#the system sucks so hack it whenever u can

[thliahls]

b-b-b-back once again , cldn’t wait can’t be tamed .. as with all my intros .. tis a doozy so feel free to mssg me for a tl;dr if we feelin lazy i will totally understand , or scroll to the wc’s i tried to think of as many as possible bc i wanna plot wit every1 )): !! anyhaps like this n i will come force my heathen of a gurl on u !

⌠ GRACIE ABRAMS, 20, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, THALIA HALL! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in AWARENESS TRAINING, BREATH CONTROL, HAND TO HAND COMBAT + THREAT ELIMINATION and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of dirt under a meticulously painted manicure, the shrill ring of her phone and poorly treated books creased at the spine. when it’s the (scorpio)’s birthday on 11/02/2000, they always request FISH FINGERS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

biography / pinterest

was born in the states but dad and her moved back to england the year she was born, which was also the year he graduated blackthorne. his mother was ‘never in the picture’ which has left her imagination to go down several paths, discontent with all of them. unfortunately daddy dearest crafts a space where she’d never dare ask ! she has a bit of an obsession with the blackthorne graduation ritual because of it .

was immediately placed under the care of two retired spies, sort of a foster care system within the spy community. dad still visited whenever he wasn’t working and still technically had full custody over her. up until she went to prep school, led a very sheltered life. homeschooled by them, but they were fairly lax. her dad expected a certain amount of training to be done, but her and her foster siblings usually mucked about a fair bit. her training would always be done in the form of games which she discovered early on that she loved to win, it made her fiercely competitive.

was very spoiled by them, grew up in a huge country estate and excelled in her home school classes without trying, which made her extremely entitled. she’d often wrestle with her siblings in the garden , and bring them to tears . biting them, pulling their hair, slapping them around . it would earn her a slap on the wrist , but it was never anything a sorry couldn’t fix . spends her free time laying in the grass reading , and learning the romance languages and was raised speaking cantonese bc that’s her foster parents native language . more invested in the sociology of linguistics and how it can be used to assert and diminish power but only cares for this in a self-serving way .

spy prep rolls around and it’s very exciting ! as predicted ( by herself lmao ) she does well, without even having to try. socially , she drifts through groups , picking up on cues on how to interact , what works well and what doesn’t . doesn’t find anyone particularly interesting and would much rather be reading but by not having any sort of allegiance to one particular group , it ends with her being very well-liked . the top marks is unsurprising, further fuelled by some amusing competition , finding that her desire to earn good grades comes more from wanting to spite others than actually wanting to achieve good grades . finals roll around and she gets the highest grade in her year and in tandem with being well liked, earns her place as valedictorian . she’s very proud of herself, not for earning valedictorian, but for besting aylin . 

in the months prior , on a field trip she meets a boy and for the first time in ever , exudes big dumb energy gets his number , starts texting him , starts sneaking off campus to meet him ... he’s a total casanova , a big romantic and exactly like the protags in the romance novels she reads . it’s a big prep school no-no but as long as no one finds out it’s fine ! then walks in aylin, and destroys her whole career by reporting her ( she doesn’t know for sure it was her , but has her suspicions since their rivalry had run throughout the entirety of prep school ). she’s kicked out , denied graduation , valedictorian and is humiliated . she calls her civilian boyfriend the night of , but his line’s already been disconnected , presumably threatened / beat up by her lovely dad .

her father is livid , but is able to use his connections to get her a place at another , less prestigious prep school and negotiates with the school to take her to and fro every day , like he’s picking her up from daycare . he stops working for a full year to do this , and expects her to feel indebted to him . the monotony of repeating the year makes her irritable, made worse by the snickers she constantly hears in the hallways . but she has gallagher to look forward to , knowing she’ll still be going there because continuing tradition is important to her father , who also decided her majors for her and had a big argument with him when she asked if she could take linguistics ! he makes her call him every single night at 6p.m. if she misses a call , he contacts the school . she hates him . 

personality 

passive aggressive emphasis on the aggressive : is always withholding judgement, but inevitably always lets a comment slip. think, ‘   you’re so confident to wear whatever you want to,   ’ or, ‘   wow ! that colour’s so bright i almost need sunglasses !   ’ petty as hell  in all respects physically too , spots a bruise on your arm ? you bet she’s gonna press it and ask if that hurts, then say sorry when you yelp . 

hypocritical : detests people who don’t try but doesn’t try herself and justifies it by getting really good grades . believes there’s no point sleeping with someone unless you love them , then will drunkenly hook up with someone that very same night . 

hope less romantic : she has no hope for others but remains a romantic . thinks people have given up on courting people and wooing them . expects flowers at her door , good morning texts and candlelit dinners . leaves secret admirer notes under people's door to people she thinks are cute and thinks she might have a crush on in the future , quite creepy but at least she doesn't use magazine clippings anymore ! 

spiteful : life is a game and she wants to win it ! makes everything into a competition , even unconsciously . goes up to the adjacent treadmill and makes the speed and incline several points higher than the person next to her . painting your nails with her ? she’ll make sure hers looks better and point out that you didn’t coat the ends of your nails . board game night with her is fun for no one but her , i’m so sorry if she ever ropes you into one !

bookworm : her disgustingly high standards about love come from her singular past relationships and books . read one too many jane austen’s and now she’s crazy

loyal : her loyalty is hard to earn , but once you’ve got it , you’ve got it .

*think the arrogant exterior of jesse eisenberg as zucc in the social network with emaline addario ( everything sucks ) type dramatics every so often to keep it spicy !

wanted connections

toxic friendship ! a slow burn relationship of passive-aggressiveness and co-dependency, one day they stop taking her shit or say they’re going to but always end up in each other’s company at the end of the day . or maybe one day they don’t come back to her and thalia is forced to admit she may have been too harsh .

hook-ups she has when drunk ! which she will only have when drunk , to follow her unspecified , no rights , belief system . will pretend like she does not know you the next day . oh to be a romantic , but a scorpio . a tough life .

people she has crushes on ! and leaves handwritten poetry under their door or in their notebooks , absolutely humiliating that she acts this way ! bonus points for a note that’s left under the door and the wrong person reads it . 

sparring buddies but make it feral ! no rules sorta deal, out in the woods, scratches from twigs, bloodied rocks, anything to let some of her pent up aggression out . they can go swimming after : )

daddy issues gang ! someone hears her on the phone in the hallway , inquires , proceeds to talk about how much they hate their fathers . thalia tells them how she’s going to kill him one day <3 alternatively , her father may have been the cause or implicated in the death of your chara’s loved one .

roommates ! self-explanatory , but she probably dislikes them and is unfairly harsh on them . sets rules but lets herself be exempt from them stuff like that x also for berlin she requested a room by herself lmao n deluded herself into thinking she wld be accommodated , thus i’m going to leave whoever she rooms with up to fate and she will hate it regardless of whoever she gets roomed with !

someone who hates aylin as much as she does ! yes this is deserving of a whole connection , thalia would probably die for this person . alternatively , aylin’s friends who she hates as a byproduct of hating aylin or tries to get them to hate aylin .

rivals ! because it’s the only thing that motivates her to do well in school .  

encryption major ! who helps her find out about her dad’s past , and present . what he’s done and what he continues to do . also a way for her to maybe switch one of her majors to linguistics and hacking a report that says she’s still in her predetermined majors .

take a chill pill ! someone who gets her to relax , makes her watch reality television which she relentlessly criticizes , but this person won’t give up trying to make her less of an awful human bean .

anything else ! i am , as the kids say , down to clown .

