#this is about weed btw i don't do cigarettes

[jimjamjames]

My therapist showed me a new chart to help identify my emotions better and that is sincerely so helpful but she showed me during a bad week so I had to alter it. Do you think she'll like it

[selfmadescientist-moved]

reblog this to light your f/o's cigarette with your own

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

"She's a regular here..."

Drug Dealer!Seonghwa x f!reader

CW: mentions of drug dealing/usage (seonghwa smokes), drug dealers!seonghwa and hongjoong, slight fluff, !!SMUT!! (unprotected sex, pls stay safe!!!), reader n seonghwa are dating, seonghwa fucks reader in his fur coat lol , not really proofread?? Idk I tried

My first time trying to write a proper smut scene 😭😭 I hope its okay omg. Wrote this cuz @/ygswl on instagram (best ateez editor btw) brought up the concept of drug dealer! Seonghwa ARGHHHH. I wanted to write a more intense, concept-heavy smut scene but I js tried my best since I'm not familar with smut writing💔����

Edit: Part 2 is out!!!

Part 3 is out!!!

"Fuck..." Seonghwa groaned, breathing out a puff of wispy smoke. He leaned his head back against the couch as he clocked in the sight of jumbled notes on his mahogany wood coffee table. Orders from customers. Usually, he would've been able to keep up with them, no problem. But there had recently been a huge surge of calls, requesting for the new, trending drug: ARRIBA. And as part of the most reputable dealers in the area, MATZ, he was well-expected to have the best supply. He irritably grinded his teeth together, pre-installed Grillz provided a light, screeching noise.

Taking another drag from his rolled cigarette, his ears perked up at the sound of the door opening. "Hwa, what are you doing?" Seonghwa's business partner, Kim Hongjoong, walked into the shabby makeshift office. Seonghwa didn't reply, merely staring blankly at the ceiling as he absentmindedly played with the blunt in his fingers. Meanwhile, Hongjoong's eyes lingered on the stack of order forms, and he gave a stern look to his tattooed counterpart. "I asked you a question, Park Seonghwa." "What? I'm fucking exhausted from taking calls and names. I've been at it since 11, give me a break." He jerked his head towards a wall clock behind him. A quarter past 3pm.

It had always been this way with the duo. Ever since they started their underground business as barely legal adults, Hongjoong dealt with supplies, and Seonghwa would deal with the customers and their orders. 2 young men in struggling financial situations, who were desperate to make ends meet, starting a drug-dealing business together, it worked out strangely well. This also, despite their constant bickering, formed a strong bond between the two.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes at the response. "Whatever, sure." He tilted his head, eyes settling on the faux fur coat that rested on a chair beside the couch. "Is that new?" "Yeah... I picked it up after getting the payment for that huge order earlier this week." "Ohh, the order for that college frat party?" Seonghwa nodded silently in response, his eyes beginning to glaze over. "Anyways, Yunho says we can expect restock within the next week. ARRIBA's selling out fast, but we can finish these orders right away once the new shipment arrives." Hongjoong rattled off an imaginary list, giving a reassuring pat on the shoulder to his partner. Seonghwa was unresponsive, clearly stressed out from the recent increase in workload, but Hongjoong knew he was listening. Although, that didn't stop him from doing what he was about to do. "You shouldn't keep using this, by the way. It's reaaaally bad for you." With that, he leaned forward and snatched the smoking blunt from his partner's fingers.

Seonghwa hastily whipped his head around, sighing internally at Hongjoong's classic shit-eating grin. He furrowed his eyebrows at the realisation that he had given the man the satisfaction of getting a reaction. "I'm stressed, man. Gotta relax somehow." "I don't think you'll need your weed when your favourite 'regular' is here, though." Hongjoong tilted his head towards the office door, calling out in a singsong voice. "Y/N, you can come in now~"

The mention of your name caused Seonghwa's eyes to immediately light up. He scrambled to snatch the cigarette back from Hongjoong, and quickly crushed it with his heel.

Just a quiet, veterinary student that he had met in a cafe 3 years ago, Seonghwa had adored you from the very beginning. You were the cashier taking his order, nervous on your first day, and fumbling a little with the cash register's buttons. Seonghwa had found your clumsy nature both alluring and endearing, and he had asked you out on a date right away. The two of you had hit it off, and a beautiful relationship bloomed from then on. Even when you found out Seonghwa's line of work, you understood his situation and never judged him for it. It didn't make you love him any less. He would often spoil you with gifts and spend as much time as possible with you. Your college classes and his odd working hours would clash often, but you still found time to drop by his office to visit him. After all, it was quite easy to locate your drug dealer boyfriend. He mostly stayed in his office, only occasionally going out with Hongjoong when they had a large shipment coming in or a customer that wanted to deal in-person. Thus the nickname that Hongjoong gave to you: Seonghwa's Favourite 'Regular'. Despite your support for his business, Seonghwa still hated doing or dealing drugs around you, especially cigarettes. It was part of his line of work, and he was used to it, but he would always quickly put out a blunt or stash away powdery white packets when you visited.

"Seonghwa~ I'm here to visit you! My class today was cancelled, so my afternoon is free," you hummed as you walked into the room in your red checkered pants and (Seonghwa's) oversized hoodie. You offered a smile to Hongjoong, who was already on his way out to give you two some privacy. He winked at Seonghwa just before he walked out the doorway, shutting the door behind him.

