#but imagine u trade everything for someone and you lose them either way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imnotusedtobeingloved · 3 years

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A/B/C/D/E/F/G/H/I/J/K/L/M/N/O/P/Q/R/S/T/U/V/W/X/Y/Z

FROM THE CHARACTER ALPHABET WITH IVAR RAGNARSSON.

REQUESTED BY: @witch-of-letters

A - affection (how affectionate are they? what do they enjoy?)

At first? Not at all.

The only person he is used to getting affection from is Aslaug, so naturally you might earn a few sceptical looks from him if you try to get close.

Nevertheless he quickly learns how pleasant the attention of someone else can be, but tries to be subtle about it. He wouldn’t want to tell you upfront that he enjoys having you close or that he likes your touch, because he fears the rejection that might come with it.

In time, he would alert you with a little nudge here and there whenever he requires your tenderness.

Slowly but surely Ivar would get more daring, trying to innitiate the soft touches himself. If you don’t pull back, he’ll get more sure of himself and as soon as it is clear to him that you are serious about him, you’ll be the only person in Kattegat to recieve affectionate touches from Ivar without any deadly concequences.

What he loves most is either having his head placed on your chest or stomach, feeling you breathe and with your hands in his hair, or laying on the side, with you wrapped around his back.

B - bodypart (what’s their favorite bodypart on their partner and them?)

His arms.

His arms have been a replacement for his legs for all his life. Since he has to crawl everywhere until he has his crutches, they are well built and knowing that you love being wrapped inside them, makes Ivar love them even more.

Your legs.

He likes your legs because they are what he cannot have. He likes them because his are so flawed, and yet you choose to love them anyways. And he likes them due to their shape, the softness of your skin and how they look when you move around.

C - commitment (how quick are they to commit?)

Not that quick.

Ivar is reluctant, to say the least.

He needs to be 100% sure that you are commited to him, before he will make any kind of promises to you. It would be a long process full of selfdoubt, selfdeprication and fear of betrayal.

Ivar would also visit the seer and ask about a future with you by his side. The seers answers would be, as always, very vague (if he says something at all).

In addition to all those troubles, his brothers are in the midst of it. Ubbe and Hvitserk might be the only positive voices of reason at times (apart from Aslaug), while Bjorn would not really concern himself with it. Sigurd on the other hand would throw salt at Ivars mental wounds, saying you were only with him out of pity.

So the viking has no real option but to rely on you reassurance and your loving words. You’d probably have to spend months proving that you are serious about him, because he has been hurt and rediculed so many times before, but in the end it’s all worth it.

Once Ivar chooses to fully commit to you, he’s there to stay.

D - dates (what would dates with them look like? what would they plan?)

Ivar is usually not that much of a planner when it comes to dates.

Normally he is content with finding a secluded place to spend time with you, away from the crowds and far, far away from his relatives.

But if, for any reason, a special occassion should arise, he would definetely ask his brothers for help as much as he hates it.

He would send Hvitserk to distract you with requests and tasks all day, while Ubbe helps him set everything up in a little cabin in the woods. Ivar would ask Aslaug to have some thralls bring plates of food as well.

E - experience (how many relationships have they had before?)

Close to nothing, really.

Ivar did not have any experience with real love and he was very sceptical of it.

The few kisses and cuddles he may have had, have all come from the thralls his family owns.

Apart from that, he has not been interested in anybody, other than finding some attractive on the outside. Too often he had to find out the hard way that the insides of people where much more ugly than the exterior.

So in response to that Ivar mainly focused on his training and on becoming a better viking, until you came along.

F - family (do they want to start a family?)

Ivar would love to start a family.

At first, he is actually astounded that you’d bring it up.

For a long time, he could’ve never imagined someone wanting to have a family with him. To have a child with him (no matter if it’s your own or adopted). So when you suggest it, he is mindblown for a second, before he cups your face, telling you that it is what he longed for all along.

He would be ecstatic upon the idea of having an heir. Or two. Or more. But at least one is fair.

For him, it feels like everything is finally falling into the right place.

G - generosity (do they give their partner a lot of presents? if so, what?)

Exceptionally generous.

And you don’t even have to ask for them.

Ivar brings tons of goods and riches home from every raid, where you can pick whatever you like. He makes sure to safe the best pieces for you and keeps an eye out for suvenirs he knows you might love.

Should you require anything else Ivar has enough resources to get you everything you want from the market. Since Aslaugs rule in Ragnars absence, Kattegat has also transformed into an important trading center, will all kinds of diverse products.

Ivar sees to it, that you have anything you could possible require, even in his absence.

He spoils you, not gonna lie.

H - heaven (how would they react if they lost their partner?)

Ivar would never recover from the loss.

After everything that happened to his family, all the betrayals and the lies and the fights, you were the one thing to keep him going. You had been there for him everytime, no matter how hard it was. No matter how dangerous it got, no matter how exhausted you were.

But now?

There was nothing.

No one.

And no way to bring you back.

One of the things that scares Ivar most is how numb everything feels. There was nobody to be angry at. Nobody to blame, except for the illness that took you away. And against something like that, not even Ivar the Boneless could seek revenge.

He should have known when you confessed you love, that you were just another thing he had to lose. First it was his father, then his mother, then Helga and Floki and now... there was nothing left of him.

Still your face, your smell, you presence would follow him everywhere he goes.

And he’d beg you to haunt him.

I - i love you (who says the three magic words first and why?)

It depends.

The only way Ivar would say it first is if he is frantic. Either in a screaming match, or when you are close to leaving him.

When neither of those are likely though, this viking would most definetely wait until you’ve said it first. For a long time he does not even dare to hope that you will. He is still a cripple after all, no amout of love could ever change that and he fears the day you realize it. Ivar is so used to rejection that he tells himself it wouldn’t hurt if you left. But deep down he knows it would. That’s why he always hesitates in the very last second, drawing back.

He leaves the first ‘i love you’ to you. But when it comes, you’ve never seen him smile that big. He can’t believe his luck. Can’t believe that you truly choose him over anyone else.

Ivar will rarely outright tell you that he loves you and only chooses particular moments for it.

But that just makes it all the more special.

J - journey (how did they first meet their partner?)

Unfortunately, you met Ivar while his men were preparing for a raid.

You stumbled upon their camp and he questioned you, demanding informations. This way he could gather when the best time for an attack might be. But not only that. You captured his interest in a way he would not have expected.

There was something in the way you spoke and the way you carried yourself that made him hesitate. He supposed that was what it must have felt like for his father with that unlucky priest Floki killed in the end. But then again, in time, he discovered it wasn’t quite the same. There was something more that drew him to you, apart from curiosity.

And he intended to find out what exactly it was.

Who knows after all?

Maybe it was fate.

K - kisses (what are their kisses like?)

Ivars kisses are desperate.

Desperate for warmth, desperate for acceptance, desperate for belonging.

He puts his emotions into every kiss and there is no such thing as ‘just a peck’ with him. Ivar likes to feel needed. He likes showing you how much he loves you, rather than expressing it with words.

He’s also not ashamed to kiss you in front of an audience, frankly he does not care who sees it, because you’re the only one that counts (but he will stop should it make you uncomfortable). He does not fear that it might make him seem weak, that thought is pretty ridiculous to him.

If anything, he’s even more proud to be the one you want.

L - love language (what’s their love language?)

Ivars love language is physical touch closely followed by words of affirmation.

Ivar feels loved the most if he recieves physical touch. He senses that most people around him are too intimidated to get close, or are simply put off by his condition. As a result of that, he rarely gets affectionate touches or attention, which he craves dearly. Even more so since Aslaug is dead and Floki and Helga are both gone. It’s important to Ivar that his partner makes him feel appreciated this way, even if it’s just a hand on his arm at the table, or your fingers laced with his. Every little touch counts.

The second best way to make him happy is through words of affirmation. Words have great meaning to Ivar, so beware of saying anything hurtful to him, for it might stay with him for a lifetime. In time you may notice that especially Ragnars last words “happiness means nothing” are stuck in Ivars head. Words impact him greatly, and you may have to undo some of the damage others have caused in his mind, with a few well-placed strikes. Ivar will appreciate it if you reassure him of your love with the right words at the right time.

M - memory (what’s their favorite memory of the relationship?)

The morning after the first night spend together.

Back then he had no idea how it happened or how you did it.

You were still snoring next to him when he came to realize he didn’t just like you. He loved you. And while you moved around, hugging the fur close to your chest a thousand emotions had swirled in his head. He was confused, surprised and completely thrown aback about what you did to him. About how you made his heart beat faster and his limbs tingle with the need to draw you closer. He watched, until the sun tickled your skin, rousing you from your sleep and when you opened your eyes to look at him with that smile... you knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Whenever he thinks back to that morning now, you catch him with an absent-minded smile on his lips.

N - newborn (how would they react to expecting a child? how would they deal with the pregnancy?)

Ivar would be shocked.

First of all, he would question if the child is truly his, as it seemed impossible before. He wouldn’t have thought that he would ever get the chance to have an heir. So, once you’ve settled his doubts, he would be the proudest father-to-be in all of Kattegat.

But also the most anxious.

He heavily questions his ability to raise a child. Even he knows his father was not a really good example to look up to when it comes to raising children, or to being a husband.

So he seeks the not really helpful advice of his brothers, who all seem to go in completely different directions when it comes to kids. Hvitserk is clearly letting his nephews and nieces walk all over him, while Ubbe is acting like an overprotective hen. Bjorn seems deadset on training them and sending them out in the wild. And Sigurd? Ivar is not quite sure the man is a grown-up himself.

In conclusion: they all started fighting amost themselves while Ivar watched the mess unfold.

Clearly, his mother Aslaug would have been a much better option.

But if she is no longer around, Ivar will instead turn to Floki and Helga where he finally finds some words of wisdom and support.

Without a doubt the woman carrying his child will be protected at all times. This is a literal miracle to him and he would be devastated if anything went wrong with the mother, or the child.

Other than that Ivar finds great joy in the pregnancy. He loves seeing the mother grow with his child and he would be truly proud of his child for carrying on his legacy. Ivar’s love grows during this incredible months, even during all the moods and cravings.

Both, the mother and the baby will be incredibly spoiled.

O - oasis (what’s their favorite place to spent time?)

The pier.

He enjoys the location, especially on warm summer days.

He has many memories stored in his mind, of sitting out on the docks. It’s a place where he can clear his head and it also gives him an overview of everything that is happening around him.

Ivar also likes the calm view of the ocean, even though he’s terrified of the sea. He likes to imagine all the lands that await him on the next raid. The atmosphere helps him to resume his strategies and to gather his thoughts.

It helps him to visualize the terrain the next war will be fought on and the techniques his enemies might use.

You will find him there often, sitting and staring out to the sea until the sun fades away.

P - petnames (what petname would they give their partner?)

“My love.”

The words tasted absolutely ridiculous on his tongue, when he first said them. Almost pathetic. That is also what he threw at your head, when you first said it, but not in anger. It was... something else. Some thing you had to figure out first.

The way he put you off was so reluctant, that it didn’t fit. He liked it. You knew he did. And he knew you knew he did. And he hated it.

This, in turn, made you use the petname whenever you could, with a smirk on your face. Eventually he not only gave in, but started using it himself.

The first time he did you probably spit out your drink in shock tbh.

He’d grumble out of embarassement, until you’d reassure him. When he knows for sure that you actually love it, it’s settled.

It would become a habit.

Q - quiet (what do undisturbed moments look like?)

Peaceful.

In quiet moments Ivar can take a breath and let go of all that troubles him.

He likes taking you down to the beach on those rare days, lying next to you in the sand and relaxing for hours. In those moments all the fights, the wars and the arguments truly fade away. Sometimes they might creep into his mind, which you scold him for when he shares those thoughs absent-mindedly.

Apart from that, it is in those quiet times that you can truly find joy in the company of each other. There don’t need to be many words or actions to keep you happy, just the two of you alone will do.

R - rivals (how do they handle jealousy?)

Not too well.

If there is anyone making advances towards you, Ivar will be the first one to notice. Probably even before you.

He knows very well that you would not appreciate a bloodbath. And further than that, there are political figures that are better kept alive during those stressful times of war. So, no matter how much it bugs him, he would keep still for the time being, trusting you to tell them off (but you may notice the tick of his jaw, or the whitened knuckles when his fingers clench around the armrests of his chair).

If you don’t notice, Ivar will be sure to inform you and ask you to do something about it. He doesn’t voice his concerns about it very clearly, but he is afraid of you leaving him for another.

Though, should a situation get critical, even after you have made clear that Ivar is the one for you, you can be sure that Ivar wont let it slide.

Even if he has to make it look like an accident.

S - song (what song is a reminder of them?)

OCEAN EYES - BILLIE EILISH

I've been watchin' you for some time

Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind

Careful creature made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Da, da-da, da-da

Da-da-da, da, da

Da, da, da, da, da-da-da-da

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

T - token (what kind of object would be the proof of their love? a ring? a necklace? something completely different?)

Ivar can, as a prince and as a king, buy you anything you want.