[kenia-kenny-kenix]

Yo, heres some of my headcanons for 2BDAMNED!

1. Nobody knows what his real name is. He always refers to himself as “B”, he prefers to live in the anonymity, for safety (He doesn’t mind nicknames). Of course, he remembers what his real name is, but he just, doesn’t use it.

2. He might be known as a doctor since he has a lot of knowledge about medicine, but he’s also great with technology, programming and hacking. Let’s not forget about his combat skills, he’s good at both - shooting guns and using melee weapons, or even using only his fist. His physical appearance is really misleading; this man is way stronger than he looks... Some people even compare him with Hank J. Wimbleton sometimes, but who could blame them? this two are a lot alike... which is kind of scary.

3. “B” is secretly jealous of Sanford for being the partner of Deimos. He couldn’t care less about Hank, but he’s just jealous. The moment they meet, there was instantly rivalry between this two.

4. He doesn’t actually “talk” to the trio, or even hang out. He most likely tries to stay away from them as much as he can, in case they need him, he always has a pair of headphones that he uses to talk to them (while he’s in his office working… probably.) Hank and Sanford doesn’t make that much of an effort to actually go to his room and talk to him directly, Deimos It’s the only one that some time to time goes to “B”s room and chat a little, sadly their conversations will probably end with both of them yelling at each other, Deimos left the room all upset and “B” being grumpy for a couple of hours.

5. He’s really cocky, whenever he got the chance, he’ll try to make himself look better than the trio, especially better than Sanford and Deimos, he doesn’t presume that often his strength and skills to Hank, since they kinda agree that they’re both badasses! (Any time they feel like it, they’ll probably had a little fight)

He’s also self-absorbed, this is one of the reasons that he doesn’t socialize in any way with the trio. He doesn’t just think he’s better than the three of them, but also, he thinks his own work is more important than anything that could be happening at that moment. Even when he comes along with them on a mission, he will always choose to be alone or do something by his own, because he knows he CAN do it by himself.

The moment they met him, Hank, Sanford and Deimos knew he was going to be very conflictive. But it didn’t bother them that much, since that’s one way to get along and screw around whenever they feel like it. Their partnership/friendship develops on their own way. (hating/loving each other??... wut.)

6. He takes two roles on the team, the Spy/Double Agent role, he always finds a way to recollect information of the enemy, either by hacking his way through their system or infiltrating in their base (he prefers the second one) and of course, the role of the Doctor/Medic, the best way to chat for a second with his comrades it’s through a medical check, even when it’s something not that serious like a fever, he tries to start a conversation. He personally prefers to check on Hank, since he’s the easiest to talk to (at least for “B”), he’s very calm and quiet.

7. Dark humor… “B” loves it.

8. “B” likes to call Sanford = ‘Ford’, Deimos = ‘Looser Noodle Nerd’ and Hank… just ‘Hank’. (Yeah, I KNOW, this ‘nicknames’ suck)

This last one is the longest, so... enjoy it(?)

9. He’s been part of the Anti-A.A.H.W and the A.A.H.W, he’s been in both agencies AT THE SAME TIME. He first joined the Anti-A.A.H.W, being also part of the A.A.A (Anti-Auditor Agency). He didn’t need/had a partner, so he always did his missions completely alone.

In his free time, he always investigated and searched for a way to defeat the Auditor, but the lack of information he had, “B” decided to assign himself into a mission, a secret mission. That’s when he secretly join to the A.A.H.W, where he got the chance to meet The Auditor, the creator of the Improbability Drive. He spend a lot of time stealing and learning lots of information in there, about the enemy and the Improbability Drive.

But, he couldn’t always spend his time doing his own thing, since he was the “doctor” in the A.A.H.W, but most importantly, he had to look after his young partner, Deimos. They both share a lot of good/awkward moments, either in front of a computer or during a medical operation (Deimos never paid attention in these, he was always bored while “B” tried to stay focused on his work.)

His “plan” was going great, they never catch him, neither of the agencies knew he was betraying them, “B” wasn’t a snitch, so he never revealed any important information to neither of the agencies either. He decided to keep it to himself.

When Deimos left the A.A.H.W. “B” was actually disappointed, since he was the first person who could he actually bond with. Deimos was gone, so he continued with his work alone, eventually, forgetting about the kid. That was, until one day, Deimos came back and knock on his office, with a rifle on his hands, aiming at him. Deimos was sent to kill him, for betrayal. “B” was having none of that, so they fight... to death.

The fight ended with Deimos winning, cutting in half the head of “B” with a sword. That ended up being a rough day for him. Ever since then, 2BDAMNED was known as a ‘Spy’, or most likely, a ‘Traitor’.

(SHIT THAT WAS LONG! Hope u like it tho!)

That’s it! That’s all my headcanons for this guy, feel free to tell me what u think or about my grammar, my english it’s still not perfect so... yeah! 

[iphoenixrising]

uuuuhhh babeeeeee u got me hooked on that protective Alpha Jason short u just wrote. I need moreeeee (sorry if i'm being a greedy asshole right now)

LOL, hi babe :D

SO, you like a little protective Jason? Welp, that makes two of us, seriously. 

Let’s just say after the whole bite thing, Jason is unbelievably drawn to tablets and computers at odd moments to check on the sensors in a certain vigilante’s suit. He’s stopped making excuses to Gar and Bart about hacking the Tower’s system to operate S.E.A.R.C.H whenever the hell he damn well feels like it, so’s you motherfuckers can just deal with it.

Jay might even know it’s his instincts, might know he’s got a need to make sure his Omega isn’t somewhere taking down international terrorists hurt as fuck partially because of biology. Of course he trusts his partner, his friend, his little shit-talker (his sweetheart, his baby doll–), but the Alpha male in his can’t help but be concerned since he knows Red has certain tendencies.

He might even get a little sneaky about it, sending texts to O and J’onn to search out the closest heroes in the area just in case shit goes down. He even manages to do a little snipering with Roy on a rooftop close to the next bad guys getting a little visit. 

Dick doesn’t even fight him on any of it, helps enthusiastically. He has no problems going in person to jump right in to the next case Red is working to make himself an absolute nuisance. 

(It’s no surprise Dick and Jay make an appearance when Red’s running on little-to-no-sleep and some gnarly possible infections from things like that owfuck from the fight with the Doom Patrol. Mind-controlling aliens are such douche canoes, right?)