Seonghwa's gaze softened as you crashed onto his form on the couch, snuggling into his exposed collarbone. "I missed you..." "I missed you too, sweetheart... you've been so busy with classes lately, I haven't seen you for a full week. Do you even love me anymore?" He sighed dramatically, earning a muffled laugh from you. "My finals are coming up, Hwa. Been rushing my deadlines and finishing up on revision. I gotta do this to earn my veterinary certification, hm?" "Well, anytime you wanna quit your course and live with me 24/7, I'll take care of you. Nothing would make me happier to, actually. MATZ has been doing so well recently." He puffed up his chest. You found it cute whenever he was protective like this. "Okay, Hwa. I'll keep you posted." The two of you settled into comfortable silence.

The quietness and stillness in the air suddenly made him very aware of your movements. He raised his eyebrows when he realised you were being touchier than usual. Your hands were roaming his shoulders, tracing circles over his neck tattoo and gold chains that sat above his unbuttoned collar. The occasional shift of your hips didn't go unnoticed by the tattooed man, either. Seonghwa experimentally slid a veiny hand under your hoodie, blushing when he felt your bare back, marking the absence of a bra strap.

"Sweetheart, are you-"

"Mhm... needy for you, Hwa."

"Oh-- we're in my office now, though, Hongjoong could hear us..."

"Wouldn't you like that?"

Seonghwa's face heated up at the thought of his partner overhearing the two of you. The possibility someone else, especially his best friend/business partner, hearing the two of you fucking in his office turned him on. A lot.

His shy expression quickly changed to a dominant, cockier one. Quickly pinning you onto the couch, he connected his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. He tasted like smoke and the cherry lip gloss you had bought him a month ago, and you loved it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, effectively hoisting yourself up, before pulling away from his lips to kiss and lick at the tattoo scrawled across his neck. Seonghwa groaned at the feeling, his eyes glazing over and landing on his fluffy, new fur coat that was draped on the nearby chair. A devious idea popped into his head.

"Sweetheart, wait... I wanna do something." You stopped sucking at the 'A' on his neck and tilted your head curiously at him. He tugged at the hem of your hoodie, his eye contact with you searching for consent. You let him, of course. You trusted him. He lifted off your hoodie right away, sucking in a breath at the sight of your bare torso. "My pretty girl," he sighed, making you flush a bright red hue. Seonghwa leaned forward to leave a kiss on your breasts and gestured you to take off your pants, before getting off the couch, seemingly to get something. You sat confused, naked except for your dark blue panties, until you saw him grab the fur coat on the chair beside the couch.

The faux fur brushed against your skin as Seonghwa helped you put it on. It was huge, heavy and fluffy, covering everything yet nothing on your bare figure. He stepped back to take you in, a guttural moan leaving his throat at the sight of you naked form practically drowning underneath the fluffy mass of fabric. You, on the other hand, were aching for his touch. A whole week of being apart from your lover, deprived of his love, his intimacy, deprived of him. He noticed your pouty lips and squirming, and chuckled teasingly.

"Can't wait, sweetheart?"

You were about to nod in response, but was cut off when you felt a long finger being pressed against your moist folds. A whiny gasp slipped out of your mouth, and your hands scrambled to find support on Seonghwa's strong forearms. He smiled as he lightly rubbed circles on your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, your whines sounding like music to his chain-adorned ears. "Hwa...hurry, I want your dick in me already," you panted out. Seonghwa scoffed teasingly at your impatient tone. "Patience, sweetheart, I need to prep you first."

His expert fingers tugged aside the fabric covering your pussy, exposing yourself to him fully. Two fingers were pushed into your aching hole, causing you to arch your back at the feeling. Breathless moans filled the room as he curled and thrusted his fingers into you at a torturously slow pace. He knew you were sensitive, and it was driving you crazy how slow he was going.

"H-Hwa..."

"Shhh, I know."

The building knot in your tummy snapped, and you came undone on your lover's long fingers. But just as you began to catch your breath, Seonghwa leaned down to lick up your juices. The cold metal of his grillz shot through your core, drawing out a high-pitched cry from you.

Blinking back tears from the overstimulation, you glanced down at your boyfriend. He was sitting comfortably between your legs, lips and grillz teeth shiny with your arousal, mouth spread in a loving grin as if he didn't just finger-fuck you to an orgasm.

He got up and kissed a tear rolling down your cheek. "I'm sorry, baby, I just had to tease you a little. I'll give you what you want now." Seonghwa picked you up and shifted you to a more comfortable spot on the couch, the heavy coat's fur swishing quietly as he did so. You shivered as the fur brushed against your nipples, perky from being exposed to the surrounding air.

There was a light clunk of a belt buckle, followed by a zipping noise, before Seonghwa finally pressed his pretty cock against your bare stomach, earning a sigh of relief from you. You licked your lips at the sight of his flushed, hard member. "Did you miss me or did you miss my dick?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow when you stared for a little too long. You whined back, and he sighed in defeat before pressing his cock into your entrance, already wet and lubricated from him fingering you open earlier.