So he goes a completely different way.

He would try and make you something himself. Something that wouldn’t bother you during the day while tending to your tasks, but also something that would show everyone around you that you are taken.

And something that would remind you of him.

Ivar has noticed you fiddle with the pendant of his necklace often enough.

The viking takes is upon himself to make a twin to the mjolnir hanging from his throat. He would spend ages drawing out the form and details of the hammer, making sure everything looks perfect. He would also use much more expensive material than his own was made of and would insert fitting gemstones if possible.

Ivar works through days and nights to complete his work and smiles like a child when he can finally hand it to you.

It would turn out so beautiful that you would never want to take it off.

U - unique (why did they choose their partner? what first attracted them?)

The thing that first drew him to you was your personality.

Ivar likes looking at pretty features and bodies, yes. But in a way, doesn’t everyone?

Physical attributes don’t mean that much to him. That he may find a body pleasing to look at has nothing to do with feelings. It is more about an aesthitic. About a facade.

What really interests him is your behavior and your mannerisms. How you talk and behave when nobody sees you and how you move when the great hall is filled with people.

Ivar is first attracted to you because of your habits and your character. The unique tells when he catches you lying, or the characteristic twitch of your mouth, when Bjorn shares a story around the dinner table.

V - vulnerable (how vulnerable do they allow themselves to get?)

He is a tough nut to crack.

Ivar is not the type to be vulnerable around others.

He is not always proud of it when he loses his temper, but he absolutely hates it when he has to cry. Not particularily because he sees it as a weakness, but because he despises the whole feeling of it. He hates the helplessness that settles in and the pityful looks everyone carries on their faces when tears are shed.

He does not like to cry in front of you, even when you are close. You will often have to force him to lean on you and let you comfort him. At the beginning he dislikes doing so, but quickly notices that it helps.

He starts to appreciate your help and your knowledge when you assist him to get his mind back on track and give him a perspective he might not have thought of (though there is rarely a way he does not come up with).

X - xfactor (what’s one of their special talents they try to impress with?)

His mind.

While his brothers might be honest in saying that they consider him their equal despite his disability (which he is already sceptical of), Ivar is very aware that that does not count for everyone else around him.

Not even for you.

So he tries to impress you with what he does best. Ivar is intelligent and an incredible strategist on all fields. He will use his smarts and his witt to catch you attention (and maybe even aks you for advice, even though he already has the perfect solution).

Y - yin & yang (how does having their partner around change their behavior?)

It changes quite a bit.

Ivar becomes calmer when you’re around. More patient and less heated. Apart from that he puts great value on your opinions, even of you are not familiar with all of his strategies.

The times of war are stressful even on a bright mind such as his. It makes him agitated when you’re parted and he trends to get nervous when he can’t keep an eye on you.

Since what happened to his mother while he was not around, he fears that the same fate might come for you if he is not on guard at all times. That, in turn gets him easily frustrated when you can’t join him where he is going.

Needless to say, his men are glad when you are present.

Ivar becomes more relaxed, witty and even pleasant at times as soon as you are near.

Z- zen (how calm are they during arguments?)

Not very calm, even though he tries to keep his cool.

He tends to let his frustrations out, wether that be through screaming or trashing something.

This viking does not hold back.

And we all know Ivar is already intimidating enough when he is not in a bad mood.

But usually, all of that doesn’t happen around you. Between the both of you arguments rarely arise. You are pretty much on the same page and definetely act as a team.

Though, of course, it can’t be that easy all the time. When an argument between the two of you arises Ivat tries to reason with you. The man is used to things going his way, so it might be quite a struggle to go against him at first. He tends to get louder, as a way to emphasize his reasoning, but will quickly try to shut it down if you tell him that it upsets you.

He’ll try to explain his situation and get a grip on your view at the same time, until you reach an agreement both of you are happy with, which he does not do with anyone but you.

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar vikings #ivar fluff #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x you

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justshamie · 4 years

Photo

So went a bit wild on stream and came up with a College AU and then decided to write a lil oneshot for it. Enjoy c:

Link to AO3 | Link to Twitch if u interested in more shenanigans c:

There was a soft knock on the door, but Adora in her hazy state barely even moved. She must have been dreaming or maybe she just imagined it. Her dream was more inviting than the prospect of someone bothering her in the middle of her afternoon nap. This was her only break before her evening classes, and she needed that dream to continue. The view of mismatched eyes, and the soft smirk on Catra’s face was imprinted in her mind.

She could enjoy that, couldn’t she? They might not have been anything official yet, but Catra. The girl that Adora wished months ago, that she maybe liked her back. Just enough so they could at least be friends. But now, Adora knew that Catra had feelings for her, and after everything they went through, she could embrace that. Now Adora could lay in her dorm room and daydream about holding Catra and putting her face in the crook of her neck, just relaxing. So maybe she was a bit smitten. No one could blame her. They spent every moment together they could, texting during lectures and hanging out together after. She knew Catra wasn’t big on being affectionate towards others, and yet Adora was an exception. Whenever they spent time with their friends it showed, she would flinch at hugs, not expecting them. Still Catra found her ways to be close to Adora. Showing affection wasn’t maybe her strong suit, but Adora was there to meet her in the middle. Sometimes just their shoulders would touch. Sometimes Catra’s confidence showed and she would quite literally sit in Adora’s lap. Sometimes it was just her finger tucked into the back of Adora’s shirt. Out of anyone’s view. Sometimes she would hold her hand even if she was doing something else. Adora would laugh at the way Catra ate soup with her left hand if not for the warmth that spread in her chest then. If anyone would point out the affectionate gestures, she knew Catra would retreat. Last time that happened they were hanging out with their friends. They met up to play a boardgame, but Catra ended up telling them to play without her. She just sat snuggled into Adora’s side, her head tucked under Adora’s chin, while she was slowly scrolling some book on her phone. They ended up in that position after an hour of a game of pretend. Adora pretended that she wasn’t melting inside at Catra getting closer, and Catra pretended that her snuggling into Adora was just because she wanted to stretch her legs. After Adora had her arm around Catra’s waist and her fingers intertwined into hers, she was not too happy to lose that. It took all of three minutes for Bow to notice.

“You guys are ADORABLE,” he squirmed, holding his hands to his cheeks. Everyone laughed at his comment. Adora felt a blush on her face, but that disappeared as soon as she noticed Catra freeze. Adora could feel the tension in her body right under her hold. When the goodnatured chuckling died down, Catra just excused herself to the bathroom. After coming back the weight of her back against Adora’s torso was just a memory. She ended up on the opposite side of the couch and remained there for the rest of the evening. Adora understood. Or rather she tried to understand, while letting Catra be Catra. She didn’t say anything and when they were getting back to their dorms, she found Catra’s hand in hers. Everything seemed right in the world then. They would find their place together and Adora was going to be patient about it. However, she still longed for those touches. She wasn’t innocent and she would initiate them herself, and the way Catra relaxed into her was cathartic. She would live and breathe those moments. It was like an invisible force was pushing them together. She sighed and looked at her phone. She texted Catra earlier that she was going to nap instead of getting lunch and they could get some food after classes were done. They had different schedules for the day, so Adora knew that Catra would be sitting in a lab right now, learning some photo editing software and being all grumpy about boring lecturers. Adora felt an overwhelming need to poke her in the cheek right now. Maybe she was a bit more than smitten. The knocking was back. Adora rolled over and got up, ready to tell anyone who wanted to steal her precious daydream to piss off. She grunted and opened the door, pulling the most displeased look she could.

“What’s that face for, you dork?” Catra laughed seeing Adora’s grimace.

“Catra!” Adora’s face went on a full trip. From irritation to shock, bashfulness and into that soft smile that was saved only for Catra. She stood there wearing Adora’s soccer letterman jacket. That made the warm feeling inside her chest grow. Adora gave it to her after one of the matches, because she was cold. Now it was like Catra didn’t have anything else in her wardrobe. She never told her to keep it, but she quietly hoped Catra would never give it back. It was like a part of her was always with Catra. Before she could think about it, she had her arms around her in a hug.

“Whoa, look out dummy,” Catra pulled away, shoving a paper bag between them. Adora looked at her puzzled. “Wait, what are you doing here?” she wasn’t complaining, but a moment ago she was sure, she wasn’t going to see her for a few hours.

“I got us lunch, duh,” she answered in that snarky way that Adora knew was just supposed to hide whatever she was actually feeling. There was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Adora let her inside the room with a grin. Seeing Catra in there always made her feel warm. Something about her being comfortable in a space that was just Adora’s. Catra dropped down on her bed, settling the bag next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, poking the bag absently. Adora saw those little glances directed at her.

“Couldn’t sit in a boring Photoshop class?” Adora smiled and plopped down on the bed next to her.

“I could learn more on my own, so I decided to bail,” Catra smirked. “Wait, you remember what class I have?”

“I sometimes listen to you, you know,” Adora pulled out her tongue. “Besides remembering your schedule is convenient. That way I can plan when I can see you.”

“I…uh. Okay,” Catra seemed to not know what to say at that. Adora waited. “Thanks.”

“Thanks?” she tilted her head, imitating a puppy. Maybe she wanted to tease her just a bit.

“Ugh… You know,” Catra pushed lightly at her shoulder. “For caring.”

Maybe she also wanted to hear that.

“Of course, I care about you,” Adora smiled.

“Dork,” Catra shoved her in the side and fell onto her back, stretching.

“Yeah, I am,” at this point, smitten might not have been enough to describe Adora’s feelings. Catra was just laying on her back relaxing. Adora opened the bag with food and pulled out three small trays of sushi and some miso soup. She would have laughed for Catra’s choice of eating fish, again, but then seeing her all comfortable on Adora’s bed made her heart flutter. She heard the quiet rumble coming from Catra’s chest. Catra was sunbathing in the warmth of afternoon sun. Adora set the boxes on the coffee table. That feeling of longing came to her. Adora wanted to wrap her arms around Catra and bury her nose behind her ear, in that soft puff of fur there. She touched Catra’s hand and made gentle circles with her thumb on the top of the palm of her hand.

“I’m gonna go grab us some plates, be right back,” she placed a soft kiss to Catra’s shoulder and got up. She was being patient, there was no reason to rush. If someone saw her in the corridor when she walked over to the communal kitchen to grab the plates, she didn’t notice. Her daydream came to life and she didn’t need any more distractions. Maybe she was pacing a bit. Having Catra in her room, wearing her jacket and relaxing on her bed was making her buzz. This was something she wished for a long time. Being patient wasn’t easy sometimes, but the feeling of being with Catra like this was worth everything. She stopped in front of her door. Plates in her hands. This was alright, she could have this warmth in her life, she could want to be with someone like this. She took a deep breath. It was alright. She opened the door. Catra was still lounging on her bed. She smiled. She put the plates down and crawled on the bed.

“Did you just come here to nap?” she teased, her head over Catra’s face, hair cascaded over her shoulder. She saw how Catra’s ear twitched when it tickled her.

“Don’t forget lunch,” a sly smirk showed up on Catra’s face, her eyes still closed.

“Oh? Is that so?” Adora grinned and gently slid her fingers over the side of Catra’s neck. She felt the rumble hiding in Catra’s throat.

“Maybe,” Catra said, the tone of her voice lacked that usual snarkiness. Adora knew that tone, although it didn’t come out of Catra that often. Maybe she wasn’t the only one that felt that in her chest.

“Comfortable there?” she smiled and started to softly scratch behind Catra’s ear with her other hand. A soft purr started to fill the space between them.

“Yeah,” Catra sighed. “I knew trading my classes for a nap was worth it.”

“And lunch, right?” Adora smiled. She couldn’t keep the tease in her voice either. Being like that together felt too good.

“Duh,” now Catra was smiling, that gentle expression that was saved for Adora. Adora had it catalogued in her mind. Adora could swear every time she saw that expression her chest was bursting from everything she felt. Their mouth were inches away. She could feel Catra’s breath on her chin.

“I was daydreaming about you earlier,” she confessed.

“Oh…” Catra’s cheeks turned a shade darker, she opened her eyes for a second but closed them right after. She looked like she wanted to say something. Adora waited again. “I missed you, that’s why I came here.”

“I missed you too.” Adora touched their noses together playfully. She could feel Catra’s breath on her cheek.

“You’re such a dork,” Catra smiled and bent her arm over her to grab at Adora’s shirt collar. “Come here.”

That was invitation enough. Adora closed the gap between them in a soft kiss. Their lips met and she could feel all that warmth flow out of her chest and fill the room. She felt every muscle in her body relax. It was gentle and exactly what her body longed for. The sound of Catra’s even purr filled her ears. Both of them weren’t going to rush anywhere, just happy to be there. Together. They pulled away, Adora put her forehead to Catra’s. Both of them sighed at the same time.

“Such a dork,” Catra giggled.

“Worth it,” Adora joined in a chuckle and planted a kiss on her forehead. Catra’s stomach grumbled hungrily.

“Right. Nap and lunch, how could I forget?”

“And you.” Catra smiled, and Adora thought she could daydream about that smile forever.

