#yes i work a manual labour job

[vaguelyhumanshaped]

Dear (Sir or Madam,)

After (careful) consideration,

We (regret) to inform you that you have not been (selected,)

We have decided to (pursue other candidates,)

We carefully regret your application,

(Honestly, you should have known,)

We regret (your decision,)

(You chose this life, no?)

(Why did you fail again?)

(The fear? The anxiety? The dread?)

(You dared to deign yourself worthy?)

(You decided to not plan ahead,)

(You were never able to plan ahead)

(You didn't plan to live past 12)

(Your career was a stillborn)

(It was never gonna hatch)

We have decided to leave you,

No paths, no forwards, no advance

Do not pass go, you will receive nothing,

You never put effort to anything,

We regret (you,)

(Were you not informed that you'll never be enough?)

(Careful, dear.)

(You can't fall from the sky icarus,)

(Your father never had the time to build the wings for either of you,)

(Never had the tools, the knowledge,)

(By your lazy, overworked hands, you are condemned,)

(By your ragged breath, the sweat filled brow, and the dirt under your nails,)

(By the rough in your gut, the grit under your tongue, and the grease in your veins,)

(You are to be your own minotaur,)

(Trapped, cannibalistic, vile)

(You can rot yourself away,)

(Pursuing anything that crosses your path,)

(Chewing through lives that could've been yours,)

(Hoping for answers in the marrow of their bones)

Dear(est),

(That wasn't a very good choice, was it?)

We do hope you understand.

Regards,

(A life not made for you)

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

[haikyu-mp4]

When in Rome

word count; 2392 – f!reader

Moving to Italy as a young adult to work as an au pair through a shady website wasn’t the most reckless thing anyone your age ever did. However, you hadn’t counted on the job being a complete lie and ending up stranded at the airport with nowhere to go.

You strolled over to the large notice board by the taxi section where people promoted anything the tourists might not want to miss. Your eyes skimmed over a few places to eat and cheap Airbnbs, and you sighed loudly until your eyes zeroed in on a laminated note.

‘Professional athlete needs an in-house cleaner and language teacher’ it said in Italian, and you had never been so thankful for taking all those language courses prior to this.

Hurriedly, you called the number and were greeted by an older man’s voice claiming to be a manager for Ali Roma, whatever that meant. You claimed to have experience in anything he asked and responded just quickly enough in Italian that you got the job.

By the time evening rolled around, you were sitting by the wall and leaning on your suitcase. The manager needed time to produce a contract and send it to your e-mail. Thank goodness for airport wifi. You had the contract open on your phone and quickly skimmed through it until you found the section where you would be living in an adjacent apartment by his house, before immediately completing the e-signature.

When you got there for the first time, that manager had been waiting in your new apartment to greet you and go over some details, also making sure you were who you said you were and then introducing you to Kageyama Tobio.

He was interesting, that Kageyama. Not as old as you might have imagined, and ridiculously handsome. Seemingly shy but not against having company. Kind but very direct.

It had been a long day of cleaning, which was the kind of manual labour your body wasn’t so used to performing yet. Finally off work for the day, you were singing to yourself over the stove, trying to read something off a food label when a dark head of hair appeared in your peripheral vision. Jumping in surprise, you held up the pasta packet as if to throw it, only to see Kageyama’s upper body leaning into the doorway with a curious wiggle of his nose. “Kageyama, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” The sauce was still cooking as you had forgotten to put on the pasta for boiling, so it would have to simmer for longer, but the smell must have wafted far enough to draw him in. “Did you make that?”

You proudly flourished your hands over the food. “I sure did,” you picked up some sauce on a spoon, holding it up for him with a hand underneath. “Wanna taste?”

The two of you spoke to each other slowly in Italian, adding some English words here and there. “Yes,” he confirmed, coming into the kitchen and walking straight over to you. You expected him to take the spoon from you, but your ears burned red as he leaned in close and ate the sauce right off the spoon. He seemed to consider the taste while all you could do was try to stay focused with him so close. Finally, he nodded and looked at you. “It’s really good, can I have some too?”

Luckily you had made a lot, intending to save some portions for later, so you spent the evening eating with Tobio – he insisted you call him Tobio – in the setting Italy sun.

Tobio had a lot of practices and seemed to stay longer than planned almost every time, so you would typically have a cup of tea and lounge on his couch, which was much more lavish than yours until you heard the door unlock. The general idea was for you to clean while he was out, so when he stayed longer than what it said in the schedule, you happily enjoyed the quiet luxury of his living room or the heat of Italy from his balcony after finishing the obligatory work. Then when he got home, you would often make dinner, which was not part of the original plan but naturally became part of the routine.

He was funny, in his own way, and the way you both laughed so quietly sat well with you as the sound of the busy city flowed through the open windows in the background.

Over the first weekend, you had done your best to prepare some learning materials that would suit his level, and you two would mostly use conversing as a way of learning, spending a few hours every Saturday. Whenever he hit a word he didn’t know in Italian, he would awkwardly move his hands in the air and look at you for help.

And sometimes, you weren’t sure either. “Oh… I don’t know that, actually,” you admitted, feeling your ears burn red as he was still staring at you expectantly. You chuckled under your breath to relieve the tension and opened up your computer to look it up. When you finally found it, you looked up, only to realise he had scooted closer on the couch to look at the screen too, not noticing how you took in a sharp breath of air at how your arms brushed against each other.

He nodded, seemingly happy with the answer as he tried to say it out loud. “Chiacchierare.”

You repeated it back to him with emphasis on where he struggled with pronouncing it. “Chiacchierare.”

And when you focused back on his face, he was staring at your lips, probably because you were teaching him pronunciation, but it still made you feel flustered. He repeated the word more properly, until he looked back up at your eyes, expectantly again.

“That was… good.” You cleared your throat and glanced at the wall clock before turning back to him. “Did you already go for your jog today?”

Tobio looked at his wristwatch and seemed to frown. “I would rather go later, it’s still pretty hot outside,” he said, getting up and walking into his kitchen now that it seemed you wanted a break. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just water, please!” You started packing up the teaching materials you always had lying around for the basic rules when Tobio came back in with two tall glasses of ice water.

“We’re done for the day?” he asked, and your heart skipped a beat at the disappointed look he wore.

“I just thought…” You drifted off because you weren’t sure what you thought. He just looked so ridiculously handsome in his leisure wear, and when he scooted closer, he smelled so good, and…

“Maybe we can do something else?” he asked, putting the glasses down without any coasters, so you added one underneath each glass. “Like go swimming?”

Tobio started asking you to do more things with him that couldn’t be considered something you weaved into the routine of your job. They were more like… dates. He would take you mini golfing, hiking or to a volleyball court, and then always buy you dinner wherever you wanted to try eating next. Whether it was some exclusive local restaurant or in the next town over, he would get you there.

Obviously, you knew what this might look like, what it might be becoming, but bringing it up brought on the risk of bursting the bubble. You were still keeping up with all the work they expected from you, and your time together never affected his practices or other work routines.

You fell in love with Kageyama Tobio and he fell in love with you.

A right person, right time kind of love.

It was the most casual evening you finally gave in to it. You were in your own kitchen, once again humming under your breath as you cooked, Italian tunes playing from the radio.

The sunshine came through the windows and lit up the room, alerting you when Kageyama’s shadow crept in. “Hello, there.” You looked up at him and smiled softly, stirring the pasta sauce that had a much better recipe now than it did when you first arrived. Speaking with the locals and making friends outside of work hadn’t been easy, but you got there.

“Hi.” He walked closer until he stood arm to arm with you, picking up the ladle to unnecessarily stir the pasta while you worked the sauce. His hair was damp, telling you he just got out of the shower after practice. “How was your day?”

“Very relaxing, video called my parents and went to the old neighbour for lunch,” you recalled. “She told me to bring you next time, said it’s been too long.” You bumped him with your elbow and he smiled, doing the same back. He didn’t need to know said neighbour referred to Tobio as your partner. “And you? How was practice?”

You couldn’t help but glance at him when he pouted. “It was fine, but I had some trouble with my serves.”

“Serves?” you repeated. “Were you trying something new?”

“Not really, just… had my mind on something else, I suppose.”

You hummed in understanding, then the Italian tunes took over the aura again as you finished the food, putting both the pot and pan on the cold parts of the stovetop.

You both slowed to a stop and seemed to be waiting for the other to choose your next move. In the end, you would never be able to tell anyone the answer to who moved first, because it only took a second for the two of you to be devouring each other.

Tobio had one hand on the back of your head, the other hand splayed across the middle of your back to pull you closer. Your arms clung to his shoulders to make sure he was actually there with you.

Your lips moved in perfect sync, and then either of you interrupted the flow with a different tangent in irregular intervals before naturally syncing back into each other’s pace.

By the time you two snuck back out of the bedroom that night, the pasta was cold, and he kissed you against the kitchen counter as it heated back up.

This routine you had been trying to piece together eventually blurred into your day-to-day life. Tobio would go to practice when he needed to, and on the days he stayed late, you were sometimes already snoring away in his bed, or sometimes waiting for him with a cup of tea by the time he returned. While he was out, you always cleaned the house, enjoying how it visibly turned into a home for two. Your clothes from yesterday needed to be thrown into the laundry because Tobio had made quick work of them before bed and his finished protein cup was left on the table in the dining room because he didn’t have time for everything in the morning. Every little thing made you smile.

You two eventually spoke almost exclusively in Italian, leaning affectionately on each other while searching up any words you didn’t remember. The neighbours loved you, and you even hosted a dinner for some of the local couples you spent time with.

“Y/n?” you heard called from the hallway. You sat on the sofa with Tobio’s iPad and browsed open positions in the area or online. Even though Tobio said you didn’t need to work to be with him, you wanted something to give your life some extra colour. Something like working with children or teaching language to people of all ages interested you greatly.

“Tobi?” you responded, lifting one arm to let him settle his head in your lap, letting your arm fall back over him while still scrolling.