"F-fuck! So warm..." Seonghwa hissed as his cock sank into you. You cried out, reaching out to bury your face into his neck when he started to thrust in and out of you. Sloppy slaps of skin, whiny moans, curses and the occasional swish of faux fur against leather filled the room as Seonghwa fucked you into the couch. The air reeked of hot sex and cigarette smoke, but neither of you minded. He gazed lovingly at you through his lashes, admiring how you looked in his fur coat, with his dick in you. The possessiveness that you two had for each other always made him hard whenever it showed.

He winced when you clenched on him particularly hard. "Oh s-shit- you like my cock? You like your drug dealer boyfriend's cock?" You nodded hastily, drool beginning to form on the side of your lips. Seonghwa smirked, but was barely keeping his composure at the sight of you so cock-drunk. He pulled you in with his free hand for a kiss, heavy metal rings on his fingers squishing your face and making your breath hitch involuntarily. The lingering taste of tobacco on his lips made you moan, eyes glazing over from pleasure as his tongue pushed past your lips to invade your mouth.

It wasn't long before both of you came undone. You sighed breathily as your second orgasm formed a ring of white liquid around Seonghwa's dick, and he quickly pulled out to cum onto your bare stomach. Still panting from his orgasm, he gathered some of his fluids onto his fingers, and stuffed your mouth with them. You hummed appreciatively in response, suckling his fingers clean as he admired your flushed, fucked-out expression.

♡♡♡

"Yah, I was only out for awhile! What did you guys do??" Hongjoong snickered an hour later as he waltzed into the room and over to the couch. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth when Seonghwa shot a stern look at him, index finger pressed to his lips as if to say "shut the fuck up you big-mouthed minion". His other hand was wrapped around your sleeping figure, still naked but bundled up in his fur coat and shielded from Hongjoong's eyes.

Hongjoong raised his hands, exaggeratingly mouthing a "sorry!" that his best friend scoffed quietly at. Seonghwa rolled his eyes and returned his gaze back to you. His heart warmed at the peaceful look you had in your sleep, but his dick stirred at the sight of you covered by nothing but his oversized fur coat. Needless to say, he was definitely giving you a round 2 once you woke up.

If you've managed to read this far, thank you so much for reading my fanfic! 🙏 I hope you enjoyed it 😭

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Five

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of drugs (weed) word count: 3.3k a/n: the italics are a flashback to allie and layla in their gym class btw! love you guys <3

pov: layla

I decided to stay home from school for the rest of the week, I just didn't have the energy to endure the looks people would give me. The whispering during my last two subjects after Matt and I came back at lunch was already too much and it was worse in gym when Allie stuck to her word and paired up with me.

She seemed nice, much nicer than Mia was to me. She talked my ear off the whole lesson but I didn't mind because then I didn't have to talk.

"Don't worry about Mia, by the way. She can be really bitchy at times but she just doesn't like change. I promise she is usually a lot nicer," Allie rambled as we walked around the gym as a warm-up, "It was kinda funny though. No one ever really stands up to her when she gets bitchy because everyone's scared that her dad will arrest them."

Oh, I've met her dad.

"Matt also stood up for you after you left. I trust Matt's opinion on people, he's kinda my scapegoat when it comes to talking to people. I told him to start talking to you like three weeks ago so I could ask you to hang out. I just get nervous talking to people I don't know sometimes."

You don't seem nervous now, motor mouth.

"Sorry if I'm rambling a lot. I'm just really glad you decided to pair up with me because I've been paired with Mia for like the past 2 years. It's nice to have a new friend. It's not like I don't like my friends but Mia is my only girl friend and the guys are such guys sometimes it drives me mad. You get your nails done?"

I shook my head no before she continued, "We should go get our nails done sometime. My shout of course, I'm not gonna force you to get your nails done as well as make you pay."

She was a ray of sunshine and I was sure people were confused as someone as sweet as her was talking to someone like me who looked like they had a constant rain cloud over their head. I found myself amused by her rambling and I decided that it wouldn't be the worst thing to talk to her every now and then.

I spent the rest of my week smoking weed when my father wasn't home and drawing on the last few pages of my sketchbook. The time passed quickly considering I slept for most of the days. Suddenly it was Friday afternoon and I heard a knock at my front door.

I paused my music, frowning when I looked at the clock to see it was 3:30. It was far too early for my dad to be home so I grabbed the metal bat that was lying on the bottom of my underwear drawer, sneaking towards the door silently. Another round of light knocks were placed on the door and I crept up to it before looking through the peephole.

My tense shoulders slumped as I looked at two people with the same face and their familiar brown hair. I unlocked the deadbolt on the door as well as the regular lock before I swung the door open.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning my left hand on the handle of the bat now that the other end was placed on the floor.

"Hi to you too," Chris mumbled as he looked side to side, clearly tense to be in South End as Matt smiled at me.

"I figured you would forget about the game. Decided to come earlier in case you were ready which..." he looked down at my outfit which was my small sleep shorts and an old ratty t-shirt, "I don't think you are?"

"You didn't say it was this Friday!" I frowned and Chris looked down at the bat I was leaning on before shaking his head.

