, how did I get so lucky to have such a sweet boy?

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Curtis Everett

Summary: Curtis decides to take the next step and ask if you're willing to meet offline.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: None that I can tell. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 2

Curtis flops into his office chair after telling Steve to get Bucky back here. He should be upset because Bucky was wasting time getting a fancy coffee when he knew Curtis would be finishing up the code today. Instead, he takes the opportunity to grab his phone and chat with you.

Snowpiercer85: I hope you're having a better day today.

Unsurprisingly it takes a few minutes for you to respond.

HeartMonitor3000: better now that we're chatting.

Curtis feels his cheeks heat up.

Snow: Is that asshole student still on your floor?

Heart: sadly, yes. But at least we've only gotta deal with him for another month.

Snow: Oh?

Heart: that's when his rotation ends. a few of us are planning a small celebration once he's gone.

Curtis chuckles at that. He figures working as a nurse like you do is stressful enough but having some upstart med student whose parents made a big donation definitely made it worse.

Snow: By the way, been missing you on the server. Too tired to play?

Heart: no. I gotta get my computer fixed.

Snow: What's wrong with it?

Heart: I don't know, that's why I need to take it in.

Snow: You know I work in IT, right? What's going on with it?

Heart: the damn thing keeps freezing on me. I'll be in the middle of a game and suddenly everything just stops.

Snow: "Stops" as in "goes black"?

Heart: stops as in no sound, no mouse, no keys, nothing.

Curtis's heart leaps in his chest. This is an opportunity he's been looking for: a chance to meet you in person. He's wanted to meet you offline for months now but knows that it can be a touchy subject for a lot of reasons. He takes a few breaths to think about how to put it so he doesn't scare you off.

Snow: I've got some ideas what could be wrong but I'd need to look at it to be sure. Feel free to say "no" but, if you'd be willing to meet up at the library or something? Maybe even a park? Or the mall?

He tries to not take it to heart when you don't respond right away. You're a nurse. This is a potentially big deal. It's understandable you'd need time to answer him. Right? But after a few hours he's starting to lose hope and starts mentally berating himself for fucking things up. He's trying to work but he can't focus so he stuffs his phone into his pocket and goes for a walk around the building.

After a couple of laps he hears his phone ding. He checks and sees it's a message from you.

Heart: Tomorrow at the coffee shop across from the main library. 3PM.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[janeyseymour]

Hii

Can you write a Mel x reader where they go to the PECSA and there is only one bed available? They describe themselves as reaaaally good friends until everything changes.

Can you make it with a happy ending? Ty ❤️

I hope this is what you were asking for!

What happens at PECSA...

WC: ~3k

“PECSA,” Melissa grins. “Here we come!” She turns in her seat to glance at you sitting in the back. Barb and her had been kind enough to let you tag along with them.

“Oh, Y/N,” Barb chuckles as she drives. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into tagging along with the two of us.”

“I know what I got myself out of by not going with Janine and Jacob,” you giggle. “I still don’t know how Gregory puts up with the two of them sometimes.”

“Love does weird things to that man,” Barb makes a face. “God, I can’t wait to not have to listen to those lectures and relax in a hot tub instead. I’ve been around a while, I don’t know why I’m still required to go to these things”

“I’m ready for a couple of math-o-ritas, and then I’ll be schmoozing all of the different companies to get them to donate supplies to Abbott,” Melissa cheers from her seat.

You, on the other hand, aren’t quite sure what to expect. The last time you went to PECSA, you mostly just kept to yourself and kept your head down. You were a new teacher, and you figured you should at least look like you were trying. But that was last year. Now, you have Melissa and Barbara to help you out, and if the three of you get caught not participating... you’re sure one of them will get you out of the sticky situation.

It takes you a bit longer to get to your destination, and both senior teachers are all grins once you’re finally there.

“Oh, PECSA,” Melissa sighs in content as she grabs her bags. “How I’ve missed you.”

“Come on, Melissa,” Barbara laughs. “If we want to be able to raid the minibar before the opening dinner, we have to get in there! Now!”

The redhead all but rolls her eyes as she moves out of the way, allowing the kindergarten teacher to grab her various bags.

“Jeez, Barbara,” you laugh as you look at the amount of things she’s packed for a weekend. You have one duffel bag and a backpack filled with everything you could possibly need, and she has... is that really five bags?

“I’m very serious about my nighttime routine, Y/N,” she says lowly. “I don’t look this good by doing nothing, you know.”

“C’mon, you two,” the redhead teases the two of you. “Let’s go check in and get settled in.”

You let Melissa and Barbara check in first before you step up to the counter. 

“Checking in for Y/N,” you say politely.

The clerk clicks around a few times on his computer before giving you a look. “I don’t have a reservation under that name.”

You look baffled. You had booked your room months in advance- you had booked it with Melissa’s guidance because she knew a guy who could get you a good deal. “That’s impossible, you say softly. I booked my room months ago.”

“Did you get a confirmation email?” The concierge asks.

“I did,” you mumble as you pull out your phone, searching for it. You pull it up as proof.

Your coworkers are watching curiously. It hadn’t taken that long for them to check in.

“You think she’s okay?” Melissa leans in close to Barb.

“I’m not sure,” the kindergarten teacher replies. “She looks a little frazzled.”

“I’ll check on ‘er,” the redhead tells her friend. “Watch my stuff.”

“You okay?” Melissa comes up behind you and sets a hand on your shoulder.

You take a shaky breath. “Fine. They just messed up my reservation, so now they’re looking to see where they can put me, and they’re figuring out how much I get back since I won’t be put in as nice of a-”

“They fucked up your reservation?” the redhead cuts you off. “Oh... Vinnie’s gonna get an earful about this one.”

“It’s okay,” you lay a hand on her arm. “It’s fine. It’s all gonna get squared away, and then we can focus on having a good time at PECSA.”

“No, I’m gonna-” Melissa looks like something has triggered her ‘fight-or-fight’ response.

“It’s okay,” you promise her. “It’s all gonna be fine. Things happen, mistakes happen.”

She doesn’t look very happy, but she does take a breath. If you say it’s fine, she’s trusting you. She goes over and tells Barb what’s happening, and they both come and stand at your sides.

Except then the clerk is coming back over to you, and he doesn't look too excited to share whatever news he has with you.

“Miss Y/N, I am so sorry,” he states quietly. “We’re operating at maximum capacity for this weekend due to the conference, and we will not be able to fit you in. We are in the process of providing a full refund to you as we-”

“What the hell?” Melissa asks from behind you. “How’d you goof up that bad?”

“Mel, it’s okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll just find a different hotel to stay in.”

“No, you’re not,” the second grade teacher bites out. “Because you’ll be staying with me in my room.”

“And we expect a full refund for her,” Barbara cuts in. “And some sort of credit. It’s the least you can do for the poor girl.”

“Guys, it’s fine,” you turn red. They’re fighting for you, and the idea of staying with Melissa? Well... you’ve had a thing for her since you first started at Abbott, but it’s never gone anywhere past coworkers. Staying with Melissa could be dangerous territory if you weren’t careful.

“Like hell we’re gonna let you stay somewhere,” the redhead tells you seriously as she picks up your bags. “The plan is to get hammered, and there ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you take an Uber to and from a different hotel.”

“She’ll be accepting an apology in some form of credit,” Barbara hits the concierge with a stern look again before the three of you walk away.

“Maybe I should just go-”

“Go where, kid?” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Barb drove, so you’re stuck here. Might as well make the best of it, yeah? Now, are you gonna share a room with me, or spend your time on one of these nasty ass couches in the lobby?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” you ask.

“Nope,” the redhead pops her ‘p’. “Let's go, hon. If we hurry we can still get a couple of glasses of wine in before tonight’s event.”

The three of you get into the elevator and head for your rooms. 

“I’ll meet you down at the pool in an hour?” Barb asks. At yours and Melissa’s nods, she lets herself into her room next to Melissa’s... and now yours too.

The redhead unlocks your door and gestures for you to go first. You look around. This place is... wow. It’s really nice. Whatever her cousin Vinnie did to get her this nice of a room had to have been pretty big. You set your things on the floor over by the rather uncomfortable looking couch that is taking up space on the other side of the room.

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Melissa chuckles. “You can put your stuff on the bed.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you mutter nervously, tucking a hair behind your ear and rubbing your collar bone gently.

“You ain’t intruding. I invited you to stay with me for the weekend,” she says pointedly. She glances at where you’ve decided to set your things. “And you’re not sleeping on that ratty ass couch, so don’t even try it.”

“You don’t think this is... weird for us to share a bed?”

“It ain’t weird if you don’t make it weird,” your colleague shrugs as she reaches for her bag. She pulls out a couple of shooters. “Now, are you ready to get PECSA weekend started or what?”

You, Barb, and Melissa end up by the pool an hour later. You had made your appearance, and now you were fully taking advantage of the fact that everybody else was so preoccupied with PECSA events that you had the entire pool room to yourselves.

“Best weekend of the year,” the kindergarten teacher raises her glass. 

“Seriously,” Melissa responds. “Bottomless margs, a heated pool, and a relaxing weekend with two of my favorite people.” While Barb smiles, you blush. You didn’t know you were that high up on her list. You honestly weren’t even sure you were on her good list to begin with, so hearing that you were in ranks with the kindergarten teacher definitely took you by surprise.

“To PECSA,” you say quietly and take off your coverup before reaching for your book. You miss the way that Melissa’s eyes check you out, just like how you had missed it in the hotel room.

You end up falling asleep not much later, a glass of mimosa sitting next to you, and your novel is open and laying on your chest.

Melissa looks over to you. “Wow.” She can’t remember the last time she’s seen you so still- so at peace. You were always running around at Abbott, and even when you were sitting, a part of your body was almost always bouncing up and down. Now, you just look calm. You look... gorgeous. Even with your hair tied up carelessly and no makeup on, Melissa thought you looked absolutely stunning. 