“Let it go for today. We still haven’t talked to my manager about ending the contract,” he mumbled, closing his eyes to rest. He had early practice today, which left him plenty of quality time that you should be spending on giving him your attention!

You chuckled airily. “Did you do well at practice today?”

“Very well,” he confirmed, giving you that stiff smile that made you laugh more and think of the high school photos he had shown you before. “Hinata will be here in a week, we should settle everything with my manager by then so I don’t have to explain it to him. He’s not very smart.”

As your fingers stroked through his hair, you put the iPad to the side after locking it. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” you said. “For now-“ Tobio opened one eye to watch you, finding a coy smile. “Tell me what you’ll introduce me to Hinata as.”

He wasn’t sure how to take your tone. Was this relaxed attitude real or were you just waiting for him to say the wrong answer? “You’re my- Uhh… I can’t say girlfriend?” he asked and felt some relief at how a bigger smile stretched across your face. Then you leaned over to squish his face and push your lips against his in several small but loving kisses.

“Of course you can!”

“Tobio?” you yelled when you walked out of the kitchen to greet him at the door. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another ten minutes according to his last message, so you were curious about who else would just walk right in.

You stopped abruptly in the hallway as you saw his manager, staring at you with furrowed brows. You looked down at your bare legs and Kageyama’s hoodie, then back up in horror.

“I was going to ask if you know who Kageyama is seeing.” A silence fell over you where you did whatever you could to not meet his eyes. The heat crept up your neck and over your cheekbones. “But never mind!”

You would both later agree on ending the contract early, as Kageyama wouldn’t need your services anymore in the same way and you wouldn’t need to use the adjacent apartment.

Instead, he would save up some of that money he could have paid you with to buy you the kind of engagement ring that best suited your style.

Tobio wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were the right person, and it was the right time.

masterlist

[igniferrus]

God. So I've been thinking about BBC's Arthur Pendragon. I work a job heavy on the manual labour and light on the mental labour, so I have a lot of Free Brain Space.

But I started off wondering why there are so many fics about Arthur learning how much Merlin does for him, and so few of the reverse. Because there is no way that Merlin isn't in trouble 89.2% of the time, in some way or another. We see Arthur protect Merlin after his dumbass confession to Uther, and also bodily haul him out of the throne room for safety reasons. No body else could get away with stealing the Prince's food, or disappear or days and keep his job!! And Arthur doesn'teven know they're bound by destiny, he just really likes Merlin! He's just some guy Arthur found and chased around a market.

And then I remembered that so many people forget that Arthur Pendragon is fundamentally A Good Man. I know the show refused to give him permanent character development, but even his base character is a good guy! The most assholish thing we see him do is in the first episode, throwing things at the servants. And then, compared to the rest of the series, that feels very out of character!

Yes, Arthur uses Merlin as a training dummy, but I'm sure that's just to get him to quit. And it's only shown early in the first season. Arthur is consistently shown as caring for his people (refusing to enforce Catrina's tax increase, willing to die to fix his unicorn mistake), more fair about magic users despite only seeing it used for evil (saving Mordred and the woman who gave him the Horn of Cathbhadh. He even tries to give Kara an out, for Mordred!), and cares deeply for those around him! He loves Gwen. He loves Morgana. He loves Merlin. He loves his knights. He even loves Uther!

It's not his fault that the people around him refuse to allow him to make his own choices. Gauis, Uther, and Merlin all lie about his mother. Merlin and Morgana don't tell him about their magic. Morgana doesn't see him as any other than an extension of Uther, despite knowing him for years.I t's so easy to judge him as an outsider with all the facts, but we should remember that Arthur's is intentionally left out of the loop and judge him from that perspective. He does the best he can, with what he knows!

Merlin, despite being repeatedly told that he and Arthur are in this together, and need each other, does not tell Arthur anything! Arthur is not allowed to make an informed choice and he shouldn't be punished for that. Even when Merlin finally comes clean, Arthur doesn't rage! He's hurt and upset that his "only friend", the "only one [he] can trust" have been lying to his face for a decade, which, understandable, but he chooses Merlin anyway! He wants to be held by Merlin at the end, thanks him, and asks him to stay they same after Arthur's death!! Because he still cares for Merlin!

Arthur Pendragon's character development is stymied at every turn by the show and its writers, but even then they couldn't stop him from being a good man!!

This was more rambling and less coherent than I wanted, but it's been hot out lately and my brain is cooked.

Anyway, I am first and foremost an Arthur Pendragon apologist.

[that-starry-freak]

Okay, wow, uhm-

This is my rant about Eclipse x Solar x Nexus i keep saying ill do. Sooo- yeah. If you don't like it, just scroll. Or block me i don't give a shit- im just ranting about what I like *shrug* (btw this is 95% for/about my tol au, so-)

Cw i do mention abuse a few times, because of Solar's Moon, dark sun, etc.

God i love these three so much. There's just so much potential, both angst and fluff (and a bit of smut but that stays in my head that is NOT going on my blog)

Like Solar and Nexus are both such needs and idiots. They both stay up late working, and insist the other one goes to bed (Eclipse ends up having to drag them both to bed).

They love working on projects together. People arnt usually allowed int he workshop when their working together, because if they have each other they don't need anyone else to help or anything- but they let Eclipse in once, and he got to see how they danced around each other and worked together perfectly.

They're all nerds who love science and mechanics tbh, but they all like it in different ways. Solar likes the hard work, the mindlessly fixing things. He liked the manual labour, the more mechanics of it. Nexus loved the science. He loves asking questions and learning knew things. He loves questioning things and people. He likes building and creating and testing out code. Eclipse likes the results. He doesn't particularly enjoy coding and building, it makes him frustrated, but he loves the results. He likes having a job well done. And getting to enjoy whatever the product is, whether its a computer or a basic machine.

Eclipse and Nexus can also understand each other. They can understand the expectation of who you're supposed to be. To be a remake of someone dead, but not really being them. Yet everyone expects you too. They've spent long nights sharing a smoke and ranting about how unfair it is. About how they weren't v1 Eclipse, or Moon. That they were themselves, and it wasn't fair people pressured them into being their predecessors.

Solar and Eclipse can understand what its like to be an eclipse. To come into this world with Moons hating you. To be called vile, to have a Moon laugh in your face. They may not have always liked each other, but they understand each other, its one of the reasons they became close.

Nexus can also help them both heal from their trauma of Moons. Plus, he isn't really Moon. Sure, he is a moon, coming from he dame basic code. But he isn't an old Moon. He's kinder, he doesn't blow up as easily. Its reassuring to them both, being treated so kindly to someone who pretty much abused them both (Eclipse didn't deserve how Old moon treated him when he came into this world.)

Eclipse and Nexus also know what its like to be left behind. Eclispe knows what its like to be left behind by Moon, to be a piece of code that he doesn't care about. Nexus knows what its like to hurt people and lose them. Yes, its different, but that doesn't mean they can't empathize with each others pain, because it is similar in a way.

solar and Nexus can understand each other's pain of losing someone you care about deeply. Of blaming yourself for their death. Of course. They dealt with it much differently, but still-

Eclipse and Solar both knowing what its like to die, comforting each other, reassuring them that they're still here. That they're alive. That they're them.

Enough about what they have in common tho-

like oh my goddd. I have so many thoughts bro-

Eclipse smells like cigarettes and leather and faintly of the vanilla candles Puppet lights in their apartment. Solar smells like grease and oil and sometimes chemicals when he cleans himself off (and then is forced to take an actual shower by Eclipse because cleaning yourself with harsh chemicals every time cant be good for your casing). Nexus smells like lavender (because thats the scent of the detegerant Sun always washes their clothes with) and faintly of bleach (consequences of living in the same house as Sun) and grease a lot after he's been working. The other twos smells are comforting to all three of them, reminding them that they're safe and content. Nexus eccpecially loves wearing Solar's clothes, and loves being in his arms, reminding him that he's alive. Thats he's right here. That everything is going to be okay.

And oh my god don't get me started on the forbidden love. The fact that Eclipse and Solar can't be in the same dimension till Eclispe gets a new dimensional signal. Solar and Nexus both crushing on Eclipse, but Nexus is the only one that can actually see them both, having to pass messages between the two. Of course they do eventually get to see each other again, but for so long they won't be able to. Its just.. sad

And AUGH im always going to be insane over rmy true loves kiss idea. The idea of Solar kissing Nexus out of desperation, because nothing he says can get through to him and ohmygod he's panicking- and somehow the virus he has just disappearing. The kiss curing Nexus, and bringing him back to his senses. And oh my god, the chaos and angst that follows. Nexus sobbing becuase of what he's done, feeling so guilty. The family not wanting to accept him back, Moon being the worst one-

Solar and Eclipse being the first ones to accept him. Later being Sun, Earth, and then Lunar. Maybe one day Moon, but thats a day far in the future.

And auggh, Solar and Moon's friendship. Moon hating his boyfriends but midly tolerating them for Solar's sake. Solar aclimating him to Eclipses, and he starts tolerating him a bit more. Hearing him say so many good things about Nexus makes him hate him more, though, insecure about Nexus being back in the family. Afraid of being replace.

Sleaking of being replaced, Nexus feeling like he's replaceable. That he's disposable. That one wrong move and he'll be thrown out again. Solar reassuring him that even if he is hell go with him. That he refuses to let Nexus be completley abandoned and manipulated again.

And god, all three of them have such communication, trust, and attachment issues-

Solar feels like he has to be useful to be loved. That he has to prove himself. That he could also be thrown out of the family because he's not from this dimension. He's afraid of being a burden. He's afraid that if he complains he'll be seen as a nuisance. That he doesn't deserve help or to get anything, that he barely deserves the celestial family as it is even if he does so much for them.

