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sashaforthewin · 2 months

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Multi-chapter fic on Ao3

Steve had been enjoying a nice relaxing lounge by the pool despite it being night. He had his hearing aid off and his fruity drink and a romance novel Robin had let him borrow. He was determined to have a good time despite the circumstances.

Someone tapped his foot, scaring the crap out of Steve and making him drop his book and nearly knock over his drink.

It was a fellow cruise passenger and he was saying something. Steve turned his hearing aid back on.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked why you were out here instead of at the concert,” repeated the man with a smile.

“Oh, um. I’m not actually a fan of metal music. It gives me headaches if I listen to more than one or two songs in a row,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

This stranger was still clearly a metal head, but he looked significantly less scary than most of the ones he had seen so far that day. Everyone Steve met had been nice, but Steve hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone he wasn’t a fan until now. Maybe because it was just the two of them out here and he was smiling so cutely.

“Not a metal fan? Well damn, not to critique your life choices, but I think maybe going on a metal cruise wasn’t an ideal choice for you? I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

There were plenty of deck lounges around, all empty, but Eddie sat down on Steve’s right next to his legs.

“Steve. So Steve, why are you on a metal cruise when you don’t like metal? These tickets were not exactly cheap and there’s no way you missed the theme, it was pretty clearly advertised,” Eddie asked teasingly.

Steve looked Eddie over, noting that he was actually pretty cute. Pretty eyes, nice full lips, dimples, and he was that type of lanky Steve was drawn to. He had good skin and his hair had some volume and texture to it, Steve could work with that. Bit of a fixer-upper, but a better starting point than most of the men that had flirted with him since his last failed relationship. He also had the vibe, so Steve decided this guy would be fine to open up to.

“Well, Eddie, I bought this ticket for my dear friend Dustin for his birthday, but then the little shit went and outed me to my parents. Accidentally, of course, and he feels like shit about it. But still, that got me kicked out of my home so maybe I’m being petty but I decided he shouldn’t get to go on this cruise after all. I forgive him, it really was an accident, but still, gotta teach him a lesson.” Steve shrugged. “And I would’ve gotten the ticket refunded but the money would’ve gone back to my parents and they clearly don’t deserve to get anything back from me. So, instead of trying to figure out how to sell a ticket to a very niche interest cruise, I figured I deserved to just come and treat myself for four days before I have to go back to living in my ex-girlfriend’s basement. It’s actually pretty nice to have the ship to myself while all you guys are in there shaking your heads to loud music.” Steve gestured to the pool and the drink.

“Ex- girl friend’s basement?” Eddie asked.

“Shut up, I’m bi.” Steve smacked Eddie on the arm with his book.

Eddie grabbed the book and looked at it as he replied, “Hey, just checking to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Oh? Is that what you’re doing, barking up my tree?” Steve said, playfully.

“If you’ll let me,” Eddie flirted back.

“So how come you’re not in the show right now?” Steve asked, gently stealing his book back from Eddie’s grasp.

“Oh, I’m touring with those guys right now, I have heard them play the same set like fifteen times already. I’d much rather be out here getting to chat with you. You know you’re beautiful, right? How come you don’t live with your boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked, quite obvious in his fishing for information.

“I’m single and yes, I do know I’m beautiful, but I still like hearing it. Are you like a roadie or something?”

“Actually,” Eddie said, “I’m the lead guitarist in the headlining band. We play tomorrow night. Can I buy you another drink? Maybe dinner?”

“The, uh, the bill goes to our cabins,” Steve answered, too shocked that an apparently famous musician was asking him out to respond appropriately.

“Baby, I’ll put your entire tab on my cabin if you’ll let me. You are the most beautiful, and dare I say cleanest man on this entire boat. Metal heads are great, but they aren’t really my type.”

Steve takes a sip of his cold drink just to make sure he’s not fallen asleep and dreaming. The ocean is calm and the moon is full and he is most definitely awake.

“And what is your type?” Steve asked.

“Handsome men with soft hands who will let me pamper them,” Eddie said, picking up Steve’s hand and feeling his lack of calluses. He placed a kiss onto each finger tip. “These hands aren’t meant for labor, let me spoil you rotten.”

Well, Steve reasoned, even if this ended up being just a weekend fling, it was going to be worth the price of admission.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #my fic

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things-ya-should-know · 5 months

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Lobe finned versus ray finned fish

Short answer: ray finned fish evolved from from lobe finned fish

Long answer: Lobe finned fish were dominant for a long time in the waters before they climbed up onto land and evolved into you, dear reader. This occurred around 400 MYA (million years ago). Sometime before that, about 425 MYA, ray finned fishes had evolved, but remained relatively small. This was until the permian mass extinction (290-245 MYA), when many lobe finned fish died out, and ray finned fishes (teleosts) were left to flourish and evolve to fill the empty evolutionary niches. The only lobe finned fish left behind today are the elusive coelacanths and lungfish. ***AND*** as the awesome people in the notes would like me to add, all tetrapods (tetra meaning four, pod meaning foot) are phylogenetically lobe finned fishes as well. this means amphibians, reptiles, and mammals.