“Poor girl’s been working herself so hard this year,” Barbara tuts. “She’s been exhausted lately.”

That was not what the redhead was referring to, but she’ll play along. “I know,” she laughs nervously. “We’ve barely been here for an hour, and she’s already fallin’ asleep on us. Hope she can keep up with us later tonight.”

“It’s a good thing we were there when the clerk told her there wasn’t any more room,” Barb says, lips turned up. “Otherwise the poor thing would’ve probably Ubered home and not enjoyed this weekend with us.”

“Yeah,” the second grade teacher says noncommittally. She’s still got her eyes on you. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen you looking more beautiful than you do dozing off in the lounge chair. 

“Are you gonna be okay this weekend sharing the place with her?” She knows about Melissa’s little thing for you. She knows how much the redhead cares about you, and she understands how strong the other woman’s feelings are for you.

“I’ve held it together for this long, I can do it for another weekend,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I have to. I ain’t jeopardizing our friendship.”

“But this weekend you have to share a room,” the kindergarten teacher argues.

“A bed,” Melissa coughs out awkwardly. “We’re sharing a bed. It's totally normal. Friends share beds all the time. I told her I wasn’t going to let her sleep on that ratty ass couch they have in there. But I’ll be... I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” Barbara teases. 

“I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Everything will be just... I’ll be fine.”

“Say it one more time, and I’ll believe you,” the older teacher chuckles. 

“I’ll be fine,” Melissa huffs. She takes her eyes off of you to take a sip of her drink. “I just can't get too hammered now.”

That’s what she said. But that was also four hours ago, and five drinks ago. You three are currently down at one of the parties. Barbara is speaking with a few of the handlers from different supply companies, you have had your fair share of drinks and are starting to stumble, and Melissa refuses to leave your side. She glares down pretty much anybody who even thinks about trying to talk to you.

Someone from Addington decides that they don’t give a damn about Melissa’s harsh looks and has to come over to attempt to flirt with you. You’ve made it quite clear you are having no parts of it, but he just won’t leave you alone. Melissa doesn’t like this one bit. She doesn’t intervene just yet though. She knows you are a strong independent woman who can handle this- unless you give her some sort of signal to ask for help.

“I’m really okay,” you slur out. “I don’ wan’ another. Thanks-s though.”

He just keeps trying to get you to drink another one, trying to make conversation with you even though you aren’t interested. He’s ignoring the fact that the redhead is right there with you too. You give Melissa a look that she interprets to be a plea for help. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but that’s how she takes it.

“Hey, asshole,” the second grade teacher finally taps his shoulder. “She said she ain’t interested, so beat it.”

“And who are you?” he looks her over. “Old, washed up-”

“I’d watch it if I were you,” Melissa glares him down. “Now get outta here, before I help you outta here.”

“Who even are you?” the charter teacher asks. 

Melissa, thinking that you are too inebriated to remember this tomorrow, bites the bullet. She wraps her arms around your waist and helps to steady you. “Her girlfriend. Now, seriously: beat it before I beat you.”

“Damn,” he puts his hands up in surrender as he walks away. “The hot ones always turn out to be gay.”

You’re intoxicated, but not because of the copious amount of tequila you’ve had tonight. No, it’s because of a certain coworker's arms being snaked around your waist and holding onto you tightly. 

“I think maybe it’s time for bed,” Melissa tells you gently as she continues to hold you up. You giggle as you lean into her, fully embracing how close you are and loving it.

“You’re- you’re warm,” you tell her. “I like that about you.”

“Well, yeah,” she laughs as she guides you towards where Barbara is sitting. “Hey, Barb. I think this one’s had enough, so I’m gonna take her up to the room and get her to bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Barb!” You try to launch yourself at the veteran teacher.

“Oh! Y/N!” the kindergarten teacher laughs. She lets you hug her, quietly mouthing, ‘Is she okay?’ to Melissa. At the redhead’s nod, she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’ to which Melissa nods again.

“Alright, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher helps pry you off of Barbara. “I think it’s about time we get up to our room and into bed.”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “As long as- as long as you stay with me.”

“I never said nothin’ ‘bout leaving,” she assures you. “Now c’mon.” 

The two of you somehow manage to get back up to the room, and at this point, Melissa is practically dragging you. She keeps one arm looped around your waist while she tries to open the door for you. It unlocks, and she pushes it open before guiding you to the bed.

“Sleep, hon,” Melissa instructs. 

“Don’ wanna sleep in this,” you gesture to the dress you’re wearing. She can’t necessarily blame you- it doesn’t look terribly comfortable.

“Okay, hon,” she sighs. She opens your duffel, blushing immediately. “Is there anything specific you want in here?”

“My t-shirt,” you mumble, already curled up on your side of the bed. She digs through your duffel bag, only to realize you forgot to pack a night shirt. Thank god she packed an extra. She quickly goes to her side of the bed and finds the spare shirt. 

She throws the shirt at you and instructs you to change, but you’re still struggling after several minutes. With a sigh, Melissa knows she’s going to have to help you change. She wishes she was undressing you, not helping you redress.

Once you’re finally changed, she helps you slip into bed and pulls the blankets up and around you. The teacher moves a few stray hairs away from your face before tracing a gentle line down your cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“Mel,” you whine when she pulls her hand away from your face. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” she promises you. “I’m just gonna change for bed myself, and then I’ll be right back, yeah?” You nod, and she walks into the bathroom with her own pajamas.

She takes a long time in the bathroom. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open, but you don’t want to fall asleep without her arms around you- they are safe. Secure. When she comes out, she’s shocked to see that you’re still awake.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she chuckles. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Waiting for you,” you try, but fail, to stifle a yawn. “C’mon.”

She climbs into bed, and you waste no time wiggling your way into her arms. You tangle

your legs together and force her to hold you as you rest your head on her shoulder.  

“You good, hon?” Melissa asks you gently, just barely daring to press a kiss to your hair.

“Wish we could do this sober,” you mumble, sleep threatening to take you. “But ‘m too nervous to say anything to you when not drunk.”

The redhead is fairly certain she’s hallucinating. Did you just admit you wished you could cuddle with her? Lay in bed with her and fall asleep in her arms?

“Well, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher sighs heavily. “Let’s just get past tonight, see what you remember tomorrow, and then we can talk.”

You nod. You’re still drunk, but you’re pretty aware of everything that is happening, and you know you’ll remember all of this tomorrow. But it’s that extra little bite that liquid courage gives you that allows you to say, “I love you, Mel,” before you tighten your grip on her and give in to sleep. 

Melissa’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate in saying, “I love you too, Y/N.” She presses a sweet kiss to the side of your head, and prays to God that when the two of you wake up everything is okay.

Next

[mogwaipoet]

I saw a few people asking for advice about how to distract themselves during the election

Here's the problem with that idea: trying to ignore the news just on election day is like showing up at the Olympics without ever having practiced your sport. You won't have any of the skills or habits you need.

Ignore the news every day. There's a big difference between "staying informed" and "stressing yourself out until it's a struggle to just exist, let alone take action." The modern conception of journalism is so far towards the stressing yourself out end of the spectrum -- and if you need to ask, getting your news on social media is even further down that dark, dark hole -- that "ignore all the news every day" is my genuine advice for how to be a good, effective citizen.

You are not obligated to bear witness. Posting is not activism. The extent of my activism is that I have recurring monthly donations to the ACLU and Southern Poverty Law Center and I absolutely claim the moral high ground over someone whose idea of activism is that they read a lot and post a lot.

Here's my advice for how to ignore the news:

Whatever you use to read the news, delete it from your phone. If that's your web browser, so be it -- you can have it back later, when you stop automatically trying to open it whenever you're bored or anxious. If it's your social media app, you can have it back after you curate the right list of people to follow.

Find a hobby, even if it's just binging TV shows or playing video games. If you're like me, you focus best on projects when you have something else to avoid, so now's a great opportunity to finish that novel or birdhouse.

Set boundaries. On the discord I run, there's a channel called interesting-times and it's understood that all the political talk goes in there. On my podcast Topic Lords, I reject political topics. My friends and family basically never talk to me about this stuff any more. That last part may be difficult if your friends are too poor to afford therapy. But the friends who can afford therapy but choose to vent at you instead? Shut those people the fuck down.

If you fuck up one of the above steps and accidentally read something, for god's sake don't post about it and make life harder for everyone else.

I've been living my life like this for several years. What are the consequences of being completely uninformed about what's going on in the world? I have no idea. I still hear plenty about the news, because it's fucking impossible to actually avoid. This is just what it takes to not drown in the news. Keeping my head above water and loving it.

Your training regimen starts today. Good luck.

[elliesmainhoe]

Procrastination

Streamer!Ellie X Reader

Summary: While Ellie leaves her office for a moment, leaving her stream unattended, you sneak in.

Contents: nothing really, pure fluff, kisses, pet names.

This is a part 2 of Player Two.

My Masterlist

You'd been watching Ellie's steam from your shared bedroom, using it as a distraction from your assignment you had meant to be completing. But as a chronic-procrastinator any excuse is a good excuse.

So here you are, laying in bed, your original word document being abandoned for Ellie's stream. She was doing a pretty chill stream, playing various video games and chatting on and off with her chat.

Ever since you had officially been introduced to her stream, they had been talking about you non-stop. Her subs seeming finding teasing Ellie and making her go bright red fairy amusing.

"Yo guys." Ellie spoke, breaking the steady pace if the conversation she was having with her viewers "I need to go, I'm gonna be back in five minutes okay? Please don't start a cult while I'm gone? Okay thanks." She joked, taking off the head set and leaving it on her set.

A smirk on your face as you spotted the perfect opportunity. You got out of bed, quickly fixing your hair and throwing on a sweater before you creeped stealthily across the hallway to Ellie's now abandoned office. You creaked the door open, the harsh blue light making you squint.

You walked into the room, hiding off screen until the last second were you clapped into the mic, grinning as the spam typing of

"Oh Fuck!!"

