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andthebeanstalk · 11 months

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

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needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel master list

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prequel), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous. He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it. He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable.

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you. Of course it would.

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too. He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun.

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you.

“Can I see it?” you ask.

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?”

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate. “Can ya gimme a second, honey?”

“Okay.” He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away. “Now?”

“No. Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make.

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.”

“Why?"

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer.

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.”

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.”

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs.

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper.

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions.

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly. Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad. If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop.

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway.

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like. Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit.

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft.

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach. You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste.

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily.

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips. He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch.

Then, your lips wrap around the head. He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”

You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more.

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating.

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs.

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees. In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel.

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum. It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.”

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop.

“Good girl,” he sighs and cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need. You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it. You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief. He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on. But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it. “Good girl, that’s real good, honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away. Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body. He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep.

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change.

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair.

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all."

"I know."

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all.

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs.

"You want a hand?"

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass. "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?"

You're quiet.

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.”

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit.

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.”

“Okay.” You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down.

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats.

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact. He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah,"

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs."

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit.

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper.

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip.

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.” You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you.

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.”

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say.

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that.

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper. You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good.

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time.

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes. His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty.

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer. He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.” You turn around and face him. “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath. He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.” He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod. He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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spacelazarwolf · 7 months

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saw a post that gave me an eye twitch so i’m gonna break it down and analyze it bc i feel like it exemplifies a lot of what’s wrong with gentile discourse on i/p rn.

1. yeah, it is awful that zionist institutions and leadership use jewish trauma to justify why diaspora jews should unquestioningly support the current state of israel, regardless of the atrocities it commits against palestinians.

2. "israel is not your bube who survived the shoah" i don't know how to explain to you how fucking callous this sentence is.

3. for better or worse, israel did save jewish people. nearly a million jews from the swana region and 24,000 from ethiopia fled there after experiencing extreme violence and discrimination. you really think america or europe would have taken in a million black and brown jews? have you seen the current state of immigration?

4. "how do you argue with someone when their idea of israel is so rooted in their family trauma?" you don't. you validate their fears, make them feel heard, and then you offer them alternatives. the vast majority of diaspora support for israel is based in fear of persecution and eradication. if you offer real, legitimate solutions for the safety of diaspora jews, i guarantee you will be a thousand times more successful than just screaming at them and telling them "who fucking cares about your holocaust survivor bubbe????"

5. "how do you possibly tell them that the holocaust isn't relevant?" you don't, because it is. nearly 500,000 holocaust survivors moved to or were sent to israel after the shoah. some did not have a choice of where they were sent, some tried to go back to where they were living before but had no money and gentiles had taken their houses and belongings so they had nowhere to go, many faced violence upon trying to return to their hometowns in the form of pogroms, several countries turned them away. you cannot say the holocaust is not relevant to the current israeli population because gentiles in the diaspora are the reason they're there.

6. "i'm so tired of centering jewish identity in discussions over a nation state." are you stupid? genuinely, are you stupid? do you really not see how jewish identity and the history of the jewish people factor into a state with a fucking star of david on the flag that was founded after a genocide of 6 million jews that the rest of the world didn't want to deal with? seriously? no, jews in the diaspora are not responsible for the actions of the israeli government. we aren't more loyal to israel than we are to wherever we're living. but to say that israel has nothing to do with the jewish people is frankly laughable.

7. "how do you say that without sounding invalidating? like that just sounds horrible and antisemitic." that's because it is. you are being horrible and antisemitic.

edited to add: NUCLEAR SUPERPOWER?????????????????????????????? HELLO??????????????????????????

so please for the love of fuck educate yourself on the history of the jewish people and the history of the state of israel before making stupid ass posts like this. israel didn't manifest out of nowhere, it didn't come from "jewish supremacy" it came from hundreds of thousands of jews who were at their wit's fucking end with antisemitism in the diaspora, and from britain's colonization and imperialism paired with it's complete and total disregard for anyone who wasn't racially and culturally white. the monster that is modern day political zionism is a creation of the world's own making. people have been posting a lot about hamas being a response to 70+ years of israeli occupation, violence, and apartheid, but don't seem to understand that israel is a response to 3000+ years of persecution, expulsion, and genocide. the massacres and terror committed by hamas don't take into account the wellbeing of palestinians, and the oppression and violence perpetuated by the israeli government don't take into account the wellbeing of jews in israel or in the diaspora.

nothing will change if gentiles in the diaspora do not take responsibility for the rest of the world's role in the creation of israel. research your country, learn about how they treated their jews (not just during the holocaust but from the moment there were jews in your country), talk to your local jewish population, ask how you and organizations you are part of can help keep the diaspora safe for jews. because as an american jew, i don't want to move to israel. the government is borderline fascist, non ashki non orthodox jews are often seen as second class citizens, i don't speak the language, and my life is here. a lot of diaspora jews feel this way. but every time i see another group of nazis at a rally or get another bomb threat at my synagogue and look to see which country would be safest to move to as a trans person and as a jew, the only answer is israel, which is exactly what zionist institutions and leadership are counting on. if you want that to change, you and your community have to change it.

#ip

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

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I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #hillary clinton was right about everything: the redux redux redux

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lust4liyah · 4 months

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*hides behind hands* I KNOW HOW LONG ITS BEEN YALL I AM SOO SORRY :(((( uni has been kicking my ass for a while but im back and still deeply in L word with miguel!!! here's an apology 4 being gone 4 SO LONG, a lot of y'all rlly wanted body worship so here that is!

not proofread! contains; chubby! fem! reader, insecure thoughts, body image, unprotected sex, praise, public sex, body worship, mirror sex, creampie, sir kink if u squint, rlly soft sex, WAY longer than it needed it to be.

it happens during your off day. you're out shopping with miguel at the mall, dragging him here and there to get cute little outfits and other things miguel swears you don't need. you're at the end of your list of stores, and quite frankly the store miguel's been looking forward to the most, the lingerie store.

you're excited to try on all the cute pieces you see! you're grabbing anything that catches your eyes and miguel looks alive for once as he watches you do so, even going so far as to recommend a few sets.

you take all the sets you're interested in, thank the pretty lady lazily watching over the dressing rooms, and head inside. you were excited at first, you really were. who doesn't love to try on new clothes? but once you get in one of the farther dressing rooms to try on the cute lace sets miguel had suggested, your confidence is shot.

you turn in the mirror, uncomfortable with what you see in the reflection. you're chubby, that was a fact that you wore proudly. you've always loved your body, never thought it was something you needed to change or be ashamed of, until now. you feel gross in this set, the lace not fitting right and not flattering your curves the way you hoped. you try on the next few sets, feeling worse and worse each time.

you're on the verge of tears when you try on the last set, a pretty red mesh one with a bow right between your breasts. you look at yourself and feel nothing but disgust, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you frustratedly tug at the material around your body. you hated feeling like this, like your body was less than it was, but gosh, you couldn't help it.

maybe it was the way your flesh peeked from the fabric, maybe it was the way your rolls showed themselves on the sides of the set, but either way, you hated what you were looking at. you hated it.

a knock on the dressing room door has you jolting in surprise, whipping your head around to stare wide-eyed at the closed door. "honey?" miguel's deep voice calls from the other side. you don't respond, and miguel, concerned by your lack of response, knocks once again.