#catradora #she ra #spop #my writing #college au #catra #adora #catra/adora #she ra and the princessess of power #fanfic #fanfiction

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prettylittlebrownskingyal · 4 years

Note

ari how does one provoke u into writing an essay about disaster boy zuko,,, im tryna see sumn 👀

here 👀 we 👀 go 👀 some incoherent but love filled thoughts about Edge Lor— i mean Fire Lord Zuko ((also lots of Azula analysis because she crept up on me this time, eye did not see that coming.))

cuz like, in all of the history of all of the media in all of the galaxies, ATLA has successfully carried out a redemption arc that is not only entertaining to watch but also morally and humanity driven.

but let’s talk about sibling relationships because i am insufferable about sibling relationships 😔👉🏽👈🏽

Zuko isn’t perfect. which— hah, i know— is obvious. but he goes through a journey that allows him to free himself from the conditioning of his formative environment.

cuz honestly (without touching the whole war criminal/fascism bit) he IS a direct product of the family and propaganda run society he grew up in. and with all the Fire Nation kids, he’s been through it.

to extrapolate on this though, i have to mention Azula (and don’t say it, i already know)

there are a lot of analytical takes on Aang and Zuko being each other’s mirrors— and ATLA has definitely written the story that way.

but Azula and Zuko? they’re two sides of the same coin.

their circumstances are identical. their privileges. their opportunities. all basically the same.

its essentially in their differences that they become to wholly different entities.

Zuko is a social pariah.

Azula is a tragic villain.

now me? personally? i blame BOTH Ursa and Ozai for screwing up these kids. and we’re shown that the favoritism expressed by either parent does affect the kid that has to stand by and watch the other.

Zuko is the eldest but Ozai treats him as an inferior in favor of Azula. and its clear that Azula watched Ursa coddle Zuko and reacted in the ways that she knew how. her whole game in the assertion of dominance is to please her father and do his bidding.

she doesn’t have to desire power because she has it at her disposal. she’s a tyrant like her father and often displays machiavellian traits. she’s intelligent. quick. almost unstoppable.

she’s 14 and kicking her brother’s ass physically, mentally and emotionally.

(also hats off to the writers because this is never framed in a sexist way)

Zuko—despite being her big brother— doesn’t ever really have to/get to interact with her like a normal sibling would. take Sokka and Katara for example here.

(also, i can imagine that Zuko watched them love each other so unconditionally and questioned how that was even possible.)

partially, with the way Azula views Iroh, we know that she gains this perception of torturing her older brother from Ozai. (can you tell i’d beat Ozai’s ass up Fire Lord dick face or not i’m throwing hands and he can come C A T C H)

my point here is that Azula is what Zuko could have been. but he isn’t. and this is both a result of concious effort and influence— and yes. i’m talking about Uncle Iroh in all his royal tea loving kookiness.

Zuko has the comfort of having someone look past his cultivated exterior after he loses his mother. (and Ursa’s exit is what really tips the scales for Azula to go on into her tragic villain journey)

and even though his father has undermined him all his life, he holds on to the desire to make him proud. its why he betrays what could have been a new, better life for him at the end of book 2. getting everything he thought he wanted made him realize that he really didn’t want any of it in the first place and that no matter what he did, his father would always be like that™️. this is also good writing!! redemption and changes in behavior especially for a protagonist doesn’t have to be linear. fluctuations make sense, especially as these kids were raised and conditioned in a certain way. like even after he’s cut off at the beginning of book two and he’s out in the world seeing how harsh life is for common folk, he starts to see just how evil his family truly is. that doesn’t deter him from returning to the familiarity of what he’d previously been fighting for.

another thing is, Azula clocked her father’s behavior earlier on. part of why she only really unravels after her friends betray her is that they were all she really had to depend on. Ursa wasn’t there for her. her father never really cared and only needed her around for her talents and she didn’t have Iroh the way Zuko did. she was alone.

what makes this worse is that there are moments when you can tell Zuko and Azula could have potentially been great siblings. its more in the little things here and there— the one that stands out most to me rn is when Zuko bursts into Azula’s room to question her (somewhere in book three) wakes her up and after they talk, he walks away and leaves her door wide open. not to give away the tricks of the trade, but that is an elder sibling power move. oh and outside of playing it up for information or with a mission in mind, they’re both horrible at social interaction ESPECIALLY with people around their ages. this sorta parallels with the way Sokka and Katara are for the most part, personable and easily get along with their peers.

i also just wanna mention that as the chapters progress, we notice a change in both of their appearances. Zuko cutting his hair was quite symbolic of him beginning to cut ties with his past but prior to that, we recognize his previously uncomfortable looking hairstyle as akin to the way Azula doesn’t have a hair out of place when she’s first introduced. As her mental state deteriorates and she gets more attached to the idea of killing Zuko, her appearance and ergo, her hair starts reflecting her inner turmoil. and while this happens, we witness Zuko growing into his appearance to the point where he’s more comfortable with himself— his scar doesn’t bother him as much and he grows out his hair.

adding on to this here train wreck, Zuko doesn’t have any friends until he joins the Gaang. he’s experienced being around Azula’s friends in childhood, but with the way his sister weaponizes manipulation, its safe to say that up until that point, he had no real exposure to friendship. not in a way he could recognize, at least. because we know Mai cares for him and in The Beach episode, we see that Ty Lee does too in the way she insists that she knows him well.

and i’ll be willing to bet that he had no idea siblings could love each other the way Sokka and Katara do. if Lu Ten had survived, he’d have an older brother to rely on. perhaps this would have extended to Azula and the damage that these kids sustained would be much less. ((but that’s a case we shouldn’t crack open cuz i’ll never shut up.))

tl;dr: Zuko and Azula are parallels of each other and also Sokka and Katara, atla is superior media and Ozai is steaming pile of crap.

#does this make sense idk i’m sorry but here you go #if y’all wanna ask for more character essays uhh feel free #this is also a Sokka loving blog amen #ar&atla #livia art #zuko #ATLA #azula #sokka #katara #lu ten #iroh #am i ashamed? hell yh am i embarrased? hell yh #love u liv 💖❤️#crawling back into my hole now

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bulbpix · 4 years

Text

If You Just Listened - Part 12

The apartment building's laundry room was hot and stuffy. You shoved your last batch of clothes into the largest machine you could find, pushing the door shut with the side of your arm.

Sweaty, and both mentally and physically exhausted, you lugged yourself on top of the washer and slouched on it, resting your elbows on your knees.

You sat there for a bit, staring at the wall. You could hear an old clock aggravatingly tick.

Tick-tock Tick-tock Tick-tock

"What is wrong with me?"

You groaned, slapping yourself on the forehead.

A few hours ago, you got home from work and began your laundry. On any other night, this would've been fine. Normal. Just doing your laundry. But tonight, it could not have been more rude.

After taking a shot with Lucy, you continued your shift as usual. Well, as usual as you could make it.

Arthur made joke after unbearable joke on stage, seeming to find a rhythm in himself despite the lack of reception from the crowd. Perhaps the jokes weren't so bad, maybe it was his terrible delivery. Either way, it was not a pretty sight to see.

Each table you tended had something to say about your friend.

"You guys really let anybody on stage, huh?" "Leaving him on is just cruel." "Can't you just tell someone to get the guy off the stage?" "Christ, it's like watching a kid try to do comedy. Actually, kids are funnier."

You said nothing. You took their empty glasses, you cleaned their tables, you pulled their seats out for them, you served their food. You couldn't build up the courage to say anything in defense of your friend.

You didn't even pretend to laugh at the jokes. What if your co-workers saw you laughing? There's no way you'd be able to climb the social ladder. Even if they knew you were just trying to make him feel better. You already knew what they'd say.

"Why are you trying to help the shmuck out? Let him learn, this is Gotham. He's got no chance here."

And if they didn't know that? They would just think you were weird.

The longer you were there, the more the guilt consumed you. As soon as your shift was over, you rushed out of Pogo's in shame, unable to bear another second. Arthur must've wondered where you went.

You imagined him. Standing outside in the cold. Waiting for you to come out. Not knowing you were long gone.

And now here you were, mulling over your guilt-ridden thoughts while sitting on an old washing machine.

You tried to justify yourself, remembering your strange encounter with him the other night. He was quiet, beaten, bloody. What if he did something bad?

Or, what if he just got mugged, and now was being alienated by you on top of that?

You buried your face in your hands.

"Oh my God, I'm such a..." "Such a what?"

Arthur held a basket of dirty clothes in one arm, pushing the entrance open with his other. He smiled at you, completely unaware of what you were thinking.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your chest. You looked down, unable to face him.

"Something wrong?" Arthur placed his basket on the machine next to yours, looking at you with worry on his face.

That question was like a punch in the gut. You should've bee the one comforting him. Not the other way around.

Did he not care that you ditched him? Did he not see you dead-faced at his stand-up?

"No, nothing's wrong, it's just... I mean... You.."

Arthur sighed, beginning to place his clothing in the machine.

"I see," he murmured. "It's because of what I asked the other day." He looked up at you. "It's okay, I should've apologized for walking off like that."

Oh, great. Now he's apologizing to me.

Honestly with all that happened that day, you had forgotten Arthur even asked you out.

You shook your head, finally making yourself look at him.

"No, Arthur. Your stand-up. I feel terrible I didn't stick around, I know we always walk back together when you come to Pogo's. It's just..."

There's no way you could tell him the truth of why you left.

"I had so much laundry to do, I really wanted to rush over and take care of it."

Well. I'm a fucking asshole.

Arthur smiled at you. "Is that what you're worried about? It's nothing. Don't sweat it." He chuckled, continuing to move his clothes into the washer. "What'd you think of the show, though? The crowd really seemed to like me."

...what?

"Uh... Well, listen Arthur. We're friends, right?" "Yeah." "So, we value what we have to say about each other, right?" "Yeah?" "Okay..."

You took a deep breath.

"I think your stand-up could use a little work."

Arthur chuckled, resting his hand on his knee. "You didn't like it?" He leaned his head to the side. "That's okay. What do you think I should do?"

You widened your eyes. You were surprised he took that so well.

"I'm not sure, I don't do comedy really. Maybe change the jokes up a little? I think they were a bit too...family friendly. For Pogo's, at least."

"Ah." Arthur scratched his chin, reaching behind him and pulling out a notebook. The same notebook you saw him writing in at Pogo's? That was so long ago. You stared at it curiously.

"I have some more mature stuff in here," he began, flipping through the pages. "Ah, here's one." He cleared his throat, raising the book closer to his face. "Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?"

You smiled, shrugging.

Arthur chuckled a bit to himself. "Because his wife is dead."

You stared at him for a second, not sure if you understood the joke. You thought about it, before a grin slowly crept on to your face. "Arthur, that's dark," you tried to say through your laughter. The more you thought about it, the harder you laughed. You never imagined that such an innocent person like Arthur could tell a joke like that. You tried to stop yourself, accidentally snorting instead. The weird combination of dark humor and Arthur (of all people) was such a hilarious mix-up, you couldn't handle it.

Arthur stared wistfully at you, your laughter like music to his ears. It was night, and you were both in a windowless basement, but he swore there was a ray of sunshine on you. You were in baggy pajama shorts and a stained tank top, but to him you could not have looked more beautiful.

"So, that's a keeper then?" He beamed.

You shook your head, coming down from your laughter. That joke was so... unexpected, compared to what he was saying on stage. "No, no, I don't think Gotham is ready for that one. It was good though."

Arthur sucked his teeth, tucking the notebook into his back pocket. "Guess they don't know good comedy when they see it."

You shrugged, "It's alright, we'll work on it."

Arthur pulled himself on top of the machine next to yours. You were happy knowing that you and Arthur were on good terms, especially after that series of events that you were certain would ruin your friendship. Being there together in that crappy laundry room basement was the highlight of your day. You turned to him, seeing a small lump on his cheek from the other night.

Your mood immediately sunk.

"So..." "Hm?" "What happened the other night?" "What do you mean?"

You were baffled. What other night could you possibly be referring to?

"When you slept over?"

Arthur's back stiffened. You were the only person besides his mother that he felt truly comfortable with. That didn't mean he could tell you what happened, though. What would you think of him if you knew? It wouldn't be pretty, he knew that. He would have to think of a lie instead. It felt awful, knowing he had to lie to you. However, to risk losing you? The trade wasn't worth it. He wanted you to know everything about him. Everything. He wanted to share his entire life with you. Maybe if he waited. Maybe if you spent more time together. For now, he would have to cover it up. But man, he really wanted to tell you.

"It was a really bad day, I just needed a friend."

Arthur tightened his lips, looking down at his hands. He reached up, touching his shoulder.

"I... I lost my job at Haha's. Said I wasn't funny enough."

"Oh, Arthur..." you clutched at your chest.

"The place I was assigned to that day was far. Deep Gotham. I got the call that my job was over when I was done there. I didn't really know the area, I didn't know what the people were like there. I should've been more careful, less thoughtless... I ended up getting mugged by a few guys on the train on my way home."