"Good thing I came early then," Matt smirked at me and I chewed at my lip. I tapped the bat on the ground as I thought making Chris look at me again.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna use it on you," I deadpanned to Chris and he just shrugged, looking back out at the street. I felt a nervousness in my chest because they were at my house but I knew if they stayed on the porch or in their car, someone would try something. So I reluctantly said, "Come in."

"We can wait in the ca-"

I cut off Matt quickly, "Get inside now." They looked at each other in surprise before shuffling past me and I closed the door behind them before saying, "Do you have anything valuable in your car? Phone, wallet, laptop?"

They both shook their heads and I locked both of the locks on the door before I spun around to face them again.

"Why?" Chris asked and I tilted my head, giving him an unimpressed look.

"I'll just say you're lucky you drive a fucking soccer mom car or it would be broken into within 15 minutes," I answered blandly and they seemed somewhat shocked but didn't talk, "Come on."

I walked down the hall towards my room, slipping inside and they followed shortly behind me.

"We could've waited on the couch," Matt said as I closed the door of my bedroom and raised my eyebrows.

"If my dad came home and you were sitting on the couch, say goodbye to hockey for the rest of your life," I replied dryly and he pursed his lips, "If he comes home, you will just have to go out my window and jump the fence around the side of the house."

"You don't know when he's coming home?" Chris asked as he leaned against the wall beside my mattress and I shook my head. I was suddenly very conscious that I had the two most loved boys in our school standing in my dirty bedroom. I looked around my room, realising that I looked like I lived in a trap house with my mattress on the floor, empty beer bottles in the corner of my room with cigarettes stuck in them and clothes all over the floor.

"Sorry about the mess. No one ever comes over," I mumbled as I moved a couple clothes off of my mattress, "Sit wherever. Just don't look over here because I'm gonna get changed."

I travelled to the corner of my room where my chest of drawers sat and I saw them both turn to face away from me quickly. After placing the bat beside the drawers, I pulled out black baggy jeans, took off my shorts quickly and slid them on. I then took off my old T-shirt and slid on a baby blue hoodie. I didn't bother putting on a shirt since it would be cold at the game and I wouldn't have to take my hoodie off at any point.

"I'm dressed," I let them know as I grabbed my boots off of the floor, sitting down next to my dresser so I could slide them on easily. I looked up to see both of them sitting on my mattress, looking around my room. Their expressions were unreadable as they looked around my room.

"I like your posters," Chris spoke up and I looked to the wall above my mattress where my Bob Marley, Frank Ocean and Kurt Cobain posters were hung.

"Thanks," I answered, a half-hearted smile being sent his way which he reciprocated, "When do we have to leave by?"

"Four," Matt answered and I nodded, checking the time to see it was 3:40. I hopped off of the floor, walked over to my desk and sat down on the old desk chair.

I scribbled some eyeliner on my eyes before smudging it with my finger and then putting mascara on. I grabbed my lip balm, placing it on my lips before I ran a hand through my curly hair. I grabbed the white beanie that was thrown onto the floor, sliding it onto my head. I jumped up from the seat, grabbed my leather jacket that was hanging over the back of the chair and slid it on.

"Do I need to bring anything?" I asked, having no clue what else to bring to a hockey game.

"Just your team spirit," Chris cheered sarcastically and I tilted my head with an amused look on my face.

"I'm not a cheerleader for a reason," I answered and he shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't cheer when we win," he retorted and I nodded in agreement.

"I'm good as long as I'm not expected to start screaming 'Go Bats go!' like an idiot," I did a small jump when I said the slogan that I heard all the cheerleaders say proudly and Matt laughed in response as Chris shook his head with a smile.

"You wanna get food on the way?" Matt asked and I shook my head in response.

"I'm good, I just ate," I explained and he nodded, quickly checking his phone.

"We should probably go," he said, turning his phone to me to see that it was 3:55. I couldn't believe another 15 minutes had passed so quickly but I nodded. Making sure I had my phone, cigarettes, lighter and keys in my pocket, I swung the bedroom door open as Matt and Chris followed behind me. I unlocked the front door swinging it open and motioning for Chris and Matt to go outside.

They walked past me and walked to their car as I turned around to lock the door with my keys. After triple-checking the door, I wandered down the driveway to the minivan. I noticed that Matt was always the one to drive and Chris was seated in the passenger seat, phone already plugged into the aux.

I slid the back door open, jumping inside before I closed the door behind me. As I buckled myself in, Matt started the car and Chris played a song by Lil Skies.

"We good?" Matt asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror and I nodded before he spun around to look at me, "I didn't even have to remind you about your seatbelt, so proud."

"Start driving before I change my mind and go back to the comfort of my bed," I smiled slightly and he beamed back at me before he spun around and we took off down the street.

Within 5 minutes, we were in the parking lot and Chris was wriggling his body along to the beat of the next Lil Skies song. I could take a wild guess as to who his favourite artist is.

Matt turned the music down, earning a glare from Chris but he turned around to look at me ignoring his brother for a moment, "You waiting in the car or coming in?"

"I'm gonna have a smoke first then I'll come in," I explained and he nodded before turning off the car.

"You head in. I'll be there in a sec," Matt told Chris who was clicking away on his phone. With a nod, he jumped out of the car and walked around to the back of the car.

"You want me to take your shit inside?" Chris called from the trunk as I turned around to see Chris lugging his huge duffle bag full of hockey shit.