"you in there, cariño? it's been a while, is everything alright?" miguel asks. when he doesn't receive an answer again, he starts to push the door open. "is it okay if i step in? i wanted to see how you looked". you can hear the smile in his voice and you panicked. god, you hated the mall sometimes. the doors don't close properly ever.

"wait!" you say, voice shaky. you clear your throat and try again, "don't come in." you're a mess right now and the last thing you want is for miguel to see you like this. "why not?" miguel says, clearly confused. his hand rests against the door as he respects your wishes and waits for your reply,

"is everything okay, honey? did you rip that one with the strings?" he lets out a deep chuckle. "that one looked like it would be difficult to put on anyway, mama. let's just leave it there and run out, yeah?" he attempts to joke and it pull a quiet giggle out of your mouth.

"no— it's not that. i'm okay, baby, really. i just…" you trail off and glance at the mirror again, the insecurities you're feeling rushing back at full force, "i don't like it". you're not lying, you don't like any of the sets. they made you feel like shit.

"the strings?" miguel asks dorkily and you smile sadly at the mirror. even when you felt horrible, he knew how to make you feel better. "no, baby, not the strings." you take a deep breath. "i just don't like the way i look in these sets, that's all." you finally conceded, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

you knew miguel was persistent, though, and you wouldn't be surprised if he tried to get you to tell him exactly why you didn't like how you looked.

you didn't hear anything for a few moments and you started to hope that miguel had given up and left, but then, you hear the door handle shake and watched it twisting open in a panic. "no, wait! miguel—"

the door swings open, miguel's big body blocking the entrance. your hand falters at the failed attempt to keep the door closed and you shamefully take a step back, turning your body away from him and crossing your arms over your chest.

"cariño", miguel steps in and closes the door behind him. he walks closer and gently grasps your hips, moving you so that your back is facing the mirror and your front is pressed up against his body. "tell me what's wrong, why are those beautiful eyes of yours crying, hm?" his large hands move up your back, resting at the base of your neck and stroking the nape.

"do you not like the color? the patterns?" his eyes rake over your body. "because i think they're all very pretty".

you bite the inside of your cheek and avert your gaze, not wanting to face him. "nothing at all like that, they're all beautiful". you admit. you can feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, waiting patiently for a real answer, but you stay quiet.

"then, enlighten me for a moment", miguel starts, taking one of his hands from the back of your neck and using it to tilt your chin up. "what is it about these outfits that you don't like?"

"because, miguel," you huff out and push at his chest lightly. "they don't look good on me, okay? they just make me feel… not good. like i'm— ugh, like they just don't look good on my body." you admit, a tear falling down your face.

the sight of it breaks miguel's heart and he wipes it away with his thumb. "oh, my love," he says. he kisses your cheek. "what makes you think they don't look good on you, mama?"

"they just… don't. i'm not saying they aren't cute, they're just not for my body, i guess". you shrug and try to turn away from him again, but miguel doesn't let you.

"how could you say that about such a gorgeous body, hm?" he says, hands slowly making their way down your body. "you look stunning, cariño. borderline irresistible, and you don't like them?" miguel clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disbelief. "you have to be crazy".

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "yeah, right." you make eye contact with him and miguel's heart breaks with how broken you look. "how could you love a body like mine? it's just so— i don't know, not sexy".

you move to turn around and slip the lingerie off your body, but miguel grips your hips again, holding you in place. "look at me", he says. his voice is hard and demanding and you shiver under his grasp. "i want you to see what i see, honey girl, don't push me away." he murmurs and slowly guides your body to turn around.

"keep your eyes on the mirror, understand?" miguel says softly. you nod and keep your eyes trained on the reflection, watching him slowly caress your sides. "good girl." miguel compliments. you can't help the shiver that runs through your body at his words and his smirk widens. he loves having this effect on you.

he slowly moves his hands up and down your sides, taking his time in tracing your curves. "see that, baby?" he says and cups your breasts. "this beautiful, soft body of yours. it's fucking perfect." he squeezes them and leans down to suck a kiss into your neck. "it's made just for me." he murmurs against the skin.

you squirm in his grasp but don't take your eyes off the mirror. miguel pulls away and gives you a stern look, "are you gonna watch or do i have to make you?" he asks. he raises an eyebrow when you don't reply, and you whimper.

"n—no, sir." you stutter out. you're turned on, the feeling of his hands all over you and his dirty words not helping the growing arousal between your legs. miguel nods and returns to touching your body. he slips his hands around your waist, squeezing your love handles before bringing his hands down to cup the bottom of your tummy. he massages the flesh and sucks another hickey onto your neck.

"all of you is breathtaking, my love". he says and moves one of his hands back to the front of your body. "this tummy", he groans, one of his hands moving to squeeze the flesh of your sides. "these curves", his hand moves again, gripping the meaty flesh of your thighs and lifting the leg that isn't on the floor. "these gorgeous fucking thighs." he sighs, shuddering in pleasure as he practically gropes you.

"all of it is gorgeous, 'n' all of it is mine. can't have you talking down on what's mine, can i?" he smirks at you through the mirror. "it's just not right, honey girl."

"no, sir, i'm sorry." you whisper out. miguel smiles sweetly at you through the mirror, leaning down and pressing chaste kisses against your neck. "my sweet girl, there's nothing to apologize for. i know you get lost in that little head of yours". he says, his hands moving back up to squeeze at your breasts. "how can you not think of the way i feel about you, though? i love this body. i'm obsessed with it. would stay home 'n' play with all day if you'd let me, you know i could do it".

you did know. miguel didn't have any problems spending the whole day worshipping your body, playing with it until you were a mess, begging for him to fuck you. his favorite pastime, if he had one, would be spending the whole day in bed, making you cum on his fingers and his tongue. he's done it before, and he'd do it again if you asked.

"m'sorry, miguel." you whimper, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. you didn't know what else to say, all the praises and kind words were getting to you. you can't remember the last time someone made you feel as good as he does.

"don't apologize, baby." miguel murmurs and kisses the side of your head. "you don't have to apologize, jus' let me make you feel better, hm?" he squeezes your breast again, tweaking a nipple and grinning at the small moan that falls from your lips.

"i'll make sure all the nasty things in that head of yours go away, yeah?"

and that's how you ended up being pressed against the wall of the dressing room, miguel's hand over your mouth and his free hand groping every area of your body he can. tears of pleasure prick so prettily at your eyes and miguel revels in the fact that he's the one who caused it.

"this is what you should be crying about." miguel whispers, his lips right by your ear as he presses his hips further into you. he's relentless, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously while he plays with your body. "should be cryin' about being fucked open on my cock, should be sobbing over how good you feel." he emphasizes his point with a hard thrust and his hands squeeze the flesh of your breasts.

"god, look at you, mi amor." miguel murmurs against your lips. "you look so fucking perfect like this, all fucked out on my cock. 'm so lucky." he presses a quick kiss to your lips and leans back up, a hand gripping your neck and his thumb stroking the underside of your jaw. he turns your face carefully to the mirror, holding you in place.

"watch me", he commands, his freehand moving down to rub tight circles around your clit. "watch me worship this perfect body. watch yourself get fucked open on my cock, and don't take your eyes off of us." his eyes are trained on the mirror, too, a dark lust swirling in them.

you nod, small whimpers and pants escaping your mouth as miguel takes his hand off your mouth. "m—miguel, baby." you whimper and throw your head back. "'m close, please, let me cum." miguel shakes his head and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your shoulder. "not yet, baby," he whispers and bites the soft flesh.