Oh, no. It was exactly what you feared. You assumed too much, you feared Arthur for nothing. All you did was make yourself afraid of your poor, beaten friend.

You thought about it. He was probably just minding his own business on the train, before these guys just decided to pick on him. And he was wearing his clown outfit that night. Who picks on a clown?!

At least now that you knew, you could be there for him.

"I'm sorry, bud. It'll be alright."

You wrapped your arm around Arthur's shoulder, shuffling closer to him.

Arthur smiled, looking at your hand. "He wondered when you would hold his shoulder like this again." He missed this feeling.

A/N - Sorry for the long wait everyone! Finals season, you know how it is. ALSO - Tell me if you'd like to be tagged, i know a few of u asked but i totally lost track

@geronimosanna @theworldthroughmynikon

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #slowburn #slow burn #joker x y/n #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x you #joker x you #if you just listened

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2ofswords · 4 years

Note

daniil learning more about town-on-gorkhon and how to live in it? trying to find a sense of home...

I got a bit carried away, so it is under a cut! Also I sure hope the story still fits the prompt... Thank you for it either way, I had a fun time writing this! ^^

The bartering in the town had always struck Dankovsky as a bare necessity. Sure, there seemed to be a tradition woven around it, but those were usually created to elevate a purpose. In a town torn from the rest of the country and dependant on regular trains, one had to rely on community in times of delay and the method of trading established such a network for basic needs quite smoothly. The days of plague showed as much albeit with a morbid connotation. One simply couldn't call children trading you morphine for needles the height of community values. Still he always imagined the tradition not to disappear but to… subdue. Yet, as always, his hypothesis was proven wrong and people cheerily bartered their sugar for meat the moment the trains continued their delivery. At first, continuing was more of a habit than anything else. There were still some raisins left in his pockets and Dankovsky himself never really had that much love for the small treats. The children were less enthusiastic about them as well, but he didn’t really need the soap they gave him, anyway. Then he remembered the beetles he had kept in his cabinet at Stillwater. An emergency stash he told himself, yet many such emergencies appeared and not a single insect left the house, unless as small tokens he uselessly carried around. A small sentimentality, reminding him that something beside the plague-ridden hell scape exists. Not that it actually mattered in the long run and now… Now he needed to move and the beetles… they would be hard to explain. So they had to go.

Finding a kid that would take them wasn’t very difficult. One of the small children wondered in awe at the collection, starstruck eyes staring at the delicate creatures while her fingers carefully danced over them and Daniil couldn’t help but notice the pull in his gut guiding his memory to times that had died long before his arrival in town. A happy and childish pounding, that broke his concentration long enough to not notice the kid question at first. “I asked, what you want for it.” “Oh… Um…” Maybe he should have thought about that. “You can just keep them. If you like them, they might be in good hands after all. Maybe add some to the collection. Or categorize them, that should probably be done…” The frown that graced her face signalled that his answer wasn’t quite adequate. Yes. This was still about tradition where trust in an equal trade was valued. One cannot disturb the children’s beetle and nut economy without repercussions, after all. “I have to give something back. I have to give you a part of my endurance after all. People say I have so much of it and I can hold my breath longest. Shall I show you?” “I believe you, it is fine. You do not need to… you are competing about holding your breath?” “U-huh. And I still have plenty of it until I reach second place. You seem like you could need some of it.” “… getting out of breath less often sound’s tempting.” He is getting too old for this and he still has a meeting with Burakh and Rubin in the afternoon. Now that the worst is over, he had proposed to take stock of the more harmless illnesses in town to order medicine, that hadn’t expired decades ago. “So you still have to say what you want. Aren’t you too young to always forget what I’m saying? Did the plague get to you?” “Watch your tongue, or you might really need that breath of yours.” “No need to get so defensive, old man. Geez. Don’t they teach you any manners?” Do they teach anyone manners? If someone ever bothered it didn’t have anything to do with the children in town. “So what do you have to give, little brat.” “Hm…” The child crossed her legs while contemplating the business deal. “I have a loaf of bread, I guess. These are a lot of beetles after all…”

A loaf of bread is acceptable. Or so it seemed, until he opens his mouth and noticed, how small exactly the arm was, that held the box of beetles protectively in her lap. How loosely the little dress hung from her body. A loaf of bread would sound fantastic, while he was starving or when there wasn't enough time to reach any of the stores. But this isn’t the case and he isn’t exactly in need of bread. “So do we have a deal or not?” He should close his mouth. Or better yet answer the question. “How about… you give me something else.” He couldn’t possibly take anything from a starving child. Shouldn’t. Ever, yet he had done so too many times. This has to stop, he shouldn’t be even considering it. He is a scientist and as far as he is concerned exploiting children wasn’t in the job description. “How about… a story.” Children like stories, right? They must be valuable in some way. “I mean”, he adds quickly, “the needs of our mind are as important as the basic needs of our body. So I demand you to accommodate my craving for… more intellectual affairs.” “I mean… sure. If you want to… grandpa.” At this point this kid was just testing his endurance. Motivating breathing exercises might also be a way to increase its capacity. “I do.” Her eyes wandered to the box and then back to Dankovsky. “I mean. Sure. Then let me tell you a story…”

He thought nothing of the trade at first. His beetles did after long last find their rightful heir. One objective cleared. Time to indulge in more important affairs. That belief lasted until evening, when he found one of the kids lurking at his doorstep. “Are you the doctor that trades in stories?” “I am the doctor. Are you hurt, is everything alright?” “Look, my friend has gotten himself a splinter in the foot! Walked on some wood, when we were trying to… ah never mind. Anyway, we –“ “Lead the way.” “- we only need some tweezers, but our shop didn’t have any to sell!” “I can remove the splinter. It’s a simple enough procedure and even a small wound needs to be properly disinfected.” “I don’t have anything on me. Maybe one of the buttons, but I only have three of them left. So I thought…” “It’s fine.” But it probably isn’t because everyone seems hell-bent on losing every small trinket in their possession. Does anyone even wear the charms that are made, they seem to change hands on a daily basis. “You can tell me the story while we are on our way. If it is a good one, I might not even tell your parents about it.” The child’s face lit up. “Then buckle up, because I do have a good one.”

The next day turned out to be a complete and utter mess. A mess made of excited whispers whirling hands frantically signing what words cannot convey and a lot of sugar filled food leaving his hands. “So. There once was this boy, who had a small wolf cub as his half …” “And then I saw this monster in the steppe! Not the Shabnak but an even bigger one!” “The bull talked! I swear it did!” “My granddad used to sew, you know, so I had a few needles at hand. And the guy really deserved it, so we –“ “Then a giant wave pulled us out of the facet and we all sat at the stairs, we were so surprised!” At some point in the afternoon he had to stock up on cookies and apples just to gain something to trade away. Utter nonsense. He should’ve demanded this madness to stop. The children were barely giving him enough space to move from place to place and their constant chatter did become… grating. Yet there he was, more sweets in hand, while his next unusual costumers were already waiting right before the shop. Do these brats even know, that he isn’t a walking garbage dispenser? Still. The thought about turning them away seemed just as wrong at this point. He was knee deep in this mess already. Might as well swim. And some of these stories were charming really. Somehow everyone seemed to have swallowed a poet whole and considering the local medicine that might not be that much off from the truth… Still. The constant talking was annoying. Distracting, really, a major inconvenience at best. Yet it was oddly charming to observe their desperate tries to up one another as if they expected Dankovsky to pull a secret cake out of his coat that only the best storyteller could get. They were trying. Inspiring one another, forming a chain of developing fantasies that were quite unreal – and quite frankly useless – but cheerful and… lively.

“There you are. I was looking for you.” “Aren’t you all?”, he answered before turning and noticing Clara leaning against a nearby building. Her smile was as knowing as ever. She couldn’t possibly look into other peoples minds, right? Of course not, utter rubbish. These story’s must have gotten to him after all. “What do you want?” “They say, you are giving out free candy.” “It’s not free. And if that is all, you might want to be on your way.” Of course she is following when he turns on his heels and tries to be on his way. “So, I have a story for you.” “I guessed as much.” He doesn’t even have to look at her to know she is pouting. When he finally does, she seems as happy as ever though. “There once was a prince who was locked outside of his house. When he wandered through the garden, he spotted a flower more gorgeous and beautiful then all of the rest. But the flower grew too large and everything that fell under his shadow withered and died away.” “That must have been quite the flower.” “Shh. I’m talking. So they send for a gardener, even if the prince had loved his flower very dearly. So he gave the flower his heart in order to protect it, when the time had come.” Ah. So that is where this was going. Charming. “And did he manage to save it?” “Of course not! What could a prince have done against the gardener’s shears? So the flower was destroyed and when it shattered the princes heart broke with it.” “… that isn’t a nice story. It doesn’t even have a satisfying conclusion.” “That is because the story isn’t over and you keep interrupting! Anyway, when the prince was left alone in the garden, he tore out the pieces of his heart and buried them into the ground for no one to see. He thought he had hidden it for good, but then it started raining and the pieces of his heart grew tine little stems and, slowly but surely, began to grow out of the ground.” By now they arrived at his doorstep. For a minute Dankovsky contemplated to invite the girl in. But that seemed a bit too forward. So he grabbed a small bag of sweets and some of the dried meat he had bought for himself. Who even knew how long Clara had lurked around town and when she really ate the last time. “So…”, this was getting uncomfortable. And quite frankly, ridiculous. “What did sprout out of the ground after all.” Her grin widened. “How about you tell me? I would trade to hear the end of that story.” “Hm… very well.” When he opened the door and looked back, Clara was already gone. Sighing he entered his own house and close the noise behind him. The town was still recovering, yet at this very day at least around the Bachelor it seemed to be filled with laughter, dreams and a future, where anything could be overcome with the right anecdote in mind. A piece of meat for a smile wasn’t such a bad trade after all. Still not a bare necessity… but something different. There was not really anything new to be heard. Not a real discussion no real bond to every single child who tried to steal his precious time. Still, there was meaning in a word spoken at the right space and time. There was meaning in the act of building sky castles together. Maybe he had once again underestimated the local custom.

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whosxafraid · 5 years

Photo

holy christmas dudes....has it really been two years already? i mean i feel like it was yesterday i hesitantly made this blog without any real hope anyone would want to interact with this over sized old man but needing to make the blog anyway because the fecker wouldn’t be quiet---but here we are...and just damn.

ＧｉｖｅａｗａｙＧｕｉｄｅｌｉｎｅｓ：

Give away begins: now - 03/25/19 Give away ends : 6:00pm EST - 03/29/19

1. One like/re-blog per blog.

I get really turned around and easily confused so please make this easier on me and only either re-blog the post or like the post. But only do either one once.

2. Must be following Luka and be an RP blog in order to participate.

Please don’t just follow to participate in the giveaway, okay? I can’t control you following and then un-following but its super rude and just karma’s a bitch okay?

3. I need a week or so to get the prizes out after the giveaway ends.

Bare with me. I keep my promises it just takes me time.

4. Winners will be chosen using the random number generator. Keeps everything nice and fair :)

5. If you are a multi-muse and win, please be prepared to chose one of your muses for icons made.

6. If you win and your muse’s fc is not well known or has little screen time, please be prepared to help me out if I can’t find suitable resources on my own for graphics/icons/etc.

7. If you win and you have a favorite picture or resource(aka movie/episode/etc) in which your muse’s fc is portrayed please feel free to let me know!

8. If you win please be prepared to provide a primary color and/or scheme you would like the graphics/icons to have.

ＰＲＩＺＥＳ:

1st Place: 1 promo graphic, 1 set of Online/Offline/Lurking/Drafts banners, 25 [200x100] icons, psd and watermarked with your chosen letter(s).

2nd Place: 1 promo graphic and 25 [200x100] icons, psd and watermarked with your chosen letter(s). .

3rd Place: 1 promo graphic

ƓƠƠƊ ԼƲƇƘ!

follow forever beneath the cut

@brooklynislandgirl / @tarnishedhalo / @quothesquills

yes hi i love you always? lol thank you for being my partner is so many fictional crimes. for being a like minded cray like me but also constantly teaching me and bettering me as a person literally every day. i love how we can finish each other sentences sometimes, and are so alike and then completely different so we end up seeing more angles to things. you can put me in tears one second and then rip my soul out the next. i like u, ur a good. so ur kinda stuck with me. stay you cuz otherwise im gonna be feckin lost.

@morgansmornings

also yes hello is this thing on? I LOVE YOU. yer a fecking gem of a human being and while u may not need me too i will go to war with my bat swinging for u always. you make me laugh when i wanna cry and always are an ear when i need to vent. i love ur imagination and ur brain and i can not gush enough about how amazing ur muse is. its takes someone extraordinary to make someone extraordinary. and your muse is extraordinary. remember that if nothing else. besties always cuz im keeping u sorry not sorry.

@seanceisms / @umbrellakidstm / @wolventm / @scciopath

fucking beautiful human being you are okay. i love you always and i will follow you across any blog you ever make. and that sounded way less stalkerish in my head but whatever you get it. u can’t escape me LOL. always an ear and always a joy to talk to even when we’re doing nothing but trading pictures or headcanons or screaming about stupidity we find or murdering each other with feels.