"Nah I got it," Matt called back to him and Chris raised his eyebrows as he leaned into the trunk again.

"Don't start fuckin in the car or I swear to god," he deadpanned before slamming the trunk closed and I saw him start walking towards the building.

"Sorry about him," Matt mumbled apologetically and I shrugged as I turned to face him.

"It's fine. Wouldn't expect anything less," I told him with an amused smirk making him shake his head, a smile creeping onto his lips, "Are you gonna go inside?"

"I'll wait for you to finish and then I'll show you where to sit inside," he explained and I nodded before hopping out of the car. I closed the door behind me before leaning against the car, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between my lips before lighting it. I heard Matt's door open and close before he rounded the car to get to the trunk.

As I began smoking my cigarette, a car pulled into the space next to Matt's and a few moments passed before Nate and Allie appeared out of the car.

"Hey! Matt told me you were coming," Allie beamed at me and I observed her outfit, feeling strange to see her out of her usual cheer or gym attire. Instead, she had blue jeans, a black puffer jacket with a blue beanie on and black and white vans.

"He failed to mention the game was this Friday," I told her and she rolled her eyes as Nate waved at me. I sent him a wave back with the hand that held my cigarette before I took another puff.

"Is Nick coming?" Nate asked and Matt appeared beside me, duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Nah. He said something about doing homework tonight. Chris is already inside," Matt explained with a shrug as Nate rounded the back of his car and popped the trunk open, grabbing a duffle bag of his own hockey gear.

"You coming in?" Allie asked me and I held the cigarette up.

"When I finish this," I told her, a smile tugging at my lips at her beaming personality.

"See you guys in there!" Nate called as he started walking towards the building with Allie following behind him.

"Is Miss Cheer herself coming?" I asked Matt once Allie and Nate were out of earshot and he shrugged, moving to stand in front of me as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

"No clue. She usually shows up late if she comes though," he told me honestly and I nodded, noticing my cigarette almost being done. I quickly finished it before dropping it onto the ground and squishing it underneath my foot. I went to push away from the car but Matt stopped me by saying, "Hold up."

"What?" I asked, confusion written on my face. He held his hand up before he dropped his duffle bag to the ground and squatted down to rummage through one of the smaller pockets.

He pulled out a small pot of black face paint and a brush before standing back up, "Move your hair."

"What are you doing?" I squinted at him as he opened the pot of black face paint and he smiled at me.

"Just trust me," he shrugged and I squinted my eyes at him for a moment before I tucked my hair behind my ears. I tilted my head back as I peered up at him and he dipped the brush into the pot before he started painting my right cheek.

"If you're drawing a dick on my face I'll kill you with my bare hands, Matthew," I mumbled, trying not to move my mouth much as his tongue poked out between his lips in concentration.

"If I was gonna do that..." he trailed off before leaning back with a smile, "I'd use a sharpie."

"What did you do?" I asked and he just shrugged as he closed the pot again, sliding it back into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder again. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, opening the front camera to see he had painted the number 81 on my cheek, "What does this mean?"

"You'll see," he shrugged with a smirk and I frowned as he started to walk backwards before he tilted his head towards the building, "Come on. I gotta warm up."

I pushed away from the car, trailing behind him as we walked towards the entrance. He swung the door open, standing behind it as he let me walk in first. We walked through the front area, some of his teammates being gathered around to grab snacks or energy drinks.

"Matty B!" one of the guys called who I recognised as Daniel and he jogged over to us as Matt paused, dapping him up quickly, "Who's this?"

"Layla, Daniel. Daniel, Layla," Matt introduced us and I just nodded at Daniel, not surprised that he didn't know my name.

"No Mia?" he asked Matt and Matt just shrugged in response.

"She's being weird. I don't know dude," Matt answered before he looked towards the rest of their team, "You guys gotta hurry up. We have 45 to warm up."

"Sir, yes, sir," Daniel sent Matt a salute before he started walking backwards and looked at me, "Nice to meet you, princess."

I sent him another nod before Matt started walking towards the doors of the rink, "Ignore Dan. He'll try to fuck anything with legs."

"Don't worry, Captain. I don't do goalies," I smirked and he chuckled in response, holding the door open to the rink for me to enter first again. I walked in, the cold air hitting my cheeks making me shiver.

"Layla!" I heard Allie's chirpy voice call out from the bleachers and I looked to my left to see her sitting front and centre, I sent her a small wave as I started to walk over to her with Matt following behind me.

"I gotta go get ready but are you good to sit with Allie?" Matt asked me and I turned my head to look at him now that he was on my right and I nodded.

"Yeah. Go make sure your hair is nice before you play," I joked as he rolled his eyes, pushing my shoulder slightly before spinning around to walk backwards while I paused at the steps that led up to where Allie was seated, "Break a leg, pretty boy."

"Thanks, pretty girl," he smirked at me and I bit my lip to hide my smile as he spun back around and walked into the locker room at the end of the rink. I shook my head to get rid of my smile as I walked up a few steps before sitting down next to Allie.

She smirked at me and I gave her a confused expression, "What?"

"Nothing," she hummed, her smirk turning into a smile as she looked out onto the ice. She pulled a packet of Sour Patch Kids out from her small handbag that I hadn't even noticed before she pulled open the packet, "You want one?"