@marinebiologyshitposts @fuckyeahcoelacanths

#marine biology #lobe finned fish #ray finned fish #coelacanth #evolution #science #things ya should know #zoology #biology #ecology #animal facts #animals

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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Observations have led me to conclude that dandelions are beneficial, vital, and should not be considered invasive species.

The designation of "invasiveness" assumes that a non-native species displaces native ones that provide more and better ecosystem services, or alters the ecosystem in a way that makes it worse for other inhabitants. This is very true of Lonicera maackii and many other nasty invasive species I am familiar with in the southeastern USA

Dandelions, however, almost exclusively establish in areas where other plants can't even survive. They don't bother established ecosystems with biodiversity, but they are super aggressive in heavily manicured areas like lawns.

When I pass through areas of town where there are open spaces and roadsides covered in turfgrass, they are empty and barren, but there are always dandelions. Crack in the pavement? Dandelions. Gravel? Dandelions. Manicured front lawn? Dandelions. Mostly empty flower bed with landscape fabric and that ugly black mulch? DANDELIONS.

Without dandelions, there would be acres and acres and acres of space with no food plants for pollinating insects at all. If dandelions filled a niche that native plants would otherwise fill, the designation as invasive would be legitimate, but instead, they're providing vital essentials for survival in places where no native species can do the job.

They start growing and blooming as soon as the temperature gets above freezing. They penetrate compacted soil up to 20 inches deep and let water and nutrients soak in. Bumble bees, mason bees, and longhorn bees all will visit them. this is a pro-dandelion blog

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svndaysaweek · 2 months

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You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}

3.1k words

A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!

******

Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.

You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.

The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.

“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”

You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.

“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”

The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.

Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.

She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.

“Sorr-oh!”

A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor.

"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage

"He looks peaceful though."

"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"

"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."

"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.

"So you didn't catch him?"

"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway.

“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.

“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.

“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.

“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.

“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.

And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.

“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.

“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness.

“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.

“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place.

On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.

It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.

All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.

******

“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.

“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.

Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.

You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.

But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.

“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.

She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.

“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.

You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she’s getting what she wants.

It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.

“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her.

And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.

“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.

You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed.

And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her.

“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.

“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.

“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.

“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.

“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her.

Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.

“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.

“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.

******

Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.

But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.

It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight.

But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.

‘You don't even know my name, do you?’

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #minji smut #newjeans smut

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yourtongzhihazel · 1 month

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There's a particular form of liberalism which represents perhaps the most useless and simultaneously most dangerous and ever growing political-economical niche: the radlib "socialist".

You've probably encountered these types. They carry the full baggage of liberalism but don't want to associate with them so they call themselves "socialist" and try to be "radical". They recognize what the bourgeois media says are lies, but believes what they say anyway, especially about other countries and doubly ao for socialist ones. When pushed on what they actually believe, they always hem and haw about being "anti-capitalist" or "democratic socialist" or some other or combination of a variation of liberalism.

Fundamentally, the radlib socialist is an anticommunist; a liberal (but i repeat myself). They are as close to socialist as a box-standard neoliberal is. These types materially benefit from the exploitation of the rest of the world, but simply want a bigger share of the super profits pie. They exist to redirect revolutionary potential away from organization, agitation, or education and towards bourgeois means, e.g., electorialism, parades, and empty declarations and platitudes. Their liberalism tells them that the individual is above all so they demand individual action and when individual action cannot resolve the problem, it is declared "too complex" or simply a facet of life and they capitulate.

Capitulation happens constantly to liberals and they will consistently justify it with their immaterial ideology. If a proposed solution even vaguely "violates" the "universal rights and freedoms" proposed by liberalism, liberals will refuse to associate it even if materially, the solution would provide significant material improvement over the status quo. Despite claiming otherwise, they will still default to "individual failure" as an explanation for social ills. Liberalism demands perfection after all, it is an ideology built in the perfect, abstract workd. Mistakes are not meant to be studied and avoided, but as total condemnations of entire movements. The same apply to material necessities and conditions. Inaction is seen as neutral, rather than the tacit endorsement of imperialist that it actually is. Not acting against the status quo is seen as a nonviolent act, rather than the preservation of the very violent acts needed to maintain it.

Materially, radlibs have the luxury to default to the status quo. They benefit from imperial super profits. They do not need to worry about foreign intervention, espionage, invasion, exploitation, or literal wars. They sit in their gilded thrones and dispense the harshest criticisms towards peoples and countries desperately trying not to die under the weight if imperialism.