@riggsanity

my dude ur a fecking treasure. ur humor is sharp and i love that. your amazing at your hobby and i love every reply i get from you. i love that we can have conversations that stretch over hours because we both get distracted or get busy but we always know where we’re at. ur fantastic and im blessed to have met you.

@mynameisanakin

there are too many inside jokes and not enough time to list them all. this is a friendship that i fucking love and never wanna lose. ur unique and ur a fecking trip and i LOVE that about you. the sometimes brutal honesty is refreshing to say the least, and i can not word how much i love our thread and our future plots. stay golden like the sand in our Jamaican no fig capes. ;)

@the-blackest-spider

holy balls dude like how long have we known each other at this point? i cant even remember. all i know is i love u and i know we dont talk as much as we used too but i love that we can pick up right where we left off when we do and there’s not a beat missed. ur brilliant and will always ALWAYS be ‘my natasha’.

@tabbyrp and @corinnebaileyrp

you two are gifts okay. always have something kind to say to me. always checking on me when my ooc posts get a little weird and sideways. (more than usual anyway). i love both of you and i love our plots and threads. every single one. -throws cookies at both with exuberance-

@thor-theavengergod

one of my closest dudes.i miss ur thor so much. but im glad we can stay connected on discord. ur artwork is GLORIOUS and always a joy to see pop up on my dash. you’re always an ear and never afraid to say what you think. and that’s really rare in this day and age. Keep being amazing my dude. u shine and it shows!

@bettershotthanbucky | @edithbarton / @hitslikeatruck / @mutatiiions

okay but like world of an au and plot we built i love it. you dudes are fucking beautiful and will always be my bartons(and wolverine/Piotr/and the rest). always. we dont always talk or are in each others day to day but when we do it’s always a riot. you guys are my dudes, dudes. never ever ever ever forget that. i’ll always be here for u dudes. whenever u need me and i know u’ll be the same for me cuz that’s just how ride or die dudes roll. -all the hugs-

@daggermxchanic

man let me talk about how fucking great it is to get to write luka with someone close to where he’s from even if it’s not the same time frame. Its amazing. I love your muse and i love the oppertunities he gives me to explore other facets of luka. Two grumpy old men never gets old and i LOVE ALL OF IT. ur a fucking amazing and don’t let no body tell u different my dude. ur classic.

@deathisachoice

okay we interact more on my pirate blog but fuck it i do what i want. im so glad u were able to finish ur thesis. im glad its behind u and that weight has been lifted. im super excited to get to talk to u more again and make awesome plots for our pirates (and maybe here too). either way ur writing is amazing and so are u. always a joy to talk to and write with!!

@ruthlessmeans / @mockeryofreason

okay but i love u alot. and i wish i could bat away all the bad that’s been happening as of late. just teach it a lesson so it fucks off permanently. but as i cant all i can do is offer cookies and remind u ur loved. i admire the decidcation that u have to ur muses. i love how u think through every angle and facet of them. that speaks volumes about u as a person. keep ur chin up my dude. ur silver lining is coming.

@canadianclaws

not so much rp’ing anymore but we stay in touch over discord and u literally NEVER fail to make me laugh even when i don’t want too or i’m feeling like something four days dead. i absolutely adore u and our friendship and i love that we can just drop funny fucking shit in our chat at random hours on any given day and its no big ya know? JUST LOVE U A LOT -tackle squishes-

@cochetsharpshooter

one of my best dudes and a fucking peach too boot. always uplifting and always the best gifs. years of jokes lbr and no enough angst and time in the day to write it all every probably. u are my bucky, always and forever. never lose ur wonder and ur drive my dude. ur inspiring. truly.

@ronmanmob

a gift with words right here. dedication to your muse on a level i’ve never seen. its phenomenal. always good vibes to talk to, always up beat. its honestly wonderful that we’re mutuals. always love reading your rps and ur blog is general is epic. keep it up. ur a gem.

@noprodigalson

life has gotten busy for u. taken u in different directions and that’s just something that happens. that’s life. but getting to see u pop up on my dash now and then. little updates and fashion drops it warms me up. ur style sense is amazing and so is ur hair. (yes i still want those pants). ur a beautiful human and hopefully life will let u get back to ur hobby here real soon. all my love my dude!

To all my of my followers:

you all brilliant lights in the world, in your own ways. Never, ever, EVER forget that. you are amazing. you are all special. to me and the other people in your lives that mean the most. stay frosty. and KEEP WRITING. ALWAYS KEEP WRITING. NO MATTER WHAT. NO MATTER THE TRIALS. KEEP WRITING!! because remember there was a time when the world thought Van Gogh wasn’t worth anything at all and now he’s a house hold name even little kids know who he is.

BE BRAVE

BE CREATIVE

BE YOU NO MATTER WHAT

-Crow

#[its just amazing really. i had to triple check the creation date of this blog and just DAMN]#[thank u to all of u that constantly put up with my slowness and general cray on the day to day]#[love u all]#[two year anniversary]#Out Of Fecks || OOC #Wolves Do Not Lose Sleep Over The Opinions Of Sheep || Que

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saintjojis · 6 years

Text

No Control (I)

Genre: Fuckboy!Au, Angst

Word Count: 1k

A/N: i know this is short, but it feels good to be back. I won’t be writing old requests so send in new ones! If i get to 350 followers i’ll reveal myself mwah!

He was horrible to her, even if it was indirectly, he still did her so much more harm than good. But if he was so bad, why did her heart flutter every time he called her name? Or every time her phone lit up to display a message from him.

>[heonnie💫]: I miss u ):10:25PM

She already knew what Jooheon wanted, it wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore, but it still hurt a little to know that he didn’t really her genuinely.

>[n]: I miss you too )):10:26PM

There she goes again, acting cute and polite to someone who didn’t even deserve it. [name] was wasting her heart and her time harboring the naïve hope that Jooheon would ever need him for anything that wasn’t sexual. She knew perfectly well that nothing would ever come from giving in. She didn’t lie, however, she really did miss Jooheon. She knew that he didn’t really miss her.

She really didn’t want to do it, but she was afraid that if she declined she’d “lose” Jooheon. She’d think of something to say, maybe he’d be understanding.

>[heonnie💫]: i want to see you :c10:28PM

>[heonnie💫]: send me something )):10:28

Well, shit.

>[n]: I’m not really feeling it tonight heonny, not feeling too well ]:10:30PM

>[heonnie💫]: aw :/ whats wrong? ):10:30PM

Fuck, maybe if she was vague enough he wouldn’t ask more questions.

>[n]: Just a lot of feelings, kinda down in the dumps ya know. Don’t really want to get into it.10:32PM

>[heonnie💫]: u know u can tell me anything10:32PM

Fuck it.

>[n]: One sided love, platonic? I feel like he’s using me, but I can never say no and it fuckin blows. I don’t want to lose him either so I keep saying yes,, ughgg10:34PM

Stupid move, now he’ll probably think she’s clingy and weird. But there was no turning back now, she dreaded Jooheon’s response. Which was one she didn’t expect.

>[heonnie💫]: damn,,, what an asshole10:35PM

>[heonnie💫]: id never do that to u u deserve better than that10:35PM

>[heonnie💫]: who even is he?10:35PM

Shit. Why was he hanging on to the topic? Can he just let it go? [name] really didn’t want to indirectly confess that Jooheon was the cause for all his mixed feelings. What started as a one-time thing turned into a full blown, inexplicable crush. This wasn’t good.

>[n]: Oh, you don’t know him. I really don’t want to talk about it, heonie.10:36PM

>[heonnie💫]: would some nudes make you feel better? )):10:36PM

Jesus fucking Christ, did this kid even know what tact is?

>[n]: No thanks, I think I’ll just sleep now.10:38PM

>[n]: Night, jooheonnie.10:38PM

>[heonnie💫]: night love u💞

He didn’t really love her, she knew that, but she let herself believe it. She didn’t feel as pathetic when she read the message back, if she imagined that Jooheon really did feel that way.

Something [name] did a lot, was imagining that somehow she and Jooheon ended up together. Somehow, they were happily in love. Whenever she’d gaze at him in class she felt warmth. Seeing him smile, hearing his laugh. His voice. Everything about him was beautiful. She hated that, even if he looked like a complete mess, he was still a masterpiece in her eyes. It felt unfair. He was perfect in [name]’s eyes. She knew that she was only a toy to Jooheon after all. This hopeless romance would amount to nothing but ashes and heartbreak, but [name] was in too deep now. There was no backing out now.

So, the days went by. Each one bringing her no closer to Jooheon than the last. But she still dreamt about him, he still consumed her mind entirely. Every love song that [name] heard was about Jooheon, imagining that it was actually Jooheon who thought of her, that it was him who was hopelessly in love. Alas, it was only a daydream, something that completely hid the reality of her relationship with Jooheon.

She knew from the beginning that Jooheon would never love her, she thought to herself that it’d be easy to simply not develop any feelings. How could she? Jooheon had the worst reputation in the world. He was known to play with people’s feelings and shatter hearts. He was an infamous monster. One that managed to sink his claws into any person’s heart as easily as he tore them out through their chest. And now, [name] was his latest victim in this cruel game.

“Honestly, it’s your fault.” Kihyun said coldly. A little harsh, but true “You got yourself in this mess, so you should know how to get out of it.”

“Yeah, but, how? I don’t want him to leave me.” [name] complained.

“Just call it off then. Simple as that.”

“What if I want something more? What if I don’t want meaningless sex anymore? Is it wrong that I still want him around?” [name] sounded a little needier than she anticipated. Still she waited for Kihyun to answer. He didn’t seem too interested in the subject, or maybe he just saw it as a childish thing to talk about.

“Listen, if you really want that from Jooheon then talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll wind up like the rest. Alone and heartbroken. I highly doubt he’ll take it seriously, but it’s better if you’re just honest.”

With that, Kihyun went back to eating the meal in front of him, while [name] simply moved around the food on her plate.

She never confronted Jooheon about her feelings. She swallowed it, and continued to give in to whatever Jooheon told her. Feeling guilty immediately after, had it been in person or through the phone; it felt just as wrong. She was trading long term happiness for something that lasted less than an hour, and made her feel like shit anyway.

“Have you and Jooheon fucked, though?” Kihyun asked out of the blue.

“No, we haven’t. And probably won’t.” [name] stated bluntly.

“Probably, so there’s still a possibility.” He emphasized. [name] shot him a glare, hoping he’d drop it.

“Just sayin… you should do it.” Right as Kihyun ended his sentence [name] got up to leave, but Kihyun stopped her.

“Listen! Listen, listen! Maybe if you do it, you’ll forget about him! You’ll let go of your dumb crush. So, just… give it a thought, you know?”

Like hell she would, sure maybe she did want to sleep with him; but she didn’t want to wake up alone in a bed of shame, accompanied by the weight of the world on her shoulders.

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years

Text

i’ve got my love stuck in my head [one-shot]

Ben catches feelings for his roommate-slash-close-friend-slash-occasional-hook-up and decides that the best course of action is to assume that she doesn't feel the same way.

(Spoiler alert: she does.)

Also available on AO3.

“Hey,” she looks up to find Ben leaning against her open doorway, a dishtowel slung over one shoulder and a warm smile on his face. “I’m making lasagna for dinner; want some?”

It takes her a second to remember that Poe and Finn aren’t around to enforce Suspiciously Cheap Pizza Fridays tonight, having left for Poe’s family home earlier this afternoon. “Yeah, sure,” Rey says with a smile of her own. “That’d be great. I’ll be out in a bit to help, I just–” She waves a hand to indicate the mess she’s sitting right in the center of, a circle of books and notes and assorted papers keeping her prisoner in her own room.

Ben laughs - well, he exhales in a particularly loud and amused sounding way, producing what Poe claims is his best friend’s version of a chuckle. “Take your time,” he tells her before disappearing back into the darkened hallway, his eyes the slightest bit narrowed by the broad grin her situation has drawn from him.

She’s really more of a hindrance than help when it comes to the kitchen – the only one here who can’t cook to save her life, as Finn gleefully and frequently reminds her – but her conscience won’t allow her to sit back and let Ben do all the work. Ten minutes later, reference materials set aside in semi-neat piles and hopeless essay abandoned for now, she pads into the kitchen on socked feet just in time to see Ben slide a foil-covered pan into the oven.

“You’re done already?” Rey asks, the slightest bit relieved to know that their dinner is safe from her and the culinary mishaps she seems to attract like a magnet.

“It’ll be another forty-five minutes or so before we can eat,” Ben tells her as he begins to collect the dishes he’d used for prep; she crosses the kitchen to assist him. “But yeah, it’s pretty much done for now.”

Rey starts piling the dishes up in one sink while she fills the other with soapy water. “I wash, you dry,” she tells Ben, who easily acquiesces and trades the towel on his shoulder for one that isn’t decorated by tiny spots and streaks of sauce and oil. They tackle the dishes in companionable silence, a far cry from the tension and discord that had characterized their early interactions.