"That was unnecessary"

Fled through the chat.

"Oh look it's my favourite people in the whole wide world" you giggled, sitting in Ellie's blue gaming chair.

User2: OMG😭

User3: Yay!!!!

User4: Hi Y/N 💙💙💙

"Hiya guys" you waved at the camera, a small ginger flurry of fur jumped into your lap "oh Garf, you gonna join me?"

"meow".

"yeah, yeah alright"

User5: I love Garfield so much

"I know I love Garfield aswell, don't I baby?" You laughed scratching the cat underneath his chin.

"How are you all doing?"

User6: Really good actually!

User7: epic

"Good, good. I'm glad to hear that." You hummed. "Oh-!" You exclaimed a thought coming to your head.

"The other day I was laying in bed ,scrolling through TikTok while I was waiting for Ells to wake up and I saw an edit. OF US!"

User8: I know all my favorite twitch editors edited you. It was so cute 😭

"Hold on let me pull it up," you say tapping the screen if your phone, clicking on TikTok and then favourites. "Right, okay, so it was this one" you said, you turned your phone around showing an out of focus video of you and Ellie edited to the song 'Glue Song' by Beabadoobee.

"When I tell you that when I saw this I cried. I am not kidding. Ended up waking Ellie up cause I was sobbing" you laughed once you finished, shaking your head at the ridiculous memory.

User9 donated $30 'Buy Garfield a new toy'

"aww thank you~" you smile scratching the purring cat between it's ears "You hear that baby, your gonna get a new toy'".

"meow"

"He says thank you and says he appreciates you and thinks your amazing".

You began talking about everything and nothing, talking about different goings on in your lives and thanking donations, all while swiveling around on Ellie's chair, stroking your cat like a bond villain.

"You look... Threatening" a voice you could tell was trying to stifle a laugh came from behind you.

"Ellie baby~ Hi~" you giggle turning around a stupid smile painting onto your face.

"Yeah, hi babe" she laughed in reply, be ding down and pressing a brief kiss to your lips. "What are you guys doing?" She asks looking into the webcam suspiciously.

"Oh we were just chatting"

"and why are you, my gorgeous beautiful smart girlfriend, talking to my chat instead of finishing the assignment you've been procrastinating about for a whole week, hmm?"

"uhhh I plead the fifth" you said, smiling sheepishly at the woman.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Right guys I'm gonna have to end this stream here. If I don't babysit my girlfriend she will wonder off, forget about her work and end up being upset when she hasn't done it. So, girlfriend duties call, bye"

She clicked a few buttons, the screen changing and then switching off, "c'mon baby, let's get to bed" she hummed her arms wrapping around your torso and lifting you out of the seat.

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

Just a quick one before I go to bed 💙.

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly

Join my taglist here

Part 3

[havenscribes]

Only Warriors - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Wakandan!Regent!Reader - Chapter One

Word Count: 2250-ish words Warnings: reader is kinda cocky, MCU level violence, mentions of death and blood, Shuri is our cousin

The River Seine sparkles through the windows, moving like a lullaby back and forth. If teen aged me could see my life now, she wouldn’t be surprised at all. This is my destiny, my birthright, to be wined and dined like a queen, to give speeches in important halls and make real change. Even with the heartbreak of recent losses, I still manage to get up in the morning and make the world a better place. I will always rise to the challenge. Wakandans don’t fail.

Even in front of an audience of more than three hundred glittering royalty and their politician lapdogs, my smile never falters as the photographers flash their cameras at the reclusive Wakandans. Queen Shuri stands before a podium, draped in a silver robe and I sit to her left, surveying for possible threats. Her safety was entrusted to me, finally, as I was promoted from only an apprentice to an advisor, and I intend to be there to protect every one of Wakanda’s leaders. We will never again lose a life because of American foolishness. My nation and I have lost too much to trust in even the rest of the world’s best.

Shuri waits with a quiet distinction for the reporters to quiet their clamor. As the rest of the patrons take their seats, she taps her fingers onto the glass, eyes darting through the crowds just as I was. Smart. Her eyebrows furrow, and she clears her throat to begin.

“Good evening, everyone.”

The crowd murmurs back the greeting and she lifts and sets her jaw, as if he’s preparing for battle. 

“Tonight is a momentous occasion, is it not? The world opens its arms to Wakanda, and little by little, we can give more and more to the world, starting with our genius.”

A part of me hates how cocky she makes us sound, but the majority knows that it's not unwarranted. We are the most technologically advanced nation on Earth, so much so that the rest of the world can’t even begin to fathom the marvels of Wakanda. This is how it always goes, she drums up the passion and I turn that passion into action, usually in the form of donations. The only thing more powerful than the affluents’ selfishness is their desire to one-up another, so after a few drinks, the mouths and pockets of French and English dignitaries get dangerously loose. I may have to dodge a few flying martini glasses and shoes, but within the crossfire, real progress is made.

My job is… complicated, but in a good way. I go to sleep every night knowing I did my part to make the world a better place for kids who look like me, but there’s little time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I spend most of my time traveling, bouncing from expensive hotel to hotel, meeting with ambassadors and beneficiaries to produce a new public image of Wakanda. With the birth of a new Black Panther comes a need for reinvention, and T’Challa’s most recent endeavors were connection with the outside world, so we focus our efforts on youth outreach. I’m not a miracle worker, but I won’t stand by silently as society casts aside another Erik Killmonger.

I feel myself zoning out, scowling at my thoughts and quickly smile a little too pointedly at one invitee. Hidden in plain sight, his eye-contact sends a chill down my spine: the Winter Soldier is here. Draped in a simple black coat with a t-shirt underneath, it appears as if he’s trying to blend in. He nurses something iced and golden, staring back over the rim of his glass, before raising it to me and offering a small smile. I don’t return it. Something about him, the way he struts in any room he pleases holding his head high unnerves me.

Nowadays, he goes by Bucky Barnes. He may have changed his name, but the dark countenance and his strong frame can still make anyone’s blood run cold. Other guests don’t make eye contact even as he weaves through the crowd to his seat, instead gawking at the treasonous metal arm. I can’t help but notice, he’s cut his hair. It turns him from a wild animal to something… approachable. Without the shadows around his neck and shoulders, his skin looks delicate, unprotected. Maybe I could imagine myself touching him, just to know what it felt like. Maybe, he’s not as monstrous as he was made out to be.

At the back of my mind, I feel a shame, ogling him like this, as if I would give him the time of day. Who knows what kind of ulterior motives he’s got, and I don’t have time to set myself back for some kind of fling. My suspicions rise as I look him up and down, but neither of us look away. He may be an acquaintance of Shuri’s, but he and I will never be courteous. No man who has caused that much pain will ever be served at my table.

I remember his face, half obscured in the blurry security camera footage. The videos of the destruction, the disbelief. Our king, my uncle, the leader of the very ground I walk on, gone. Just like that. Taken from me by some terrorist without even the courage to admit his name and reveal himself. The beginning of the end. The transition that we still must heal from, he may not have committed, but he made his first impression on civilians with. And years past, he frees the man who did it? My nostrils flare with rage, but I can’t be swept by anger, not today. The elders and the work I do require my full attention.

“Now, before I leave you all in the capable hands of Wakanda’s Youth Outreach Advisor, I’ll ask you one more question: What have you invested in your nation’s future?”

Shuri gracefully turns away from the audience, smirking smugly like now, you try. I roll my eyes playfully, and stand, straightening my blue chiffon dress. She’s a tough act to follow, but I can give speeches ball-gagged with my eyes closed. I pull her in quickly for a hug but whisper in her ear:

“A bit pretentious, no?”

“They love pretentious.” She hisses, a little too loud if we weren’t away from the microphones. “It makes them feel like they’re winning something when we let them donate money.” 

I make a face like if you say so. She throws her head back in a loud laugh and pats my back hard, leaping down the steps to greet guests. I don’t see this side of her often, but she is the life of the party. The models and young royalty flock to her, begging for any piece they can get of the enterprising new queen. Before I step up to the podium, I use my last moments away from the spotlight to really identify the guests in the crowd. Not just so I can make out the threats, but because tonight is my night. I can’t prove myself to be capable if I have undercover Dora Milaje interspersed throughout the crowd, or, Bast forbid, another Black Panther.

The Winter Soldier still watches, hands pleated at his front, and his head is tilted back some. The light shows me every single one of his staggering features and he’s looking straight at me. Now he’s not just waiting in the wings, he seems invested. Despite myself, I can’t help but wonder, or hope, that I’m what he's interested in. Under his gaze, I start to turn into something else, someone less confident. For a second, I can’t remember my opening statement. My mouth opens and closes fast like a fish, as my eyes dart from my hands on the podium to the ceiling. This is so… strange. I never agree to speak anywhere without rehearsing for weeks on end, but as soon as I get in front of one man, the whole speech ceases to exist?

I can feel the disapproving eyes on me and finally remember to smile and brush it off.

“My apologies, everyone. That bar can make one hell of a martini.” Polite laughter echoes through the hall and my breathing settles. Good. Nothing I can’t fix.

“Thank you all for the applause, even though I hardly feel like I deserve it. Celebration is nice, but securing the futures of children world-wide is more valuable to me than any accolades.” The words come back to me now, faster and faster. “And the beauty of the Wakandan Youth Outreach mission is the collective effort done by educators everywhere, who partnered with us to connect our resources to their needs.”

A slide presentation to my far right features our Shanghai location’s junior art programs. Next, our most recent class of American grade three students learning marine science on glass bottom boats, all with big smiles on their faces, some missing teeth. Secondary students in front of their exotic gardens. I stop for a moment to turn and watch, relishing in our accomplishments. We’ve come so far from the beginning, still reeling from the loss of our beloved king, just a few public servants who no one really expected anything from. But with the support of our Wakandan business owners and the Tribal Council, we’ve blossomed into a task force ready to fight for Black youth all across the world.