But babe, oh babe. Let’s have a little what-if and take the Alpha/Omega instincts a little farther. 

Watching the displays of dominance and strength is something so ingrained in Omegas from the olden days when Alphas fought one another to haveowntake. It’s being wanted enough for two males to go at it for the honor of him, for the winner to come to him bloody and victorious, half-feral and ready to fuck like there’s no tomorrow. It’s something so raw and powerful, something so unbelievably hot, not amount of training or control could stop Tim from being absolutely wet for it. 

And it’s Dick and Jay like he’s never seen them in a fight against bad guys, has never seen them go for each like this, even in the grainy footage during the whole Battle for the Cowl thing. 

it’s snarling low and dangerous, it’s calculating moves and the thick, meaty sounds when blow after blow is taken. It’s writhing bodies and straining muscles, it’s so much amazing, Tim is helpless to do anything but wait and watch with his heart pounding, naked with only a sheet clenched in his fist (so the winner can take him immediately after, can claim his victory.) 

The way they fight each other for this is so incredibly different than when they’re Nightwing and Red Hood. Dick is Pack Alpha, going for the fast and furious that sometimes overcomes. Jay fights like an Alpha trying to protect his Omega that sometimes gets the best sneaky shots. 

But whichever one wins this time, it’s still going to be fucking glorious. 

When Jay’s the winner, he takes with every ounce of strength, growling low against Tim’s throat while he side-eyes Dick still sitting on the floor watching with intensity, knuckles white by his thighs, so hard from the fight and the picture they make. He’s got Timmy wrapped up in his arms tightly, catching the screams with his mouth, driving them both to the brink while their scents paint the room with want and need and slick and sweat. His instincts make him lean down to bite, to get perfect submission, so make Tim come once and then again when his knot locks into place. 

And after they both come down a little, heart still thundering and muscles trembling, when Jay can finally let his elbows and wrists unlock from around his sweetheart, he waves Dick over weakly while he collapses beside Timmy’s absolutely fucked-out figure. 

He gets to watch this time, eyes half-mast when Dick prowls over Tim, starting off with easy kisses, working his way down to sensitive spots and old scars. He licks and touches and sucks, moves their Omega gently, firmly, to bring him back up to hard and panting, desperately gripping and moving his hips up into Dick’s touch. It’s gentle lovemaking after the intensity of a feral fuck, Dick kissing him deeply, taking it nice and slow until Tim’s begging for faster and Jay is biting down on his lip, trying to get hard again with what a pretty fucking picture they make, yeah?

[maggotmouth]

        hi i’m nora ( 23. gmt. she/her ) and it turns out i really miss playing bridget ! i wasn’t feeling frida bt i wanted to explore som of her backstory more so ive kind of fused bits of her into bridget..... sue me.... for those of u who didn’t know her before i dropped her, bridget grew up in a trailer park in texas, she’s an angsty socialist leftie who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about capitalism.  film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. here’s a pinboard !! everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll (probably forget to) smash that im button for plots x

application template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen BRIDGET MATUSIAK around in a while. the MARGARET QUALLEY lookalike has been known to be GARRULOUS & CANDID, but SHE can also be FICKLE & ERRATIC. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FILM. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

aesthetics.

thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, roller blades, grazed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

knew each other from the cheer team in bridgets freshman year and tatiana’s sophomore year. had a competitive friendship to start with but then they got into a discussion about politics at a party one night, and maybe hooked up a few times after tatiana had jst broken up w someone. they were sort of seeing each other very casually for a bit, but…. they came from vastly different circles n it didn’t really work. they were in a bad partch at the time of the reaping so to speak, and bridget picked her name For A Giggle but now regrets it big time obviously

tw drugs, teen pregnancy

BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, was chucked out of home pretty young after a teenage pregnancy, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst…. ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got…. sucked in by the money 

her mom n dad met in high school at a parents evening. alice was fourteen, toby was thirty-one. bridget’s mom alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not. toby was the father to a girl down the road who alice knew nothing of besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. alice was out of the house as soon as her parents knew a child was growing in her womb.

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things have a way of circling back to us --- that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, polka-dot nylon of a swimsuit pulled down to her ankles.

she grew up in a trailer park just outside of orlando resort, but she was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage. 

if you’ve seen the florida project its a bit like tht.... just kids left to do their own shit.... mother’s a bit all over the place... made money by stealing wristbands off orlando theme park visitors, and bridget was p much raised by the community, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

gilly (referred to as junior) was born four years after bridget, the son of a carpenter and sculpture artist named gilbert “gilly” senior, her moms latest squeeze. whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of furniture or hanging out with the kids who were visiting disneyland but couldn’t afford the hotels on the resort

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was eleven. they were in the system for a while, before gilly was finally granted custody as legal guardian. the three of them moved to marfa, texas so that gilly could run classes in sculpture and woodworking at the art institute. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors. bridget likes to believe that she’s an actress, her name in newspapers and her face in a star-spangled dressing mirror.

bridget used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in developing countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so…. and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone. will most definitely have quizzed your character on institutionalised racism whilst inhaling nos at a party and snacking on a big bowl of cheesy wotsits

aesthetic: big military or leather jackets over tiny little sundresses. always in docs or creepers and a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides style or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

struggles with self-image and the need to be Loved By All a lot. uses sex as an affirmation of her worth and also kinda manic-depressive (though not officially diagnosed) bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparents refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist and hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at rallies. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

back at lockwood she was working two jobs to pay for uni !! at the bowling alley polishing the shoes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also as a burger flipper at mcdonalds. in amsterdam she’s managed to secure a part-time bar job at one of the hendrix university bars

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who’re like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than flipping burgers — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, gregarious, easily bored, childish.

SOME ?MILDLY AMUSING? FACTS

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties like that isn’t shit for the environment ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

favourite drink is cherry coke

a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom’s club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types , like.... have a day off, jameela jamil......

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published

this bitch HATES capitalism and LOVES karl marx

time isn’t real. nothing exists. the self is a social construct. finger guns.

an awful person, really

plots i want that i mostly stole from the tags

muse a tries to stand up for muse b in a bar but unfortunately cannot fight for shit.

muse a (prob bridget cos works in a bar) works somewhere that’s open late and muse b comes in to take shelter from the storm.