The radlib is useless but dangerous. They masquerade as a comrade and slither into your midsts. They run bourgeois defenses, knowingly or not, and redirect energy away from actual solutions and towards indifference. Identify it. Combat it.

#death to liberalism #death to the usa #i fucking hate liberals

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mouschiwrites · 1 month

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Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser��

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #marble hornets x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #tobias rogers x reader #clockwork #clockwork x reader

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coochiequeens · 1 year

Text

An update to an older story that’s goods news!

When Jenny Nguyen signed the lease to create her dream bar, she wasn’t sure it would stay open for more than a few months.

But earlier this month, 43-year-old Nguyen’s first-of-its-kind establishment in Portland, Oregon, celebrated its one-year anniversary. Aptly named The Sports Bra, it’s a sports bar where only women athletes appear on the TVs.

Business has been good, despite the niche business model and record inflation sending food and beverage prices soaring. The Sports Bra brought in $944,000 in revenue in the eight months it was open in 2022, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It.

It was profitable in that first year of business, Nguyen adds.

“It turns out, it’s pretty universal — that feeling of being a women’s sports fan and going into a public place, like a sports bar, and having a difficult time finding a place to show a [women’s] game, especially when there are other men’s sports playing,” Nguyen says.

Initially, she wasn’t sure the idea would work at all. The vast majority of money and attention historically goes to men’s sports only — a big reason why The Sports Bra was reportedly the country’s first bar to only play women’s sports on TV.

It’s also not the kind of thing Nguyen would ordinarily do: She describes herself as “very cautious, risk averse.” But her obsession with women’s sports and frustration with its lack of representation on television screens drove her to empty her life savings — about $27,000 — and give it a try.

“Me, personally, I thought the idea was brilliant and that [it was] what the world needs,” Nguyen says. “But I had no idea that the world would want it. I just wanted to give it a shot.”

How The Sports Bra went from running joke to reality

Nguyen is a lifelong basketball fan who played the sport at Clark College in Vancouver, Washington, before tearing her ACL. She’s also a longtime restaurant worker who spent three years as Reed College’s executive chef.

In 2018, Nguyen and a group of friends wanted to watch the NCAA women’s basketball championship game. They went to a mostly empty sports bar and still had to plead with a bartender to switch one of the smallest TVs — which played without sound — from a men’s sport to the women’s championship game, she recalls.

Together, they jumped up and down celebrating “one of the best games I’ve ever seen,” Nguyen says, as a buzzer-beating three-point shot sealed the championship title for Notre Dame. Afterward, she was struck by the normalcy of her situation.

″[We’d] gotten so used to watching a game like that in the way that we did,” she says, adding that they’d only find better viewing conditions “if we had our own place.”

Days later, she channeled her disappointment into a hypothetical: What would she name her bar? “The very first thing that came into my mind was The Sports Bra,” Nguyen says. “And once I thought it, I couldn’t un-think it, you know? It was catchy. I thought it was hilarious.”

For years, she joked about it. Then, the fallout from social justice movements like #MeToo and the country’s racial reckoning after George Floyd’s murder left her wanting to make a meaningful impact on the world and her community.

Nguyen, who came out as a lesbian at age 17, says she doesn’t always feel welcome at most traditional sports bars. The Sports Bra could help her, and anyone else who’d rarely felt accepted in other sports establishments, feel like she belonged.

“I thought about, if we can even get one kid in here and have them feel like they belong in sports, it’d be worth it,” she says.

Helping other women’s sports bars get started

At first, Nguyen had her savings, and $40,000 in loans cobbled together from friends and family. That would keep The Sports Bra afloat for three months, based on her cost estimates for labor, inventory and other overhead.

In February 2022, she launched a Kickstarter to raise $48,000 — enough money for an extra six-month financial cushion, to build up the sort of regular clientele any bar or restaurant needs to survive long-term.

To Nguyen’s surprise, the campaign raised more than $105,000 in just 30 days, thanks to a viral article in online food publication Eater. “At that moment, when I was looking at that Kickstarter graph, I thought to myself, ‘This might work,’” she says.

But the money, which came from around the country and world, was no guarantee of success. Actual people in Portland still needed to frequent the bar.

Today, there’s often a line out the door. Women’s basketball icons like Sue Bird and Diana Taurasi showed up, for an event sponsored by Buick, earlier this month. Ginny Gilder, co-owner of the WNBA’s Seattle Storm, has even waited in line to watch her team play on The Sports Bra’s TVs, Nguyen says.

That’s a far cry from the Kickstarter days, which Nguyen says only happened after she was denied business loans by multiple banks and small business associations. The denials commonly cited the high risk of a unique concept run by a first-time entrepreneur during a pandemic, she adds.