“We as adults must do our part in priming our youth to enjoy life to the best of their abilities, and the fastest route to a life full of success is education. Unfortunately, after the Blip, educational systems were the first to take a major hit. Studies show that impoverished children were neglected the most in this time of reconstruction. Many of them felt like the best decision they could make would be to quit trying to learn and get a job, because the schools they attended were too ill-equipped to teach them properly. But with the contributions of quite a few patrons here tonight, we were able to raise a minimum of $55 million dollars to distribute within American Title 1 schools.”

I give a proud smile and nod to my co-director, Patrice. She’s sitting a few tables back, blinking back tears at the progress we’ve made. If anyone should be giving this speech, it's her. In the beginning, when no one else could afford to work anything more than part time, and I could barely afford to pay her, she stayed on. Once we earned the trust of our benefactors, she was able to take a step back and hire her successors, and I’ve seen her reap her good karma ever since. Recently, she’s gotten engaged to her partner, Robert, who she spent all of tonight cuddling up with, and I couldn't be happier for her. Romance was always something I loved from afar, enjoying it through others, but I’m moving too far, too fast to slow down for a partner.

I might not even want to slow down for myself. I could never retire. You don’t retire from learning and admiring humanity. Sometimes you lose love for it, sometimes it seems like an impossible feat to find the good in it, but if you stay hopeful and continue hard work, it can open up to you. And it’s gotten me here, speaking to the world’s most powerful people in the Louvre, thanking them for their help.

“Wakanda has received a number of challenges in the past 10 years, but we refuse to give up on the world. Eight years’ worth of work has gone into building the relationships you cherish now, and I hope to see many more. To educators and their supporters everywhere, we thank you. Goodnight.” The crowd stands and claps, sending out loud cheers through the room as I’m led down the steep stairs. Shuri waves proudly from a cloud of suits, but my eyes wander over to the black sports coat still sitting in the back corner. However, his attention is shifted, and I feel a pang of jealousy towards whatever lies outside of that window. 

All I can see is the water, but the light on it… It’s unnatural. Like the water itself is avoiding the streetlights. A floating object, then two, then three. They double and triple, and I can’t tear my eyes away, even though I think I know what’s going on. When Namor and his subjects attacked, I had only heard of the sirens. Never seen them walk up from the midst of the water, chanting the song that kills. Shuri’s looking over now, and I think she says something, but I can’t hear her. All I can hear is their music, that humming and vocalizing taking me out of my thoughts. I can make out a few figures now, but I want to get closer. I have to get closer.

“Y/n! Get down from there!” 

Shuri grabs me from up against the window. I whip my head around, bewildered, and quickly cover my ears with my hands. On the ground I gather into a fetal position, trying to will my body to stay put. She pries my eyes open, pointing to her Kimoyo beads, and puts them in her ears, motioning for me to do the same. Once I do, it’s like my brain was strapped to a treadmill and only just got off. But before I can react out loud, tens of thousands of gallons of water explode into the exhibit.

[literaticat]

It took me a while to stop crying and resolve to help people who will be targeted (starting 1/20/25). I am also trying to reconnect to even a scrap of joy, by tiptoeing back into writing. But...I keep analyzing my WIPs through the lens of how That Guy will be making half the country feel, wondering, "Is X funny enough? Is Y topic too serious?" Help?! Is it worth writing/querying anything that's not totally escapist? Are there genres that should just stay in a drawer right now?

No need to wait until January to help people! :-)

As to the writing piece: I think you are overthinking it. And hey, I get that! Half the country is still somewhat in "reeling mode", it hasn't even been a month, no need to make any huge decisions or change the course of your writing life or fret about queries that you aren't ready to send anyway right this second. Give yourself some grace. Do some deep breathing.

Nobody knows what the future will bring.

Hey, maybe people will want to read more than they ever have and publishing will thrive across all genres. Maybe there will be an unforeseen trend of books about cowboys in space or something that will make a genre flourish that we haven't ever even thought of before!

Or, maybe the tarriffs will eff publishing up so badly we won't need to worry about ANY genres anymore. Maybe he'll sell us all to Daddy Vladdy for a nickel or start Civil War II and we'll all have to become resistance fighters. (Or, maybe we'll get lucky and the meteor will come; that might be better, because I don't have much to offer in the way of actual resistance fighting unless the troops need children's books or cookies!)

But since none of those lines of thinking are particularly helpful or healthy, maybe let's not focus on speculating about all the random possible scenarios. It's too much! Your brain will break!

Here's what is within your purview: YOUR LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD. That includes your work, yes, but also your home, your family, your personal behavior and habits, your physical and mental health, and the well-being of your communities (both literal, like, the people who live near you, and figurative, the people near you or even across the country or the globe with whom you have shared values, etc)

I'm not an expert obvs, but I do feel like, when I stop "reeling" and thinking about whatever bizzaro outrage some politician is perpetrating and start thinking about what tangible things I can do to help support MY LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD, I feel a lot better. More useful.

(Like, how about instead of doomscrolling, I actually take that time and put my impotent rage to use pulling out the dying tomato plants and getting the yard ready for winter? How about instead of crying into my pillow, I gather a bunch of stuff to donate to a local charity? OH LOOK, I FORGOT ABOUT THE NEWS FOR A WHILE AND GOT THINGS DONE AND MADE MY CORNER OF THE WORLD BETTER! And now I'm tired and can take a nice shower and watch something silly on TV and go to sleep! Yay!)

What I'm saying is, AFTER you do the deep breathing and give yourself grace and all that stuff -- maybe DON'T think about your WIPS through the lens of "OMG what horror show is that freak in the white house doing" or "what will random terrible people think about what I'm doing" -- but rather, think, how do *I* feel about what I'm doing?

We have limited time on this earth -- do you WANT to spend your time on this? Will working on this bring you joy? Does the idea of writing it excite you? Will it reading it bring other people in your communities joy, or hope, or escapism, or important information, or inspiration, or *something else positive*? Those are the kinds of projects you should focus on, imo.

Obviously I have no clue what "Trends" will be coming up in the future, or what the publishing landscape or the world will look like at all -- but I DO SUSPECT that what we will need the most is books that bring something positive to the table. Whether that means a book full of pure delight/escapist entertainment, or reminders about what is beautiful in the world and special about humanity, or tools to help people enact change, or fuel for the next generation of rebels and resistance fighters, or whatever it is.

And, I think that "something positive" could come in the form of fiction, nonfiction, and pretty much ANY genre or category.

(Probably not a great time for extremely bleak / hopeless books, and certainly not a great time for books that you yourself are not passionate about. Writing and publishing is hard enough - don't do the projects that are a misery on top of all that!)

[territorial-tarot-tahr]

C.o.D smut

Word count: 6.3k

CW: Blood and general menstruation if that's gross to you, don't read it. There's self loathing but as a backdrop. Also explicit sexual content below the cut.

Summary: AFAB/Transmasc reader is in pain and Soap tries to help.

P.o.V: Second Person

Again, if you found my A03 from this, no you didn't. Shut up. This one's shorter and a bit older(4months?)than the prior piece. I'm also gonna be so real and say this was written as a mostly self indulgent piece so that's why it's stupidly corny.

No spoilers for any C.o.D game.

🚨Go to my main account "rorschach-retrograding-rotary" for requests or commissions. Or you can just toss something in the comments or something🚨

‼️🚨This was not proof read and I hate reading my work so I have no intention of proof reading it🚨‼️

Feel free to commission me or donate 𝕙𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕤://𝕜𝕠-𝕗𝕚.𝕔𝕠𝕞/𝕤𝕒𝕪_𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤𝕖

Sweat seemed to find permanent residency on your skin, the ring around your neck was already evidence enough of that. Every second that you felt the uncomfortable ache, it seemed to cut open the scars along your chest again. People who needed to know, knew. People who didn't, didn't. Price and the medical team knew, but that was the extent. You figured the information was on a more need-to-know basis, and as such, only the aforementioned individuals and an otherwise small list knew. 

This list didn't include your 189cm, Scottish lover-boy. Whether out of fear of rejection, or attempt of denial by ignoring, you still hadn't gotten around to it. He'd yet to do anything that would make you think he wouldn't be alright with it, but it was still a risky step you weren't eager to take. You'd found yourself awoken in a disgruntled haze, hair coated in drool and some in your mouth as you blinked awake. A familiar coil of discomfort had knotted itself in your gut. With no heating pad, you'd simply dragged yourself off your cot and to the kitchen after a quick stop in the latrine, which had turned up a few painkillers that seemed to be taking their sweet time. You'd had painful cramps before, sure. But usually you had taken proper care to count and keep track of when to expect them, and as such, you were loaded up on preemptive painkillers.

You hadn't found yourself as prepared or lucky this time. This month you'd simply lost track considering that you'd been on a mission for around two weeks at the point and the focus had been more on whether you'd be alive in any given moment rather than when you'd start bleeding. Well, you reap what you sow. And now here you were, fighting your urge to double over and lay curled up on the floor till you passed out. At least the floor would probably be colder than the heat that felt as if it was stuck to your skin like a damp shirt. That was fair, your shirt was pretty soaked in sweat at the moment.

 Coffee cup after coffee cup seemed the easier answer than laying back down at the mercy of your already wide-awake mind. You couldn't wager a guess on how long you'd stood there waiting, time seemed to slip away from you. The small clock on the wall made a dull chorus of clicks as the second hand flicked by, and the 24 hour digital clock nearby clicked in chorus at every minute. Despite this, your attention did not drift to them, or the whirr of the overachieving air conditioner above, which did nothing to lessen your sweat. Instead, your attention seemed more than eager to slip away to your white-knuckled grip on the rim of the sink, a dish towel at each palm with cold water providing some relief. His hands were on your hips before you'd even realized he was actually behind you.

His breath was warm in your unwashed hair, and his calloused fingers had already begun to dig into the fabric of your shirt. Your forehead was against the cool wood of the cabinet, and it took everything in your power to try not to focus on what you assumed might've been very early morning wood. Or genuinely just something in his pocket.  