"gotta see what i see, 'n' then, i'll let you cum. sound good, honey girl?" he smirks. you whine and shake your head, but you can't help but follow his command.

he's making it hard for you to keep your eyes on the mirror, the way his cock is thrusting into you and the way his thick fingers are playing with your clit have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"look, baby, watch how well you're taking my cock. so perfect, 'n' all mine. look at that beautiful body of yours, taking me so well." miguel groans and kisses along the back of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"that's it, baby. 's what i see when i look at you." he says. he brings his free hand up to rest against your cheek, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "see how beautiful you look? see how sexy you are? fuck, i can't even put it into words, honey. you're perfect. every single thing about you."

your eyes start to roll into the back of your head again and miguel's hand moves back down to your pussy. "keep your eyes on me, understand? 'm not letting you cum 'till you do." he grunts and slows his thrusts, not wanting this to end just yet.

"please, miguel, i need—"

"i know what you need, baby. i know this body." he whispers and strokes his thumb across your cheek. "just a little longer, honey. you're doing so good." he praises. you do as he says, keeping your eyes on the both of you in the mirror.

you feel yourself starting to cry, and the tears are falling faster now. "that's it, baby." miguel encourages, his fingers starting to work faster against your clit. "there's that beautiful girl. see how stunning you look when you're taking my cock like the good girl you are?" he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, and the tenderness of the action has you breaking out into hushed sobs.

"fuck, miguel." you whine, his lips and his words and his hands making you feel like you're on cloud nine. "thank you, thank you s'much, love you— fuck! love you, love you, love you!" you cry, the feeling of his fingers and his cock driving you insane. you're so close, just one more push and you'd be gone.

"i know, honey. 'm right here. i love you too, you and this body. love every single part of it." he murmurs. his thrusts get harder and his fingers press impossibly deeper, the feeling pushing you over the edge.

"you can cum, honey girl, 'm right here." he says, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels you tighten around him.

you let yourself go, and the feeling of miguel's body surrounding yours and his words have you spiraling into a blissful orgasm. you cry out, slapping your hand over your mouth as your body twitches, and miguel moans lowly in your ear. "there you go, that's it, cariño." he coos. he pulls his hands away from your body and pulls your hips towards his, gripping the plush skin tightly.

he thrusts his hips harder into yours, chasing his own high. "so fucking good, honey, such a perfect body." he praises. he bites your neck and comes inside you, his cum filling your cunt as his hips still against yours. "perfect," he groans out. "all of it, perfect."

the two of you are breathing hard, the air around you feeling hot and humid. miguel's sweaty body is pressed against yours, his softening cock still inside you.

and when he kisses you again, helping you settle on the bench of the dressing room while he assures the worried employee outside that everything's fine, you're left with a new mindset.

you don't mind the lingerie sets that much, they're really pretty and yeah! they do look good on you, real good.

when miguel makes a move to slip the underwear off your body and press his tongue inside you, whispering praises and warnings of silence into your body, you don't have a problem with them anymore.

not at all.

okay wow yeah this one was crazy, i rlly rlly hope u all enjoyed this one bcus i tried my very VERY hardest to do the body worship requests justice! im so sorry 4 leaving yall for practically months on end w RADIO SILENCE but i hope u all can forgive me w this teehee

#✧ ― liyah's loves #chubby reader #atsv smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader smut #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x chubby! reader #miguel smut #fem! reader #miguel x reader #miguel x reader smut #spiderverse #LONG ASS DRABBLE MY GOD #gave up on italics 4 the dialogue if u could nawt tell #im so lazy yall IM SORRY

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weebsinstash · 1 month

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I noticed you bitches like drama and men being just a little pathetic so you know what I've been thinking of lately. Wouldn't it be so funny if you got a red string of fate, you know, whole destined soulmate shebang, but you've got two of them, and on the ends are MORTAL ENEMIES WHO WOULD RATHER KILL EACH OTHER THAN SHARE YOU

I want you DEAD, in HELL, finding out you've got one string for Vox and one string for Alastor and they HAAAAAATE IT, at each other's throats IMMEDIATELY

I want you walking down the street, somehow magically the perfect distance from both of them when your strings appear for the very first time, two leading in opposite directions. Like I picture Vox is broadcasting live and his string suddenly appears and, he tries to play it cool because he's on the air but he's clearly excited and geeking out a little, but, wait his string disappears? And reappears? And disappears? And homie is hooked up to his little TV network, and he finally notices and sees through one of the tvs on some street corner somewhere, there you are, stepping forward, back, forward, back, kind of just, making your string go in and out of the whole 'distance rule', still obviously shocked yourself, and you just awkwardly look up to the tv and flash a clearly very nervous smile, "oh hey, um, I think this is us maybe?" and nervously holding up the hand attached to his string

Meanwhile you turn to look in the other strings direction and Alastor is Suddenly Just There. He's pulling a fucking Batman on you where you just turn around and he's all but silently materialized directly behind you and you're nearly falling over yelping in surprise.

THEN VOX AND ALASTOR SEE EACH OTHER AND SEE THE STRINGS AND IT'S ON SIGHT. Vox is just slamming his hands down on his desk, "NO, FUCK OFF ALASTOR, GET YOUR OWN SOULMATE" meanwhile Alastor is. Slightly more composed but his ears are pressed back and he's grating his teeth as he looks between you, who he's already so eager to get to know everything about, and his old business partner and he's immediately growling out an "Absolutely NOT"

I want you awkwardly flipping between both of these men like Hell's most precarious drama filled job interview. "OK well, his head is literally a TV so I bet he likes video games like I do whereas you don't seem the type, BUT, Vox is also just kind of a mean person? And Alastor you're a fucking cannibal serial killer? But we kinda have similar values.... but I love tech.... HE would make me feel smart and YOU I feel like would threaten my intelligence and make me feel stupid and-- oh my god is that literally it, am I so crazy i get both of you to balance me out in different ways. What about you guys. You guys ever make out with each other or anything--"

Like these two are wanting to get to know you and bond with you and I just picture Alastor is repeatedly suggesting you two go to a diner or a cafe or somewhere to grab a bite to eat (and also because he TOTALLY isn't trying to lead you away from the TVs on the street) and Vox is like having a little hissy fit through the screen but he's keeping his distance because he knows if he faced Alastor head on he would wreck his shit

But like.... imagine scenario c where you don't want either one of them and you're just like IMMEDIATELY "uh, no, no thank you? I actually um, am not looking for a relationship right now, and, uh, also you're both just. Awful. You're both just legitimately awful people and I don't want anything to do with either of you or all the drama you cause, quite frankly you guys can go make out with each other and I think we would all be better off" cause. I mean it was already a competition to win your heart but this is Even Worse because both of them are trying to "win you over" before the other one can and they're just SMOTHERING YOU. Like imagine one of your strings appearing and there's a knock at your door and suddenly your other string appears and you're hearing arguing voices outside and you open your front door and they're like. Strangling each other on your doorstep. Immediately pushing their way into your apartment and commenting on all your belongings