‘I got in my car and you were sleeping in the backseat who the hell are you and how did you get into my car’ 

 umm a wlw plot isnpired by san junipero ! esp this post. could have been a former fling that ended sourly !! cos i dont like ship forcing but still?? give me wlw stuff

 “i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“platonically sharing a bed until i wake up and you’re curled round me and my nose is buried in your hair so i’ll pretend to stay asleep to keep this for a little while longer” plots

 “highkey want a ‘someone wrote your phone number on the wall of a bathroom in my dorm with ‘call for a good time’ and i just texted you to let you know that i scribbled it out and oh wait you’re actually funny and easy to talk to and now we’re talking every day and i might have a tiny little crush on you even tho  i don’t even know your name’ plot”

 goddamn its another shippy wlw plot apparently that’s all my tag is but this post

“known for being rebels without cause, MUSE A and MUSE B are synonymous to their fast cars, nights out beneath the stars, empty bottles of alcohol, and loud music. they meet by chance one night and immediately click, and embark on a careless adventure after it despite not knowing each other. it’s them against the world: after all, what could go wrong ?”

any of these sad sour unrequited love plots

‘we take the same elevator every day and due to a misunderstanding I assumed you didn’t speak english and I’ve been talking to my friend about how hot you are for three weeks and apparently my friend has known from the start but you agreed not to tell me bc you both think its hilarious what the fuck’ au

‘I accidentally dropped you while you were crowd surfing and you broke your ankle and now I feel responsible so I’m carrying you out of the moshpit’ au

walked in on my roommate and you screwing except i know you from class and i freaked out a little

i was hustling you in pool for money but you were hustling me for free drinks so who’s the real winner here?

bridgot goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, cos she’s writing about the history of pornographic film n its basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst. horror. also nice bike rides in amsterdam please

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

[peterparkerscurls]

Daddy’s Home

Peter huffed as he walked aimlessly around the empty tower. Everyone was at this dumb business meeting, which is what Mr. Stark told him it was, but Tony’s unbuttoned shirt and Natasha’s heels said otherwise. They were all at this dumb party and Peter was stuck at the tower while May was out of town. This terrible loneliness started creeping over him, but he quickly remembered that he ha access to the lab. Tony’s lab. He grinned to himself and ran towards the elevator.

Down down he went, until he was at the keycard swipe. Just as he was about to stick the card in, FRIDAY spoke up.

“Peter, what are you doing at Mr. Stark’s lab?”

Peter froze and blinked at the keycard.

“Uhh… I have to finish… Mr. Stark gave me a project and-”

“Mr. Stark has given you nothing, I would have record. Peter you are going to get in trouble.”

“I won’t stay long! I just want to see the suits, I swear. Mr. Stark never lets me see his tech and it really is so cool and interesting and-”

The door dinged and the red light beside the keycard swipe turned green, meaning FRIDAY had given in.

Peter grinned and slid through the door before the AI changed her mind.

“I suppose the only command Mr. Stark gave me for tonight was to not let you eat all the birthday cake ice cream in the freezer, and lab time does not fall under that.”

Peter spun around and gasped “Wait, we have birthday cake ice cream?!”

The door locked before Peter could run back out, and he sighed, looking up at a camera.

“Ok, but you have to give me a warning when they come home.”

“Ok, Peter.”

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

Four hours flew by fairly quickly when one was making Iron Man hands fly around like musical drones. The lab was quite the scene, with Peter covered in grease from taking things in junk bins apart and putting them back together. Random robots were flying around and crawling under things. Peter was currently staring at the floor, trying to figure out a way to get down into Mr. Stark’s hoard of his old suits.

“There has to be a circuit board somewhere…” he mumbled, before crossing the room to the wall with what seemed like a hand scanner on it.

“Hm.” Peter turned his head to the side like a curious puppy, and stuck his hand on it. It made a disapproving beeping sound.

“Worth a shot.” He said aloud before sighing and turning around, putting his hands on his hips to admire his creations.

There were random jet powered hands making circles in the air, weird finger looking things crawling around on the floor, and things making beeping sounds to the beat of Grease’s “You’re The One That I Want” on the work table.

“My sweet children.” Peter whispered before shooting his webbing at a screwdriver and yanking it towards him. He was going to try his best to get those suits in front of him before a probably drunken Tony got home. He snagged a quick glance at the clock. It was fifteen minutes to 1 in the morning, and he called out to FRIDAY.

“Do we really have birthday cake ice cream in the freezer?”

“Four pints of it to be exact. One of the freezers has a gallon.”

Peter scoffed and grumbled, sticking the screwdriver into the hand scanner’s side and prying the face of it off.

It took some work, grease, and very quiet cursing- followed by an “I heard that.” from FRIDAY- but with one wire connected to another, the floor to his left bloomed open, caving under itself and bringing up six of the old Iron Man suits. Peter’s eyes sparkled and he gasped at the sight of them, his mouth agape. He was finally seeing them, in all their stored up glory.

“Wow.” Was all Pete could say as he stepped towards them all. He let his hands graze the cool metal, and he suddenly felt so small. Mr. Stark was short compared to the rest of the Avengers, but in the suit he was well above his normal 6 foot and 1 inch. Peter tried to remember what Mr. Stark had told him activated the suits.

“Daddy’s home!” He shouted, his cheeks flushing red a little at how silly his mentor’s start words were. The suits stood still, and Peter realized it was probably connected to Mr. Stark’s specific voice, but Peter wasn’t top of his class for nothing.

“FRIDAY, can you please play back last week when Mr. Stark and I were in here and we were talking about bouncy castles and then he said “Daddy’s home” please please.”

It took a moment before he could feel FRIDAY basically sigh like an annoyed babysitter, before the footage started playing above the work table.

“... and whenever I say “Daddy’s home” they wake up.”

At the sound of their creator’s voice, they all lit up at the eyes and stood at attention.

Peter gasped again, louder, and covered his mouth. Hurrying over, he stood before them, cautiously reaching up to touch the chest of one, and the whole front of it opened up. Peter hopped back, watching the smallest bits of metal bloom open like a flower, opening itself for him. He stepped closer and closer, lifting his foot to hover over the inviting step into the suit.

“GROUNDED!”

The word echoed throughout the lab, and every moving thing stopped. No more little hands flying or crawling or beeping, everything fell to the floor and froze. As did Peter. Well, he stayed upright, jumping as his heart shot into his throat and pumped quicker and quicker. “Shit.” he breathed.

Tony stood at the door, arms crossed and pure anger in his eyes.

Peter looked at his mentor and smiled sheepishly.

“H-hey Mr. Stark, um, how was um, h-how was the party? I mean meeting!” Peter swallowed roughly and fidgeted with his fingers.

Tony slowly started walking towards Peter, kicking the junk robots out of his way as he did, not breaking eye contact with the kid, and Peter noticed Steve, Thor, Natasha and Bucky all standing at the door.

“You broke into my lab, gave life to old spare parts, made them beep Grease, which is so ironic I think you planned that, and then you hacked into my suit storage-” He broke eye contact to gesture to the broken hand scanner, and noticed the screwdriver on the floor.”-with a screwdriver. You took a sound bite of me saying the activation phrase, and used it to open my suit, all within the span of 5 hours?”

Tony stopped right in front of Peter, close enough that the kid had to crane his neck to look up at the man towering over him.

Peter swallowed again and licked his lips nervously.

“U-um… well y-yeah I mean I… “ He didn’t know what the say next, so he shot a glance at the camera and yelled at FRIDAY. “You know ‘give me a warning’ means let me know BEFORE they come in here!”