After two years of sharing the three-bedroom apartment with her closest friends, their living arrangements had undergone a minor shake-up when the guys finally stopped dancing around each other. With Finn moving into Poe’s room shortly after they’d gotten together, the trio had found themselves with a spare room and a way to lower their monthly expenses. Enter Ben Solo: Poe’s childhood friend, a newly-registered grad student at Coruscant U, and a total pain in Rey’s ass if only because their schedules lined up so that they found themselves fighting for use of the shared bathroom nearly every damn morning. It had only taken them a month to sit down and figure out a solution, but that first month had been filled with tense silences and heated glares that would turn into screaming matches at the drop of a hat.

The first time they ended up in bed together had been due to one of those screaming matches, if Rey remembers correctly.

“So,” Ben says as she hands him a freshly washed skillet. “Last winter break before you graduate. How are you feeling about that?”

“Fucking terrified,” she laughs, her voice the tiniest bit hysteria-tinged. “You know, I think you and Poe had the right idea, staying in grad school to hide from the real world for a bit longer. Maybe I should do that.”

“Except Poe and I actually gave the real world a shot before we decided to come back,” he reminds her, carefully taking the knife she’s just rinsed off. “You should go out there and see what’s waiting for you, Rey. And if you don’t like what you find, then you can come back and join us and our mountains of student loans.”

Rey shudders, rinsing off one last chopping board before she turns off the water and wipes her hands dry on Ben’s discarded dishtowel. A glance at the oven tells her they’ve got another thirty minutes to kill, and an idea forms in her mind as she hops up on the kitchen counter opposite Ben and watches him set aside the last of the clean dishes.

“Come here,” she calls softly once Ben is done, reaching out to pull him between her legs once he’s close enough. He comes willingly, warm hands settling on either side of her waist as she stretches to curl her hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. After nearly two years of sporadic hook-ups, kissing Ben is familiar and comfortable in all the best ways without being boring or predictable. In a minute or so she’ll wrap her legs around his hips, and he’ll pick her up and stumble blindly towards either of their beds, or maybe the couch since they have the apartment to themselves for a week. Rey knows exactly how this will go, can map it out minute by minute if asked to, and yet the experience remains just as thrilling as it was the first time they’d done this.

She crosses her ankles at his back, her feet pressing into the curve of his spine, and tightens her grip around his neck to brace herself for his next move–

– only to be left cold and wanting and confused as all hell when Ben suddenly extricates himself from her and takes three steps backwards to put some space between them.

“Is everything okay?” Rey asks, brows furrowed and hands firmly under her butt so that she can’t do something stupid like reach for him.

Ben cards a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just…” he sighs, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes. “We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

Something heavy and dry and curiously like disappointment wells up in her throat. “Oh,” she manages to force out after a moment. “Oh,” Rey says again, breezier and lighter this time. “I just thought we could fool around a bit while waiting for dinner but if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

She’s cut short by what sounds like a pained groan. “Trust me,” Ben looks her in the eye, all blown pupils and heavy intent and dark desire. “I want to.”

“So why…?”

“I just,” his hands curl into fists, and Rey watches as he swallows heavily and shakes his head. “I can’t.”

A thought occurs to her, one that leaves her just the slightest bit winded. “Is there someone else? Oh God, I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t even ask, I just assumed–” He’s been single ever since they first met, after all, and she hasn’t heard anything about a new partner or crush or anything along those lines.

“No, no, there’s no one else, there’s definitely no one else, why would you–”

If she lets herself pause for even a moment to process his assurance, Rey knows she’ll have to analyze just why she’s relieved to hear him deny even the possibility of someone else this vehemently. So instead, she moves right on to the next possible cause. “Is it me?” Her voice is timid and shaky in a way it hasn’t been in years, and she hates herself for it. You can take the girl out of an unstable childhood, but you can’t take the lifelong fear of inadequacy and rejection caused by said childhood out of the girl. “Ben, if I did or said something to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. And it’s totally okay if you don’t want to do this anymore, I respect–”

“Rey, no,” Ben steps closer, almost as if involuntarily so. His eyes widen when he realizes he has one hand up and reaching for her, and he drops the offending limb before she can strain towards his touch like a starved plant reaching for the sun. “You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? You’re amazing, and being with you is just… mind-blowing, every time,” he grins at the thought of it and she feels a matching smile tugging at her lips. “And it took me a while to realize why it’s so good, but now that I have I think it’s better if we don’t do this anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Rey’s smile disappears before it can fully blossom, a frown taking its place instead as she tries to keep up with Ben’s train of thought. “Why?”

“Trust me,” Ben mumbles, looking everywhere but at her. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

Rey hops down from the counter and closes the distance between them, arms crossed as she looks up to pin Ben with her very best serious look. “I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. If you don’t want to sleep with me anymore, that’s okay and I respect and accept your decision. But if there’s some kind of weird reason behind this, now is not the time to be vague and mysterious, Ben Solo.”

“Rey, I really don’t think–”

“Look,” she interrupts with a sigh, dropping her arms and the tough act as she notices what appears to be genuine discomfort on Ben’s face. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me but if you’re cutting me off from the best sex I’ve ever had, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me why.”

A glimmer of the Ben she knows, the Ben she thinks only she knows, shines through when he flashes her a crooked grin and drops his voice into that low, teasing tone she associates with his smirk and barely-there touches and rising desperation in her voice. “The best sex you’ve ever had, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Rey rolls her eyes, happy to play along in this brief return to normalcy. “You said it’s mind-blowing.”

“Damn right it is,” he leans in closer, momentarily forgetting himself. His grin falters as he catches himself and freezes, still looming above her but with no intention of going any further. “Rey, you mean so much to me,” Ben whispers, heartachingly earnest as he traps her in place with his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you because of some stupid shit I should really just keep to myself.”

“Ben,” she sighs with a shake of her head, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. “You’re one of my closest friends in the world. You’re more important to me than you could possibly imagine,” Rey admits, even though she has no idea how he’s managed to so thoroughly carve out a space for himself in her life and her heart in so short a period of time. “No matter what you tell me, that won’t ever change,” she whispers against his neck, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Promise?” he mumbles into her hair a little too timidly, fingers digging into her sides a little too desperately.

Rey steps back from the embrace to look him in the eye and rests her own hands on top of his. “I promise. Now please,” she cracks a grin, hoping like hell that she isn’t setting the wrong tone for whatever is to follow, “tell me why sex is mind-blowingly good between us.”

“Because it’s not just sex,” Ben admits in one fell swoop, releasing his grip on her waist to cradle her face instead, his fingers gently brushing along her jawline. “Because I care about you, because I have feelings for you,” he whispers.

“Ben,” Rey breathes in wonder, her hands rising to twine around his neck and hold him close.

“I can’t keep doing this with you because I want so much more, Rey,” he finally explains, voice gaining strength with each passing second that she remains in his arms. “I want to fall asleep with you every night, not just once every few months. I want to actually wake up with you for once, and then I want to keep doing it every single day. I want to do ridiculous things like hold your hand and go on cheesy dates and introduce you to my family,” he’s smiling by the end of it, encouraged by Rey’s matching expression as she pictures all of the things he’s offering her, all of the things she never thought she’d want with anyone, all of the things she now realizes she only wants with Ben.

Rey pulls him down for a kiss. “I don’t know about meeting your family this early,” she murmurs against his lips, the both of them smiling too wide to do anything more than trade fleeting kisses. “But all of the other stuff, I want that now.”

“Yeah?” Ben asks, eyes bright with hope and joy.

“Definitely,” Rey assures him. “Ben, I can’t promise it’ll all work out,” she warns him. “And I might suck at this relationship thing, because I’ve never really bothered with it. But if you want this, if you want me, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” he promises in turn, stumbling backwards when she reacts by jumping into his arms and finally kissing him the way she loves best, all warm and familiar and so, so precious to her.

“Bedroom, now,” she commands, and for a brief, glorious moment it looks like they might actually make it there.

The oven dings, and Ben groans into their kiss before dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Any chance I could convince you to ignore that?” he murmurs against her neck, lips warm and wet and tempting.

“Not a chance,” Rey gives Ben one last peck before hopping out of his arms. “I may or may not be in love with you, Ben Solo, but food will always be my first love.”

She holds out a hand and smiles when he laces his fingers through hers, shivers when he pulls her close enough for his lips to graze her ear as he whispers, “I may or may not be in love with you as well, Rey Kenobi.”

They eat on the couch, forgoing the perfectly fine dining table to cuddle up to each other the way they’ve only ever allowed themselves to do in their sleep.

Finn and Poe return home a week later to find them doing… other things on the couch, but that’s a story for another time.

Okay, so here’s the deal: this was supposed to be a tiny little ficlet where Rey is like, “hey fuckbuddy, wanna fuck?” and Ben goes, “actually, do you maybe wanna do more than that?” and they agree to a trial relationship while Finn and Poe are away. I shit you not, the original title for this was sign up now and get a free one-week trial!

Instead, this happened. I’m… not totally pleased with how sidetracked I got, but it’s sweet and fluffy enough that I don’t mind that much. I’d love to get back to the original idea and follow it up with a quick look at their week-long trial run eventually, but we’ll see if I ever get around to it. For now, I have song for a scribbled out name’s final chapter and yet another modern AU one-shot in the works.

As usual, I’d love to hear from you guys. If you liked this, please don’t hesitate to let me know!

#reylo #kylo ren x rey #kylo x rey #ben x rey #modern au #star wars #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #fic: i've got my love stuck in my head #fic archive #my fics

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licheninsect · 3 years

Text

GameStop, the natural experiment

Someone, reminding me of my 10-year-old debate with Robin Hanson, texted me and said: this GameStop short squeeze proves your point about futarchy, doesn’t it?

Well, kind of. It’s certainly an interesting uncontrolled event. Arguably GameStop does more to prove my point about asset transformation and systemic risk. But it is also an instance of market coordination (stop saying the m-word, which is a pejorative), which in a broad general sense is also the problem with Professor Hanson’s futarchy.

The most general possible point of the experiment is that market coordination works. If a market price is a pure effect that causes nothing further, the market is theoretically efficient. But once the price signal becomes a cause—as in futarchy, where markets control political decisions, or as in a short squeeze, where price signals trigger further buying—the side effects of that cause may give market participants ulterior motives to make bets which are intentionally inefficient.

(Professor Hanson at last report still refuses to concede the overwhelming power of my perspicacious objections—Professor, you may name the time, the place, and the arms.)

Since r/wsb is a mob and not an army, the $GME squeeze is decentralized coordination. This phenomenon is also of political interest. In addition to being (mostly) centerless, which makes it highly defensible, the players are organized not by commitment but by cohesion—they are buying $GME not because they believe in the company, but because they believe in each other. Here is a collective action which is effective, yet nihilistic—something under heaven and earth, which may not be in your political philosophy.

So we have a double natural experiment: in both economics and political science. No wonder everyone thinks this GameStop thing is so cool.

(TLDR: my guess is that what will pop the bubble is either some kind of SEC order, or GameStop issuing new shares, But even this will be hard.

My best guess: SEC tells GameStop to issue new shares. My ideal policy: the Fed reprivatizes GameStop—buying it at its current valuation, cashing out all positions long or short at their present value, then auctioning the equity back to the market.)

Economics for retards

When the “retards” of r/wsb say “I like this stock,” their retardation is purely ironic. They don’t actually like this stock. (Except that GameStop was already a 4chan meme.)

Their interest in this stock is not related to its current or prospective price-to-earnings ratio, its dividend stream, the assets on its books—or any of that lame-ass bullshit. Hey boomer! Want to know something? You can’t say “asset” without “ass.”

Market coordination is any activity, organized or spontaneous, that affects a price signal for ulterior reasons—with trades motivated not by the security’s expected return, but by the hope of influencing some side effect caused by the price signal. In the case of a squeeze, that side effect is forced buying by screaming, tortured shorts.

The efficiency of markets is super-tempting as an epistemic tool. The market, it seems, is always right. So why not always do what the market tells us to do? Why not link decisions to market outcomes? Because as soon as we let the market tell us what to do—the market is no longer always right.

Every time you link a market signal to some side effect, you are leaking that effect’s power backward into the market. You want the causality to flow only forward. But the pipe has no valve. So the market becomes contaminated with power.

Anyone who can coordinate a market signal can also coordinate any side effects—and often has some incentive to do so. If there is such an incentive, your market will find itself befouled with uneconomic trades—and its signal’s accuracy will be ruined. And that’s why, as I write, $GME is not priced according to textbook fundamentals.

(Don’t worry if you don’t quite get this—we’ll go over it again in way more detail.)

The market for whiteness

Such contamination is especially dangerous in markets designed to work as Keynesian beauty contests, without any direct causal connection to the underlying signal—for example, a blockchain dispute-resolution contract like Kleros.

These are agreement markets: they reward players who agree with other players, and punish those who disagree. Every player’s incentive is to always be in the majority.