"Couldn't sleep?" His remark was sarcastic, the answer already evident as your trembling fingers worked grime off the rim of a mug. You shuddered in response, his breath warm on your neck as gooseflesh covered your body. A t-shirt and plaid pajama pants were evidently not enough to keep the cold away or hold it at bay and since it was easier to find a practically permanent spot in the barracks than getting an apartment, you found yourself cutting your loses.

"Army of coffee cups around here not tipping you off?" Your comment seemed snark-ier than you had intended, but your hand on his and a gentle squeeze seemed to be enough of an apology. Dark bags were under your eyes, fatigue and exhaustion was evident on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder. His shirt was faded, stains from coffee and cigarette butts formed their own patterns across the barely recognizable band logo it had once shown. Either he'd slept in his shoes and jeans or he'd decided to put them on after noticing you'd gotten up in the night.

"Collective break room. Cups were just as likely to be yours as they were to be Simons." He yawned as he leaned further against you. His footing wasn't lost but it seemed slightly comical in the moment how lazy he was trying to be. Too tired to stand up straight but enough energy to not only realize you'd woken up, but also notice you were acting odd and try to get to the bottom of it. His voice was rough, evidently still half asleep as he continued. "All I'm askin' is, what's eatin' yuh?"

You huffed softly and shuffled where you stood. You mumbled incoherently as John patted your hip, his fingers rubbed the fabric for a moment longer. He traced the indent of your hip bone against your pants before leaning down to hold his face against your neck. He spoke quietly, his voice muffled as he made a comment about you needing to eat more. You neglected to answer, scoffing and rolling your eyes as you instead pushed his hands from your hips to hold your waist instead. You heard his soft grunt of amusement before it faded to a yawn again.

He kissed along your neck for a moment as he took the mug and carelessly tossed it into the sink. A few moments more and he'd planted his feet before hoisting you up onto the counter. You'd never been particularly short, but sitting on the counter was what it took for you to be eye level with John. You could see his eyes were matched by yours with similar rings of dark circles. His lacked the bloodshot lines that creeped at the corners of yours but regardless, it was still evident that he was tired.

His lips found your neck and he bit your skin gently, leaving a small red mark that bloomed on your skin as he patted your thighs with his warm palms. His eyes searched yours for any cues he was missing, something he was supposed to be getting but wasn't, though you knew if you did decide to try and make him guess that it would be hours before he'd even be on the correct ballpark of correct answers. Easier just to throw him a bone. Something vague that would get him to back off for a bit. The back of your head touched a cabinet as you leaned back. You swiped your hand across your mouth to remove any excess coffee before shrugging.

"Just not- I'm not feeling all that great." Your brows were knit in a small scowl as you wrung your hands together. Your palms were sweaty, a sigh on your lips as his hands squeezed your waist again. His hands were warm. You could feel it through your shirt as he gently kneaded some of the skin. He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, working more off of what felt good rather than thinking through his moves.

He attempted a light-hearted scoff as he scrutinized your excuse. Though you were unamused regardless and shoved at his shoulder, a sneer tugging at your lips. Though he quickly kissed you on the mouth, the sneer leaving your face as his lips met yours. You wagered he used more force than he meant to, as your neck was being forced to an odd angle with the back of your head against the cabinet.

"'ve seen yuh get shot, stabbed, punched, pinned. Seen all that shite. And I know yuh don't go all mopey or secretive about it. Talk to me, gaol. What's actually got yuh wide awake?" Damn, he was earnest as hell. You avoided his practically pleasing gaze as he implored you to share whatever your burden was, whatever ailed you in the moment. Whatever it was, he wanted to share it or at least try and get you to open up. You swallowed hard and you couldn't be sure if you would actually articulate anything if you opened your mouth. You weren't sure whether you wanted to or not either.

One of his hands left your hips and ran through your hair and you leaned into the touch as you begrudgingly met his gaze. Cold sweat sat in your tresses and you wondered how he could stand to touch your slicked locks.

"I'm not pulling your leg, Johnny. I'm not feeling all too hot right now. That's all." Your insistence came out as almost wishy-washy. A whiny complaint as you sat on the counter and stared at him through weary eyes. Your statement earned you unforseen side effects in the form of a cheeky grin as he kissed your cheek and spoke in a teasing tone.

"Yer definitely lookin' hot if it's any consolation."

Oh. Oh. It had little to no intention of telling him that regardless of how "hot" you looked right now, you felt like a ketchup bottle of blood and no amount of flattery would really help that.

You only seemed to register his further attempts at testing the waters when one of his hands found the hem of your shirt. He maintained eye contact as he began to tug your shirt up slightly, exposing the lower muscles of your abdomen. He seemed to be waiting more for your consent and permission, trying to see how up for action you were at the moment. He was met with you grabbing his wrist as you practically snapped:

"Wait." From you as you stared him down, wide-eyed with an air of panic streaked on you.

It wasn't as though you'd never gotten intimate before, but being intimate with him specifically would be new. You'd had a few partners in highschool but none who were important enough to mention. They'd also only known you from before your first surgery. When you'd been grabbing onto anything in an attempt to try and force yourself into the idea that if you could play the part of a highschool girl, then maybe you'd find some kind of satisfaction in that life. You didn't enjoy that part of your past, and as such you hadn't disclosed it to your peers.

You'd been too cautious to let John know about your surgery yet, too worried that he'd treat or think of you differently. As such, you'd usually turn the topic to him. With intimate times usually culminating in you practicing your blow or hand job skills or simply just denying intimacy altogether on some occasions. You always remained fully dressed, with your most casual being a tank top and shorts. You let him touch freely over your top, and he usually ended up holding the back of your head but that was the extent. You tried to focus intimacy back to him, focusing on making him feel good.

He'd always done his best to be understanding while still expressing concern for you. Nights of one-sided intimacy ended with him asking in earnest if there was something he could do for you. Stating he "didn't want to leave you with blue balls". You'd always shrugged it off and insisted you were alright, to which he'd find some way to repay you sooner or later. He'd grab a copy of a book he knew you wanted, try and cook you something in the barrack's kitchen or simply get you flowers when he saw them.

He'd done nothing that would make you think he wouldn't be accepting, and yet you still found your stomach in knots and your heart pounding away in your chest as his fingers cautiously rested on your shirt. His eyes searched yours and despite your unsure inner turmoil, you still found that you couldn't find it in yourself to ask him to stop. You wanted him to know. You wanted to stop feeling guilty. To stop feeling like it was some kind of shameful secret that you had to hide from him.

Your throat seemed suddenly and uncomfortably dry. A few swallows did nothing to quell the dry spot that seemed less than eager to leave. John removed his hand from your shirt, letting one stay on your hip and bringing the other up open palmed by his head as if in surrender.

"Not looking to tic you off, 'pologies." It was clear that there was guilt in his tone as he gently squeezed your hip again. His face gained a slight blush of embarrassment at having driven that strong of a reaction from you. Christ, had he pissed you off? Had he made things worse? Here you were simply trying to deal with whatever was makin' you get up in the middle of the night and he came along and pissed you off. Great going genius. Dumbass.

His internal monologue was practically written across his face as his gaze went from the coffee mugs, to the cabinets, the ceiling and really anything that wasn't your face. In return, you found your own embarrassment creeping on your face. He'd been trying to do something for you, to be nice and you'd snapped. You'd snapped at him for something that you had planned on doing yourself. Damnit. Alright, off with the band-aid.

"I didn't mean to yell, you just- you just startled me. That's all." It was time for your own gaze to be best friends with the floor as you continued speaking. "I'd just like to ask a selfish promise of you first. Is that okay?"

"Oddly serious."

"John."

"Sorry. Alright, ask away."

How do you phrase this? You'd never really had to think of it before, you'd naively assumed that you could cruise through the relationship without the topic ever coming up.

"Just promise that you won't get mad at me."

He paused for a moment, his eyebrow cocked up in an arch as he gnawed the inside of his cheek.

"Sounds like it's gonna depend on what yer about to spring on me."

You seemed ready to insist and he quickly amended his statement, a kiss on your forehead before he spoke.

"Yes, sorry. I promise I won't be mad at you."

You paused before nodding in acknowledgement and guiding his free hand back to your shirt hem. His fingers ran along the cloth for a few moments more before eventually tugging the cloth up again. His other hand joined the first in the ordeal of lifting up your shirt and before long, he was holding the balled up shirt in one hand haphazardly. Your thin scars sat pale and discolored against the rest of your skin and you saw his eyes trace over your body a few times before meeting your gaze again. There, you'd done it. Your cheeks burned what you could only assume was a vibrant scarlet as you waited for some statement of acknowledgement or a scoff. Maybe a huff before he broke down your self esteem.

Though you were eventually met with a sympathetic look as his set your shirt to the side and resumed holding your hips.

"That all?"

Was that all?

You'd shown the man what had been your secret. What kept you awake on some nights just wondering in a cold sweat about how he'd react, if he'd insult you, demean you. Break up with you on the spot, spread the word among your peers. Leave you getting stared at when you walked into a room. But what you'd earned instead was a "That all?"

"The fuck do you mean, 'that all?'" You weren't livid, you weren't annoyed, honestly you couldn't place what you were. Had you wanted some big reaction out of him? Had you wanted a big emotional confrontation? Well, no, but what you'd wanted at least something. Not a reaction that made it seem like you were being dismissed.

You opened your mouth to speak again and instead found him cutting you off with an abrupt kiss that bumped your head against the cabinet again from the force he'd used. He held the kiss for longer than you found normal and just as you were about to try and tap on his shoulder as a reminder that you needed to break for air, he pulled away and laughed quietly to himself as his hands rested on his own hips.