Tony shut his eyes in disbelief. “You turned my own AI against me as well?”

“Mr. Stark your orders for tonight did not encapsulate prohibiting Peter from the lab, just the freezers containing the birthday cake ice cream.”

“Wait, we have ice cream?” Nat’s hushed voice said to Bucky.

“Oh, we will discuss this later, FRIDAY.” Tony snapped and turned back to Peter.

“Grounded, I-I know.” Peter mumbled before looking down and hurrying out of the room, through the squad of adults, and straight into the elevator.

Steve chucked once the kid was gone and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“He’s smart, Tony. You have to give it to him.”

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I know, which makes me proud of him for knowing how to do all of this. He hacked into an advanced biological security system with a fucking screwdriver for Christ’s sake.” The older man sighed and picked up one of the now lifeless hand robot things.

“So bitter. The boy is creative! I feel there is no need to ground him, but celebrate his genius.” Thor added, turning around and jamming his finger into the elevator button. “You spoke of a sweet treat and didn’t let a child enjoy it? You are so the uncool dad.” He added before the doors closed.

Tony gawked and looked the the rest of the gang.

“Did I just get called the ‘uncool dad’ by a mythical god?”

Steve chuckled again and beckoned Tony to follow the rest of the few into the elevator.

“We can clean this up in the morning. We had a great night, Tony. Don’t let Peter’s severe special skills not let it end right.”

“You sound like Dr. Suess.” Tony grumbled as the elevator rose to the correct floor.

The elevator opened to Thor and Peter in the kitchen, Pete on the counter and Thor standing beside him, both eating the birthday cake ice cream straight from the gallon. Peter saw Tony and sucked in air, choking on the glob in his mouth, knowing he isn’t allowed to eat the treat. Thor slapped Peter’s back, and the kid gasped in air.

“Thor said it was ok!” He sputtered out, hoping to not get in any more trouble for the night. Tony looked up at a soft eyed Steve and stalked over, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and stuck a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

The rest of them all followed suit, and soon the whole kitchen echoed with laughter and tales of all the women crawling over Steve and Thor the whole night while Tony was stuck fixing some guy’s watch.

[sufferthesea]

Hi again! Could you please do another scenario with Genma with a shy reader that's not a ninja and it's there first date but she ends up getting sick and he surprises her by coming to take care of her?

This was perfectly timed because I always get sick in October-November. Now if only I had a cute ninja boy coming to take care of me while I sat on the couch and watched movies all day. /sigh/ 

Thank you for the request!! I had a lot of fun writing this!! Please let me know if you think my scenarios/headcanons are too long! Also I literally just figured out how to write Genma, idk how he’d text 😂 I did my best. 

Words: 3.144Rating: General Pairing: Genma x Reader

Thiswasn’t how it was supposed to go. When Genma asked you out twoweeks ago you had been so excited that you were near to crying - butyou were also incredibly nervous. Genma was one of the mostinteresting guys you’d ever met, and you felt as if you were theequivalent of a talking potato sack. Not to mention you weren’teven a ninja so why onearth he’d even bother with a civilian was beyond you. Someone ofhis caliber should really be looking for a girl just as strong andknowledgeable and brave and outgoing ashim. (You’d barely managed to squeak out a “yes” when he askedyou to dinner, and it took every ounce of strength just to look himin the eyes when he spoke to you.) He must’ve read the confusion onyour face because almost immediately after asking you out, he said:

“You know, you’rereally cute when you act shy. And I figured if I didn’t ask youout, we’d never get anywhere.”

You’dthought about that for the last fortnight, your face bright red and ashy giggle falling from your lips whenever his face appeared in yourmind. But among the excitement was a bit of fear and the typicalinsecurity you often faced. You’d never really gone on a datebefore and certainly had never been asked out by someone like Genma.He’d suggested something simple - just a small dinner at a curryshop outside of the village. He said it was a cute little place andhe was sure you’d like it because it was out of the way and fewpeople went all the way out there to eat. It was nice of him to thinkof you like that, but there was still so much pressure. Would youlike the food there? What if it was too spicy? What if he thought youate too much? Or not enough? The thought of someone watching you eatwas a little overwhelming. And what if - did you dare to evenentertain this thought so early in the relationship? - what if at theend of the night he tried to kiss you? What if he kissedyou and you had curry breath? You’dabsolutely die on the spot.

Unfortunately,stressing out for the last fourteen days had done the exact oppositeof helping your health and you woke up the day of the date with asore throat, runny nose, and pounding headache. You had somehowstressed yourself into a cold,and now you were even more miserable than before. (Of course itsurely had nothing todo with the fact that you’d left open the bedroom window the nightbefore and had kicked off your blanket in the middle of the night…)

“I can’t go on adate l-like this,” you shuddered, pulling a thick woolen blanketover your shoulders and sneezing into a tissue. “I can’t l-lethim see me like this.”

Forlornly,you looked towards the clock hanging on the wall and your heartdropped. It was already noon; six hours until you were supposed tomeet Genma at the gates so he could walk you to the restaurant. Thiswasn’t good. It’s not like you could take some magic pill to getbetter immediately, and you were certain that if you decided to go onthe date then something mortifying would happen - you’d sneeze onhim, or go into a coughing fit while eating, or you’d get himsick. You couldn’t risk it - not when you’d somehow managed tograb his attention in the first place. You weren’t going to ruin itby being grossly sick all over him in a restaurant. There was onlyone option, and it killed you to even think of it.

You’d have tocancel the date.

It’d be a lie tosay you didn’t cry for a few moments as you convinced yourself thatit’s what was best. Did you want to cancel the date or did you wantto show up and gross him out?

Gathering whateverremaining strength you had, you dug your phone out of your sweatpantspocket and went through your list of contacts before you foundGenma’s number. He’d given it to you when he asked you out, butyou hadn’t texted him before. Would your first text to him reallybe canceling the date? Sometimes the universe sucked.

Steadying your handsenough to text out a legible message, you pressed send and waitedwith bated breath, the pressure behind your eyes and in the bridgeof your nose growing.

Genma - can’tmake it. im sick. rain check?

Itwasn’t good to sit there and wait so you placed your phone on thefarthest part of the coffee table and curled up on the couch, feelingawful. Everything was starting to ache and you weren’t sure whatyou should do to feel better. Going to the hospital was out of thequestion - you weren’t dying,you just had a cold. And you didn’t want to be a burden on anybodyelse by asking them to come over and take care of you. So you werestuck with the only solution - suffer alone until you were better.

Your heart jumped atthe sudden buzzing of your phone vibrating on the table and you leaptup to grab it, hands shaking as you eagerly read the message fromGenma.

That sucks. We’llreschedule. Hope u feel better soon

He hoped you feltbetter soon?! That was so nice of him! Before you could finishgushing over the simple text, a second one came through.