Nexus also feels like he has to be useful. That if he isn't, what is he for? What was his purpose if he can't help? He compares himself to Moon a lot, feeling like he has to match up to his standards, even if they're impossible. Moon has years and years of experience on him- he also struggles to talk about his own feelings. He bottled them up so much because he felt like they were stupid that he just doesn't know how to talk about them. The only time he can is in the middle of the night, and is usually with Eclipse. Solar will try to comfort him and almost baby him when he tries to rant to him, Eclipse will just complain and rant right back though, and he prefers it.

Eclipse didn't really ever have any healthy relationships. He's used to pushing people away and bottling all his feelings up. To lashing out at people. Yes, this version is much calmer, but he still has the memories of the ones before him. Hes still used to that being what Eclipses in this dimension did. He doesn't know how to talk to people. Earth helped him open up though, and Solar and Nexus helped him more. He's a lot calmer now, and it helps that they both enjoy listening to him rant. Solar will listen to him and gives advice, while Nexus will just complain with him in the middle of the night. He loves both, though it depends on the situation for what he wants to do.

Their relationship isn't perfect, though. Nexus will still sometimes yell and freak Solar out, and he has to frantically apologize while Eclipse calms him down. Eclispe sometimes will push them away, and will sometimes use their insecurities and trauma against them when hes frustrated eith them. Solar refuses to talk about his own issues, and it worried the other two to no end. Nexus sometimes will hit himself or bite himself to the point of denting his casing when he's frustrated or having a breakdown, not wanting to lash out at anyone, and this worries the other two so much but there's nothing they can really do to stop it, just comforting Nexus the best they can and restraining him when they see him doing it. Eclipse will be rude to Nexus, treating him like Moon, and they'll get into fights about it that they both always regret later.

The hallucinations Nexus suffers from also doesn't end. He still sees Solar telling him he isn't proud of him. He sometimes gets vivid hallucinations that Solar is still dead.

They also all suffer from horrific nightmares

Solar dreaming that he's still in his original dimension. That he's still being abused by his Moon. That he still has no one to love him. He has nightmares that he's still dead, that Nexus never got better. He has nightmares that he ends up like Eclipse, that he hurts people. He has nightmares that the family shuns him and kicks him out. He has nightmares that old moon shows up at his dimension again and he can't stop him this time, and he hurts him and everyone he loves.

Nexus dreaming of Solar still dead. Nexus having nightmares that he actually killed his family. He has nightmares that he's still under Dark Sun's control. He has nightmares that he never was saved from space. He has nightmares of Eclipse betraying and killing him, never having truly gone good. He has nightmares that the family kicks him out for not living up to their expectation, for not being good as moon.

Eclipse dreaming of Moon. Nightmares of Bloodmoon torturing him, of Moon hurting him, of Lunar killing him again. Nightmares of him betraying everyone, even though that's the last thing he wants to do. Nightmare of Earth hating him, of Solar an Nexus hating him.

They often have to comfort each other from these night terrors, holding them close as cooing to the and rocking them.

Solar panics and sobs when he wakes up from one, but refuses to talk about it. He shuts down once when calms down, and often gets up in the middle of the night after to mindlessly do work to get his mind off of it.

Nexus wakes up screaming and crying and often hallucinating. He ususally has to be restrained so he doesn't accidentally hurthimself. He always feels bad about it after, and just wants to cuddle and feel loved, reminding himself that his partners are here and they're real.

Eclipse wakes up in a cold sweat, quiet. Hell just sit there for awhile, before getting up to take a cold shower to clear his mind.

they all overwork themselves, Solar and Nexus eccpecially-

solar because he needs to feel useful. Also because working helps him not think, it helps him "relax", even if it stresses him out more.

Nexus because he'll get so caught up in what he's doing. He'll start working at like noon and he'll zone out and suddenly its midnight and Eclipse and Solar are coming down to drag him away from his lab. Or Sun, sometimes sun has to come after him.

They're just so sad and gay and such a polycule i love them <3

Im so normal about them, clearly (im sorry this is too long im not going to go through this and edit rn- there probaly really a lot of grammar errors and typing errors and spelling errors but im tired soo-)

[21wanderer]

Rocking a punk

I had tried to run into Martin Jenkins for some time, an old classmate of mine, who didn’t care the slightest for me, and it was mutual. But that feeling had changed, since I discovered how he had matured. He was still a punk, don’t get me wrong, he had a temper and could easily get into a fight, but he had potential now… Potential that I could bring forth, with a little help from my father’s pharmaceutical company.

“Hi Jenkins,” I said as I walked up to him, it had taken me quite some time to build up the courage to approach him, there was something intimidating yet imposing about him, especially with the black leather biker jacket, a cigarette between his lips and the fact I was like a twig in comparison. He looked at me like a complete stranger, then he realised, who I was… I think… He didn’t actually say my name, maybe he had almost completely forgotten me.

“Oh, hi” Martin replied still looking at me with disinterest. There wasn’t really any reason to reminiscence the ‘good old days’, so I just cut straight to the chase. “I heard you’ve been looking for a job,” I said, he raised an eyebrow in return: “Where did you hear that? Does everybody know, I’m out of a job?” he grumbled. “Yes, I heard it from one of the others,” I said, hoping he didn’t see through the lie, it was clear, that he was distrustful of me. “The pharmaceutical company my father is working for is hiring, and they are looking for people.”

Martin was quiet for a bit, then he asked: “What sort?” I knew that I now got him on the hook. “Well, there’s some jobs in their growing storage facility, and they also are looking for couriers, who can bring samples, equipments and tests around town.” I knew he liked driving around on his moped, so this was my best bet. “And how are the work conditions? Am I expected to treat every assignment as life-or-death, that requires me to bring stuff from one end of town to the other in 10 minutes or less?” I was actually a bit surprised by his response, it sounded like he had been having some rough jobs in the past. “No, not really,” I said, trying to not scare him away. “The pay is very decent, and the work conditions are fine, haven’t really heard any complaints.” “Alright, I’ve just been working as errand boy for so many companies, who tried to screw me over,” Martin muttered.

“Please, come to the company on Thursday,” I said, almost pleadingly “and talk to my father, I’m sure, he can offer you something good.” I handed Martin one of my father’s business cards, beginning to fear I had messed this up. “11 o’clock, Thursday,” I said, before turning to leave, feeling very awkward. I really needed to get away from Martin for now, I also couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. I needed to make sure he quit that.

Martin showed up the following Thursday… surprisingly in a suit and tie, which I did not expect. It didn’t seem like something he was used to wearing, but he looked pretty sharp nonetheless.

He entered the room and shook my father’s hand. My father looked at me, and asked” Are you absolutely sure about this?” Martin looked a bit confused, as I answered: “Absolutely,” and nodded.

”Very well,” my father replied and then turned his full attention to Martin, “so Martin… Before we begin, may I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

”Coffee,” Martin said, “just regular.” My father poured coffee into a mug – a mug, that had been specially prepared for Martin, now I just needed to be sure, he drank it. Once Martin had taken the mug, my father began the ’interview’ like it was just a regular interview. He asked Martin about his previous experience, and we found out that Martin had done surprisingly many jobs, just not for very long as his employers usually had tried to screw him over, and he’d decided to quit rather than accept their terrible working conditions, although he needed the money. He had done manual labour and worked as a courier using his moped.

The conversation went on, while I waited for the effect to kick in, and after ten minutes that felt like hours Martin began to ’doze off’ having drunk roughly half of the mug’s content.

When Martin became entirely unresponsive, it was time to act.

While my father locked the door, I began to undress Martin, or what was left of him. ”So you are really going through with this?” my father asked almost disappointined, as he began to help me undress the collapsed Martin.” Yes, and thank you for making it happening” I replied unable to conceal my excitement. ”But couldn’t you have found someone better? He’s a bit of a punk, isn’t he?” my father continued as he folded Martin’s white shirt neatly and placed it on his desk with the rest of Martin’s clothes. ”He’s perfect,” I replied,” and besides… I can make some changes if necessary.”

Martin’s skin was all that remained of him, like a deflated, human-shaped balloon, his eye sockets empty and his mouth gaping and stretched far beyond its normal capability. It was ready.

I discarded my own clothes hastily, and my father helped me slither into the bodysuit.

It was surprisingly easy to get inside, and made me feel even smaller and skinnier, than I normally did. Not that it would matter for much longer, soon I wouldn’t have to think about that ever again.

Martin certainly was no athlete, but he was fit and strong, maybe due to the manual labour and fistfights he had a habit of getting into.

I could wiggle my toes, and they responded flawlessly. Soon his legs, abdomen, torso and arms were also under my complete control. The skin might need a little moisturiser, but other than that, I was elated with my new skin. I had even gained some extra height, and the body felt naturally, if still a little loose. I looked one last time at my father with my old face, and smiled at him, he just stared at me in disbelief, but it seemed like he had accepted the change. I grabbed Martin’s windswept hair, that still dangled on my back as his hollow head hung around my shoulders. I pulled it and his face up and over my head like a hood. With a final snap, everything fell into place. I massaged the face, just to make sure it was aligned properly. I then felt a tightening across my entire body. I don’t if I was growing inside the skin, or the skin was shrinking to fit me, or something in between or entirely fourth.

But at the end of it, it was a perfect fit. I stretched my new body, flexed my new muscles, and ran my hands over my new skin. I looked at my father again with a devilish grin: “Now this feels so amazing!” “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he replied and began to hand Martin’s clothes to me, “and I expect you’ll put it to good use.” “Definitely,” I said with Martin’s voice, as I slipped his pants on, slightly disappointed he didn’t come in the leather jacket and jeans that he wore last I saw him, but that was only a question of time. Having tidied myself up, I looked just like Martin as he had entered the room barely an hour ago.

“See you at dinner,” I chuckled. “Very well,” my father said still with clear disbelief in his voice, “but do something about that hair,” he continued, as I reached for the door handle. “Yeah, sure,” I replied and headed out the door.