Even the bar’s core concept is a struggle: It’s hard to find enough women’s sporting events to fill up the televisions. Only about 5% of all TV sports coverage focuses on female athletes, according to a 2021 University of Southern California study.

Nguyen says she’s taken to reaching out directly to sports networks and streaming services, some of which have hooked her up with access to more women’s sports content. She also spends an inordinate amount of time “scouring” TV listings, a process she likens to “taking a machete and chopping through a jungle.”

But she’s no longer alone. Another bar specializing in women’s sports has opened in nearby Seattle, and Nguyen says she’s in touch with a handful of other prospective entrepreneurs asking her for advice on opening similar visions in other cities.

“I would love to have as many people experience the feeling people experience when they walk through these doors,” she says. “It feels very selfish to keep it to this one building that holds 40 people at a time.”

#USA #oregon #Portland #jenny nguyen #The Sports Bra #A sports bar for women and women’s sports #She was originally denied business loans

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imaginesheaven · 1 year

Text

Price x Wife!reader + TF 141 family headcanons

Oh my god! I love this man way too much *haha*

Warning: Literally none! Just pure fluff and happiness

Price knew from the beginning you wouldn’t be a stay-at-home-wife and he respects and supports this decision of yours with all he has to offer.

You love your job as an attorney and probably keep going for the rest of your life. Since you came from a family of military members you even specialized in this kind of niche. You give everything to help out soldiers with legal advice and support.

That was also how the two of you meet firsthand.

John saw you one day walking over the base in a tightly fitted suit in big confident strides. Of course, he was blown away by your appearance. Everyone was who could get a short glance at you. But it was the fighting spirit in your eyes that pulled at his heart strings. You were ready to bring down the biggest enemy no matter the cost.

And if that wouldn’t be already enough to win his heart over, you proofed your literally perfection when the two of you had your first conversation.

“Captain Price. Nice to meet you finally. I only heard good things about you and your boys.” – Your voice, the words you chose, your kindness. John isn’t a man that gets speechless often, but in this moment his head was absolutely empty.

His team could see how smitten the Captain was with you within seconds. They would never leave this chance behind to tease him about it.

“Hey, Captain, your favorite attorney is on the base.” – “Gaz, you better shut your mouth or I will do it for you…”

It took Price weeks to finally work up the courage to ask you out on a date. He would disclaim that he needed more research about you which translates to he wanted to keep admiring you from afar as long as he could.

His team couldn’t help themselves but fall in love with you too instantly in a platonic way. Every single man of them would sacrifice their life for you.

You couldn’t deny it either you loved them to pieces the same way. With John by your side as your husband you saw the others like your own little family.

“How are our boys doing, John? They are coming for Dinner next Friday, right?” – “Sure, they wouldn’t miss your amazing cooking skills, love.”

Price wouldn’t be jealous at all when you give the boys your undivided attention. In the end you are falling asleep next to him ;)

Here and there they would compare how much you love them like children. “Forget it, Soap. I am her favorite.” – “No, Gaz, you have no idea.” – “Boys, I am her favorite Ghost boy. You all lose against me.” – Price only folds his arms in front of his chest throwing around confident glares, “I am the one she married~”

You only can shake your head laughing how they act, “I love all of you equally.”

You settle into your new mother role very fast. It is an honor for you to take care of the TF 141 team even before you got married to Price.

“Here you go, boys. Care packages for the few days you are away. Just the way you all like them”, you give everyone a handmade package of things they could need on their missions. For the records you never missed one mission. You are always prepared for the day of their leave.

Just like you waved them goodbye you are also there when they come back from their mission. Always with a smile on your lips you hug every single one of them and welcome them back. The kisses though are only for your favorite Captain.

Bringing the whole team together for the holidays since you live close by the base and most of them not going back home to their families if they even have one.

“So, here you go, Soap. One for Gaz. Not forgetting my lovely Ghost boy. And last but not least, my Captain”, you give every one a Christmas present. No one would admit it, but your gifts are always the best. You take time and care to find for everyone the perfect thing.

Having some alone-time with your husband is a challenge though. It is like the boys have a sixth sense. They ring the doorbell smiling innocently. “Heard you have a movie night … Can we join?” Price knows you never can say “No” to them so he has to share his wife, his popcorn and even the couch. At the same time John couldn’t be mad at you. He adores how you love your boys.

Cooking for them is another thing you love to do. John gets a ton load of homemade meals with him to take with him for the boys. Price has to drill them even more to work out since they are eating literally non-stop.

“And another round for you, Gaz!” – “But, Captain!” – “For each piece of cake you eat you run!” – “Damn it… I had the whole cake!” – “More running! Less talking!”

All these acts of kindness bring them to work even harder to make the world a better and safer place for you.

And of course, not forgetting the scary dog privileges you have with them. You can feel safe everywhere you go with the big men trailing behind you like lost puppies.