Alastor just like sarcastically commenting on all your tech while Vox is thrilled you have things in common. You and Vox just deliberately using modern slang and pop culture lingo just to annoy him by saying shit he either can't understand, finds annoying, or both. Vox thumbing through your cds and chiding you for having older music in your collection while Alastor tells him he's too low intelligence to appreciate the classics and starts asking you about your tastes in more 'retro' things. The entire time both of them are looking at each other "try not to break anything you clumsy oaf" *meanwhile is picking up and touching all your shit himself*

And of course... imagine the drama if you reject them and they catch you out on the take for another man. They scour the city looking everywhere for you, even TEAMING UP because they want to find you that badly, and they find you in a club in some dude's lap dangerously wasted as you put your tongue down his throat. You're all but riding the dude to kiss him. And finally Alastor and Vox are agreeing on something! You're PEELED off that man and, wherever he goes you sure don't know because you're WASTED! You're just giggling and messing around, swirling your finger in circles on their arms/chests, "oh my gosh, itssssyouuuuu guys!! Heyyyyy!!!! Come have drinks with me and my new friends!!!" and you're just so drunk they're uncomfortable with it. Alastor is getting some unpleasant nostalgia and Vox is worried how many other people are in this club, having their eyes all over you, Lucifer only knows what all you've been up to

If they find you with hickies or some shit on your neck you basically lose Personhood Privileges. You're like. Getting carried out of there, Alastor's just scooping you up, "cmon darlin!" and you're so drunk you're just like "oh my gosh you're so strong ☺️🥰 wheeeeeee~" and, you're just drunkenly slurring and being chatty and asking them all kinds of questions (and maybe saying some real inappropriate shit that makes them nervous about leaving you alone or around other men), meanwhile they're, like, carting you off to one of Alastor's secret hideouts or Vox has a hidden apartment to get his own space away from the Vees, you're just getting toast and water and getting tucked in still really fucked up as they're doing everything from, Alastor dutifully removing all your makeup to Vox helping take off your shoes for them to tuck you into bed. You're just drunkenly purring with contentment as one of them throws a blanket over you and you're just nice and burrito'd up, already falling asleep

Imagine they're just about to leave the room and you're just, so quiet and soft and, "... that guy i was with... wouldnt take no for an answer, so... i was just... kissing him so he maybe would leave me alone... but then he kept asking for more... I don't know what I would've done if you guys hadn't shown up. Thank you" and just rolling over and conking out as both men stare at you like the shocked tails meme

By the time you're waking up, you're stumbling out of the bedroom to see them both still there with you, politely chatting over some coffee and scrambling up to you now that you're awake, leaving you more than just a little confused. Wait, the two of them are getting along now? Well, your little disappearing act and all the little stunts you've pulled made them realize that, they both individually have their own strengths and weaknesses, and, they even wound needing to work together to help you, and, really isn't that just so indicative of times to come? Clearly you DO need both of them, and, maybe just maybe if it's for your sake and safety, they can set their differences aside. Heck, maybe even teaming up to help find you and just, figure this whole mess out in general reminded both of them of old times. Maybe they even missed their old friend a little bit. Maybe if you get them drunk and horny enough you can even get them to make ou--

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #hh #yandere hellaverse #sinprompts

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lenaellsi · 13 days

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it's honestly a bit odd to me that so many people have jumped on the 'aziraphale will be pulling all the strings and playing politics in heaven' train. like I think it's true that the metatron is underestimating aziraphale's intelligence and ability to disrupt the second coming even while separated from crowley, but I also think the idea that aziraphale is going up to heaven with a clear idea of how he's just been lied to, an understanding of how much danger he's in, and a plan to stop it is a huge reach.

frankly, aziraphale is very vulnerable to manipulation. I'm thinking now of neil’s post with the diary entry from before the edinburgh minisode where he was duped by two humans, the whole thing with the nazis in 1941, and his sponsorship of shadwell's various obviously fake agents (sergeant milkbottle, etc.). he's not nearly as savvy as fanon tends to portray him. he takes people at face value, especially people he thinks of as Good. (that's not a dunk, btw--I find these things endearing, and a sign of aziraphale's innate wish to see the best in people. I just think that sometimes the BAMF protective aziraphale of fanon overshadows the slightly more naive aziraphale of canon. and honestly, I also think TV aziraphale is just a bit softer than book aziraphale, though he is capable of stepping up when it counts.)

and he's a bad liar! I know it's a meme in the fandom that aziraphale lies all the time, but he doesn't like it, and he's bad at it. he gets nervous and comes up with terrible excuses and the only reason he ever gets away with it is because the people he's lying to are idiots (gabriel), have their own agendas (god, the other archangels), or trust him to be honest (crowley).

aziraphale's real strength is his ability to take sudden, completely unexpected action. that's one of the things that crowley admires most about him. "he's unpredictable," is what he says to nina, and it's true! aziraphale's greatest moments of rebellion have always come from spur of the moment decisions, not intricate plans. (if anything, crowley is the planner--the arrangement and the thwarting of the apocalypse, their two longest cons, were both his idea.)

aziraphale gives the sword away because when he is forced to make a decision under pressure, he tends to land on the side of rebellious kindness. shielding crowley from the rain in eden, lying to gabriel to protect job's family, defying the quartermaster and returning to earth via possession during the apocalypse, blowing up his halo--he does these things because he's following that same impulse. when aziraphale has time to over think, he frets and fusses and is paralyzed by indecision. (or worse, he falls back on what heaven has taught him.)

TL;DR: I don't think aziraphale has any sort of grand plan other than a generalized "make things better," and I certainly don't think he is planning to betray heaven. he might try to come up with a plan once he figures out how bad things are going to get, but my bet is that what will actually disrupt the second coming is an absolutely bonkers off the wall decision that no one, crowley included, could ever predict. and I think it’ll happen, as it usually does with aziraphale, just after he accepts a difficult truth that fundamentally shifts his worldview—in this case, his final rejection of the idea of “good” and “bad” people, and of the entire morality system of heaven and hell.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #final fifteen #aziraphale #long post #been in a meta mood lately sorry #to be clear people can write whatever they want. playing with characterization is fine and good in fanworks #but also I do wonder if the fanon built over four years between seasons is seriously impacting the way people read the final fifteen #and because I suspect it will come up: his smile in the elevator reads as Aziraphale’s denial smile #the one where he plasters it on as a ‘this is fine this is what I want I am a Good Angel’ reaction #‘I’m not trapped in here with you you’re trapped in here with me’ is not a thought aziraphale would ever have about himself #he doesn’t think about himself that way #crowley thinks of him as a force to be reckoned with for sure. but aziraphale is not that sure of himself

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luveline · 9 months

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Hiii, if you’re interested, could I request Eddie but as an ice hockey player?? Your writing is out of this world and I would just love to read about his flushed cheeks after practice or something like that. I hope you’re doing great and I love your stuff❤️❤️❤️

thank you so much, for your request and for being so lovely, it means the world to me! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

He comes flying across the ice like he's weightless. A dropping sensation hits your stomach while your heart leaps into your throat, but Eddie saves himself at the last minute with a quick, hard turn, his left foot further out. Ice curls in his wake, sheared by the sharp blade of his skate.

"How was that?" he calls up to you where you're sitting in the second row of the stands.

"You can really see a difference," you say, crossing one leg over the other and hiding your frigid fingers between your thighs. "The two hundred metre sprints must be working, Eds. You're like a fricking whippet, it's scary."