I headed straight back to Martin’s cheap apartment, it was a poor sight for sure, and I certainly was not going to stay here. I rummaged through Martin’s stuff and managed to find the exact outfit he had been wearing, when last I saw him. I ditched the suit and tie, then pulled on the black t-shirt, the scent of his sweat still clinging to it. A smell I now recognised as my own, I pulled it on very satisfied. Next were his jeans, I loved the way they fit, and the fact that they were several sizes bigger than my old pants only made it more satisfying. I grabbed my crotch hard, barely able to contain myself. Finally I plunged my new, bigger arms into the sleeves of MY leather jacket, claiming it as my own and establishing my new ‘’bad-boy’ persona. I took a look at my reflection and laughed, I couldn’t help it. I was so pumped, that I barely knew what to do with myself, this body needed to be put to the test. I slipped into Martin's/my leather boots with a newfound confidence, with his clothes and body under my control.

Let’s see what I can do with this before dinner.

Epilogue: As for my hair, my father and I found a compromise. I’m still going to keep the bad-boy persona, and even with my preference for leather and tight jeans, I can still pull off the look of the handsome young man who’s got a great future ahead of him… if/when I want to.

[goodmiffy]

hope this doesnt come off as bad faith but what do you think of this quote??? i dont like it but ig i cant properly articulate my thoughts on why https://www(.)tumblr(.)com/librarycards/187079810359/librarycards-anti-prostitution-feminists-and

I also don’t like it and don’t agree with it, it would take a lot of dissecting and articulating to really express why, but I’ll try my best with the main reasons.

1. “work is being constantly re-inscribed as something so personally fulfilling you would pursue it for free”

This is working on the belief that having sex is or can be considered ‘work’, but the argument we make is that sex isn’t work, and work can’t be sex, because:

sex is by definition mutually involved and consensual, and that consent is freely given. that is a basic feminist understanding of what separates sex from rape. remember the idea that rape is not a ‘type of sex’ any more than drowning is a type of swimming. rape is antithetical to sex, because sex requires freely given consent. if the only reason you would agree to sex is through the offer of money, that consent isn’t freely given it is coerced. “B-but all labour is coercion through money- that’s the point” yes except coerced manual labour is coerced manual labour, coerced ‘sex’ is rape. anyone who claims these are the same thing, or that being penetrated to earn a living is the same as hauling pallets, is being completely disingenuous and has a vested interested in encouraging the idea that it’s the same thing (they want to convince women it’s the same so they will do it!). so essentially the reason i think sex cannot be ‘work’ is because sex cannot be coerced, and work is essentially coercion. ‘sex work’ is an oxymoron.

so no, we don’t all enjoy our jobs, we need to earn money to live and that’s why we work, sure. something being ‘work’ doesn’t necessitate wanting to do it for free, but sex absolutely does. that’s the principle of sexual consent.

reason 2: the false dichotomy being made between paid ‘sex work’ and unpaid labour. positioning these this way kind of implies they’re the only choices for women, “hey at least I’m being paid! the alternative is an unpaid internship which i can’t afford” but we would say well, both of those things are bad. neither is a good solution for women, neither empowers us or helps us enter and stay in the workforce. yes maybe it’s hypocritical that Equality Now, an anti-prostitution org advertises unpaid internships, however that is because it is a non profit, thus they rely heavily on volunteers and donations, and an internship is essentially a contracted period of volunteering. they might be a big organisation but it doesn’t mean they have money to spare, and that’s a sad reality for non-profits. it’s not the same as multi million dollar companies having internships. the same goes for the anti-slavery charity. it’s a fucking charity??

“The result of these unpaid and underpaid internships is that the women who are most able to build careers in the women’s sector – campaigning and setting policy agendas around prostitution – are women who can afford to do unpaid full-time work in New York and London. In this context, it is hardly a surprise that the anti-prostitution movement as a whole has a somewhat abstracted view of the relationship between work and money.”

yeah, it probably does mean that only women with some financial safety net can volunteer their time to work for these non-profits and charities full time. is that a bad thing? that’s the reality of most volunteer work, most people cant afford to not be paid to work. most who do volunteer do so part time, usually very few hours a week or even a month, and that’s very awesome of them, right? so women who have the capacity to volunteer full time (because that’s what an unpaid internship is in essence) choosing to do so, is just as fucking awesome, right? isn’t that good of them, so why are they being villainized (we know why). they could be doing anything with that time and they’re choosing to use it to help vulnerable women have more options in the workforce.

I don’t understand how that translates as an ‘abstracted’ view or lack of understanding of the relationship between work and money. it’s a very clear understanding, which is why they don’t want women to have to endure unwanted sex acts just to make a living. that’s why they advocate for better options for women. anti prostitution in those contexts doesn’t begin and end with making it illegal, in fact it doesn’t mean that at all. it is about creating opportunities for women in prostitution so they can leave, or criminalising soliciting rather than prostituting, to enforce the message that it’s wrong to buy and sell women, but women are not at fault for needing to resort to this to earn a living in a patriarchal misogynistic society. the work-money view is not ‘abstracted’ it is simple, everyone should be paid fairy for the work that they do. but to purchase ‘sex’ from a woman is to rent her body as though she is nothing but a sex object. and that is immoral. men who solicit are not employing women to work, they’re paying to use her for masturbation. if a landlord offered decreased rent in exchange for sex, most everyone would see the clear immorality and exploitation of that situation, but a woman agreeing to unwanted sex for pay because she needs that money to pay her rent, that’s different somehow? no, it’s still exploition. anti-prostitution is as much about men’s choices in exploiting women as it is supporting women in exiting the sex trade.

so i think fundamentally that quote has the intentions of anti-prostitution all backwards, they see it as prostituted womens’ livelihoods being taken away, but we’re advocating for a world where women do not need to be prostituted to earn a living and have opportunities for better, safer livelihoods. women should not need to endure unwanted ‘sex’ as a livelihood in the first place, and if there were more opportunity for women in the workforce, they wouldn’t need to. in essence they’re arguing that /of course they don’t enjoy it, but who enjoys their job? we do it because we have to get paid/ and i see that i totally do, but constant unwanted penetration is not a job, it is assault of the body and mind. it comes with constant misogynistic abuse and harassment and the risk of STDs, some of which are life threatening. it takes a physical and emotional toll that no other manual job can compare to, and if those women could earn a decent living doing something else, the vast majority would. and the first hand evidence from prostituted women supports that notion.

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 8

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner

Warnings: critiquing (and rude) parents, alcohol, talk of horses from an author who knows nothing about them (and if you haven’t realised it yet, riding horses is supposed to be an analogy for racing)

Update: There should be around 17-ish chapters, but I’m also working on a fic for the brilliant and ingenious @bright-shiningstar (also a prince!charles x reader that may already be over 7k.... sorry not sorry) so they may come a little later than I would like

ao3 link  next chapter>>

Two weeks went by quickly and you knew that the servants were surprised by you. When you ordered a paint job for a scandalous wallpapered room, they hadn’t thought that you would don an apron and help them. You weren’t the best at manual labour, but you tried, and soon your arms were covered in sticky paint, laughing as you tried to get it off. You spontaneously decided to hire a gardener and met a lovely man called Oscar. He was thrilled to construct the gardens of the Princess of Enza, and quickly got to work. Another man, Nico Hulkenberg, came galloping up one day dressed in the regalia of a knight, and told you that Prince Charles had sent him to make sure you stayed out of danger. You, albeit a little peeved that Prince Charles hadn’t conferred with you, allowed Nico to join Lando in a hut by the stables. 

You spent many days with Lando and the horses, trying to learn as much as possible about the animals and the sport that sometimes accompanied them. Lando became a swift friend and you enjoyed his company. Not only was he extremely knowledgeable, but also funny and charming. He introduced you to two horses he had acquired from a breeder with the money you gave him. They were crudely called number sixteen and number fifty-five. He had yet to name them. 

On your first day, you hesitantly climbed on number sixteen. You tried desperately to remember everything you learned from your few minutes on a horse, and luckily, it came back quickly. Lando was highly encouraging and very patient. Once you felt comfortable, he jumped on number fifty-five and joined you in the fields. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, circling around to meet you. 

“This is fantastic!” You smiled broadly. “But it’s a little hard to ride in a dress. I’m going to need to fashion some new garments. I may have to write to Este.” 

“Whatever the princess wants,” Lando said. “Do you know what you’re going to name them?”

You hummed. “Not yet, but I’m sure the right names will come to me.” 

“Milady!” You heard a shout from the house and looked back at it. Elena was waving furiously at you, trying to get your attention. “Your family is arriving!”

You swore under your breath and nudged sixteen into a swift trot. “Elena!” You tried to instruct her from your horse. “Pull out a red dress for me to wear and a white shawl. Have the household line up in front of the house. Nico should be at the doors. Make sure Oscar looks presentable and have Yuki find all of the alcohol.  We’ll need it.” Elena nodded sharply and ran back into the house. “Lando,” you directed. “I want you to tend to the horses at the front of the stable. My family came a day early- we’re unprepared, but it can’t seem like that.”

You hopped off number sixteen and thrust the reins into Lando’s hands. “May I say, Princess,” Lando called out as you ran to the Villa. “You're handling this very well. You make a remarkable leader.”

“Thank you, Lando.” He could tell that you were sincere. It was exactly what you needed to hear.

Sara rushed you upstairs the moment you stepped in the door. “May I ask, Princess,” she wondered as she undid the laces to your plain, around-the-house gown. “Why red? I thought you wanted to hold onto Williams for as long as you could.” 

“No, no, no,” you bundled your hair into an updo. “I don’t care about holding onto Williams- they did nothing for me. I’m simply trying to aggravate whomever I hate most of all. If I see my parents, I change to red for Enza. If I see Prince Charles, I change to blue for Williams.” 

“And if you see both?” Sara couldn’t help but smile at your antics. It reminded her of when you were younger, always finding a new mess to get into with your siblings. You stepped into the red dress and Sara pulled it up and started clipping and tying it into perfection.

“Ah, but that won’t ever happen.” You wagged a finger at her. “They don’t care enough to visit me at the same time.”