"Sure," I shrugged, picking out a couple before throwing them into my mouth and her actions followed mine.

"So you and Matt..." she trailed off and I looked back at her as she smiled at me.

"Me and Matt?" I questioned, waiting for her to continue.

"You guys are cute," she shrugged, a genuine joy spread across her face and I let my mouth fall open.

"Uh... I don't even know if we're friends let alone anything else," I told her honestly and she rolled her eyes playfully before she hummed.

"Matt doesn't talk to just anyone. If he's asking you to come to his games clearly he wants you around," she told me as if it were obvious and I shrugged as I chewed on my lip. A few players from the other team skated onto the ice with their full gear, doing laps around the ice lazily.

"I don't think Chris and Nick like me though. His brothers' opinions probably mean a lot to him," I answered, looking at the players skating in circles. A couple players from Matt's team slid onto the ice as they started doing the same as the opposition.

"Chris is just focused on other shit. Nick tends to stick to himself a lot so just give them both time," she tried to reassure me and I looked back to her before she continued, "Besides, I like you so they're not getting rid of you that easily while I'm around."

"What about Mia?" I asked, genuinely curious as to how heavily Mia's opinion influenced her friends.

Allie sighed as she looked out at the rink, "Mia will figure it out. I don't know why she's being so weird about it. I think it's because she's protective over us."

"Matt's the one that came to me. I don't know why she was acting like I'm tryna break up your entire friend group," I mumbled as I looked out onto the ice to see a couple more players.

Only then did I realise that number 81 with a small C on the chest of his blue and white jersey was skating around the rink and it was none other than Matthew Sturniolo.

[mrschwartz]

I saw that an anon recently wrote to you about why Alex hasn't married yet and why he has no children unlike the other members of the band. What I can say is that in my opinion it is not a priority and I think it is his choice or rather I believe that when he saw that the others started a family and got married he withdrew into this thing and preferred to let it go and think of himself even if he has always been involved in some relationship to be able to try to do what others have done. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who likes to take on responsibilities like having young children and taking care of them 24/7 (nor does his current girlfriend). It's like he's still looking for a part of himself that he hasn't found yet, even in the new album, in The Car sensed a person who was incomplete and dissatisfied with what he's done, then for heaven's sake it could be that it's not exactly like that since it's an opinion, but he doesn't strike me as a particularly happy man

yeah he only has the mind to care for himself which alone is a lot of fucking effort tbh! i don't even think it's bc he hasn't found the right person to have children with (and he really hasn't lol), i don't think he wants them at all. totally fine! having children is just not for some people. it just doesn't fit his personality at all, it really doesn't. dude lives for his career man, it's hilariously clear. he loves art and music and films and photography and reading and writing and his friends and bars and restaurants and drinking and cigarettes and weed and travelling, not toys and cartoons and diapers and schools and certainly not the responsibility or the attention children would require

on the very last thing you said. i mean. is any of us, really? nvjfnvjgnbgj

but seriously, idk. he has his moments. i'm sure he's happy in general, how can he not. sucessful career, not having to worry about money, people who appreciate his art, amazing friends, nice family. but like yeah there's obv some gaps. this is gonna sound pretentious af and i'm very aware of that, but like he's obv a very intelligent person and, beyond that, very inside of his own head, people with both of those traits don't tend to be very happy all the time. he always seems worried about something, and on edge. he's restless and gets bored very easily, i'd say he's more dissatisfied than unhappy, he's always chasing after something but never really quite getting there. i'm talking about all facets in life btw, take from that what you will lol

[lenorethequietbookkeeper]

(Screencapping the og post cause it's pretty long)

Ok so this is something I've wanted to do with my own old fucks, but I didn't know exactly how I wanted of go about doing it!!! Until my mate @prettyputrified sent in the ask that gave me an idea; polyvores!! So anyway, I made some more "What's in [x character]'s bag" type posts as a response to this!

(Shout-out to @/cuuno for the og concept btw! Png credit will be in reblogs)

(Read tws in tags before proceeding)

-----

Sylvain's Bag

Work Bag: The plain black bag Sylvain takes with him when he goes on jobs. It contains only what he needs, which are usually no more than his weapon of choice and his collection of burner phones. Oh, and a pack of cigarettes. Murder is pretty stressful after all.

Casual Bag: Sylvain's own personal purse and wallet. Despite his rough and violent demeanor, he loves self expression and indulging in the emo/pastel goth aesthetic.

- Pocket 1: Self defense pocket. The streets of Pythonel are a dangerous place, so Sylvain makes sure not to leave the house without a gun and/or knife. The weed is purely for sale by the way, not edglord enough I guess.

- Pocket 2: Self care pocket. Contains his own personal phone, which he decorates in cool stickers he finds while out and about. Also makeup and protection, in case he wants to doll up for someone he fancies.

-----

Aldin's Bag

Shopping Bag: Aldin just uses the same plastic shopping bag he got ten years ago to carry everything. Usually has empty cans and drug garbage in there with everything else. Phone is busted to hell, but you know Aldin's broke ass can't replace it. Get your shit together man what is this???

-----

Jeagar's Bag

Bag: Ann made it (and basically all his clothes) for him. She tries to include stuff she knows Jeagar likes on it. He never says it aloud, but his old ass appreciates it. Always has bugs inside it that he finds in dire circumstances.