"Laddie, you had me worried yuh were about to reveal some kind of second head or fused twin in some Total Recall type of shite. Maybe a really corny tattoo that I would laugh at 'und not be able to take yuh seriously because of. But this? I don't get how yuh think I'd be mad about it. 'Could spend hours jus' starin' at you if yuh'd let me. What I'm getting at here, is that yer quite possibly the most gorgeous guy I've had the fortune of layin' eyes on. Scars or not." Near the end of his accented monologue, he gently began cupping the your face before kissing your forehead again.

Your mind seemed to have paused, processing everything slowly. Maybe you were just hormonal. Maybe you just had pent up aggression from something else, but you found self loathing begin to rush over you in droves as you thought about the aforementioned nights laying in puddles of your cold sweat as you worried and terrified yourself with an endless sleep of scenarios and what-ifs that scared you into not telling him for so long. And yet here he was. He seemed to be barely thrown-off his paces.

You found tears lining your vision, frustration at yourself as well as some swell of relief had planted seed in your heart as you leaned forward to cry into his shoulder. He looked fairly surprised or at least unexpecting of that reaction, though he quickly found his role again. One hand moved to be buried in your hair and gently massaging your scalp as the other found your back and gently patted it between your gasping inhales.

One of the few things that kept you from wailing into the material of his shirt, was the knowledge that you weren't trying to awake or draw the attention of any late night walkers nearby. Instead, you did your best for emotional release via choked sobs and your quivering breaths. You grabbed a handful of his shirt with one hand and your other wrapped under his arm to hold tightly to his back as you gave another shaky inhale and left the impression of your tears and spit in darkened patches across his shirt.

"Gotta throw this into the dryer before I call it in for the night, yeah?" He chuckled quietly into your hair as he gave you a squeeze. He was warm against you, and you found your lungs gradually being able to work actual proper breaths into your chest. Your crying hadn't lasted all that long, but your process of calming down and simply laying against him lasted far longer. He planted another kiss on your head before gently holding your jaw in his warm hands. He swiped his thumbs across your face to wipe away your stray tears.

He held your gaze for a few moments longer before speaking. His voice was quiet, his eyes searching yours as he attempted to check if you were alright or not yet in an unspoken question. You gave one final quivering exhale as you collected your thoughts and what dignity you had left.

A few moments more and you had calmed down fully and you'd hopped off the counter. He held your hand in a firm but gentle grip and it seemed like he had something more to say, but you cut off him. Figuring that you owed him an explanation for his initial question.

"I'm cramping. That's why I'm down here. Couldn't sleep."

It seemed clear that he wasn't sure what you were speaking of initially. His mind most likely moving through any of the training or sparring sessions where he might've hit you harder than necessary or when you could've possibly sprained it. Though a few moments more and a few embarrassed hand gestures from you, he seemed to get the gist. Your cheeks gained the splash of bright red again as you saw him begin trying to think through how to help.

"Pain killers?"

"A couple in my system right now. Not helping."

"..heatin' pad?"

"Couldn't find one."

He paused in his suggestions and it was clear he had something working in his mind as he stared at you for a moment longer before giving his next idea.

"You uh- you try an orgasm yet?"

You quickly threw a swing and slugged him in the shoulder as you scrunched your eyes to a glare. You called him a pervert and you saw him smile subtly as he feigned pain from your punching. He rubbed his arm and gave a quick hiss through his teeth as he continued pretending your attack had hurt him, complaining half-heartedly that you would leave a bruise. Regardless, he let you continue to punch him a few more times, though the smile and crinkle of the corners of his eyes made it clear he was anything but upset.

"Lay off, lay off." He chuckled for a moment as he took your hands in his before moving them to your side, though you quickly crossed your arms as you shot him a half-hearted glare.

"Look, all I'm sayin', luv is that I was with a girl a good number of years back. Anytime it was shark week she'd ask for some time together and I, being the astute gentleman that I am, would say yes. She was claimin' it made her feel better for a littl' while. I ain't sayin' there's some great biological flare to it, but at the very least, it took her mind off it for a while if there ain't any other explanation." He cast you a subtle smile before planting another kiss on the side of your neck, taking care to bite the skin and leave a red blemish.

Your brows furrowed as you scrunched up your face in a mild show of scrutinization. You were sure his story had some merit to it in terms of the source material but in terms of whether or not it actually meant anything? Whatever it was, he believed what he was saying even if you were suspicious of it. You found the warmth of his hands had been traveling up slowly but surely, with his hands now on your side instead of your hips. As he held your eye contact, the question was practically written on his face. His eyebrows were raised as he waited for your answer. One of his hands still squeezed your side but the other dropped slowly to rest on the curve of your groin through your pants. Damn it. What did you really have to lose?

--

"You know this is insanely unsanitary, yeah?"

Your protest was practically token at this point. You had little intention of actually backing down now but you still wanted to put all the cards on the table. Some kind of disclosure. Or at the very least one final chance for him to back out if he had his own doubts he'd been too polite to speak.

"Well aware." His tone was matter-of-factly in that his will or decision wouldn't be the one wavering. Though it was clear you were more than welcome to still change your mind if you wanted to. He'd slung your t-shirt along with his underneath you in leu of a towel or blanket considering he didn't want to risk waking anyone up on his way to the barracks. The hour was still late enough that no one else was awake. No one else should've been awake. The clock gave another scornful series of clicks and you watched his jaw already at work even as he stood with his hands on his hips staring at your closed knees.

"Are you chewing gum?"

"......maybe. That an issue?"

"Johnny, I don't want you somehow spitting gum in my- look when did you even get it?"

You watched as he quickly swallowed the piece without hesitation and shrugged as he glanced back to you. He began to speak with a tone that made it clear his comment was satirical. Or at the very least an attempt at self depreciation to try and make you more comfortable since you seemed less than whole-y in your element. He wasn't entirely stupid. He was sure if he was laying splayed out like a Christmas turkey on table, he wouldn't exactly be full of confidence. He spoke with his hands. That was something you'd begun to notice during your months of being together. And it seemed reflected now with how he spoke with vague gestures and a grin that now tugged at his lips, revealing the tops of his teeth and some hints of gums.

"Feel like there's a lot of unwarranted judgement coming my way about my breath care and gum habits. Specifically coming from someone who's asking me to eat them out or fuck their pussy till they see stars."

You cringed slightly from your spot on the table, you propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared at him from between your knees. You were sure he hadn't meant anything by it, and in all honesty you couldn't pin down why you disliked it either. But his use of "pussy" just made your stomach churn more than the cramps were already.

"Y'mind not calling it that?"

"Callin' it what? A pussy?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I mean I can be gross and jus' call it a hole if yuh'd like. That sound insanely sexy? 'Laddie, please let me fuck your hole.'" He trailed off into a quiet laugh as he wiped his lips. It seemed clear that he was working through compromises in his mind. As much as he was joking, it seemed clear he was still trying to find a solution that pleased you. He ran his pointer finger and thumb over his top lip, rubbing what stubble had managed to grow out before he settled on one.

"Does 'cunt' work?"

You raised an eyebrow in response, seemingly more of a "convince me" rather than an absolute "no". You adjusted the shirts underneath your hips, your flannel pants were catching on the fabric and you found a short internal monologue crossing your mind as you began wondering why you hadn't already taken them off. You felt foolish. They were going to come off anyways, so why'd that have to be part of whatever attempt at being "sexy" he'd pull? Whatever. Your internal monologue was cut off by his voice soon after.

"Simple yes or no. If I were to say-" His voice started off at what you assumed was his attempt at "husky" but considering his accent, was more so borderline incomprehensible in the beginning. "There is nothing more that I'd like to do right now than grab your knees, snap your legs open and eat out your cunt like it was the last fuckin' meal on this whole damn planet-" He trailed off, his fingers had begun tracing along your hips again before eventually fondling the tassels of your pants as he undid them. When he was done, his fingers were hooked along the seam of your waist and and he was leaning his head against your partially parted legs, his cheek on your knee.

"What would yuh do then? Would that be doin' anythin' for yuh?" You feigned deep thought, rubbing your chin for a moment as you egged him on. You brought your other knee to the other side of his head and gently squeezed.

"I'd probably say I'd need a bit more convincing."

He brought a hand up to haphazardly grab at the thigh of the leg that he wasn't leaning against. He opened your legs slightly further and he enunciated his syllables further now with dropping his head and inch of two. "Alright well what 'bout this," He hummed in thought for a moment or two as he mulled over what to say.

"I could say somethin' along the lines of 'seein' you splayed out like this with a cunt that's practically begging for me to fuck, 'und a mouth that's beggin' me to kiss it. You've got eyes that make me want to get lost in 'em. You've got a voice like music." He seemed to laugh for a second before adding onto the monologue, almost in a purposely attempt to ruin whatever blissful or heartfelt tone. "You've got a cunt that I'd be more than happy to already be inside of by now."

This was met with a surprisingly sheepish grin from you as you used a hand to shove his face off your leg as you tuned away and attempted to keep some kind of cool or reserved exterior.

"Yeah sure. I guess that'd do something for me." With that confirmation of yours, he cast you a toothy grin again before making quick work of your pajamas pants. He had first bitten the hem and tugged them down a few inches, but after a look of confusion that you shot him, he quickly abandoned that idea and instead just used his hands like a normal person. He'd balled them up and tossed your pants aside without much thought. His lips soon found your abdomen and he began planting kisses all along your visible skin.

When he got to your chest, he cast you a glance. It seemed more like confirmation of permission as he held your gaze. You gaze a curt nod of acknowledgement, almost more akin to embarrassment before he exhaled warm breath onto your skin. You were met with a string of chaste kisses along one of your scars as he gently squeezed your sides. One of his knees was hiked up onto edge of the table as he leaned further forward, the kisses continuing to follow. The kisses turned to hickies as he began leaving red marks that bloomed across your skin, and you watched as he stared in some amount of odd satisfaction as the marks began to cover larger amounts of different patches of your skin.