“Ma’am, they’re here.” Elena popped her head in the doorway and Sara yanked on the corset of your dress once more before twisting the strings into a bow.

You nodded, straightened your back, and strode down the stairs and out the door. The servants were already lined up elegantly and you couldn’t find one thing that your mother would pick apart. Two carriages stood outside, one containing your family, and the other, their belongings. You inwardly cringed at the amount of possessions they brought with them.

“Y/n, darling!” Your mother swept down from the carriage and embraced you tightly. “How have you been? Have you been surviving? It’s a momentous task to run a household and I was so worried you couldn’t live up to it.” 

Only three seconds in, and you already wanted to strangle her. If it were only your siblings, then their stay would’ve been joyful. Unfortunately, your parents had spontaneously invited themselves, filling you with annoyance and dread. 

“The wedding was phenomenal,” your father appeared at your mother’s side. “And how is Prince Charles? I assume he wanted to stay back at the palace, as this quaint house is no place for royalty, but I hope the wedding night went well?” 

“Why don’t you get settled in, hm?” You blatantly ignored their questions, not offering so much as a ‘hello’. Your mother tittered disapprovingly at your words, but sashayed in the house, looking for inconsequential details to criticise. Your father clapped a hand on your bare shoulder, making you jump. True to his word, Este had altered some of your dresses for warmer weather, but you were now regretting it. You pulled your shawl tighter around you.

“Y/n, I am so sorry.” Your sister’s voice made you turn around. Brenda looked terribly guilty as Robert helped her down. “I couldn’t find an excuse to stop them from coming.” 

“We tried,” Ralph rolled his eyes. “We tried so hard. But they persisted. They were adamant about visiting you.” 

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I’m glad you three came along. It’ll be easier to diffuse the tension. How’s Cambria doing?” You asked Robert about his heavily pregnant wife. The doctor had confined her to bed, the reason why she wasn’t with him on this trip. 

“She’s splendid.” Robert grinned happily. “We’re both very excited. I’m cutting my visit short, however, to get back to her. I’ll only stay three days.”

“Oh, that’s fine! Give her my love when you return,” you said. You were delighted to have a niece or nephew. It would give you an excuse to visit Williams more often. 

“I feel so bad for Cambria and Robert.” Brenda shook her head and looped her arm through yours. “Mother’s been hounding them ever since she found out Cambria was with child. Ralph’s been lucky to escape her eye.”

“The only good thing about marriage,” you muttered. “Getting away from mother.”

Brenda made a noise of agreement. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Dinner was stressed. Your father and Robert sat at the head. Ralph had drawn the short straw and had to sit next to your mother. Your glass of wine had been refilled three times. Awkward conversation had been sprinkled throughout, ranging from politics to talk of your recent marriage, though you wondered if they weren’t the same thing. Your father had delightedly bragged about the new finances and influx of immigrants that had been brought to Williams because of the new, prosperous relationship with Enza. You had ordered another round of drinks after that. 

Mercifully, Elena tapped on your shoulder, whispering, “Milady, may I talk to you? Something has come up.” 

You eagerly pushed away from the table and followed her to the foyer. “Please tell me this will take longer than fifteen minutes. I need a break from them. Don’t get me wrong, Elena, I love my family, especially my brothers and sisters, but sometimes my parents can be a bit much. I bought the Foundling Villa to escape everything, but people just keep showing up.” 

Elena grimaced and said, “On that note, Princess, uh, another visitor has arrived.” 

You pressed your fingers to your temples to try and stop the oncoming headache. “I will pay you double for the next year if you get them to go away. I don’t care who they are; I cannot stand someone else here.” 

“Yes, well, ma’am,” Elena stuttered through her words. “I’m not sure I can do that to your husband, who, if you’ve forgotten, is the prince of Enza.” 

Cursing, you threw open the door to see Prince Charles stepped down from a royal carriage bedecked in Enzan colours. He straightened his mantle, ran a hand through his hair, and then locked eyes with you. Prince Charles smiled sheepishly and shrugged, as if to say, Sorry, but I wanted to come see you.

“Elena.” You turned back to the frightened maid. “Please tell Sara to pick out a purple dress. I’m trying to displease many people tonight.”

[heich0e]

ohhhh so ur new fic with sukuna has reader and itadori the same age (possibly university friends) and sukuna older than the both of them?? SO CUTEE!!! I love it!!

yes yuuji and reader are the same age!! i'm picturing them as childhood friends. sukuna is at least 3 years older, if not more. their parents died when the two brothers were very young—mom first, so dad took the boys to live with grandpa, and then dad passed shortly after. sukuna's a college drop out, left school when grandpa died and moved home to take care of his little brother, and now he works a manual labour job. maybe 2 to keep things afloat while yuuji's in uni.

[lightning-macrine]

People who don’t understand why Izzy gets mad at Lucius for not doing any work have obviously never experienced the hellscape that is retail or hospitality because while Izzy may be the angry middle manager who’s always up your ass he’s also the only one with the power (theoretically) to make that one lazy coworker actually do anything and in this case he lost that battle.

Yes I know that technically Lucius’ job is “scribe” but having a ship where only the lower-class “uneducated” people carry the brunt of manual labour (we know Stede doesn’t actually do jackshit either) ain’t exactly helping his case. Like in the off-time he can’t like…idk coil rope or something?

[amuseoffyre]

For the past fortnight, work has been getting in the way of me doing fandom related stuff, but it’s also given me a lot more time to turn over “working class northern Izzy Hands” in my brain.

There have been some fab posts going around with the analysis of Izzy in the context of the social history and what it meant for him and the more I thought about them, the more I recognised him in my dad’s side of the family.

I’ll foreword this with a note that this is entirely based on my lived experience around northern blokes of a certain generation. I have no idea what things are like now, but back when I was a wee bit of a thing, this seemed to be the norm.

A big thing about the north of England is that it’s where a lot of industry was based: glassworks, steelworks, collieries, mines of all kinds, shipbuilding. Whole cities sprang up there based around manual labour and manufacture and trade. There was a history of graft and everyone was expected to do their share and pull their weight. (“Your lots days of sitting around doing fuck all are over”)

There was also a certain pride in that work. Yes, it was hard and yes it could probably kill you, but by god you were good at it. And even moreso if you’d managed to make your way up to be in a position that earned you some modicum of respect and authority. Or even just survived that long. (“My name is First Mate Hands or God as far as you’re concerned”)

There was also a very definite pecking order, whether in social circles or work circles. You couldn’t just swan in and expect to be accepted and respected. You had to earn any respect you got and demanding it was a guarantee you wouldn’t get it. (“Pirates my arse”)

I’ve mentioned before on the post I linked further up about literacy and education. For the longest time, literacy in the north was very low because the majority of people left school early because they had to work. It wasn’t an option to stay on and get an education. If you had stayed in school, then you weren’t working and if you weren’t working, your family may not be eating.

There used to be a vibe of Proper Jobs (ie. manual labour of some kind) versus Soft Jobs (clerking, secretary etc). There were careers such as doctor and lawyer that did get considered Proper Jobs, but for the pencil pushers and the paperwork monkeys scurrying around and making notes, they were doing Soft Jobs.

All of these factors are very clearly in play in the scenes between Izzy and Lucius in episode 5. Here’s a lazy and disrespectful younger man whose entire job on the ship is a Soft Job. He gets to fanny about, writing things down, while everyone else has to do manual labour, and then he disrespects someone who is accustomed to a certain level of authority and respect, someone who has clawed his way up through the ranks.

He’s absolutely dead centre in a ven diagram of Things That Will Annoy Izzy Hands. Even more so since Izzy can’t do anything to Stede for fear of crossing Blackbeard, but this guy? Oh, this guy he can take out his frustrations on.

It explains why Izzy’s ire is focused on him, even though Wee John was having a nap and Black Pete was slacking off just as much. Both of those characters are manual workers (to a given degree, “bottom of the barrel”, after all) but the boy writing the journal, who clearly thinks he’s better than Izzy? Well, there’s someone who needs to learn his place.

(I still have Thoughts on the ‘ooooh daddy’ moment, but I have little brain left to articulate them just now)

And while I was going down that road, my brain took a sharp turn into the realisation of why Izzy dresses the way he does as well. Like the rest of Blackbeard’s crew, he’s in the black/leather combination but unlike them, he is covered from collar to cuffs, neck to toe. Some of it’s worn and repaired, but it’s an outfit that would be seen as Respectable even beyond the pirate world: a full shirt with cravat and a waistcoat on top.

Why would he choose to be so formally dressed? Because “I was honoured to work for the legendary Blackbeard”. It comes back to the pride in his work. He’s First Mate. He’s the second-in-command on the Queen Anne’s Revenge. He has worked bloody hard and survived many things to reach this point. He is representing something both to himself and to the world.

It’s about status: he stands out among the crew, so there’s no question that he’s in charge with his formal clothing. But he also stands out when we see him around other pirates. The only other pirates we see who dress to impress to this degree are Stede and Spanish Jackie. “Make people feel underdressed and suddenly you’re the one in charge” can be applied to all three of them. And it cracks me up knowing how much Izzy would hate that.

All of this is also the reason I’m pretty sure there will be an arc in the coming season when Stede does actually earn some little grudging respect from Izzy. Stede earning his place, doing the work and proving himself feels like it will be a vital cog in the story. Izzy will still deplore him, because he’s a creature of habit and routine, but I feel like there will be at least a grudging “...fine. You’re not a totally useless fucker”, which is high praise indeed.

Now, though, it’s midnight and I’m listing sideways. I shall no doubt have more thoughts, but for now, this will do.

[itsjustsemantics]

Love, Javier - Chpt: 6

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n, no physical description, established backstory, no clear age gap mentioned)

content/warnings: alcohol consumption, connotations of mild depression and loneliness, little tiny small bits of Steve/Javi (more of that content laterr) Reunion!!! You know what they say, third times the charm ;)

Series masterlist - Previous chapter

Chapter 6: The reunion (1996) 

New York was everything Javier expected. Cussing, traffic and the smell of pee lining the footpaths. His recent move to the concrete jungle had him in a pensive mood, reflecting on his life like he had never before. 