"They better be working," he says. "God, I fucking hate sprints."

Eddie hates every aspect of his conditioning workouts. He loves hockey, and if he wants to be able to keep up with the rest of his team, let alone the opposition, he needs to stay fit in ways that are specific to the sport, so the sprints are a necessary evil.

He doesn't care for much of it. The deadlifting is a good look on him, though. Watching his muscles physically get bigger in size has been an Experience, capital 'E'. His weight gain in general, actually.

"Do you feel tired?" you ask.

Eddie groans, putting his arm up and behind his head, forcing his elbow down with the opposite hand. He doesn't realise how salalcious he appears, worse when he scrunches his eyes closed and turns his face to one side. "I always feel tired. This is good, though. Maybe Steve'll stop busting my ass at practice for getting winded before the third period."

You're glad it's so cold in the rink. His grumpy expression has you flushing all over.

"Steve spends the majority of his time on the ice hunched over," you say. "Of course he doesn't get winded."

You wouldn't feel comfortable making a snide joke about Eddie's friends usually, but Steve knows you. He calls you Eddie's wife, though you aren't married, always trying to feed you hard pretzels while mouthing off about Eddie's shit plays. Hence your nonchalant disparagement.

Eddie grins at you, dropping his arms back down to his sides. "Where're your skates, sweetheart? Come and take a lap with me."

You brought your skates at his request. You'd climb the appalachian trail on your hands and knees if he asked you to, and not just because he's handsome and getting more so everyday, but because he's gorgeous on the inside. Kind of like finding a pretty rock and cracking it open to find gemstone, you'd been drawn to Eddie and his rough exterior, but you've grown to love him for what's inside. His sweetness, his charm. The way he's looking at you now —eyes wide, hopeful. You could believe that the only thing he wants in the whole world is to skate with you.

"I'll slip again," you fret, having already mentally given in.

Eddie knows you have, too. "I am not gonna let you fall over," he promises. "Put your gloves back on, yeah? It's cold."

You put on your skates and gloves and wobble to the gap in the rink walls to step out. Eddie's waiting, taking your elbow into his hand to help you out. He's been playing ice hockey longer than you've known him, and while you've been by his side for his rise to tier 3, you've become less familiar with the ice rather than more. You're frankly intimidated by what he can do. He's fast. He's a great sportsman (with a short fuse, undoubtedly, but he's never unkind to the people around him) (besides that one on-ice official). Eddie's amazing, but he can't give you confidence on the ice. Only practice can do that.

You're not super willing to practise. "Please don't let me fall on my ass, Eddie."

"There's nobody here to see it. And if you fall, I'll help you up, I swear. But you're not going to fall over."

While not specifically true, recreational skaters making lazy laps and a young figure skater working on waltz jumps in the defending zone, his surety makes you feel better.

Being on skates is a strange feeling. Eddie skates with the same ease as he walks. You freeze up, locking your hips. He moves his hand from your elbow to your hand. You can feel his fingers like blocks of ice through your gloves.

"Do you want to try just walking, or would you feel better skating in a circle?" he asks.

"Uh–" Your footing slips. You're panicking. "Um, whatever you want."

His cheeks glow with blush, his nose tip like a budding rose. He doesn't feel the cold anymore, nor fear of falling, setting you both on a speed akin to a light jog. You breathe out with a nervous squeak, fingers locked around his hand.

"You got it," he says, in his way, too cool for you. His voice is awfully pretty sometimes, a little rough, all fond. He dotes via praise, his thumb petting pointless circles into the back of your hand. "You're always better than you think."

"I don't know how you can find this fun," you say nervously.

He tips his chin up, his disorderly bun pressed to the back of his neck. "It's not all fun. Sometimes I don't wanna do it as much as I did when I started, but sometimes I wanna do it more than ever. Like, getting bumped up? Well, you know how I felt."

He'd hugged you so hard the air got knocked out of you. The celebrations were unrestrained.

"I love hockey almost as much as I love you," he says, sending an appreciative smile your way.

Your heart skips. "You love me more than hockey?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I do." He slows his skating, slows you with him, and kisses your cheek. His lips are as cold as his fingers. "But I want you to love hockey, so first you need to skate."

"Don't yank me."

"I'm yanking you, sweetheart. It's just like roller-blading."

"I can't rollerblade."

"No?" he asks, picking up his foot and putting it down, his thighs moving outward with each stroke. You scramble to keep up with him.

"Eddie!" you shout, terrified as you swing around a corner. Despite the fear, you know he won't let you get hurt. Well, super hurt.

"You're fine! Come on, let's see if we can meet my lap time." He smiles. Red cheeks, pink lips, and the world's warmest brown eyes. "You should start doing sprints with me. And lifting! That would be hot."

You'd snort if you weren't too busy trying to stay in an upright position. You'll be surprised if Eddie has any bones left in his hand tonight when you're done.

He doesn't once complain about your vice-like grip.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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sigmaleph · 8 months

Text

getting increasingly concerned about tumblr's reliance on A/B testing.

the justification for any number of recent changes from staff has been "We ran the tests! Sure, people are complaining, but that happens all the time; we can clearly see the boost in engagement from [whatever bullshit they tested]"

and like yeah it's basically true that if you change anything about a website you will get people complaining that they hate it, even for changes that will more or less be universally agreed to be positive two months later, so the mere existence of those complaints is not evidence of anything.

and yet. i don't know exactly what tumblr measures when it runs its A/B tests, but I expect whatever it is it gets you a fundamentally incomplete picture of user experience. how much time i spend a day on tumblr (and how many posts i make and reblog and like and so on) is, let's be honest, a lot more driven by what's going on in my life, and by content other people post, than by the interface. I don't know how they measure my engagement, but i really don't think it depends much on UX.

and one answer to that is, well, I'm a captive audience. i've been here for nearly a decade, I met a lot of friends through it, I use the website every day; they don't have to do anything to retain me as a user. they need to get other people using the website more, not make the experience better for me; if i'm here all day and love it or here all day and hate it, they don't care. it's not a pleasant thought, of course, but it makes a sort of business sense

except of course i am not going to be here forever if i hate it! there is some amount of making the experience worse that will eventually convince me to give up and rebuild my social network elsewhere, and every time they pull this sort of shit they invisibly burn some amount of goodwill with long term users in return for slightly better engagement numbers with new ones, and at some point you burn more than you have and the site collapses

I don't expect this to sway tumblr; frankly, the subtext of every change tumblr does is that the site is unprofitable, they're running out of patience for it to become profitable, and the default outcome is it collapses. 'keep things going as usual so you don't alienate your existing userbase' is not an option when 'things as usual' means the website dies.

but it sure looks like on the way to dying the website will also steadily get worse and worse.

#meta

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februarybluues · 11 months

Text

enemies with benefits. || 1. - p.u.n.k boy!

warnings: swearing, fighting, you and hobie hating each other, reader gets slightly injured but nothing that bad, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 )

part 2 - wounded.

You were bold, abrasive, honest, and never afraid to fight for what was right. He was the exact same - if not even worse. Logically, it was obvious for people to assume you’d be best friends. But, they couldn’t be further from the truth.