- Pocket 1: Used to store weapons and cigarettes. Usually alternates between his collection of fancy weaponry when he goes out. Matchboxes are from Ann's thrift shopping. Never buys any of his cigarettes, instead he digs up used ones from the dump.

- Pocket 2: Leisure pocket. Contains whatever books he's reading at the moment. Carries around his favorite songs on cassette tapes because the radio people have bad taste. Phone is an old ass brick phone he's had for the last 20 years. How does that thing still work??

- Pocket 3: Emergency pocket. Always has at least one Molotov cocktail in his bag. Just in case.

-----

John's Bag

Backpack: Simple brown backpack John brings when he goes on trips. Has his keys and pins that he finds funny. Tomagachi is a gift from Ferris for when he's stressed out.

- Front Pocket: Sketch pocket. Has all his little sketchbooks and pencils for when he's bored. Also draws on pieces of loose paper like receipts and used envelopes.

- Inside (smaller part): Comfort pocket. Has porn and alcohol in it all the time, always. Keeps more hardcore drugs in a vintage tin case. Please don't ask about the wedding ring.

- Inside (larger part): All the random shit he's stolen. Purely does it to satiate his "tendencies", as he calls it. Usually takes valuables or vintage items, but will nab literally anything if need be.

-----

Charles' Bag

Backpack: Old backpack Charles covered in cool stickers and patches. Loves creepy stuff and clutter, which shows in how he decorates most of his belongings. Negative space who?

- Front Pocket: Fun shit pocket. Ready access to drugs, money, music, and most importantly, video games. Phone is some dinky bullshit covered in stickers. Actually has to replace it semi-regularly due to being a temperamental little bitch that destroys shit.

- Main Pocket: "Important" storage pocket. Where he puts his bong when he goes out to a buddy's. Pretty much always has a shitload of random snacks. Always contains at least two guns no matter what.

-----

Ferris' Bag

Handbag: Bag Ferris stole from a thrift store and covered in patches and pins. Decorates the same way Charles does, but has more vintage and kidcore-esc tastes. Oh and also sexy ladies.

- Pocket 1: Storage pocket. Always has drugs on him, either to sell or use. Keeps his wallet in there for business purposes. Mainly has weed, but will also carry other stuff too.

- Pocket 2: Fun pocket. Books and video games for when he's bored. A rough draft of whatever gross fic he's working on in case inspiration strikes him. Weapons used to make potential inspo. A camera to capture said inspo. Phone is nothing special, just a sticker-covered little flip phone he actually takes decent care of.

- Lunchbox: Usually carries this along with his bag. Keeps the bigger snacks and drinks he can't stick in his bag. Organization is important after all!

-----

Daniel's Bag

Handbag: Alternates between one of his many vintage-looking, designer handbags. Loves excessive gold and jewels in his accessories. Minimalism is so overrated. Daniel's cutesy pink and white flip phone is hardly anything special on the surface. Gets a bit strange when you realize it's the only bit of modern tech in Goldberg. Weird...

- Help Pocket: :)

[webshood]

nigga is you blind?

Also, literally the "start coughing blood in three days" and "I'll be outside your house", it's not a threat it's not a curse it's literally stan/fandom slang/copypasta

about the nicotine thing and that it's "oh so much worse than weed", it's literally canon, he has smoked cigarettes before, on one of his first appearances btw

Also great that you use it for your anxiety and depression, but like... I'm not interested in what you do or don't with your life, you're 25, you are big enough to make your own decisions, if you see Jason smoking weed because you have that similarity with him, that's great for you. However I as someone who's father was an addict throughout from the time of my birth to when I was fourteen, and who's seen him go to rehab so many times and start smoking weed so he could ease the mind and relax a bit, increasing the dosage he used everyday, to the point where he needed stronger stuff, just to fall back into addiction again, can't see Jason, someone who also had an addict parent through his early childhood using it.

Different people have different experiences, I'm not holding nobody hostage or putting nobody's name on a frogs mouth and tying it up to curse their bloodline, over personal FANFIC preferences on Tumblr dot com.

I'm a Jason Todd drug denier, if you write him doing drugs we're actually enemies. /lh

If you write kid him smoking cigarettes, that's okay because it's canon and nicotine is appetite suppressing, you can use it to make a good fic of him dealing with starvation and homelessness. However, the moment you make him (adult or kid) smoke weed, just know I'll be outside your door and you'll start coughing blood in three days

[munsons-maiden]

A lots been said about Eddie’s level of hygiene and cleanliness but I think it’s important to point out that while in hiding, he seems to have changed out his underwear about 1-2 times. In one scene(I think in the boat when he’s trying to get away from Jason) he wears underwear with a white band, and they don’t poof out like boxers, and ofc the scene with the boxer with the blue checks. I think there’s another scene where he’s wearing a pair with a black band but not 100% sure on that. Maybe while he was hiding out at reefer ricks he found a pair that fit him and was like, shit might as well switch out while I can. So he’s clean enough to change his underwear when he can.