After having spent so long in Laredo, he had started to think that was where it would end for him. Then again, he had also thought that being part of the DEA was the last thing he was going to do. 

After Cali, he had been given a sabbatical, some time off away from it all. At first, the monotonous ritual he had going of tending to the ranch alongside his dad worked. But soon Javier had found himself mulling over the last seven years. While fixing fences, oiling the patio and most of all in the creaky comfort of his bed and under his prussian blue covers. The ones he used to turn to when the thunder boomed too loud. 

The sound of thunder had been traded for an endless loop of explosions and the pained wails of innocents being caught in crossfire. The violence and bloodshed he had witnessed often played across the walls of his old room, over the faded band posters and college banners until the early morning teased the shadows away. 

After a month, he had handed in his resignation along with a large part of himself. Javier had given his blood, sweat, tears and more to that job. Dedicated his life to it from the very start. And as he left his letter and all the plans he had for his future on that desk, a sudden emptiness filled him. An intangible void, not even ranch work could fill. At least not for very long. 

On the bright side, all that manual labour had got him thinking about pouring his energies into something more intellectually substantial. Taking up a course in criminal justice, broadening his horizons academically. Like some sort of silicon plaster that holds together a leaky fountain. 

He had applied the following week and just like that the years had flown by and the silicon had proved successful. That was until the final leg of the program where the water seeped through the cracks of the rendering and into the foundation. Javier found that his nightcaps had become more frequent and it was now that he had felt more alone than ever 

New York was something unexpected. It had called one afternoon while he was helping Chucho hammer in the new gate; offering him a job as an instructor for the DEA in their law enforcement division. 

(I know and I’m well aware that the training headquarters for the DEA are in Quantico but for my sanity’s sake and this fic, it shall be in New York. I just thought that this job is kinda perfect for him, with all the experience he has and the fact that a part of him is still not ready to move on completely from something that was such a large part of life for so long. Also I am taking the liberty as this IS fanfiction. OK, done with this rant. Criticism is welcome but I assure you, his job and reader’s/OFC’s job/careers play a minuscule role in this and don’t really hold much significance.)

Now, here he was, sitting on a lumpy hotel bed, holding a bit of scraggly paper with yet another realtor’s number scribbled on it. He took a small sip of his whiskey as he reached over grudgingly towards the phone, only for it to ring first. 

Javier set his glass down on the bedside table and picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, am I speaking to a Javier Peña?” Javier heard some shuffling in the background. 

“Yes,” Javier stood up now. “This is he.” He set his glass of spirit onto the table with a clack. The shuffling stopped. 

“Javi! Hey man, It's Steve.” The other end chirped and Javier nearly huffed out a laugh. 

“Murphy hey, long time. How you doin’?” The corners of Javier’s mouth twitched upwards. The image of the blonde flashed in his mind. No doubt in an unfashionable polo shirt and a pair of dusty khaki trousers. 

“Can’t complain.” Steve drawled. “ I heard you were in town and I figured I'd give you a ring.” Steve’s voice was cool and easy and his low southern drawl had Javier thinking back to Columbia and all the long conversations they had grown to have. It was actually more so than the last time the two had spoken; right before he shot off to Cali. 

“It’s actually Olivia’s 7th birthday this weekend,” Steve continued. “We were hoping you could drop by, maybe catch up?” Steve hummed and Javier’s eyes found his feet. 

A part of his chest lapsed inwards, relaxing. Of course, this would only be yet another temporary fix for the dark, empty hole that had consumed him, but a fix nonetheless. 

“That sounds good, I’ll be there.” He said, bringing the phone to his shoulder blade and trapping it between his cheek.  

“So she’s 7 now huh?” Javier exhaled as a sudden realisation of just how long it had been settled into his bones. 

“Beats me,” Steve chuckled and the two men shared a moment of silence. 

 “Anyways, I’ll send you my address and you can pop by anytime.” Steve cleared his throat and his voice trailed off. Javier heard some sifting and shuffling, no doubt looking for a scrap of paper with his address on it. “Okayy” Steve sang, “you got a pen?” 

~ 

Javier stood on the pavement in front of a nice-looking suburban house. It had the brown roof and the white walls and even a perfectly trimmed hedge running along the small front yard. He fished out the address from the back of his jeans and turned it the right side up, skimming over the name of the street and the house number. 

“Thirty two…” He trailed off, looking towards the door. “Yep, thirty two it is.” He exhaled. 

Javier looked over to his car once more before sweeping up to the front porch. Even from there he could hear the excitable chatter; the kids squealing and mirthful laughter. He gripped the package in his hand tightly before pressing his index finger into the doorbell and stepping back a foot or two. 

“Jav! You made it!.” Steve swung the door open, and the two men embraced quickly, slapping each other on the back. Javier’s face matched the grin spread out on the blonde’s. “Come on in.” Steve ushered and shut the door behind himself.

Javier looked around in a circle, his eyes making their way across the nicely carpeted floor to the large table in the centre stacked with food and a large birthday cake, towering over the plates. “Nice place.” 

All the chatter was now louder and Javier could see some of the children running around the backyard through the window ahead of him. 

“We were lucky.” Steve stepped beside him, hands on his hips. “Another couple of hours and we would’ve lost it to some hippies and their labrador.” Javier smiled in response, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the gift in his hand. 

“Oh this is for the kid.” Javier held out the package. The purple wrapping paper rustling at the movement. “It's a sweater, I didn’t know what to get.” he shrugged and Steve patted it. 

“Wrap it yourself?” Steve asked, walking over towards one of the side tables with the pile of presents, and placing it down with a plop. He looked back at Javi, knowing smirk on his face. 

“Shut up.” Javier grunted, pulling off his coolers and clipping them to the undone button of his teal linen shirt. 

“Beer?” Steve sauntered over to the kitchen and Javier ducked in behind him, weaving through the guests. He leaned on the countertop next to the big bowl of cob dip and pigs in a blanket. Steve disappeared behind the door of the refrigerator for a second before popping back up with two bottles of the beverage, handing one to Javier along with a bottle opener. 

The blonde leaned back against the opposite counter and raised the bottle to his lips. 

“That her?” Javier used his bottle to point to the small picture stuck to the fridge with a small black magnet. Steve nodded, swallowing his sip. 

“Jesus.” Javier exhaled. “She’s gotten big.” 

“Tell me about it.” Steve chuckled affectionately. “That's the other one,” Steve jerked his neck towards the picture beside Olivia’s. “She’s 3 now.” Javier’s eyes followed Steve’s and landed on a picture of a small girl with blonde pigtails and a red knitted jumper; posing amidst the snowfall in what he recognised as the front yard he had just walked through. 

“Steve!” A familiar voice called out and Javier straightened up as another blonde walked into the kitchen, a toddler fitted between her arms and hip. “Rosie dropped punch on herself. Could you-” She stopped short and turned to Javier. “Javier?” He smiled and shrugged. 

“In the flesh.” He planted a small kiss on Connie’s cheek once she had passed over Rosie to Steve. “Good to see you Connie.”

“You should come on outside.” Connie said, pulling away from the short embrace. “Meet everyone, say hi to the kids.” She turned to Steve and Rosie. “Well, kid.” 

Javier peeled himself off the counter and followed Connie through the dining room and out into the backyard. His coolers were back on the bridge of his nose and the drops of water on the side of his bottle slipped down over his thumb. He took another sip as Connie started introductions. 

~ 

“I don’t understand why you go through his pockets.” You said, fiddling with the polka-dotted straw in your punch. 

“You know what I found while he was busy shaving?” Your friend Marie ignored you and rambled on. You twiddled the end of the plastic in loopy circles. 

“No, what?” You said, entertaining her. This had been one of many of her accounts regarding a certain ‘Carl something’. You couldn't remember. 

“They just bought a dining room table.” She exhaled, emptying her tiny flask into her glass of punch. 

“Marie, it's not even 6 o’clock yet.” you shook your head. 

“I mean his wife just went out and spent sixteen hundred dollars on a dining room table.” She shook her head and screwed the top of the flask back on with gusto. 

“Oh Marie,” Your shoulders slumped, almost in a pitiful manner. 

“The point is, he’s never going to leave her.” She took two large gulps, her index finger holding her straw aside. 

“Okay, but you’ve known this for two years,” You started, angling your body more towards her. 

“You’re right, you're right.” She straightened up. “I know you’re right.” 

“Marie,” You said, facing her head on this time. “I think it's time you found someone single, there are plenty of single men out there.” You sipped your punch as you spoke. “Y’know, the kind that aren’t married.” You took another sip. “The unmarried kind.” 

“Easy for you to say,” She scoffed. “You got the last good one.” 

You waited a mere beat before inhaling and raising your eyebrows. 

“Dustin and I broke up.” You relaxed your brows and your fingers circled the rim of your glass. 

“What?” Marie stopped halfway through a sip. “When?” 

“Last monday.” You said. 

“You waited a week to tell me?” She set her cup down and narrowed her eyebrows. 

“It's not a big deal.” You shrugged. “We’ve been growing apart for quite a while now.” 

“But you guys were a couple.” She pressed. “You had someone to go to places with. You had a date on national holidays.” 

You exhaled for the third time today and set your glass down beside Marie’s. 

“I said to myself, you deserve more than this and you’re 30 years old-” 

“And the clock is ticking.” Marie cut in. 

“No.” You corrected her. “The clock doesn’t really start to tick until you're 36.” You picked up your drink and took a sip. 

“God, you're in such great shape.” Marie shook her head in awe. “Besides, I never liked the fellow.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Well, I’ve had a few days to get used to it and I feel okay, Marie.” You shrugged. 

“Good.” She nodded. “Then you’re ready.” She reached over to her purse laying on Connie's dresser and pulled out a small, faded, old box. With a metal clip sealing the lid shut. 