The KBC design assumes that the only rule that can coordinate the players is the rule of truth—that everyone’s opinion equals universal, objective truth plus individual, random noise. But there are infinite alternative coordination rules. (This issue also plagues proof-of-stake, or “POS,” blockchains.)

For example, imagine if Kleros were taken over by white supremacists, whose rule of judgment was simple: decide every case in favor of the whitest side. Once this Kleros Klan got in the saddle, every judge whose criterion was truth, not racism, would lose money on every case where white was not actually in the right. Soon these honest judges would be driven bankrupt and drop out—making Kleros a straight-up klavern. (Who would then fall out amongst themselves about the technicalities of whiteness.)

Pure agreement markets are rare. Usually there is a more concrete causal connection from the fundamentals of a market to its price signal. What this means for any market coordination is that this coordination is, at some fundamental level, unprofitable. It is trading with a suboptimal strategy.

But that it is unprofitable only means that players with an ulterior motive must incur a cost, in some fundamental sense, to achieve that ulterior motive. Maybe that cost is worth it. It is possible that the market can drain their wallets dry before they get what they want; it is also possible that the market can’t.

In the GameStop case, the ulterior motive is a short squeeze. What is a short squeeze, exactly? A short squeeze is actually a very unusual kind of bank run. Its cause is the unsound and unstable, but ubiquitous, bad accounting practice of asset transformation, which inherently produces systemic risk.

The retards (who might be able to stay retarded longer than Citadel can stay solvent) are exploiting a structural instability created by this bad accounting—which is left over from the 19th century. So e. e. musk is right when, in a sort of poem, he writes:

u can’t sell houses u don’t own u can’t sell cars u don’t own but u *can* sell stock u don’t own!? this is bs – shorting is a scam legal only for vestigial reasons

Well, “scam” is a bit much. But the sentiment is basically correct. Let’s work through this interpretation in exquisite proctological (excuse me, praxeological) detail.

The pure bubble

We’ll start by understanding a pure bubble, with no side effects—in a stock that no one is shorting, about whose price no one cares, and whose shares no one is printing.

The basic math of a pure bubble is that, given an arbitrary amount of money, you can pump this stock’s price up to an arbitrary level. However, you cannot get any more money out than you put in.

What you can do is profit by being the first in and first out—but the bubble remains a zero-sum game. The players are just being rearranged. This is why a pure bubble, if intentional, is a scam—a pump-and-dump scheme. For every winner, there is a loser.

Le short squeeze

But if the stock is shorted, now the pure bubble is no longer pure. It has a side effect. That side effect is pain—for the shorts. As Musk, the poet, writes:

Here come the shorty apologists Give them no respect Get Shorty

Shorty can relieve his pain (but not his losses, which are lost forever) instantly—by buying. And hence driving up the bubble—which is no longer zero-sum.

This is a game of musical chairs. Technically, it can go up forever—especially when there are two and a half times as many butts as seats.

It’s important to also note that the people with the butts are not really that rich, in an accounting sense. These funds, banks, etc, do have zillions of dollars of assets—and just slightly fewer zillions of dollars of debt.

This difference, which is smaller than you think, is how much money they actually have (their “capital”). The usual ratio of their capital to their assets (their “leverage”) is set at a level that makes the YOLO margin options daredevils of r/wsb look like Julianne Moore in Safe. “They put derivatives in everything these days.”

And this is safe—since all conceivable failure scenarios have been simulated by the risk management team, all ex-physics professors whose PhD work involved not just finding the Higgs Boson, but actually fucking it—guys who, aged 11, didn’t just win the International Math Olympiad, but had their jersey retired—sir, the guys have run the numbers. Twice. And there’s no way this can happen. You can head home now, sir.

But none of their fancy models accounted for a bunch of Reddit retards… can’t you almost see the movie?

What’s actually happening here? Let’s delve into the proctology—I mean, praxeology. Basically, bank runs happen because people think statistically, not praxeologically. People think statistically, not praxeologically, because that’s what the law requires.

A bank run on the gamer shop

What is a short, anyway? Who is this mysterious… Shorty? What are his nefarious activities? Are they legal? 100%. Are they a scam—as Space Admiral Musk asserts? Well… it’s complicated.

Shorting really is a kind of counterfeiting—honest counterfeiting. To short GameStop, you literally just print your own GameStop share. You put your name on it, of course. And what do you do with this fake share? Sell it, of course. What else would you do?

The counterfeit share is a promise, made not by GameStop but by you, that whatever benefits a real GameStop share confers (dividends, free Xbox games, raffle tickets, etc), your fake one will provide as well. Obviously, you owe whatever this promise is worth. The money you made by selling it (selling a promise is what “borrowing” is) is yours.

Musk is right to refer to this as a “vestigial practice.” The truly vestigial practice is not the fabrication of these counterfeit shares—but the old “paper belt” financial systems which treat these two very different securities, the real GameStop share and the fake one, as the same thing.

It’s true that they promise exactly the same returns; but the promises are made by different people (“counterparties”). These are different financial instruments—because they have different risk structures. They also confer different rights—a fake share has no shareholder vote. Mixing them together is just a 19th-century programming error.

Obviously this mistake is obvious—so it has a patch. The promise that is a short is your promise, but it is secured by a central clearinghouse. Through your broker, this clearinghouse watches your capital, makes sure you can always pay off your promises by selling assets, and if you can’t sells them for you.

In theory the clearinghouse can’t fail. In practice maybe it can—if it gets in the way of the wrong flash crash, which is the actual reason brokers turned off GameStop trading on Thursday. A flash crash is a chain reaction of automatic selling—which can happen at arbitrarily high speed, making margin accounts insolvent before margin calls fill. (A flash crash is also a concern for stablecoins built on asset transformation—see below.)

If the clearinghouse did fail, and instead of a real GameStop share you held a piece of paper signed by (a) some dude, and (b) what used to be a clearinghouse but got torched and is now a crackhouse, you really are SOL. (Pro tip: you can usually ask your broker to hold only real shares, not laminated promises. Call and tell them not to let your shares be “borrowed.”)

But in practice, America is the stock market. Which means anyone who is useless to the stock market is useless to America. (And has probably gotten that message, too.) Which means your laminated promises are actually safe, because the clearinghouses are too big to fail and will be bailed out.

Which also means that they are de facto government agencies. But we don’t feel any urgent need to admit that. Increasingly, the 21st-century consensus of government looks like it is coming into view: pseudolibertarianism.

Pseudolibertarianism is nominally libertarian and polycentric, but actually statist and monocentric—mating the empathy of capitalism with the efficiency of socialism. This worst-of-both-worlds dystopia flourishes by uniting the worst people from both sides.

Synthetic assets are good, actually

Again, the fundamental problem here is bad accounting.

The value of the promise is fundamentally lower than the value of the share, because the risk of the promise can never be zero—especially since the final policy in the stack of insurance policies that purports to fill the gap is an informal government promise—the clearinghouse is “too big to fail,” whatever that means. On such pillars rest our roofs.

Any financial system dependent on informal securities must be in some sense vestigial. At least, no one would design any such thing. Even if there is no way to fix a system, it is often useful to know how it would be designed if it could be designed from scratch.

The default path for fixing a system is to rationalize and formalize current practices. If we eliminated the risk gap by fully nationalizing the market, broker and clearinghouse, your synthetic laminated promise would truly be as good as a real share—and synthetic shares could be injected ad libitum into the market for real shares.

The description I gave above, which is of what some call naked shorting, has already gone halfway there—well past reality. While there is nothing fundamentally wrong with naked shorting, it is not looked upon well by securities law—but it’s also treated like driving 70 in a 55 zone. If anything is vestigial, this “gray area” BS is vestigial.

In reality, there is a gnarly system of “borrowing” shares which often breaks down and makes shares “hard to borrow.” Islamic banking uses similar rickety constructions to pretend it doesn’t have interest rates. (Western banking is closer to Allah every year—indeed Japan has long been fully halal. Though Allah’s view on negative interest rates is not clear—is there some hadith?)

Far from destabilizing the market, unlimited safe and healthy naked shorting would stabilize it—because if Wall Street can go “all in” against Reddit, Wall Street walks all over the tards. Wall Street knows that GameStop will not be trading above $30 in six months, or maybe even six hours—so there is a huge amount of money to be made.

But to make this money, you have to have perfect timing, balls of steel and a bankroll the size of God. Wall Street has only two of these things—but Reddit has the other. That’s why the battle is fun. If Wall Street knew that Wall Street could go all in with unlimited synthetic shorts, they would drive GameStop back to $15 in 45 seconds.

But because of this funky “borrowing” infrastructure, which is, like, something that feels like it was invented by Jesse Livermore in 1927—or possibly John Law in 1727—I complain about old operating systems because they date to 1972—Wall Street cannot project that Wall Street will put on unbounded shorts. So it cannot model its risk. Wall Street does not have balls of steel. Wall Street has risk-management departments.

There are individual financiers who have balls of steel. Probably at least half of them have gone full Coriolanus, and joined the retard mob. It is often wise to obey random coordination signals—that’s why the battle is fun.

Synthetic assets are bad, actually

The fundamental cause of the instability is that you shouldn’t be transforming demand for one asset into demand for a qualitatively different asset. Here, demand from what should be the prediction market for the future price of $GME is hemorrhaging spaghetti, driven by a savage positive-feedback loop, into what should be the market for savers to stake their retirements on a chain of videogame stores.

In theory, when you add artificial demand or supply to a market whose price is driven by fundamentals, and this artificial demand or supply creates an artificial mispricing, this mispricing should attract speculators who expect to profit from it. In practice, many forms of market failure can sufficiently daunt this army of market vigilantes, these bold knights of the capital-asset pricing model—till they lose the will to fight, and their citadel is stormed by a braying mob of horny, retarded, revolting peasants.

All forms of asset transformation create structural instability, because all forms of asset transformation create automatic buying and/or selling. As Wall Street first discovered in 1987, automatic trading is to flash crashes as buffer overflows are to getting your website hacked.

The stablecoin catastrophe

For a pure example, consider a crude “stablecoin” which turns a supply of Ethereum into a supply of digital dollars. The dollar hodlers demand dollars, not ether. But they can collateralize virtual dollars with a stockpile of Ethereum, thereby transforming their actual demand for dollars into spurious demand for Ethereum.

The virtual dollars are safe because they are collateralized by more than their value of Ethereum. But value is just price. If the price of Ethereum drops, the contract has to sell Ethereum for dollars, preserving the peg.

This works until a significant amount of demand for Ethereum is actually transformed demand for dollars—spurious demand. At this point we see the potential for a feedback loop which creates a self-sustaining avalanche of Ethereum sales—a flash crash.

Since selling into this avalanche is essentially impossible, and since Ethereum’s price is a Keynesian beauty contest anyway, it can crash to arbitrarily low levels. Fortunately, if only because Bitcoin is ancient and retarded, Bitcoin is immune to this instability.

Takeaway for market designers

Speculators are good because they predict the future price curve of a security. But they should speculate as if speculating in a prediction market for rainfall in Spain—betting against all other speculators, to predict a signal that no one can predict perfectly, and no one can affect at all.

Speculation should not directly inject supply or demand into primary asset markets. The collective opinion of the speculative prediction market should only have indirect effects—effects mediated by humans who respond to the signal this market produces.

If the prediction market has a direct effect on the primary market, it is as if the clouds in Spain cared how much rain the Spaniards in the plain expected them to contain. If the clouds were that smart, who could predict the weather? It would be chaos. Chaos is exactly what I see when I look out the window.

In theory, in the long run, traders in the primary market should be able to ride out these speculative oscillations—and even profit from them. Why should they have to? The size of these rogue waves, though a function of leverage, is not even predictable. The goal of a market designer is to not have chaos.

Speculation should be a zero-sum game whose only side effects are: (a) redistributing dollars between winning and losing speculators; (b) producing interesting predictions about the future. Speculation should never directly cause anything.

How the battle ends

People often mistake me for some kind of rich and/or powerful person. I am neither! Why would I be out here grifting for my supper on Substack? Do you know how shitty it is to be even a tiny bit famous? But in a past life, I was once a CEO, unbigly and very reluctantly. I know what a share is, and a board. I have even passed a resolution or two. And I know the GameStop C-suite is shitting bricks the size of Stonehenge.

In theory, it is entirely up to them to stop this—and they can even stop it in a copacetic way. The GameStop management has every legal right to print GameStop shares and sell them. They have every financial incentive to print GameStop shares and sell them. The retards can stay retarded longer than the hedgies can stay solvent—but no one can be more retarded than a printer. I hear it goes brrr.

And yet—why should they let all the hedgies off the hook at once? Why not drip out a few shares at a time, for a price as sweet as gold? At least in theory, the management is aligned with its new barbarian shareholders—bad as their manners may be. Both have a logical incentive to feast long and slowly on the unlimited, Lloyds-like liabilities of the trapped fund bros. Remember when Frodo got strung up in a cave by that big spider?