You heard a lot about Hobie. Mostly from Gwen and Miles rambling about ‘how awesome he was’. They told you about his cool style, his badass attitude, how caring he was, and pretty much everything there was to know about him. When they said he was a great guy, you almost believed them. But, your opinion quickly changed when you met him for the first time.

Miguel had called you to see him immediately, without giving any context as to why. Logically, you were confused and quite frankly, a bit scared. Did something happen? Were you in trouble? Needless to say you rushed over to him as quickly as you could.

“Y/n. New mission for you. There’s an anomaly that’s broken free and it’s jumping from dimension to dimension, wreaking havoc. I need you to stop it from corrupting anything, alright?” his face remained stoic as he spoke in a low, orderly tone. You smiled. It was no secret to anyone that you loved to fight. Whether it be fighting a villain as spider-woman, or fighting a sexist scum as y/n. You loved to make the world a better place. And you looked sick as you did it.

“Got it. Just send me the location and consider it done.” you responded, eagerly. Miguel cleared his throat, which caught your attention. “No, no, no. This is way more dangerous than your usual anomaly. You can’t do this on your own. Which is why I've assigned Hobart to be your partner.” You looked at him, confused. “Hobart? Who the fuck is that?” Without missing a beat, you heard the sound of rustling behind you. “M’right here.” you turned around, only to be met with a cocky smile, and a thick english accent. You quickly examined him. He was your stereotypical punk; tight jeans, combat boots, a sleeveless vest that was littered in pins and patches, and a guitar on his back. Everything about him screamed asshole. It was then that you realised he matched Gwen and Miles’ descriptions. There was no denying it, you were looking at the infamous Hobie Brown.

“You must be Hobie.” you held your hand out to him for a handshake. But he pressed a kiss to it instead. “The one and only.” he winked at you. You pulled your hand back, rolling your eyes at him. ‘Great.’ you thought to yourself. ‘He’s one of those people. A selfish, self-absorbed, cocky flirt.’ your head already jumped to conclusions, despite not knowing him for more than five minutes. You hadn’t realised you had been staring at him until he spoke up again. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” you scoffed at him, turning to talk to Miguel instead. “You can’t be serious. You know I work alone. I always work alone. I can handle this by myself.” Miguel shook his head, not wanting to hear your complaints. “I know. But, this is a job for two people. And, I firmly believe that you guys will work together greatly.” As much as you wanted to fight alone, you knew Miguel was right. You sighed. Hobie opened his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off before he could spew another snarky comment. “If you-” “Shut up with your elitist bullshit. All of you punks are the same.” You turned around yet again to look at his face. He immediately perked up with slight anger. You were testing his patience. “Aye. I’m no elitist! I don’t believe in’at crap! I don’t believe in labels!” your smile got smaller, but it stayed there nonetheless. “Yeah well I don't believe that you’re as cool as they say you are. Bet you’re just all bark and no bite.” his lips quirked up into a slight smile, completely disregarding what you had to say. “They? Who’s they?” his eyebrow raised, which made you notice his abundance of piercings. You'd be lying if you said they didn’t suit him. “Miles and Gwen.” you answered, the tone of your voice was slightly annoyed. He lit up slightly at the mention of their names. “You know Gwendy ‘n Miles?” “So what if I do?” His eyes grew wide, you could see the cogs whirring in his head as he put the pieces together. “Wait. A’you tha’ badass that kicked the teeth in o’that group o’knobheads?” Ah. So, gwen and Miles must’ve talked about you as much as they did him. Fucking hell his accent was almost incomprehensible. “So what if I am?” you crossed your arms at him. He scoffed. “And here I thought you’d be nicer.” you rolled your eyes and focused your attention on the portal you opened up. “Come on, we can finish this up later - after we’ve beat this bastard.” You spoke, pointing inside the portal. For a split second you both shared a smile. “Right behind you, mate.” And with that, you walked into the portal, mockingly mumbling his accent as you did so. “mate.”

You landed in the alternate earth with grace, quickly scanning the area to make sure no one was there. And then Hobie arrived. His chest bashed against your back, which caused you to almost fall forward. “Whoops. Sorry about tha’'.' he smiled, but he wasn’t sorry. His voice was laced with a teasing venom. You turned your head to look at him. “You did that on purpose, prick.” you scowled at him, and his smirk got wider; cockier. “Yeah, I did.” he admitted. You couldn’t believe him. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s just get this over with.” you put your mask on and looked around for the anomaly, swinging your webs from building to building as you flew around. It was then that you spotted it; a big, scaly monster. Its skin resembled that of tar; sticky and black. Accompanied by a menacingly sharp smile, its fangs were almost as big as you were. Your eyes widened with subtle fear as you watched it engulf its surroundings. You signalled Hobie over to you, careful as to not make any noise. He followed, his once-teasing demeanour gone without a trace. He was much more focused on taking down the anomaly now. “Fuckin’ ‘ell. That’s a big one.” he stated, looking at it before attempting to jump at it. but, you grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from doing so. “Are you crazy?” you whispered. “You can’t just spring into battle without a plan!” he groaned impatiently, you quickly shushed him as to not catch the creature’s attention. “Right then, what’s your plan then, missy?” he crouched down next to you, looking down at the enemy from the rooftop. The spikes on his mask shimmered from the sunlight, almost distracting you. Almost.

You snapped back to reality and shared your plan with him. He listened intently to everything you had to say - for debatably the first time ever. He had no snarky comments to share. You almost thanked him for his maturity. Once you finished telling him, it was time to initiate the plan. “Lead the way.” he said as he watched you walk towards the edge of the rooftop. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come. Without any delay, you jumped forward, latching your web onto the nearest building and springing into the creature's field of view. Once it saw you, it instantly began to attack; sending a few of its tentacle-like arms(?) in your direction. You dodged each of its attacks, cutting off one of the arms in the process with a powerful kick. Hobie remained on the rooftop, waiting for your signal. He watched as you fought. Soon finding himself lost in his thoughts. You fought the creature with expertise, swiftly gliding through the air as you dodged each attack flawlessly. He was in awe. He had underestimated how strong you were. But, there’s no way he was admiring you, right? He was just caught off-guard. Definitely. Which meant, it was his turn to show off. He wanted to impress you. And soon enough, his time came. You gave him the signal and he quickly sprung into action. He pulled the guitar from his back, holding it from the neck as if it were a weapon.

The two of you worked together to take the anomaly down. Although you hated to admit it, you made a great team. Miguel knew that, which is why he put you together in the first place. But, before you managed to successfully beat the monster, you got distracted. You watched as hobie ripped tentacle after tentacle from it and didn’t notice the one that was flying right at you. It lashed you right in the chest, making you grunt in pain as you fell backwards. Hobie must’ve seen this happening because before you made contact with the rough concrete, a familiar web enveloped you, lifting you back up. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want ya ruinin’ that pretty face o’yours.” You ripped his web off of you, and smiled through your mask. - grateful that he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t need your help!” you yelled at him, jumping back into battle. He laughed, which annoyed you even more. Successfully fuelling the energy you needed to knock the anomaly out. You delivered the final blow; kicking it right in its eye, which was apparently its weak spot. “Whew..” you let out, landing on your feet as you looked at it. Hobie landed next to you, placing his arm on your shoulder. “Nice one,” he said. He sounded sincere. You nodded before going back to work, informing Miguel that you had successfully taken it down. Hobie’s hand stayed on your shoulder, tightly but not enough to hurt.