“Really Marie.” Your tone was sharp. You knew that box all too well. 

“I’ve got the perfect guy.” She ignored your judgement and pulled out a card from the tiny slits in the box, holding it between her index and middle fingers. “I don’t happen to find him attractive but you just might.” She smiled. “You don’t have a problem with chins do you?” 

“Marie.” You said again, this time calmer. “I’m not ready yet.”

“But you just said-” She started and you cut her off. 

“I am.” You assured her. “I’m just in my mourning period.” Marie looked up at you from her seat. She had plopped down onto the dressing chair and was giving you a look, through her long lashes. 

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes in defeat. “Who is it?” 

“Joe,” She said, sitting up. “Joe Wallace.”

“Marie, you fixed me up with him almost six years ago.” You rested the small of your back against the dressing table, facing her with crossed arms. A loud screech of laughter sounded from downstairs.

“I’m sorry.” Marie shrugged, placing the slip of paper back into its place. She fished out another one after a couple moments of rifling and lifted it up to you with an ‘aha!’ sound. 

“Here we go.” She said, reading out the name proudly. “Alex Anderson.”

You shook your head at her in disbelief. “He’s been married for over a year.” 

“Really?” Marie said, wide-eyed. “Married.” She repeated, shaking her head and folded down the corner of the card. “Pity, pity, pity.” You took another sip of your virgin punch. “Oh!” Marie exclaimed again. “Wait, wait, wait.” She hushed you just as you were about to stop her. 

“There is no point in me going out with someone I might really like if I met him at the right time, but right now has no chance of being anything to me but a transitional man.” You huffed, walking away from the dresser. 

“I’m sorry.” She said, getting up and walking towards you. “I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Marie.” You sighed, taking her hand. “I just need some time.”

“Okay, let's head on downstairs, see if Connie needs anything.” 

“After you.”  You said, hand outstretched towards the door. 

~0o0~

“I almost forgot to mention, his American Express card was also in there.” Marie said tip-toeing over the wrapping paper strewn over the wooden floor. You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. 

“Just how long does that man take to shave?” You chuckled. 

“He spent a hundred and twenty dollars on a new nightgown.” She strutted into the empty kitchen and stopped in front of a half eaten dish of some ‘pigs in a blanket’. 

“Not for himself I hope.” You stood by the sink and yanked open the shiny white dishwasher. Marie rolled her eyes. 

“I’m done with him, yknow?” She bit into one of the pigs. “Done.” 

“Good for you.” 

“Except,” She started again, gazing out through the pass-through window into the now empty dining room. “I-” She trailed off. 

“You what?” You egged, stacking the dirty plates into a neat pile. 

“So some guy is staring at you from across the dining table.” She continued chewing her snack, looking at you through the corner of her eye. 

“What?” You asked, looking over at her. 

“Look, but don’t look.” She raised her eyebrows. You followed her gaze and sure enough, she was right. There was Javier Peña, a tall pile of paper cups stacked up and slotted between his hands. Javier Peña of all the people in the world. 

“I know him.” You hissed and Marie slid off the counter and next to you. 

“Really? Who is he?” She ducked down along with you, pretending to load the dishwasher. 

“Steve’s old partner-friend…guy.” You shook your head, unable to boil down the man to something clear. Marie stood up once more and grabbed some more plates; more as an excuse to steal another glance. 

“Jesus, he’s cute.” She breathed, handing you the plates. You stood up this time, swiping some stray forks off the counter. His eyes found the tablecloth at your prolonged look. 

“I guess a little.” You sat back down on your heels. 

“You should get some of that.” Marie pushed her shoulder into yours.

“You’d like him,” You raised your eyebrows playfully.  “He doesn't do relationships.” 

Marie pinched your arm and your mouth hung open dramatically. ‘Ow’ You mouthed, rubbing the spot. 

“How do you know he doesn't?” Marie looked over at you. “Steve told you?” 

“No, no.” You let out a short laugh. “He did.” 

“What?” Her eyebrows knit together. “When?” 

“Around four years ago.” You estimated. 

“So he might be dating now.” She raised her eyebrows and you let out an incredulous laugh. “People can change.” She pressed. 

“No ma’am. Not that one.” You shook your head. “Regardless of any of that, he's rather exasperating.” You placed the last of the cutlery into their slots. Marie huffed and stood up, playing with a strand of her hair. 

“Stop staring.” You whacked her leg with the back of your hand. 

“I’m not.” She hissed back “uh oh.” 

“What?” You stood up beside her. 

“He’s coming to the kitchen.” She smoothed out her skirt and fluffed up her hair. 

“Doesn’t matter, he never remembers me anyways.” 

You stopped in your tracks at the mention of your name. 

“Connie’s cousin right?” His voice was deep and smooth, the way it rolled into your ears making them perk up. 

“Hi Javier.” You half laughed. “You finally remembered.” You pressed the hand-cloth onto the counter. 

“I thought it was you.” He said, flashing one of his dazzling smiles and Marie squeezed your hand in excited butterflies. 

“Oh, this is Marie.” You said quickly, turning to where Marie was standing. Was. She had now slunk towards the exit. “Was Marie.” You exhaled with a small smile. Marie gave him a small wave and a flirty little wink before leaving you and Javier alone in the kitchen. 

“How are you?” He set the cups down and crossed his arms. 

“Fine.” You nodded. “Fine.” 

“How’s, uh, Dustin?” He rubbed his chin. 

“Fine, I hear he’s doing alright.” 

“You’re not seeing each other anymore?” HIs eyebrows creased together.

“No,” You shook your head. “We just broke up.” 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He sucked in a breath. 

“No, no.” No waved him off, not wanting the worry that was setting into his brows to make things awkward. “I’m honestly fine.” You smiled at him, reassuringly. 

“So, what about you? Steve mentioned that you moved into the city.” You leaned against the counter, noticing that his sense of style never really seemed to change too much. Jeans paired with a half-sleeve, teal button up and those yellow aviators clipped to the undone button of his shirt.

“Yeah, nearly a week ago.” He said. “Got a job.” The two of you nodded at the same beat. 

“How do you like it?” 

“Well, I just started, but it’s been pretty great.” He shrugged and you nodded again. “You live in New York?” He asked. 

“Mhmm, yeah.” The two of you shifted in silence for a minute before Javier spoke again. 

“Listen, do you want to go grab a cup of coffee?” 

“Oh?” You breathed, looking up at the clock in the kitchen. 

“You don’t need t-” 

“No, no.” You smiled. “Why not?” 

~

“When we first started seeing each other it was great, yknow? We wanted the same things- Or more like didn’t want the same things. We wanted to live together but not get married. Because every time someone we knew got married, it ruined their relationship, their sex life et cetera et cetera. With the kids and the blah blah. And after a long time all those push factors turned into pulls. I would see my girlfriends with their husbands and their kids and think ‘wow. I want that someday.’ So I went back home one day and asked him. ‘Dustin do you ever want to get married?’ and he said he didn’t, ‘it just wasn’t in the books’ for him or something that he never saw himself doing that. I even suggested that we get a pet at least but-” You took a sip of your water then shrugged. “Anyways, we talked about it for a long time and I said ‘this is what I want.’ and he said ‘well, I don't.’ and I said ‘well I guess it's over then.’ and he left.” You felt your eyes get glassy but deep down you knew it was right. 

“And the thing is I feel really fine. I’m over him. I mean I really am over him. That was the most that he could give and every time I think about it I'm more and more convinced that I did the right thing.” You shook your head firmly. “I’m so sorry, I kinda just rambled on there didn’t I?” You breathed. 

“No no, don’t apologise. For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t stay with a guy who didn’t want a pet.” Javier smirked softly and reached for his coffee. 

“Right? Tell me about it.” You shook your head enthusiastically. 

“But boy you sound healthy.” He chuckled. 

“Yeah,” You sighed. “But at least I got the apartment.” You smirked proudly and leaned back into your seat. 

“Oh, where are you staying by the way?” You sat up quickly and asked. 

“Nowhere yet.” Javier sighed. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I'm in a hotel till I find a reasonable place.” 

“Let me give you the number of the realtor that helped us find our place.” You sipped your coffee. “ Or you could do what my friend Alice did.” You set your cup down and a small laugh escaped your lips. 

“What?” Javier asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“Get this. Alice would go to the obituary section and find out who died then go to their buildings and start scountin.”

“She didn’t.” Javier smirked. 

“She did! But she would tip the doorman of course, courtesy and all that.” You let out another small giggle. 

“That’s that then. Tomorrow I’m hitting the obituary section.” He said and you chuckled. 

“God I could never.” You said. “It took Dustin and I months before finding our, well, my place.” Javier smiled knowingly and leaned back into the booth. “With how picky I am, I’m surprised we even found a flat.” Javier chuckled, his shoulders vibrating with the deep sound. 

“Must be some apartment.” 

~ 

The sun was getting ready to set, leaving the sky blotched with an orange hue by the time Javier and you reached the park; walking side by side.

“You know, the first time we met I really didn’t like you that much.” You laughed audibly when he turned to look at you, fake shock plastered across his features. 

“No,” He said, dragging out the vowel. “Well, I didn't like you.” 

“Yeah you did.” You elbowed him in the side playfully. “Don’t lie.”

“So you’re saying that I didn’t like you because you didn’t like me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you couldn’t really like me.” You shrugged. “That would just be embarrassing.” 

“Uh huh,” He said, unconvinced. “Uh huh, sure.” 

“Well, okay then. Did you like me the second time we met?” 

“Sorta you could say. Your quirky attitude grew on me.” He shrugged. “You know, not as uptight. You’re much softer now.” 

“I just hate that kind of remark.” You shook your head smiling. “I don’t know what it means because it sounds like a compliment but really is it an insult or what?" Your hands found your hips and your lips contoured into a small pucker, pondering. 

“Guess we’ll never know.” Javier teased and you rolled your eyes. “What about me then? Grew on you as well?” 