But also, when you are on your own. They teach you enough to take out a whole army on your own. Just to make sure you will never get hurt.

Your reputation carries onto the base too. Everyone knows you are under the protection of Captain Price and his Task Force 141. You want something you get it within seconds. No one dares to touch you, insult you, talk back at you or something else. The boys make sure of that.

You don’t have to lift a finger in the house anymore. The team got your back mowing the lawn, getting cleaned out the garage, painting the walls the color you wanted for ages and even more.

Sometimes you love to tease them then: “Well, I don’t know. The garage looked better last year. You are all kind of slacking~” – “Heard you, ma’am! We can do this way better!”

These trained killers and soldiers would carry you on their arms over the world if you asked them nicely.

The team knows you can handle the world on your own, but they do it out of love for you. It is their way to pay back the love and care you give them. You are the shining light of hope in Price’s life, which he has to share with his team, but that is more than okay for him.

Bonus

Imagine how they react when you adopt the gentle giant König into your little family. At first, they were more than mad.

“Why him? Don’t you love us anymore?”, they were literally acting like you stated that König is your new favorite boy. You rolled your eyes at them smiling, “Stop being childish. I still love you all equally.”

Like you promised you take care of them all the same and put your heart into your care like you did before.

König has no fucking idea at all how he got into this situation. You literally saw him one day on the base, walked over to him and said word for word: “You look hungry. I’m sure you haven’t had a homemade meal in months. Come with me.”

And with that he followed a random woman over the base, who just claimed she will cook for him. How could he deny this kind of creepy and random offer?

For him it was the best decision in his life to follow you.

The team accepted their fate since there is absolutely no room for discussion in this situation. And with that you all grow into a happy little family once again.

#cod #cod headcanons #mw #mw2 #john price #captain price x reader #cod imagine #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #könig #könig x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick

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artificialbreezy · 3 months

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This is a niche thought but I live for your nsfw headcanons so pls hear me out. Your birthday, Noah makes you cum for each year you’ve been alive (23 orgasms if you’re 23 etc) I cannot be the only one thinking this

this is the best thing i’ve read today omfg

nsfw under the cut ◡̈

he’d totally bring up as a joke.

“ya know how you’re supposed to get birthday spankings? like one for each year? well, what if i made you cum once for each year?”

brain goes empty bc WHAT IF but you play it cool, “i mean i think id get TIRED by the time your done. let alone i don’t know if i can even get off 23 times”

he wouldn’t bring it up again UNTIL the day of your birthday

you’d be fast asleep in bed, and he’d be kissing your neck and working his hands down your body trying to wake you up

you’d slowly stir awake and just look at him all sleepy “whatcha doing Noah?”

“just wanna make you feel good on your special day baby”

then he’d give you your first one on his fingers

the day would move on according to plan right, but when you got home from your birthday dinner with the whole gang is when he’d really step it up right?

he’d push you against the wall in the living room, right by the front door. “baby, you remember what i told you the other. one orgasm per year?” and you’d just nod because he’s leaning on the wall over you and your head is just a mess

Noah is a munch right. we know this. he’d lift up the bottom of your dress, pull your panties to the side and immediately lick a wide strip from your entrance to your clit

he’d give you number 2 of the day right against that wall

by the time you make it to his bedroom you’re on number 5 and he’s ONLY used his mouth and hands

he’d sit on the edge of his bed and pat his thigh “mere baby. want you to fuck yourself on my thigh”

at this point you’re just desperate, you’re a little fucked out but you refuse to call it quits until he’s inside you and who knows when that’s gonna be at this point

you feel your the edge right there but you’re so tired, so Noah grabs your hips and does it for you

“too dumb to get yourself off huh? don’t worry sweetheart, daddy’s gotcha”

after you cum again, he’ll pick you up off his lap and lay you on his bed FINALLY

“god you’re soaked baby”

“Sir, please. need you”

he’d laugh at your desperation but since it is your birthday he’ll play it nice

he’d drag his cock up your folds just to tease you a little bit

when he finally decides you’ve had enough of his teasing, he’d slowly push himself inside you.

“fuck. you’re so tight. relax angel, gotta relax so you can let me in. yeah?”

he’s the type of man who would grab your legs and push them to your chest so he could really bottom out and FEEL you so that’s exactly what he did

his thrust are slow and steady at first, sweet almost

“happy birthday angel. now you know i love you right? because im about to fuck you like i don’t.”

he 100% wouldn’t stop until you safe worded or passed out tbh

i feel like the ending point was 10 or 11.

your body was so numb and so tired and just on a whole other world when he finally called it quits

you’d definitely end up in sub space

“can you hear me honey? ya with me?”

“what a good girl. did so good for me baby. so proud of you.”

“i gotcha angel, im right here. im going to clean you up now okay? just relax and let me do all the work.”

#noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian #noah sebastian headcanons #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fanfiction #noahsebastiann

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idyllic-affections · 9 months

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i’m in love with the kaveh disaster dad au you have and i would love to see alhaitham becoming closer with kavehs kid. like mr stoic over there having no idea where those books and supplies about that very niche thing they were talking about yesterday came from

newfound fondness.

summary. alhaitham grows a little more fond of the orphan kaveh insisted on adopting.

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. alhaitham & child!reader. 0.9k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. hello dear <3333 i really needed a shorter request to write bc all of my other requests are a bit more lengthy and i'm in just a little bit of a burnout state so i am delighted by this request. i love my adoptive dad kaveh series...... i also realize now that i don't really talk too much about alhaitham and his relationship with [name] compared to how often i talk about tighnari and kaveh's relationship with them. also cyno???? i have neglected him too??????

at first, alhaitham wasn't keen on bonding with kaveh's adopted child; a child would only disrupt the comfortable life he has both built for himself and worked so hard to maintain. of course... he ended up being wrong. terribly wrong.

all throughout [name]'s first few months of being integrated into their new family in sumeru, they don't spend much time—if any at all—in kaveh and alhaitham's shared house. most of their time is spend in gandharva ville or in sumeru city, the latter being either on the weekends with kaveh or throughout the week with tighnari (if he happens to need something from the city and decides to let them tag along). given this fact, it's not at all a surprise that they didn't really know much of alhaitham, aside from the casual mentions of him from their other sumeru family members.

later on, as kaveh slowly grows into the vacant father role in their life, filling the empty space, they start spending weekends at his house... which is really the scribe's house, but at the time, that detail meant nothing to them. alhaitham never bothers to correct them, either. it doesn't really matter.

sometimes kaveh has to run errands and doesn't want to take them out in the glaring midday sun; they didn't grow up in sumeru, and they're already having a hard time adjusting to the heat (not that he's any better at handling it), so he doesn't want to risk exposing them to the sun at the peak of the day. sometimes he has to go meet one of his clients for a consultation and can't take them with him. who knows? either way, kaveh always makes these trips as quick as possible. his weekends belong to no-one but his kid. his clients find his doting behavior very cute, thankfully, so he hardly ever takes long.

alhaitham is always home during these occurrences (kaveh forbids him from leaving, since he wouldn't so much as dream of leaving his child home alone at such a young and vulnerable age—not that the scribe would leave them home alone, but still). naturally, this led to unavoidable meetings.

alhaitham quickly picked up on the many odd behavioral patterns kaveh's child displayed.

they were quiet—with him, at least. they were happy and expressive like most other children their age with kaveh or tighnari or collei, but with him? they never said a word, only speaking when spoken to, quietly shuffling around the house without so much as a peep... but more importantly, he sure as hell noticed the way they'd peek around the wall and shyly watch him as he read. they never got closer than that, though, and they'd run off if they realized he had seen them. based on this, he simply came to the conclusion that they were shy.

...or anxious, he supposes, but there is a vast difference between anxiety and shyness, and what he sees in them is not necessarily anxiety.

eventually, he does get sick of it. it's not like he worried about coming off as intimidating, no. it's just that if [name] maintains a poor image of him, it would eventually be an inconvenience for him. yes, yes, that was all. he just needed to kill a potentially dangerous rumor at its source before it got vastly out of hand. that's all.

"come here."

the way he sounds when he beckons them over is admittedly a little harsher than what he meant to be, so he's very much glad that they still do come over to him, timidly fidgeting with their sleeves.

"since you seem so interested... sit down, i'll read to you."

"h— huh? really?"

"hurry up before i change my mind."

as alhaitham reads to them, he points out words they may not understand and explains what they mean, also going as far as to help them pronounce some words that they mentioned having trouble with back at gandharva ville.

"oh... tighnari showed me that word, but i can't get it right."

they also can't pronounce tighnari's name correctly, which makes alhaitham's lips quirk upwards ever so slightly.

"here... i'll show you. which word is it that you're having trouble with?"

though it is something of a tutoring session, alhaitham finds that there's something... calming about it. he doesn't bother moving them away as they gradually get closer, only adjusting to accommodate them.

he also doesn't say anything when their weight falls a little heavier on his chest.

...did they really feel safe enough to fall asleep, just like that? the thought makes a fond warmth spread in his chest. he has no intention of telling kaveh or anyone else, though.

kaveh comes home later to see his child curled up asleep in the scribe's arms.