Let me know ifthere’s anything I can do to help

Yourfingers moved quickly to type that he didn’t have to do anything,but then you stopped. He was asking - offering - to help you throughthis dreadful time. Would it be ruder to accept his invitation andpossibly get him sick, or to decline it and spare him the vision ofyou stuffed up and snotty? It really didn’t matter if you were at arestaurant or at home, you didn’t wanthim to witness you blowing your nose or hacking or just looking likeyou’d crawled out some Pit Of Disgusting. You hated to admit it,but you got kind of whiny whenever you were ill and it was prettyembarrassing. With a little bit of heartache, you finished the textand sent it.

No, that’s okay- thx tho. I appreciate it

Almost immediately,another response sent your phone buzzing in your hands.

Anything for you;)

Youvaulted the phone away quickly, your body instantly burning hot, asurprised laugh escaping your mouth. “Wh-What? What was that?”you wheezed, pulling the blanket up to your face and staring inelation at the phone now lying on the floor across the room. “He -He put a - a winking face! What does th-that mean? Does he … oh mygosh.” Hiding under the blanket, you allowed yourself to gigglechildishly and closed your eyes tight. Genma’s perfect face wasthere - a smile gracing his features. He put a winkingface! That was good, right? Andhe’d said “anything for you”. Anythingfor you. Anything for you.How did he mean it? Would he really do anything for you? Your stomachgrowled and you grimaced; maybe you should have asked him to bringyou something to eat …

The phone buzzedagain and you practically threw yourself across the room to grab it,scrambling to clutch it close your face and read the message.

U allergic toanything?

Confused, you rereadthe message and checked to see who it was from. Genma had sent it,that was certain but … Did he think you’d called off the datebecause you had had an allergic reaction or something? Or - did hethink you’d canceled the date because you were allergic to curry?You were legitimately sick and this boy thought you were skipping outbecause you didn’t like his taste in food?

No - im good. Notcurry!! hahaha I was looking forward to eating there /:

Thatwas good enough, right? Assure him that you weren’t avoiding himbecause of that little restaurant, and that you actually didwant to go with him.

Same. Oh well.Maybe next week.

Then, a secondlater:

What r ursymptoms? Like are u coughing and sneezing? Sore throat? Or somethingelse?

Was he concernedthat your illness would still be there by next week when you actuallywent on your date? You shifted on the ground, resting on your elbowsas you thought over what to say. The point of canceling the date wasto keep him from knowing what you were going through at the moment.

Youtyped slowly, regretting every letter of your text: headache,sore throat, runny nose, congestion, sinus, everything hurts!!! ))):I feel like death tbh

Five minutes passedof absolute silence and your chest twisted in embarrassment. Had yousaid too much? You knew it - you’d messed this up. No good. Genmawould surely ditch you and go for some girl with a perfect immunesystem who looked absolutely glamorous even when she was suffering,and certainly didn’t complain about it. When another five minutespassed without a response, you pulled yourself back onto the couchand cuddled under your blanket and sighed heavily. Why did it have tohappen now?! Today of all days.

The phone buzzedagainst your chest and you yelped, jolting upwards and dropping it tothe ground. Fumbling around for it, you grabbed another tissue fromthe nearly empty box on the table and dabbed at your sore nose.

Grape or orange?

Nowthis was getting weird. Your response was only: what?

Genmaswiftly replied: Do you prefer grape or orange? Or cherry??

Uh… I don’t …care????? What is this for?

Insteadof answering, he simply asked: did u still want to go tothe curry place next week? I’ll pick u up next time. What’s uraddress?

Stumped, you staredat the glaring screen in your hands. What was going on? He was actingstrange. But your cold-infested brain wasn’t willing to work withyou to figure out what he was doing so you merely texted back youraddress. He stopped responding and you wondered if it was a mistaketo tell him where you lived. It was almost one o’clock and youreyes were feeling the weight of your illness. Sniffling into yourhandful of tissues, you curled up on your side and let yourself fallasleep.

An hour later youwere woken up by heavy knocks at your front door. It startled youawake and you rolled off of the couch, dazed and utterly lost as towhat was happening. Scrambling to your feet, you wiped drool off ofyour face and ambled over to the door, your voice croaking in pain asyou muttered, “Coming …”

Groggily, you pulledopen the door and looked blearily out into the bright world. Youshaded your eyes and squinted at the shadowed figure filling yourdoorway.

“You look as badas you said you feel,” came a voice.

Your eyes widenedand you dropped your hand, finally realizing that it was none otherthan Genma standing at your door.

“Wh-What are youd-doing here?!” you shouted, throwing your hands up to coveryourself although there was nothing to be covered. You were alreadydressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, and although your hair waswild and uncombed and your nose was as red as the swirl on Genma’sjonin jacket, you weren’t indecent. Still it was almost shameful tobe standing before such a beautiful man looking like you’d climbedout of a dumpster recently.

“Aren’t yougoing to invite me in?” Genma asked, a small smirk playing on hislips.

Youglanced back at your small apartment and you could almost feelyour cold lingering on the air. He didn’t want to go in there. “Uh… you’ll … you’re gonna get sick -!”

“Don’t worry, Igot it covered.” Genma reached into one of the half dozen bags hewas carrying and pulled out a white surgical mask, using one hand tomaneuver it onto his face. You’d only just now noticed his senbon was nowhere to be seen. “See? Now I won’t catch whatever youhave. Heh, do I look like Kakashi now?” 

“What?”

“He… you’re not a ninja. Right. You’ve probably seen him around.Kind of weird … got hair out to herethat’s silver, always has a mask on, always reading that orangebook.”

“No, I - I knowwho you’re talking about. I m-mean … What is all that?” Youmotioned to the different bags Genma was carrying and he grinned fromear to ear (not that you could see it).

“Well I figuredsince you weren’t up to going out tonight, we could have a nightin. Is that alright?”

“What? Really?”

“Sure.” He heldup a few bags with a local market’s logo across it. “This is somemedicine - I got three different kinds, since none of them coveredall of your symptoms. I also got you some tissues - it sounded likeyou’d need them.”

You looked away andblushed, trying to stealthily dab at your running nose with acrumpled tissue. “Th-Thanks.”

“Noproblem. I also got us dinner - or lunch, I guess.” He held up two paper bags from arestaurant you’d passed by before. “I wasn’t entirely sure whatyou eat, so I got a few different things.” He then shook a fewother bags strung along his arm, “And then I grabbed us somedrinks. Nothing alcoholic, though. Didn’t think you needed to betipsy and sick. Iwouldn’t make you wake up tomorrow hungover with a cold.” 

You stared inabsolute awe at the man, a happy smile spreading across your face. “W… Wow! That’s so n-nice of you! I d-didn’t think … I thoughtyou’d …”

Hecocked an eyebrow and showed you the bags again. “Listen, Iappreciate the thanks but canI come in? I’ve walked all over the village with these.”