He left another blooming red mark on the bottom of your jaw before capturing your lips in a kiss. One of his hands became tangled in your hair, grabbing almost a whole fistful as he held onto you with some depraved amount of desperation that you couldn't even be sure the origin of. After a while, he seemed to remember that it was a good idea to let you breath, and he broke the kiss. Staring down at you through hazy eyes as he huffed quietly. His huffing left every exhale as a puff of his breath straight to your face, and you counted yourself lucky that he'd had the forethought to chew the gum before hand.

He shot you a quick grin before quickly slipping off you and moving to stand at the edge of the table again. He wiped his hands on his pants though he hadn't dirtied them. He then let his fingers trail at the edges of the waistband of the boxers you had on. You grimaced slightly as he pulled at your boxers again before leaving you bare on the table. Your face burned a vibrant scarlet and you stared at one of the walls to your side, though you felt him tap your calf for your attention.

"Jus' give me the word and we'll stop. Yeah?"

You nodded shakily but kept your gaze on the wall only to hear him call for a verbal response.

"Not doin' anythin' till I hear it."

You nodded again as you responded, speaking almost under your breath in a seemingly annoyed fashion. "Understood."

"Lovely."

With that you felt him press his middle and pointer finger to the folds of your cunt. His thumb rested lazily on your clit as he dragged his fingers around for a few moments. His fingers slipped into your cunt with little resistance and he found that the blood worked surprisingly well considering he wasn't sure how aroused you were and how much of the slick was yours. You were warm. Felt slicker than he wagered you'd be after an orgasm as well. He then moved his fingers to the base of your cunt before giving one quick swipe upwards, dragging a smear of your blood up with him. You yelped, shot him a confused stare as he laid a hand open-palmed on your abdomen.

"That alright, luv?" He met your gaze for a moment as he rubbed his finger tips to his thumb, feeling your blood in a way that weirded you out. Though what drew a cry of disgust from your lips was when he swiped his fingers across his tongue, tasting your blood. You gagged for a moment and physically cringed as you began yelling about how gross he was. He shushed you quickly for a moment and was cut off by his own barky laugh.

"Again. I'm hearin' a lot of complaints from someone who's needin' somethin' from me. And if you keep yellin' like that, you're probably gonna catch some poor passerby-er's attention."

You begrudgingly gritted your teeth as you turned your gaze away from him and mumbled a half-hearted sigh of acquiescence. "Whatever."

You nodded though and returned to staring up at the ceiling above, an occasional glance at either of the two clocks as they clicked quietly. Your mind wandered for a moment as you attempted to try and keep your mind off of how exposed you felt. The cool air on your cunt only seemed to add to the sensation and you squirmed for a moment more before settling still again. What seemed to summon your attention again was his movement as he crouched down, his hands gripping the outside of your thighs. His face was between your legs and you met his gaze for a moment before you saw him lick a stripe along your folds.

You grunted, moving a hand to lay across your eyes as he dragged his tongue from bottom to top of your sex. You gritted your teeth again and found that your mind traveled to the fact of how unsanitary it all was. You thought of the mess of blood that must've been in his stubble at the moment and you found yourself suppressing a small gag. Despite this, you stayed quiet considering how good it felt. His tongue slipped into your cunt and you squeezed instinctively to which he grunted. A puff of his warm breath hit your cunt, and you heard him mumble softly. As such, you felt the vibrations hit your heart in a way that sparked a rumble in your throat.

Your cunt already ached from your cramps and you found that his tongue was driving you closer to an orgasm than you wagered you would've been otherwise or in regular circumstances. Every lick across your cunt left you fighting your urge to buck against his mouth for more friction, but you quickly found the he seemed to get the message. His hands tightened on your hips and tugged you forward for closer contact as he continued licking, his hawked nose occasionally dragging further in your folds. He wouldn't pretend that it tasted amazing, but the tang of copper on his tongue wasn't something he found particularly offsetting.

You whined softly and he squeezed the malleable flesh of your hips in what you assumed was his attempt at a reassuring fashion. His mouth moved upwards along your cunt, his tongue eventually lapping at your clit. You could more directly see the blood on his lips and stubble now as well as the flecks across his nose. His hands moved from your thighs to the tops of your knees as he began to spread your legs further. You whined softly in return, feeling your muscles ache in return as your breathing hitched.

Your heart hammered in your chest and his eyes seemed hazy as he continued lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated dog at a water bowl. He continued lapping with more intention as he dipped his tongue further between your folds. He could feel his cock grow stiff against his leg and he did his best to ignore it. You were important. This was for you. He resigned himself to fucking his hand after you fell asleep.

You whined softly and moaned from behind your hand as he tugged you closer. The work of his mouth on your clit left you giving a shrill mewl as you came. You heard him grunt in surprise and felt him release your clit which he'd begun sucking on. You saw him blink a few times before licking the discharge from your folds as it made it's way down and mixed with the remaining blood in your folds.

After he finished cleaning the remains of your orgasm, he stood back and looked you over as if to gauge your reaction or wait for any criticism. He criss-crossed his arms and laid his forearms across the tops of your knees and stared down at you before speaking softly. "Y'alright?"

You nodded blearily, half focused on him and half focused on trying to keep some kind of dignified expression again as you spoke. "M' good."

You heard and saw him chuckle before cleaning his face with his hand before wiping it on his pant's leg. He leaned over you for a moment, keeping balance on his forearm before pressing a kiss to your forehead and then pressing one to your lips. A few moments more and you rubbed your mouth absentmindedly for a moment as you looked him over. Your cunt had stopped painfully throbbing and your stomach had stopped coiling in knots for a a moment. Maybe his ex had actually been right about something.

[rebelwrites]

Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As you Think.

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Standing amongst the crowd I watched Jax and Tig take the makeshift stage that had been built down by the lake. I was still unsure why we needed a stage this big but Jax and Pops were adamant they wanted it, they sure as hell loved theatrics. Tearing my gaze away from Jax I turned to look at Charles, who now had Elenor sitting on his shoulders, she had a proud smirk on her face like she had just walked into a candy store and the store owner told her everything was free.

“Tu vas bien, ma chérie ? Are you all right, darling?” Charles beamed, flashing me a smile.

“I will be,” I hummed, reaching up gently squeezing his arm. After the photos were released on instagram this morning I felt myself holding back from public displays of affection and it was killing me.

“Auntie Nova, can we have a movie night tonight?” Elenor grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes at me, “and can Uncle Charles and Uncle Pierre come as well?”

“I don’t see why not baby,” I beamed back at her before turning to Charles, “you down for movie night with my crazy ass family? There is a high possibility we will be making our way through all of the Cars movies,” I giggled, knowing that Elenor would beg and plead to put all three films on.

“Sunshine, didn’t you know Cars is one of my favorite movies,” he smirked with a wink.

“Alright then, Lightning McQueen.”

“Kachow.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide the snort that escaped my lips, “you did not just Kachow me. God, you are a giant dork!”

Before Charles could respond Jax’s voice echoed around the lake, as if the boy needed a microphone he was loud enough as it was, “I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone turning up today. Before we kick off the annual scavenger hunt I have just been made aware of a few donations that have come in anonymously.”

I found myself cocking my brow at my brother who just smirked at me, throwing me a wink as he pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, “I honestly could cry at these donations. Two people have donated 26 thousand dollars between them, with 10 thousand dollars going towards the dementia charity and 16 thousand dollars being given,'' the words were getting caught in his throat, as he covered his eyes with his hand trying to stop the tears, “to the Teller family to help with any future care that JT needs.”

There was nothing stopping the tears from spilling over my lashline, I didn’t even try to stop them. That's when it hit me, everything made perfect sense. Two donations which both happened to be the same numbers as the two dorks standing either side of me drove under. Without saying a word I turned to Pierre pulling him into a tight hug, before turning to Charles reaching my hand up resting it on his cheek with a watery smile on my face.

“Baby, you ain’t as anonymous as you think,” I whispered, feeling him copy my movements but instead of letting his hand sit still against my skin he slowly used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sunshine.”

The rest of the day went by in one big blur, the scavenger hunt was a success, even if it was the first year where I didn’t win but I didn’t care. My focus was on Charles, I wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together so the afternoon was spent wandering around town, showing Charles the places that held fond memories for me. All whilst keeping an eye out for people that might be trying to leak pictures of the two of us, luckily for us everyone was more focused on the events of the day then me and Charles.

“I just need to finish up here then we can head back to mine,” I hummed, leaning up on my tiptoes pressing my lips against his cheek.

“Take your time Sunshine,” he smiled, picking Elenor up, sitting her on the top of the bar.

I couldn’t help but smile as I walked away from the two of them, slipping into the back I needed to find Jax. I knew where he would be, taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle before slowly pushing it open. I needed to clear the air between us. I hated the fact we had hardly spoken all day.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning against the wooden frame.

“Hey, yourself,” he said looking up from the paper that was in his hands, “about earlier,”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles hoodie, “my head has been all over the place recently with you know,” I paused, dropping my gaze to my hands, “everything with Pops and the social media post, then you tell me we fucked up with Juice, I just kinda exploded.”

“We do need to talk about it though,” Jax sighed, dropping the paper onto the desk.

“I know,” I whispered, finally looking back up at my brother, “I need to get my head straight first, okay.”

“Okay,” Jax nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, taking a few strides across the small room before he pulled me into a tight hug, “I still love you, don’t worry about that Squirt.”

Resting my cheek against the cool leather, I took another deep breath, “enough mushy shit, Elenor wants a movie night so lock the office up and let's get outta here.”

Jax didn’t take much convincing, I knew that movie nights were his favorite, taking a step back, I started walking back into the main room. The moment I stepped out behind the bar I felt my blood starting to boil at the sight that was in front of me. My fingers twitched as I formed a fist, I was ready to punch a bitch.

She was pushing her fake ass tits up against Charles and fluttering her false eyelashes.

“If you wanna live, I would suggest you walk away whilst you have the chance,” I said through gritted teeth, pausing so I could unclench my fist covering Elenor’s ears, “you fucking skanky ass bitch.”