(the second he points it out, which of course he does, alhaitham's cheeks flush a slight pink and he coughs, telling kaveh to come get his kid and claiming that they wouldn't leave him alone.

the architect has never rolled his eyes harder than he did at that.

alhaitham's newfound fondness is obvious, but kaveh decides to leave it alone for now.)

from then on, they are just as excited and bubbly when they see alhaitham as they are when they see any of their other family. he's even gotten accustomed to hoisting them up, balancing them on his hip, and just... carrying them around.

oh, and alhaitham has no idea where those hobby supplies came from. he's got no clue where those books on a hyper-specific topic that they mentioned offhandedly the other day came from. he has no clue. none in the slightest.

...

maybe alhaitham is a little soft for them. just a little.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸#: [ adoptive dad kaveh! 🌸 ]#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin child reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin platonic #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader

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ao3commentoftheday · 4 months

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i have a fic i've been working on for years and i just now started writing it. i'm in a fandom writing server and any time i try to talk about i t, it gets shot down or ignored. it's breaking my heart to see. it makes me not want to put the effort into writin it down. i mean, i alreayd plotted most of it so maybe writing it down doesn't matter. maybe i can just let the story wither and die in my head. is it really that bad of an idea? it sucks to try to bring up a thing i'm interested in and constantly get shot down. i don't have any irl friends who would listen to me talk about this fic, not like i used to. the internet is all i have and even my internet friends don't want ot hear about it. it sucks. i know i'm a good writer, but i guess my idea is too niche. i hate it. i hate this empty feeling when i love something so much and i know no one else ever will.

I'm so sorry, anon ❤️

I'd be pretty broken-hearted too if the people I considered my friends shot down or ignored my ideas. That's not a fun thing to experience, no matter if it's in person or online.

I'm going to tell you my opinion on this situation, and I'm sorry if it makes you feel even worse, but - these people don't actually sound like friends. If they were really your friends, it wouldn't matter if the idea were niche or if they were in the same fandom. They'd want to hear about your story because it makes you happy and they want you to be happy.

I think you'd be better off if you left this server. Or at least, if you found a different place to discuss your writing and just used this server for other types of socializing.

If you like Discord as a venue, try to find a multifandom server or a writer's/creators discord. I'll encourage anyone who's in one to share it in the notes. Try out other platforms too. There are events hosted on tumblr, twitter, dreamwidth, even instagram and tiktok. Look for multifandom ones like Yuletide or for writing-focused ones like for NaNoWriMo. You can even try in-person or local writers' groups - they're often hosted by libraries, universities, and recreation centres, for example.

I don't think your idea is bad, anon. I think you haven't found the right people to talk about it with yet. ❤️

#asks and answers

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rockpapertheodore · 4 months

Text

You are so exhausted.

It's your day off and the bag of trash by the door needs to go out. You've worked seven days in a row because of the variable weekly schedules lining up badly. Two shifts in a row became doubles because of a nocallnoshow new hire on their fourth day. The trash needs to go out to the road tonight. Your step tracker shows you've walked 47 miles over the past week.

You are so exhausted.

There's a second bag of trash now. You only had a morning shift today, which left an entire afternoon to almost have fun with your friends online. None were on when you got home, so you fell into a hole watching weird niche interest videos and doomscrolling while waiting for someone to get on. You realize what time it is, and persuade yourself to take the trash out to the road with the promise of getting high. You forget that trash pickup was this morning.

You are so exhausted.

The trash never made it to the door. It's piling over the edge of the can. You could at least take the bin out to the road, since it has last week's trash still in it. You'll do it in the morning.

You are so exhausted.

There is a big contractor bag the size of an ottoman in front of the door so you can't forget it when you go out in the morning. You should empty the still-overflowing trash in the kitchen. You do neither of these things because

You are so exhausted.

it's 11:09 when you get home. You're very tired of spending almost two hours of your day driving to and from work. You forget to take the three stuffed fast food bags out of your car. One of them is soaked with the dregs of the latte you never finished. You step around the big contractor bag the size of an ottoman and hop on your computer just in time to catch your friends before they turn in for the night. The kitchen trash spilled onto the floor, so you scooped it up and changed the bag. You set the full bag and two knotted plastic shopping sacks on top of the big contractor bag the size of an ottoman so you can't ignore it when you go out in the morning. You tell yourself that you have got to remember to take the bin out to the road by tomorrow night, so you'll get the doorway trash out to the bin in the morning.

You are so exhausted.

You mop the floors. The sun was so bright today. The doorway is clear and the bin is empty. You chuckle to yourself as if to say "aw, you," affectionately when you realize you forgot to empty the clutter out of your car. There are two knotted shopping bags, a ripped up pizza box, three empty sports drinks, and five stuffed fast food bags. Two of them are soaked with the dregs of the latte you never finished.

You are so exhausted.