“Oh! R-Right.Sorry.” You stepped aside to let him in and he glanced around yourapartment.  

“This is cute. Youlive alone?”

“Y-Yes …”

“Good. I don’twant anyone disturbing our date.” He dropped the bags onto thecoffee table and looked back at you. “Actually, I just don’t wantto share my food with anyone but you.”

A dry, croakygiggle jumped out of your throat before you could stop it and youcovered your face in shame. Genma gave a soft laugh himself and wavedyou over to the couch.

“Don’t beembarrassed; you’re sick. Come on. I also bought tea leaves to makeyou something hot to drink, since I’m sure you could use it. Whydon’t you put a movie in and I’ll get started on making the tea?”

Defeated, youcrumpled to the floor in front of the small media cabinet that yourtelevision was sitting on. You only had a few DVDs and you’dwatched them all to death, but if picking a movie meant you’d getyour date after all then you’d bite your tongue and suck it up. Youchose one of the more exciting films - something you’d seen once inthe village’s theater and had liked enough to purchase - and pushedthe disc into the DVD player. By the time you made it back to yourseat on the couch, Genma was arriving with two mugs full of hot tea.He handed you one and your entire body warmed with the heat of thecup. He pushed the edge of your blanket out of the way and sat downnext to you, setting aside his cup and digging through the plasticbags on the table.

“Here’s themedicine,” he said as he deposited one bag into your lap and pulledanother bag closer.

Whenyou looked through it you found three different flavors of cold syrup - orange, grape, and cherry. So that’swhat he was talking about.

“And here’s thetissues.” He then opened the two paper bags and pulled out steamingtake-out cartons. “Just tell me what you want and you can have it.”

Silently, youadmired the man beside you as he shuffled around the cartons and setup a line of bottled drinks. He caught your eye and raised aneyebrow, and you could sense the questioning smile hiding behind thesurgical mask.

“What?”

“Noth-Nothing!”You held your cup tighter and brought it to your face, breathing inthe earthy scent of tea. “I just … really appreciate this.Th-Thank you.”

“No problem. Iwasn’t going to pass on an opportunity to go on a date with you.Even if it’s …” He motioned around the apartment and shrugged.“I didn’t really feel like walking all the way out to that curryplace tonight anyway.”

Feeling a bit bold,you gave him a serious look (which was made fairly intimidating withthe deep bags under your eyes and the raw skin around your nose) andsaid, “Well don’t think - uhm - that you’ll get out of t-takingme there one day … You promised me a-a date there … and I expectt-to go there.”

Genma pulled downthe mask to reveal his broad grin, his eyes locked on yours. “We’llgo when you feel better. Promise.”

You smiled back andpressed the rim of the hot cup to your lips. “You know - you didn’thave to go through all of this for me.”

“I said anything,didn’t I?”

“Huh?”

Genma pulled out apair of disposable chopsticks and broke them apart, handing you oneof the take-out containers. “I said I’d do anything for you,right? I meant it. Mostly. Some things I wouldn’t - … Anythingwithin reason, I guess. This was no bother. This the movie you wantto watch?”

He changed thesubject so quickly your foggy brain had a hard time keeping up. “Yeah… uhm, thank - thank you.”

Genma gave you asideways glance and a small smile pulled at his mouth. “You’dbetter stop talking before you lose your voice. We won’t be able totalk when we go out next week. Then what’ll we do?”

Shrinking into thewarmth of the blanket, you nodded. “Uh - oh, well … What if I’mnot feeling better by next week?”

“Oh, you will,”Genma said as he relaxed into the couch, kicking his legs up onto thecoffee table. “I’m gonna take care of you until you feel better,so you’ll have no excuse for canceling our next date.”

Blushing hotly, younodded and smiled down into your tea. You were starting to think thatmaybe being sick wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[violetsystems]

#personal

The real test as twisted and relentless as the last few weeks have been is how I feel on the weekends.  I feel like if my life were a total joke at this point I’d be balled up on the kitchen floor crying right now.  For the record I just made coffee and slept in past six.  I haven’t really had a sad thought since.  I’ve been aggravated for sure about things out there.  Particularly the light emitting from the Black Hole Sagittarius A.  What’s that all about?  I paid my electric bill which was way more than it usually is.  Got on a budget plan but still.  Somebody better go out there and turn that light off.  I would do it but this would require alien technology and I have to be back at work Monday.  Work has been tough and staffing a little thin.  Our president’s office invited us for donuts after Labor Day.  So I don’t really feel too worried about being under appreciated in that respect.  I have changed my commute to work.  I was taking the stop by my house at seven am.  It’s right behind my apartment on the Pink line and very convenient.  I’m very comfortable on the CTA.  I took it the entire summer to take care of my mom in the suburbs.  I even try to stick to the same schedule just to keep things chill.  If I’ve learned anything about going out for coffee in this city is that things get stale.  I get off at the Morgan stop on the way into work and grab coffee near the Shake Shack.  Sometimes service can be a little pretentious and I wonder why I’m even paying.  People were trashing other coffee brands in front of me and I felt invisible.  I thought to myself as I left what coffee I really like.  My favorite coffee is Blue Bottle where I go near the World Trade Center in Manhattan.  It’s where the towers fell and overlooks the memorial.  It’s a very quiet place in the morning for a very bustling area.  I just sit there by myself and think alone.  I have no place like that here in my own city anymore.  People always talking.  People always prying.  Everybody has an opinion and everybody is overbearing and negative.  Nobody asks how I feel about any of it.  They pretend I’m listening like a fly on the wall.  A speck of dust in their eye when I pass by.  I ended up subscribing to Blue Bottle online.  They send you email alerts when it’s roasting.  Like they care enough to let you know why they do what they do.  It ships from Brooklyn.  These are the little things that make me smile at the kitchen table.  The only other place in the universe it seems as quiet as my heart sometimes.  Which is why waking up on a Saturday morning alone to this hell site isn’t so bad at all.  Particularly after the news of Tumblr’s sale to the people who brought you Wordpress.  When it comes to staying on brand I’m relentless.  Just ask those Adidas people who keep flashing their t-shirts in my face on my morning commute.  Or Rei Kawakubo why I make the pilgrimage to DSM New York to buy rival T-Shirts in the basement.