The smirk that Ima flashed made me want to grab the knife from behind me, the one that we used to cut up the lemon and limes, “well, let's be real, you aren’t the kind of person that Charlie goes for,” she laughed, turning back to Charles, running her fingers across his cheek. I didn’t miss the slight flinch that happened when she made contact with him.

“If you wanna be real, then I can get real,” I growled, placing my palm on the bar, shifting my weight onto my hand. I launched myself over the counter, “I might just start a bonfire out back, throwing your scrawny ass on it, watching you melt in the flames,” before she had a chance to respond, my fingers were tangled in her hair extensions, yanking her head back with so much force I was surprised I didn’t snap her neck.

“Get off me you golddigger,” she screamed, trying to claw at my hands.

“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, cocking my brow.

“Some football player,” she said with so much confidence I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, such a skilled football player,” I said with a playful tone, locking eyes with Charles, watching as he laughed slightly with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jax, leaning against the back worktop with a smug smirk on his face, “need any help Squirt?” he asked, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” I nodded, tugging harder on Ima’s hair causing her to scream, “the trash just needs taking out, that's all,” I growled, storming out of the bar, dragging Ima behind me.

Ignoring the sound of her cries I didn’t stop until I was standing outside of the building. I didn’t care if I was being over dramatic, this bitch needed to keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her, like my man.

Shit, I was calling him my man now.

Fuck, I was acting like a jealous girlfriend!

I didn’t even know if I could call myself Charles’ girlfriend, just the thought made my heart skip a beat but I knew that come the end of the summer break he would be back doing what he did best. Racing around tracks at 200 miles an hour, living that playboy life, more than likely forgetting I existed.

Pushing the thoughts down I let my fist collide with Ima’s nose feeling the familiar crunching feeling under my knuckles, “you better stay away from him if you don’t want your whole face reconstructed.”

Loosening my grip on her cheap ass extensions I spun around on the balls of my feet, strolling back into the bar with a proud smirk on my face. The moment I got close enough to Charles, he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in between his thighs.

“You getting protective over me now, Sunshine?” he hummed, slipping his hand underneath the hoodie letting his fingers brush against the skin of my lower back, causing sparks to erupt across my skin.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head slightly, “nah, I just don’t want you catching an STD or something,” I said calmly.

The smirk on Charles face was enough to cause my knees to wobble, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around me I was pretty sure they would have given out on me.

“You sure about that, Babygirl,” he purred, leaning closer so his nose brushed against mine.

The two of us were locked in the moment, it was like there was no one else in the room with us, like we were protected by a bubble, until Jax rang the last order bell, causing me to jump at the unexpected sound, “I do not need to see whatever this,” he scoffed, waving his hands in the air, “is gonna lead to.”

“Oh Jackson, leave your sister alone,” Pops scolded, causing me to pull away from Charles slightly, instantly being greeted by a warm smile from Pops, “she’s young and in love, leave her be.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes at my father, “who said anything about love?”

“Oh sunshine,” Charles beamed, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “you are so in love with me, it’s written all over your beautiful face.”

Instantly I could feel the heat in the room rising, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Charles slowly moved his fingers across my cheek and I was pretty sure my ears were the same shade of red as his hoodie I was wearing.

“I can uninvite you from family movie night, ya know,” I huffed, pouting at him, “so I’d think carefully about who’s side you take.”

“No you can’t Auntie Nova,” Elenor said loudly, “I invited him so you can’t kick him out.”

“Yeah, Auntie Nova, I’m Elenor’s guest,” he hummed. The smile on Charles' face turned into a smug smirk as he moved his hand into the air so Elenor could fist bump him, “thanks for having my back Ellie-bear,” he grinned, throwing her a wink. I couldn’t believe this, everyone was ganging up on me.

“Sempre zio Charles, sempre,” she grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the expression on Jax’s face as he watched his little girl speak in another language. Yes she didn’t pronounce it perfectly but for her age it was really good.

“And in English?” he asked, letting his eyes dart between me and his daughter.

“She said, always uncle Charles, always,” I beamed, leaning over and ruffling her hair. “in Italian.”

“Princess, where did you learn that?” Jax asked with a proud smile on his face, as he walked around the bar until he was now scooping her up in his arms.

“Pierre told me what uncle was in Italian and I knew what always was,” she giggled.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Jax said with a playful tone, cocking his brow at me.

“No idea,” I shrugged, wiggling out of Charles arms.

“Yes you do auntie Nov,” Elenor grinned. Was I really about to be called out by my five year old niece? “you are always saying ‘Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Apparently I was.

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[kaile-hultner]

GoFundMe Update, 8/12/2024

Hey y'all! it's been about a week since the last GoFundMe update. We've hit a pretty predictable slow period in this fundraiser, a kind of doldrums, but I also got super busy over the last seven days, so it's all good there. So what's been going on in the past week?

To start with, as I mentioned last week I'm down to just one installment loan. This in itself has already made a massive difference just even in terms of how I'm feeling. It no longer feels like I'm being crushed by this massive weight on my shoulders or chest. I know I've mentioned this a lot, but it's such a weird feeling after experiencing the opposite for most of my adult life.

With that, things are already starting to change rapidly: my credit score has gone up 23 points in a week and a half, for example. I hate that this is even something we should have to pay attention to, but I can't help but feel relieved when number go up instead of down. The number of phone calls I'm getting per day, in the evenings, on the weekends - all the debt collection calls - has dropped dramatically. Now it's mostly just spam and companies trying to get me to take out more loans with them. I've experienced a burst of creative energy that has gotten me back in the game-playing-and-reviewing saddle - I just wrote a piece about "A Short Hike" as a donor request fulfillment exercise. (You can check that out here.) I was able to get through an entire weekend of work at my side-gig with no issues or delays—something I haven't been able to say for a few months. And when I finished that work? You'll never believe it, but I didn't feel stressed out or exhausted! I felt normal!

This doesn't automatically catapult me into 24/7 comfortable living, and now I really have to focus on the hard and dirty work of living within my means, building a budget and being an adult when it comes to daily choices, but I always knew that. This GFM has never been the magic bullet that would solve all of my problems - and I've never wanted it to be. However, it's helped assuage such a significant portion of my problems that I can focus on other things for once, and navigating that for the first time has been a pretty significant experience! This comes after months of having to transfer my paycheck from my bank to my Apple Pay account and a litany of other sketchy shit just to make sure it didn't all get swallowed up by various debt repayments and years of sometimes paying rent in parts instead of all at once. With most of that gone and cleared out, I no longer have to do all that! I don't feel like I'm constantly between a rock and a hard place, and that's… honestly pretty significant.

So what's next? Why am I still moving forward with the GFM towards $8000 and eventually $10000+?

Well, as I've said in prior updates, it's still pretty unbelievable that we reached $6500+ and I genuinely have no expectations about getting even a cent more. If nobody else donates, I think I would be pretty pleased with what this GFM was able to accomplish. But I don't think I'm totally out of the woods yet. Thanks to your help, I've upgraded from "basically completely underwater" to "balancing precariously on the edge of the dock," and there's a WORLD of difference between those two states. But that doesn't mean I don't ever again have to worry about the possibility of almost drowning.

Goal 4 would help me pay off my remaining installment loan, and with that close the book on that chapter of my life altogether. I've got these two annoying (paid monthly) loans in the background, but paying $40 and $78 a month respectively for them isn't really all that bad. It's not moving the needle the way these installment loans (paid every two weeks on my payday) were. I'd like to get rid of this final installment loan pretty quickly if possible. I'm currently just a bit under $1400 away from that goal, and I think it's pretty attainable.

Goal 5, $10,000, and Goal 6, $10,000+, are maybe my vaguest goals, so I want to flesh those out a bit. For those goals, I'm thinking of my long-term future more than anything immediate. If I can get anything past $8K, great! That will be money I put into a savings account and start adding to on my own. The reason I'm putting these goals at the end of this GFM is because in a little bit less than a year, I'm looking at the end of a pretty long arrangement I've had at the place I'm living, and the situation is that either rent is going to raise pretty significantly or (more likely) I'm going to be finding a new place to live. Having some money in savings is going to help me out with this in two ways: first, being able to pay a deposit on an apartment or absorb some of the cost of raised rent. Second, being able to put down a down payment on a car. My (smaller) worry is that, even with the radical erasure of my most immediate and crushing debts that this GFM has already afforded me, I may not have enough time to save this kind of money on my own, and/or that my credit score won't heal fast enough to qualify me for cheaper car payments, apartment deposits that aren't an arm and a leg, and so on. For context, I live in Oklahoma, which has a relatively cheap cost of living, but it's practically impossible to get around without a car as OKC's transit system is bootycheeks.

Finally (and least importantly), I promised when I set this GFM up that it would be the last time I asked for money from the Internet for this or any reason, outside of like a medical emergency. I set $10k up as a moonshot goal, something I didn't think it was possible to achieve - and yet here it is, barely $3400 away. If we make it to the end, that's gonna feel like a wild achievement! I'd finally be able to rest easy.

Here's a bad car metaphor I just thought of: you know how when you jump a car, you don't just plug up the jumper cables from one car to another and call it good when the car in need of jumping starts? You have to give it a little bit of extra juice in order for the car to restart its own charging capacity? That's kind of what this GFM is. I'm the car being jumped. The fundraiser is the other car revving its engine and giving me a bit of extra juice after I was able to start my own engine again.

See? told you it was bad.

Anyway, as always, I cannot thank those of you who have already donated enough. None of this would be possible if it wasn't for you, and my inbox is always open if you want to suggest cursed internet artifacts for me to look at. Someone suggested the entire series of Eyewitness children's science documentaries to me. I have no clue if I'll be able to find them. I've been vibing on the theme song for days tho. The only thing I would ask of you at this point is to share this GFM on social media, maybe link back to this update directly, and let's see if we can't find some extra wind for these sails to get us closer to that final goal. If you can't donate, please don't feel pressured to donate! Just reblogging it is more than enough help.