Although he was an asshole, he was starting to grow on you.

“How ‘bout we get some dinner - on you, aye? it’s the least you could do considering i saved y’life.”

“Get a grip, Hobie.”

Nevermind.

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 9 months

Text

Better Than Gold

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Simple Pleasures

...

Gojo LOVES to take pictures --- he's the sort to have an aesthetic theme when it comes to his MySpace page (Instagram only came out in 2010 bro i feel old as shit rn also I have no idea how myspace works so ye)

(Side Note: Gojos had never really been interested in social media until the day Suguru made an account, back in early-August. Intrigued by the idea of connecting with his bestie over a new platform, he made one. It's quite frankly one of the worse and best decisions ever.)

Gojo has spent an insane amount of time refining both his feed and his page to perfection. Surprisingly, he has a small amount of pictures posted --- around two hundred or so; however, almost all of them consist of the three of you hanging out at random places around Japan

To be honest, you're that one person in the friend group that ends up in random places at the most random of times while Suguru is just one to go with it and Gojo is the one to encourage it.

Gojo has a list of places you or Suguru have shown even the slightest of interest. Although, a few places are added so that the two males can give you a tour of Japan.

Ah, Gojos is the one who likes to take you to trendy places such as Shinjuku Sky, where the views are absolutely spectacular. Especially during sunset. Your face is squished between Suguru's cheek and Gojo's shoulder as the three of you look up to the camera, a sunset in the background as the three of you go down the escalator.

(Side Note: Gojo is the one to take all the group pictures because he has the longest arm, ensuring the best of angles. Shockingly, Suguru is banned from taking pics because he doesn't really know how to. He always gets the ugliest angle. The only type of pics he can take are nature shots. Half of his page is composed of stray cats he finds on the way to Jujutsu High.)

(Another Side Note: While in Shinjuku you were absolutely obsessed with the giant cat billboard. Gojo and Suguru teamed up to tease you the rest of the trip since you wouldn't shut up about it. Suguru took a video of you gazing up at the billboard with a stupid look on your face. He loved it so much, he made it into his profile picture.)

Although not a trendy spot, Gojo likes to take you to see the hundreds of vending machines around the area. It's like a fun little game between the two of you where you have to guess what the next vending machine is selling --- the face you make when you saw the panty-selling machine was absolutely to die for.

Whenever you walk by a particular vending machine (a very specific one too. The machine looks somewhat ragged and old, it's always hidden in a dark corner which is so sketchy but like whatever), you'll buy something for Gojo. Specifically those sugary coffee cans that he likes so much along with whatever sweet treat it sells.

(Side Note: 1. You swear you're like the only person who buys from that machine. 2. Originally, you had dared Gojo to try something from the sketchy machine and, being a man of pride, he did. He ended up loving them so much he bought 10. You had to pry the drinks out of his hands so he wouldn't die from a sugar overload or something. 3. The machine has different flavors, so every day you get him another flavor.)

Suguru likes to take you both to hidden gems like a lovely sushi shop tucked away in some narrow alley deep in some random abandoned street or something (that sounds so sketchy, plz don't do this unless you're in a large group and have some form of defense.)

There's this one shop he showed you, they only serve one specific meal that you never mind considering how well they cook it. Suguru had admitted that he frequents the little shop (since he was a child), so much so that the owner knows him very well.

The owner is this very kind elderly man whose restaurant has been in the family for years, and every time he sees Suguru fast approaching --- he stops whatever he's doing and runs outside to greet him.

When the owner first saw you, he had this wicked grin on his wrinkled face as he teased Suguru for bringing his little lover over. Cue a blushing Suguru desperately trying to explain your relationship while you just smile like a cheshire cat whose been gifted new blackmail material.

Anyways, hanging on the walls of the small shop are pictures of Suguru over the years. There's this really cute one where he's barely 5 years old. His clothes are all stained from the food yet his mouth is open wide to devour it. His hair in a small bun. You liked how he hasn't changed much throughout the years. You just hoped his tired expression would fade away soon

Suguru once took Gojo to a narrow street called Omoide Yokocho, which was lined up with bars and yakitori restaurants. Unfortunately, Suguru had to call you so you could help him with a very drunk white-haired who couldn't hold his alcohol to save the life of him. When you arrived, Gojos greeted you with a tight hug as he kept shouting about how he got you some yakitori to try.

You took a video unbeknownst to him

(Add-on: Gojo really dislikes alcohol so you have no idea what made him want to drink that night. Plus, he obviously knows that he can't handle his alcohol so wtf bro)

Whenever one or the other can't join you and whoever you're currently with, you'll FaceTime the missing person ( yes yes, I know. FaceTime came out in 2010 but like for the sake of me not re-doing this bit, we advancing technology just a bit)

Your MySpace page, while private, was primarily composed of screenshots of these sorts of situations. With either Gojo or Suguru in a corner, posing for the screenshot. (The same goes for when you're not there!)

It should be noted that you were the type of person who posted pictures of others and not yourself. So seeing your own face on your page was a rare sight.

I have no idea how myspace works again

There's this one where you're hanging out with Haibara and Kento at a restaurant surrounded by rubber ducks --- while on a subway train, Haibara had heard whispers of a restaurant that only accepted rubber ducks instead of money. He already knew you'd be down for it, any excuse to explore. The only one who took convincing was Kento, but he quickly agreed Haibara's puppy eyes.

You hung onto both of their elbows the entire way there, joyful at the idea of having your own set of personal bodyguards

Moving on

There's this massive Ferris wheel located in Tokyo where one can karaoke while up in the air --- let me be the first to say that you and Gojo went absolutely ape shit for this while Suguru was just happy to be there.

Considering that you haven't been in Japan long enough to know any of the true classics, actually that's a lie. During those knitting Friday classes with Yaga, Yaga would play classic Japanese hits from the 90's. Either way, the sight of you trying to figure out the lyrics to every song earned you quite the number of cackles

Gojo always chose the catchy ones whilst Suguru chose the cheesy romance ones --- you were the backup singer for the most part

Suguru hit his head alot as he came out of the carriage

I don't remember if I added it or not, but in the beginning, you had this habit of holding onto either Gojo's or Suguru's shirt whenever you guys were walking around crowded areas. (I swear I wrote this somewhere) This little habit of yours had appeared fronting off on Suguru because he now does it. The three of you will be walking through an area and the crowds of people will just watch in amusement as three teenagers walk in front of them holding each other's shirts like a train. You holding Suguru's and Suguru holding Gojo's.

Ah, of course you had to take the bullet train at some point during your whole exploration. For this you were accompanied by both your boys AND Ieiri, who only came along due to Gojo promising to pay for all of your meals at your soon-to-be-reached destination (yep what a sugar daddy)

You were obsessed with how sleek the train looked. The seats were nice and comfortable, mainly because Gojo had bought First Class tickets.

Eventually, you wanted to explore more of the train so you bid the group a temporary farewell as you headed out to the other parts.

Oh my god, there must've been some promotional event on the train because, next thing you know, you're standing in front of some red panda mascot dancing in the aisle while giving out flyers and small plushie keychains of its figure.

Wanting one of the keychains, you approached the giant mascot-wearing person. Tapping their plushie shoulder, the Panda turned around with a soft noise only to stiffen up at the sight of you with a shriek in tow.