This. Exactly!! He definitely changed his underwear and even if he hadn't...he was literally on the run 😅

I absolutely hate posts making fun of Eddie's hygiene. I don't know where the "Eddie stinks" sentiment comes from and frankly I feel it's because he's poor and from a trailer park and there's this ugly stereotype in our society assuming poor people have bad hygiene/stink and it's absolutely appalling.

Eddie is on the run the entire week during ST4. He witnessed a girl he liked getting snapped to pieces on his ceiling, ran away from monsters he didn't even knew existed until then, was chased by the police for murder and hunted down by a jock's lynch mob because said jock had a White Male Vigilante Fantasy to fulfil. And that was day 1-3 of Eddie's horrible week. Right afterwards, he was thrown into a freezing lake (lakes stink btw, that's a fact. Every lake stinks, that's the only stinky stereotype I'll accept), witnessed the second gruesome, cruel, traumatizing supernatural murder, spent the night freezing and wet and panicking in the woods (again), before he jumped into said lake for a second time twenty-four hours later to save a guy he only recently found out was Not A Douche from a bunch of supernatural mutant monster bats.

Eddie Munson is absolutely allowed to stink. What was he supposed to do while in hiding? Take a bubble bath at Rick's, light a few scented candles for good mesaure and maybe a little moisturizing face mask because running from an assortment of people wanting to kill you for different reasons (none of which were your fault) really makes one's skin a little dry? Was he supposed to cower in that boat under the tarp and going "oh hey while I'm here I could just as well put my clothes into the washing machine so I'll smell nice when the police arrests me for a gruesome murder I didn't commit/ when the jock who always hated me beats me to death because his narcissism found a channel to feed his hero-complex/ when the supernatural undead dark wizard from another dimension snaps my bones and pops my eyes :)"?

And that one normal day of Eddie Munson's life we witnessed? He didn't look dirty, and neither Dustin nor Mike nor Chrissy fucking Cunningham Queen Of Hawkins High even flinched in his presence to indicate he was stinking. And his hair? As someone with the exact same hair structure and curls as Eddie Munson's I can assure you, those curls wouldn't look like they did if he didn't wash them regularly (and with conditioner). He might smell of weed and cigarettes and maybe a bit of cheap cologne but he doesn't small bad/stinks/have a bad hygiene. People need to stop assuming Eddie stinks because he's a metalhead/poor/messy.

Sorry for that essay, I needed to get this off my chest 😂

[chicago-geniza]

well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

[fortunately-bi]

Btw don't take this as me saying people who smoke are gross or whatever. Smoking is an incredibly hard to break addiction with consequences to your health in ways that aren't just cancer. You will start struggling to breathe, have gagging fits, mess up your teeth and so on.

I smoke. I work in a smoke and liquor shop. I'm not going to be a hypocrite about this.

Tobacco companies target young adults with menthol flavors (menthol is a big contributor to cancer, it's also in some disposables) and a lot of media makes smoking out to be this cool thing. Companies won't admit it, but things like puff bars, Mr fogs, juul but very specifically the brands who made flavored cartridges for juul, vuse Alto, all the disposables and cartridges are targeted heavily towards young adults and minors.

And they are fucking expensive.

A 4 pack of juul pods at my store is roughly $25. Mr Fog max disposables are $14.99 compared to the $9.99 they were when we first started getting them less then a year ago. It's more expensive to buy disposables then 2 packs of cigarettes depending on the brand and type. And you're either stuck paying that or you start buying cigarettes, which are also expensive as hell and the price goes up frequently. Even after the prices went up, people are still buying 3-4 Mr Fogs at a time cause they can't seem to quit them and they feel way better then smoking a cigarette.

Even cigarillos which let's be frank, if you smoke weed you've probably used a swisher before, the wrap has nicotine in it. But I think it wouldn't be as bad if we just sold cigarillos as wraps without the tobacco, but that's just me and I'm a tad biased. Ultimately unless we can figure out how to make wraps without nic, they're bad. Consider King Palms, and hemp wraps.

Point is

Before you start getting on people about smoking you need to look at the bigger picture. I was more pressured to buy people cigarettes and start smoking them then I was to drink or smoke weed. Young people are targeted to get addicted to nicotine so it's something they struggle with for years, or their whole life. I've had people who haven't smoked for 5+ years come into my store and shamefully ask for a pack. I had to deal with 18-20 year olds going through nicotine withdrawal after the age increase and have nothing to ease them off or get through it, it wasn't fun to watch or deal with. Nicotine gum and patches barely work if at all. And let's not forget, a lot of tobacco companies target poor areas. They know you'll get addicted, they know the price won't matter cause you can't stop.

Instead of shaming smokers, we need to find better ways to help people stop smoking. Juul failed because before you had to take the time to go out and smoke and that at least gave you a buffer of time between how much nic you were consuming, but with juul you could do it anywhere, it was easy to conceal and didn't have much of an odor so minors could easily get away with using them, and they became popular. And anything with pods or that is disposable uses nicotine salt which is more addictive then what's in your average cigarette.

Don't shame smokers for something they can't stop. Companies are making it harder to quit. I've stopped more times then I can count but the urge always comes back, its hard. Be supportive when someone's trying to quit, even if it's not all at once. If you're trying to quit try asking your doctor if they have any advice.

Trust me, I want to quit too.

DONT

FUCKING

S M O K E

CIGARETTES