“Well, I guess. I mean for starters you weren’t as obnoxious as before, so stubborn- And oh, god.” You laughed. “You didn’t eye-fuck or flirt with every single girl that strutted passed that aisle- or maybe you just did it more discreetly.” you narrowed your eyesmn

Javier pressed his lips together into a smile and shrugged.  

“But regardless of all that smugness, there was something different about you.” You shrugged and looked up at him as your pace slowed a bit. He met your gaze and for a few fleeting moments the both of you were silent. 

The two of you continued walking till you reached the lake and sat at one of the benches. Watching as the sky turned darker, losing track of the hours as you exchanged anecdotes; him about his time in Laredo and you about your friends and Connie and Steve- Dustin. And by the time you made it back to Javier’s jeep, there were hardly any reminiscences of the sun left in the sky. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” He said, as he picked some leaves off of his windshield. He stopped and turned around to face you, hands deep in his jacket pockets. 

“Are we becoming friends now?” you raised a single eyebrow, a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Well,” He nodded, “yeah.” You looked up at him and he leaned against the front of his jeep. 

“I thought men and women can’t be friends.” You teased and he laughed, the pleasant sound tickling your ears. 

“You’re still gonna hold me to that?” He asked. 

“I mean-” You shrugged, raising your eyebrows playfully. 

“Well, do you want to sleep with me?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“No,” You breathed, the abrupt question making your lips part. He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "No." You said again, more firmly this time.

“Well neither do I. Hence, problem solved; we can be friends.” He held his palms out in the most matter of fact way and cocked his neck forwards. 

“Then I guess we can be friends.” You said. 

“You know you might be the first attractive woman I have not wanted to sleep with in my entire life.” You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. 

“That’s wonderful, Javier.” You reached into your purse and pulled out a page from your notepad. Javier smiled inwardly at the lists scribbled on the first couple of pages. 

“Well, here you go.” You slapped the small page into his hand. “My number. Give me a call sometime.” He looked down at the numbers scribbled on the sheet and looked back up with a childish grin on his face. 

He watched you wave at him through your windshield and drive away. He tucked the number deep into the pocket of his leather jacket and sighed blissfully. For the first time in a long time, Javier didn’t feel so alone. 

~

Next chapter

~

And scene! Walking after midnight by Patsy Cline plays as the camera slowly zooms away from Javi and his jeep.

Hello everyone. College applications have me STRESSIN. Sorry about disappearing :( Hopefully this makes up for the time. Lots of fluff and cutesy stuff :))

Also I have no idea how tag-lists work, but I'm starting one. So I'm just? going to? tag people?? at the bottom?? (someone please help me, drop a message or something I'm so sorry T-T)

Do enjoy and leave a note, comment and anything really :** Check out the other chapters on my profile.

PS- Should I create a master list? Or wait a bit longer??Love, hugs and kisses,

-Itsjustsemantics <33

Tag list:

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine

[definitelynotanalien]

As the World Burns

Chapter 1: A whole new world

Masterlist

You were exasperated. Not only because of the certain obnoxious albino in front of you, but because of the time.

No one likes to be late to their job, and you were certainly no exception. Maybe you could’ve left the house a few minutes earlier, but if it weren’t for an accident then you would be right on time.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You uttered to the man in front of you. He was blocking your way, what were you supposed to do. And he wasn’t even blocking it to do something important, he seemed to just stand there for fun. Like actually. Whenever you tried to push through him (and his rather toned body) he blocked you.

The albino giggled, “Then let’s take a selfie.”

At those fairly inconic words, you finally recognised the man. He was the man, the myth, the legend, Prussia (of course you only knew this due to a random thirst trap that appeared on your for you page).

Prussia was more devious then you expected, To tell the truth, he looked like a demon. He had pale skin, hair as white as snow, and blood red eyes. As well as having a rather sharp face.

“What.” You finally said.

“You wanted a picture, ja~”

“That’s not what i meant…”

“i know that!”

Prussia looked rather mischievously at you. He wore a smirk and a weird blue outfit. It was fashionable but rather odd to be wearing day to day.

“As much as i’d love to continue this banter, i have to get to work.”

What a smart response, you applauded yourself and walked off. Of course based off his status as a country, and your status as an intern, you would probably see him again.

✦ ⟵⟶ ✦

“Hold the door.” Someone exhaustively requested, from very far outside the elevator door.

As you could not be bothered to be rude, you held said door.

“Thanks,” an exasperated man walked in, “I hope i wasn’t a bother.”

As yes, others with low self esteem. Not a challenge you haven’t faced before.

“lol it’s fine.”

“Did you just use ‘lol’ in verbal language?”

The brunette asked, his shoulder length locks falling upon his shoulders. The man had dazzling green eyes, ones that could reflect your soul. He had a bit of a crooked back, perhaps from hours of manual labour. He wore a neat suit, not unlike your own. The man was beautiful, to put it short. And probably another country, although you couldn’t put your finger on which one.

He looked european due to his features, perhaps France dyed his hair and got contacts?

You could have probably identified his accent, but one may be lazy every once and a while.

“Yes.”

There was a pregnant pause,

“Okay…”

fknfjsmd

The man stared at you like you were the moon, if the moon was a crazy, well dressed gremlin who didn’t bother to learn proper english.

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in uncomfortable silence.

[transmutationisms]

hi! genuine question based on the pieces you linked in the intelligence ask. when we think of “intelligence” in the content of, say, academia spaces that aren’t viewed as generating any kind of capital, like many different humanities fields for instance, is the concept of “intelligence” still being applied in eugenicist ways? like, propping up the myth of the academe and everyone who partakes in it as “intelligent”, thereby reifying the same political goals as when it’s applied to fields where a person’s work is more obviously producing capital?

yes, any definition of intelligence is operating on racial and eugenic logic. there is no way to do psychometry without this underlying logic of measuring, quantifying, and biologically reifying constructions of human 'types' and the ranking of them along lines of inferiority/superiority. this is the impetus for the whole endeavour

the idea of an 'intelligent' class like academics is just the flipside of designating eg manual labourers as 'unintelligent'. these days we tend to construe this distinction along lines of personal merit/achievement, which often obscures the blatantly eugenic underpinning, but consider how intelligence is defined and who has the very specific skills required to do well on those tests and metrics: ie, this requires access to specific educational opportunities, prizes specific forms of written language, &c &c—so, broadly speaking this is a way of attributing to biological/psychological traits the results of massive systems of inequality in resource distribution, educational and economic opportunities, &c

tangential, but: i understand why people often think of academic humanities as not generating profit the way, say, a lab scientist working on patentable (by the institution) ip might, but this is kind of a misunderstanding of how the academy functions. faculty are hired because the university makes a great deal of its money off tuition; the faculty are profit-generating because they teach, thereby securing the flow of tuition payments. the university doesn't really care whether most faculty have the time or resources to produce quality scholarship (in fact, often, even those very few who hit the academic superstardom leagues produce consistently dogshit scholarship) because that's essentially not what it relies on them to actually do

also tangential, but: it's also misleading to talk about academic humanities as one job type; there's a huge difference between, eg, tenured professors, contingent/adjunct faculty, and grad students (who are increasingly relied on to supply low-cost teaching labour, and frequently legally mis/classified in such a way as to be denied even the minimal labour protections that faculty receive)

[fervency-if]

I hope this wasnt asked before, but what would the RO's jobs/professions would be like when they are in the modern world? Also just finished Crimson Peak and the atmosphere and costume designs remind me of Fervency. Basically looking at costumes and played "Which RO would wear what?" (Even though I haven't met explored the routes of like half of them)😂 I too, would commit cannibalism and other atrocities when I wear the following:

(This one always strike me as fitting for Fem!MC when rotting in bed and dying from the plague)

(Shawl or bow? Why not both?)

As for the first part:

The Physician would still want to work with medicine or the like in one way or the other - even if she wasn't a doctor, she would want to want to help people. Doctor, nurse, midwife, even some sort of medical secretary... Any of these would interest her.

Aubrey would prefer not to work, and if he had to, he would probably go from small job to small job, bored, just to make ends meet, unless he could get himself a career having to do with the arts.

If Narciso was born in modern times his voice would be different, but still very beautiful - he would want to be an opera singer here, too, but he would be a tenor instead of a sopranist.

Vesa would have a similar profession - working either at a museum as a curator, or at some sort of bar or lounge. As long as she was surrounded by either beautiful art, tasty drinks, or both.

Roswhen would feel a bit like Aubrey - they want to do something creative, and if that wasn't lucrative enough, they would probably take a little job here and a little job there just to get by.

Elan wouldn't care too much as long as it was manual labour - he doesn't want to think, he wants to work with his body. Thinking is something he prefers to do in private.

As for the second part:

That movie is so pretty, isn't it - I definitely take it as a compliment, the fact that you thought of Fervency, because it really is a stunning film with lovely costumes and a nice atmosphere! Hehe, that sounds like such a nice little game! I suspect that the Physician would appreciate the beautiful dresses in that movie a whole lot, actually...

Ooh, I like that idea! It makes for a great mental image.

...and yes, why not both, I do agree!

[pinkcadillaccas]

I really and truly understand the need for a shorter work day, and not working people 8 hours minimum just because we can. HOWEVER, some jobs, especially manual ones, need more time and that's okay because some people love their jobs! A carpenter engrossed in their job and facing high demand might relish working 8 hours a day non stop, I work in vegetable growing and that job is just by nature long and inflexible. Yes with the right attitudes and right amount of workers all the work that needs doing can be done quickly at the right times of the day but it's just like actually some jobs, especially in our current society, are laborious and that's not because of shitty capitalistic workers rights it's just how they are, and some people enjoy working them. Idk I just feel like a lot of the (very very important!) conversation about workers rights in terms of hours and demand and flexibility misses out a lot of manual labour jobs that can be people's passion. Yes we still need to make changes ideally yes people are still overworked, but the solutions and the aims are entirely different and so often workers like my family and friends are left out of the conversation.