"Hi, could I have a key-" In an obvious frenzy, the Panda pushed the merchandise into your hands before barreling through you to the next cart

"Oi! What's the matter with you?" You screamed at the Panda.

And the Panda accidentally gave you three.

"Wait, you gave me two extra!"

But they were already gone

This is an obvious reference to Bullet Train. Fuck you Brad Pitt, hello Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Can't wait for meemaw to let go of you 😏

"Excuse me," a deep voice called out from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you sent the light green soul a polite yet questioning look.

His outline is strange. It's fuzzy in some places yet clear in others.

"You dropped this," he said as he held up your wallet in the air. You silently noted how a bag of fish hung around his other one.

(Side Note: You have a recognizable wallet thanks to Kento, who gifted it to you. The wallet itself is in the shape of a black maneki-neko, so everyone in the group knows that it's yours the moment they see it.)

"Oh! Thanks!" Grabbing the item from his grasp, you settled it into your uniforms pockets. You politely smiled at him as you stepped away only to stop when you heard his voice call out for you

"Wait!" Licking your lips, your fingers twitched at you sides as you, once again, turned to meet the guy. "Yes?"

The man actually seemed to squirm upon receiving the end of your rather unnerving stare, almost as if you were staring into his soul

Ha!

"I couldn't help but overhear, they gave you an extra, right? I, uh, know a kid and I figured the twerp would like one."

That is so fucking sus

But like, not your business

Upon hearing his words, you quickly acted, "Oh! Yeah sure! Here." Placing the keychain into the palm of his hand, you strutted away. Heading back in the direction of your friend group.

On the way to your friend's, you came across a Train Attendant who seemed to be having a little argument with a young man who looked dead on his feet --- even his soul had dark circles around his eyes. Might also explain why he's slurring his words all over the place and why the train lady is beyond confused

The closer you got, the more you understood the situation and well, you might as well help while you get the gang some snacks

"Excuse me, I think he's asking for some coffee?" You snorted at the sight of his eyes twinkling at the fact that someone actually managed to decipher his nonsense.

Cute

The scene only got funnier when the lady handed him his cup of coffee and he, out of sheer desperation as well as sleep deprivation, dropped his briefcase onto the floor after reaching out for the cup with his two hands

A literal mess, you mused to yourself.

You had to help him with his briefcase. Plus the fact that he could barely reach his seat without tripping over literal air. He'll, you even helped straighten out his suit, going so far as to rub the golden button on his left lapel to bring it a bit of shine back --- he thanked you profusely.

He offered to give you money in return for your aid but you refused, "You have a kind soul, which is rare. So, don't worry about it. Think of it as me giving back all the good you've done."

Mans was gobsmacked as he watched you leave the train car after ordering a few snacks from the lady

FINALLY YOU REACHED THE BESTIES

As always, Gojo loves to drape himself over people. Specifically, you or Suguru...or both! Both ire better in his professional opinion.

"You were gone a while! Where the hell were you?!" The white haired nagged, brows knitted together to display annoyance only to quell as Suguru drew his long fingers through Gojo's hair.

He'll need a hair cut by the end of the week, Suguru noted.

"Got you something, Ieiri." You threw her the red panda keychain, earning you a delighted squeal from said woman.

"What about us, hm? Don't neglect us now~!" Sugurus teased with a sly close-eyed smile.

And for that, you threw the snacks straight at his face...although, you did feel something else in your bag when you went to throw the snacks

Plopping yourself beside Suguru, who immediately drew his arm around your shoulders as he laid his head on your shoulder, you pulled out the piece of paper from your bag

A simple little thing

Barely any words on it

Fancy though, considering the shiny gold metallic paint adorning it.

"What's that?" Gojo asked, looking up at it from his place on Suguru's lap

You shrugged, "Dunno, must've grabbed it by accident when I paid for the snacks."

As expected, both your boys paid little attention to the card as they started to bicker about something irrelevant to you

But still, the little card in your hands captured your attention. Turning it around, you observed the image painted onto its canvas, your thumb running over it.

Oh, there's a phone number under it.

Huh

Crumpling the piece of paper in your fist, you threw it into your bag to be long forgotten under the pile of random shit you have in there.

(Side Note: Prior to these items ending up in your bag, they'd be with Ieiri, who swore she'd end up finding some use for them. She has this strange tendency to consume trendy things only to never use them in the end, so she'll just give it to you for safe keeping.)

You seriously have to purge your bag now because of that bitch

Suddenly, Gojo smacks the side of your face after having tried to get your attention for the past ten minutes

You look at him, he looks at you.

Iridescent vs. Pearlescent

It gets eerily silent before you shove him to the ground, earning you an angry hiss from the albino Pomeranian.

Suguru is holding you back, albeit struggling. Who knew you had such strength

While Ieiri cheers 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' in the background

What a way to end the day

...

(A/N): August 4 me: This chapter took so bucking long to write. When I finally got to writing, the Benadryl I took started hitting and I had to stop before I passed out on the spot lol

August 5: I just did exercise and my legs are fucking killing me rn.

August 6: I just woke up. My legs don't hurt as much so that's nice. Also I know I dreamt of something interesting but I can't remember so meh. At least, I woke up with an idea of how I wanted this episode to be written.

Originally:

This chapter was going to open with a whole different scene inspired by something I read while researching a bit on Japan; however, I realized that it would be best to postpone the original scene until a later chapter, specifically Artificial Paradise.

You were supposed to come across a certain someone on the Bullet Train; however, I chose against it and decided for the next big thing. Can you guess who it was?

"What about us, hm? Don't neglect us now~!" It was supposed to have been said by Gojo; however, Suguru felt like having a teasing streak so he said it. Additionally, Suguru already knew Gojo rather well so he beat him to it.

Originally, Gojo wanted to give you a pink maneki-neko but he refrained from doing so.

Being a Red Panda mascot is actually Ijichi's part-time job. When Ijichi saw you, he panicked because he knew how close you were with Gojo and he didn't need that idiot of a man to have more ammo for his bullying. Yes, you instantly recognized Ijichi. You were so going to give him a piece of your mind later.

Gojo previously noted how exhausted you seemed after all those missions, and how Suguru was more quiet than usual so he decided a few days of hanging out doing dumb shit would help brighten you two up. Aw, Gojo is trying really hard bro. I almost feel bad for him.

A drunk Gojo must be a funny sight. Poor guy, something must've been stressing him out if he ordered a few drinks.

I missed your interactions with Ieiri so obvs I had to include some here. She's number 1 girl bestie.

Isn't it strange how fuzzy outlines put you on edge, to the point you'd easily defer to instinctive violence at the sight of it?

Who do you think the guy with the briefcase was? His appearance is actually more of a cameo ncjcj --- I'll give you a hint, he recently graduated from law school 🤪

What's the weird image on the back of the card? Who would answer if you called?

Maneki-Neko's are those kitties that wave their arm, they sit in front of shops. Usually. A black Maneki-Neko is designed to ward off evil and provide better security.

No, your eyes are not Pearlescent. In fact, your eyes are whatever color you want them to be, just with a little glow to them. Though, it should be noted, it's just like Gojo's eyes. His eyes are actually blue, but his soul's eyes are iridescent. So while your physical eyes are one color, your soul's eyes are another. (This only applies to cursed techniques that involve the eyes)

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Hope you enjoyed!

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