For all the political surveys I’ve entertained in the last year most of my social action is pretty much ignored.  Other than this relentless clash of the statement shirts.  I took the train out to Lawndale for work last week to deliver a printer.  People are afraid of that area.  Some of those reasons are valid and some are particularly systemic.  Walking down the street there by myself in a Nike shirt during the day is just like Pilsen except maybe less Adidas.  Past nine anywhere in this city isn’t really as safe as we would like it to be whatever fuck boy street wear anthem you are chanting.  If you listen to the news it’s always bad but nobody ever does anything about the gun problem.  I came home one day from the pink line and they had assembled a small gun protest outside the station.  They were shouting angrily into a megaphone and it seemed a little strange.  I walked the other way around the block home.  I passed some kid playing Chief Keef I Don’t Like out of a speaker.  There’s some layers to all of that for sure.  White boys with dreads advertising strip club on t-shirts follow me around in the loop on my lunch break thinking we’re on the same level.  I spit on the ground when I run into those ops a second time around.  People never learn and sometimes it’s exhausting playing the teacher.  America is still the home of the free sure.  I’m sure people stealing my packages six times in a row was a protest in and of itself.  Reading a lot about gaslighting lately I’ve come to know how it feels to question your own credibility.  But for me I look around and see no one trying as hard as I do to listen.  Sometimes you have to pick the movement you are in sync with.  For me in Chicago my direct political action is how I stay positive throughout all of this.  I do feel people consider me a role model after all the things that I’ve been through.  But attaching myself to a particular movement other than my own is tricky.  Especially when the statistical evidence is out there that I’ve been buried by my own city for years.  I’ve used that intelligence to better myself and hack the system so to speak.  Social engineering is the crown jewel of hacker culture.  One I think that people often forget is the core of our problem.  Society is broken in America because nobody communicates respectfully and effectively.  We value freedom so arbitrarily because we are selfish about how much we actually need.  Some people do share power effectively Some movements have taken to twitter and hashtags.  Others to chatrooms.  Some people have to submerse themselves completely like a U-boat sub.  Me I can’t even wear a t-shirt without somebody jumping around in my face trying to send me a message.  The great firewall has spoken and it’s written in bright pink.  I don’t give a fuck about people who don’t have the respect to listen to what I say.  To know how psychologically exhausting it is to constantly listen to somebody else’s opinion and have yours go ignored for years.  And I’ve been saying the same thing here for years like a broken record.  Why am I still invisible?  Maybe that’s a good thing.  I strike without warning whenever I want a shack burger.  My instagram is totally private now.  My kitchen is cozy enough for two.  I’m not too distracted to sit here in silence over coffee and look out the window.  And I don’t mind waiting here for a time when that can be true.  The coffee will always be roasted perfectly and the electric bill paid on time regardless.

So the summer is officially over for me is what I’m trying to say.  Truth be told it’s been over socially.  I don’t think I did anything other than mow the lawn.  Even that has been an education in public space and social justice.  Does this give me a soapbox to talk about the Iranian conflict?  Will I be the next ambassador for North Korea?  How can I prove my righteousness this week?  I don’t really give a fuck about any of that.  I know I’m still welcome in Chinatown when I’m hungry.  So is everybody else.  Not a far walk at all for a Sunday.  Anytime I announce anything people scurry around to hijack my schedule.  I’ve cycled through enough coffee shops in Chicago to know the drill of capitalism.  People try to use you without your consent worse than Facebook.  They get offended when you call them out on it and make you think you are crazy for even thinking that.  The stuff I tolerate is the stuff I don’t mind being around.  These days rather than through my hands up in the air like an angry dad I just get creative.  Order coffee from Brooklyn to send a strong message.  People being negative and not listening or acknowledging other people’s right to a different opinion.  That’s that shit I don’t like.  In truth a lot of what has happened to me this year particularly has been pretty low.  But I’m not particularly worried about how I looked handling it.  It is tiring to be sick and dead tired but we’ve all been there.  Nobody really knows how much better I look and feel right now than me.  I’ve been reaping the benefits of the women’s soccer core routine from Nike.  Another corporate shill sucking on the blood of a brand that enslaves trillions.  You could say that about anything really.  America particularly.  Some modern romantic relationships require the boy’s blood to be drunk at a moment’s notice.  Which is why I often point the finger at myself to see how I really feel about it all.  How fresh my opinion is does not indicate how clean the blood running through my veins is.  The person I can rule out and change first is me and my behavior.  True I don’t get treated well often on the surface.  But I love myself enough to take care of myself.  I used to think a lot of this was creating an environment around me that would be safe for other people.  But the one thing I’ve sacrificed lately is my own safety, liberty, and personal freedom.  That’s just me shaking off the privilege.  I always find a better solution for myself and grow because of it.  What I’ve grown into and who I feel closest to is some business people have got to start minding.  Because it’s nobody’s business but ours and business is the best it could be.  Especially after costing Verizon so much.  I would never put a price on our love.  But for the record it’s all for you.  Every last drop of it. <3 Tim

[ecotone99]

[SP] Living Inside Someone Else's Clothes (inside the Psychic Wars)

When I went to work today everyone had changed bodies again. Well, not everyone - there were Left Behinds that were still Left Behind because their program, their memory, their name hadn't found an interchange to upgrade- to do something really stupid.

But when the third or fourth, or fifth, employee changed their name/program drastically because they fucked with you, it starts to seem like Everyone had changed bodies, because they all started acting crazy and circling again. If you can calm 'em down it's okay, but I had some bitches with a grudge watching me, and it's hard to jump the groove in your own story. Especially when you refuse to live in someone else's clothes, let alone their life. Now that I mention it, I'm even picky about my story- I refuse to stop telling off my fucking husband.

So while I can do things like change my hair color pretty easy, I do it slow, and make it match reality. But these crazy fuckers are already all the way to body jumping- which we don't even have the tech for, so they practically glow with the magic pouring through That hole in reality- and to life stealing, which is just identity theft. Which would be GREAT if DHS cared, but since they can't even bother to give a fuck when we get hacked by a foreign country that wants something out of our poor trained asses, then they can go fucking hang. They'll just piss and moan when it's them- for the whole three seconds it takes to suck them out of their reality and use their souls to fuel the meta-system.

We've started letting the Left Behind's hear the last soul scream its way out, and hear what it sounds like when it's dragged free from their consciousness, since we tied that to their name markers, and slowly and horribly dies. They're starting to learn that they don't want that, but an opportunity to body jump gets dragged along when an opportunist like Danno passes by, and it's hard to miss (hello there), and you mention they owe you money and they go for it, still.

I just laugh now. At the start it was painful, 'til I started measuring the amount of time they gotta run the In Between against how loud they were bitching and realized that I couldn't even save my family- they were bitching that loud. I want presents. I want my magical day. Well I want to pay fucking rent and not all psychics are nice. They named it the Game so they could fuck our licensed asses over, by using the weight of the masses, and mostly we had to be as the wind, but not move, as our team members went down. Counting the bitching helps. Especially for hard core motherfuckers like me.

I tease my boys that we're the scary assed motherfuckers that scare off the scary assed motherfuckers whenever society is too hard on them. Everyone has an excuse and they tend to drown out the lopsided shrug that's pretty much our explanation for anything. I can't tell you, but there's a good reason gets you eaten by the locusts. So we're upgrading the system. It was meant for the military anyways, so we're giving it to the population as a Christmas present.

Merry Fucking Christmas Assholes. You're about to get what you complained for four long years that you ordered.

Kisses, Bint.

(Previously in the Psychic Wars)

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Time Never Does Stop... It's a Person's Experience...

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