You had to apologize to your coworkers for the spoiled milk smell. You had thrown the fast food bags out at the gas station, and the dregs of the latte you never finished splattered you. There is still the ripped up pizza box and two knotted shopping bags, but you brought the empty sports drinks in to use as water bottles on-shift. They were useful. The trashcan in the kitchen is empty because all the trash that should be in it is on the counter where you felt comfortable lying to yourself about not forgetting to take care of it. You spilled a can of soda that was still half-full next to your computer desk. You haven't drank pop in three months, and it's been five since it was from a can, probably. You stamp some paper towels into the sludgy puddle.

You are so exhausted.

The trash is on the floor. You pick up the sludgy paper towels, soaked with the can of soda that was still half-full next to your computer desk. You walk over to the trash can in a daze, fully dissociated from the trash you're stepping over. You feel so hollow. You don't cry yourself to sleep, but your eyes have been strangely wet since you got home.

You are so exhausted.

The trash is bagged in front of the door. Most of the trash on the counter where you felt comfortable lying to yourself about not forgetting to take care of it is still there. The trash can in the kitchen is overflowing.

You are so exhausted.

You will remember it this time for sure. The bin outside can't be closed and was too awkward to roll at the moment, so you at least put the overflow bags next to the road so that you could go in and grab the rest before you had to move the bin to the road. You sit in front of the computer and watch a funny video. You realize it would have been a better idea to move the bin first so that you could use it as scaffolding for the five bags sitting next to you. The trash on the counter where you felt comfortable lying to yourself about not forgetting to take care of it has doubled. There are only three trash bags next to your computer desk. Your room feels claustrophobic because you can only walk from the bed to the door in one clear path. You've been complaining to yourself for the past two months that you've gotta take the little can out of the bathroom because it's stuffed full of wads of hair and damp cardboard tubes and your new electric toothbrush you accidentally knocked off the counter and broke the second time you used it. You haven't had a clean dish in months. You rewash one chopstick and pull a new partner for it out of the pack. You are very high and your homemade stirfry is tasty. You don't care that you're serving it to yourself on half of a takeout box that you put a sheet of foil over.

You are so exhausted.

You hear the trash on the counter where you felt comfortable lying to yourself about not forgetting to take care of it fall to the floor. It sounds angry, but muffled by the walls of your room that feels claustrophobic because you can only walk from the bed to the door in one clear path. You have to be up in the morning. You don’t work until tomorrow afternoon, but you have to be up.

You are so exhausted.

There are two foil-covered box halves next to your computer, decorated with the rest of your disposable chopsticks. They are stained with use and reuse. You bought two plastic bowls from the dollar store so you could have some soup. They're both dirty under the takeout boxes, the one spoon you clean sometimes crusted and stuck to the bottom by bits and sludge. Your teeth have been clenching from stress at work. You need a raise.

You are so exhausted.

You wake up ready to go to sleep. You get in the car, throwing a fallen stuffed takeout bag into the crowded passenger seat to join the torn pizza box and five knotted shopping bags. You don't drink lattes anymore. Your seat is tacky. You're fifteen minutes early to being early to work, and reward yourself with sending a few messages to your friends before you have to clock in. You watch part of an interesting video before you realize with a start that you have to get out of the car. Your coworker makes a joke about your passenger seat, that the trash might kill you. If your coworker asked you if you were serious when you said, in a funny voice, that you hoped it would, you don't know if you'd know the answer. You're afraid that you do know the answer, though.

You are so exhausted.

The bin needs to go to the road. The trash needs to go to the bin. The carpet in front of the passenger seat is stained. There is so much stuff shoved into the back seat, none of it trash. You wipe the seats down with disposable car wipes. You should go across the street and use the vacuum at the carwash to clean up the crumbs.

You are so exhausted.

The forgotten counter trash is growing. It looms out of the corner of your eye, and your brain can not see it. Will not see it. The kitchen trash is almost full.

You are so exhausted.

You don't want to try to get on the computer. You just get high in your room that feels claustrophobic because you can only walk from the bed to the door in one clear path, doomscrolling on your phone. You don't feel like going out that night. You've got two days off in a row. You deserve to relax so you can get some stuff done.

You are exhausted.

The trash is forgotten.

You are exhausted.

Your room feels claustrophobic because the trash that had once been on the counter that you felt comfortable lying to yourself about not forgetting to take care of it has taken over the one clear path from the bed to the door. You pick through carefully. Your passenger seat is empty, but the carpet in front of the passenger seat is stained. There is so much stuff shoved into the back seat. You have a great day at work.

You are exhausted. When the forgotten trash begins to pile itself into memories, you can't even cry.

You are exhausted. When the memories begin to wail and sob as they are then dragged under, back into the trash and drowned, you cannot bring your hand up to feign reaching out.

You are exhausted. When the forgotten trash reaches out to pull you under, too, you cannot bring yourself to struggle or thrash. You cannot fight.

You are exhausted, and you can finally allow yourself to find some rest.

#depression gothic #theo writes #this is about depression #you are exhausted #short story

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