As Matt Levine notes, this is a legal and regulatory mess. Hence, Stonehenge. In some ways, “Gamergate 2: Financial BGL” is like covid, a genuine libertarian moment. In a libertarian world we would all long since have been vaccinated. In a libertarian world, the masters of the universe would all long since have put these retards in their place.

The world is as it is—with what result, we see. It did not end well for Coriolanus. And who, observing these events, does not hear the voice of the Big Lebowski echoing in his head? “Lebowski! The bums will always lose. The bums will always lose, Lebowski!” And yet—whose side are you on?

How it should actually work

Here is a weird policy opinion I have that probably nobody else has. I feel that a well- designed market should separate primary and secondary demand. Here is how this financial utopia of mine would work. I am just an Internet rando so forget I said this.

There would be one asset market A which set the price of all securities through unlevered, untransformed demand, from actual savers, for instruments of saving. There would be another prediction market B which predicted the future price of securities, by matching purely speculative long and short bets—without market making, delta hedging, or any other source of mechanical liquidity.

These markets would be as separated as possible. This is hard. But the goal is to prevent feedback loops from the prediction market backward to the asset market. Information can still feed back—asset investors can see the future price path that the consensus of speculators currently predicts—but demand should not feed back.

Under the current design, speculators can drive all kinds of savage leveraged feedback into the asset-price signal. A short squeeze is just this kind of feedback. In a Hayekian signaling sense, grotty feedback does not improve the efficiency of market calculation. Feedback is just noise—and with all due respect to libertarians, noise is disorder. And suppressing disorder is the basic task of even a libertarian government, isn’t it?

The purpose of a market is to produce an accurate price signal. Separating these two markets, if possible, eliminates speculative feedback and improves the fidelity of the signal. But how can two markets be separated?

Here is one design which, though too hilarious to be serious, illustrates the solution: divide players into two groups, by the first letter of their surnames. The A-M players can play only in the asset market; the N-Z players, only in the prediction market. So no one can hedge a prediction by buying an asset—a process that contaminates both markets with completely spurious, mechanical supply and demand. This alphabetic separation is obviously retarded. But there is probably a non-retarded way to get the same result.

Where the mob will go next

Obviously, a mob is a wild, reasonless animal. Philosophy cannot predict it, any more than philosophy can predict a wolverine. All we can do with our logical faculties is to calculate where the wolverine should go—if by some chance it is a rational wolverine.

The essential problem with the Reddit Retard Revolution is that it has no exit strategy. While it is aiming at a real instability, this instability is not a revolutionary instability, but a dead end.

The $GME price has only one stable equilibrium: the normie equilibrium (which sounds like a Robert Ludlum novel). It cannot come to rest anywhere but earth.

Therefore at a certain point it will return there—and in that degringolade, it will be every retard for himself and the devil take the hindmost. The revolution, in short, is doomed to turn on itself. Brother will knife brother. Armez-vous, retards!

So GameStop is not a retarded rerun of 1917. It’s more like: a retarded rerun of 1905. But maybe 1917 couldn’t have happened without 1905. If the wolverine was thinking logically (this is not necessarily how to think about a KBC—especially not when the other judges are retarded)—what would Lenin do? Lenin would look for two things.

First, because say what you want about Lenin but dude was a winner, he would look for a second equilibrium—in which whatever stonk the retards sent up could stay up. Rather than just kicking the market into an interregnum of chaos, a pirate looting frenzy in which the weak are skinned and the strong exalted as heroes, until the dream collapses and the old regime returns, would inaugurate a new financial order. Rather than sacking the Capital, Lenin would take the Capital—and rule from it. Do you… feel in charge?

Second, because Lenin was just as lazy and mean as any retard, he would look for a huge buffalo herd of structurally trapped shorts. We’re no Bolsheviks here, but good Americans—but no sport is more American than surrounding a huge herd of buffalo, shrieking like rabid apes till they stampede over a cliff, then grilling the tendies.

A second equilibrium

A second equilibrium is a monetary equilibrium.

The only way a stonk, or a piece of paper, or a little chip of metal, or anything, can go up and not come down, is if it turns at least partly into money: a medium of saving, or store of value.

The only way for everyone not just to see their tendies as green numbers on a screen, as badges, as catch-and-release tendies before the inevitable rout, but for everyone to take them home and enjoy them permanently, is monetization: turning a normal good, valuable or even worthless, into a standard currency which is conventionally used to transport purchasing power across time.

Such a currency is inherently overvalued—just like $GME. But unlike $GME, it goes up and stays up. Why? Did you know that women, if someone tells them you’ve never read Carl Menger’s On The Origins of Money, look at you funny—like a piece of bad cheese?

I have written enough about monetary equilibria and monetization/remonetization over the years, so I thought I’d just link to the first piece I wrote on the subject, way back in 2005. This was the first essay, besides blog comments (and, in the early 90s, Usenet), I ever put on the Web. (The intro was so cringe that I let my mysterious literary executor rewrite it.) I do still believe pretty much all of it.

In 2005, I really had no way to know that our hyper-rational financial system would not instantly hyper-organize itself around these new principles. Actually it took 15 years; Bitcoin (if Satoshi is who a lot of people think he is—he was on my blogroll in 2007); and r/wsb. And it’s only just started! (And the principles aren’t really new, just a very trivial extension of Austrian economics.)

And if, like Matt Levine, you have questions like

If pure collective will can create a valuable financial asset, without any reference to cash flows or fundamentals, then all you need is a collective and some will. Just hop on Reddit and create value out of nothing. If it works for Bitcoin, why not … anything? Why not Dogecoin? Why not Signal Advance? Tesla Inc.? GameStop?

All the principles you need to know are behind that link. Let’s take Doge, for instance. Is it monetizable? Kind of but not really.

Doge is more monetizable than GameStop, which is totally unmonetizable because (a) it is not categorically unique, (b) there is another valuation model for it, and (c) most important, there is an authority that can print an infinite amount.

Doge has only the first problem. Although a shitcoin with a long and storied history, and the original memecoin, it is an also-ran even in the altcoin space. In the end, there can be only one stable monetary equilibrium—one stably-overvalued good—and it will be Bitcoin or Ethereum if it’s a crypto, gold or silver if it’s a metal, and the dollar, euro or yuan if it’s paper. In an iterated Keynesian beauty contest, the leader tends to win.

Moreover, Doge for some stupid meme reason has a design error: a 5% annual dilution rate. The way to think about dilution is to think in terms of normalized accounting—in which your position in a token is defined as a fraction of all tokens outstanding.

In this model, which is obviously correct, owning Doge is like putting your money in a bank which steals 5% of it a year—to give to randos—because “deflation is bad.” No, retard, actually deflation is good—it means your money isn’t just holding its value, but actually going up. I like money!

The weird, semi-shady, non-decentralized pseudo-crypto XRP has done much better than it deserves, because of its 0% dilution rate. I genuinely think you can’t understand this issue correctly unless you are literally retarded—or at least, know how to fake it.

The 5% thing is fatal. Even with the rocket fuel of the retards, it’ll be hard for a horse this weak to come back from this far back in the pack. I’m not sure how anyone could fail to enjoy chanting “DOGE DOGE DOGE,” but I don’t think it’s enough. And of course—basically no one is shorting Doge. So no buffalo, which bounds thy tendies.

The mighty buffalo

At this point our wolverine eye cannot help but turn to precious metals. My precious! No one can doubt but that these goods are monetizable—the word for “money” in every other language on the planet means either “gold” or “silver.” I like gold. I like silver, too!

But the question is: where’s Shorty? Are there any shorts? As a wolverine, you have no choice but to go where the buffalo roam. Who is shorting gold or silver? Well…

If you want to investigate the existence and accounting structure of synthetic precious metals, aka “paper gold,” good luck. My advice would be to start small and simple. First—just for practice—figure out the JFK assassination.

Once you really understand that, you might have some chance of analyzing the gold-derivatives market. Suffice it to say that according to BIS statistics, today’s market has about $900 billion in outstanding gold derivatives—more or less, laminated promises of gold—and $80 billion in silver derivatives. That’s about 15,000 tons of paper gold—three times as much as Fort Knox—and about 90,000 tons of silver.

That’s… a lot of buffalo. Now, as always, the essential question is: who made all these promises? And what do they have to back them up?

Part of this includes the “hedge book,” or the forward promises of future gold made by gold miners. That’s about 300 tons today—so we’re off by a factor of about 50. Okay… some of it must be offsetting; what you really want is the consolidated net liabilities of all bullion banks… really. Just start with JFK.

Also, while these forward sales represent real gold “in the ground,” it’s still in the ground. You can’t exactly deliver ten tons of ore in a hole in Ghana to the COMEX. So… we’re looking at roughly… on the order of… a trillion dollars of buffalo meat. Okay. Is there such a thing as too many tendies? I think there might actually be.

The thing is that it’s very easy to make fake precious metals, at least on paper. They don’t pay any dividends and no one uses them for anything. Probably no one will ever come back with that piece of paper and ask for a hunk of metal. Who would do that? Some retard?

What’s interesting is that silver, although inferior by all standards as a precious metal—silver is really the Ethereum of precious metals—has a special quality: it is financed like a precious metal, but used as an industrial metal.

As a result, total stocks of silver by value are much lower than stocks of gold—since physical silver is rarely used to store wealth, whereas physical gold often still is. So the ratio of paper silver to physical silver is also much lower. So if you put a lighter under the paper-silver market—that metal, though an inferior currency, “catches” faster.

The precious-metals markets are connected to the stonk market through ETFs. The major ETFs are SLV and GLD. Contrary to popular belief, they hold real metal bars (though there is nothing wrong with the closed-end Sprott equivalents, PSLV/PHYS).

The way these ETFs work is that if their price rises above the spot metal price, which is set by the aforementioned paper-silver market, their “authorized participants” (big banks) can profit by buying metal and exchanging it for ETF shares. They like money, so they tend to do this. Same in reverse, of course, when the ETF goes down.

The result is that if the market drives the ETF price up above the spot price, it creates a giant sucking sound which wants to find all the metal in the world and suck it into the ETF. Only real metal will do—not promises to mine some hole in Ghana in 2025. I’m sure it’s a very nice hole, but… this is of course a maturity-transformation collapse.

So anyone with a claim to metal, because that kind of a person probably likes money, wants to turn it in for actual metal that they can give to the ETF. But, assuming our JFK analysis is accurate and there are more claims than actual metal—we’re back to the ol’ game of musical chairs. With a lot of butts, and not all that many seats. I think.

Moreover—in the lives of those now living—this has happened. In silver. It was in 1980, so it wasn’t decentralized. And there was no ETF. It was literally a conspiracy of three people to coordinate (corner) the silver market.

They succeeded, but they were using too much leverage—so they literally had paper hands, and it was easy to break them. Using leverage (borrowing money to buy stonks) in a coordination attempt is like that scene from The Wire where Stringer Bell asks his class if they’re “taking notes on a criminal conspiracy.”

The powers that be can easily break your corner by pulling your leverage—and why wouldn’t they? Historically, they always do. It’s very legal and very cool. Why wouldn’t they do it to you? Asking for a friend.

The current market capitalization of GameStop would buy about a third of the world’s silver stockpile—and more like 1/250 of the world’s gold stockpile. While this makes gold a better, stabler currency, it makes silver easier for any retard or retards unknown to squeeze—or so I think.

That’s why I just bought a little silver. Not investment advice—merely full disclosure. Probably fuck-all will happen. But it’s still silver. I like this metal.

A much more open and general run

Some eggheads interpret GameStop as a political event. Nor are they wrong. There is an remarkable analogy from almost 200 years ago—Francis Place, and his “To Stop The Duke, Go For Gold” campaign, in 1832’s wild Days of May.

As Place himself wrote in a letter:

It was very clearly seen that if a much more open and general run for gold upon the banks, the bankers and the Bank of England could be produced, that the embarrassment of the Court and the Duke would be increased, and that if a general panic could be produced the Duke would be at once defeated. To this purpose the attention of us all was turned, and many propositions were made to increase the demand for gold.

There was a general conviction that if the Duke succeeded in forming an administration, that circumstance alone would produce a general panic, and almost instantaneously close all the banks, put a stop to the circulation of Bank of England notes and compel that Bank to close its doors, and then at once produce a revolution.

While the discussion was going on some one said, we ought to have a placard, announcing the consequences of permitting the Duke to form an administration and attempting to govern the country, to call upon the people to take care of themselves by collecting all the hard money they could and keeping it, by drawing it from Savings Banks, from Bankers, and from the Bank of England. This was caught at, and Mr Parkes set himself to work to draw up a Placard, among the words he wrote were these,—we must stop the Duke—These words struck me as containing nearly the whole that was necessary to be said, I therefore took a large sheet of paper and wrote thus.

To Stop The Duke Go For Gold.

I held up the paper and all at once said, that will do—no more words are necessary. Money was put upon the table and in less than four hours, the bill stickers were at work posting the bills.

The Bank of England was a fractional-reserve bank whose notes were denominated in, and redeemable for, gold. It had suspended redemption during the Napoleonic wars, then brought it back after the Corsican ogre was vanquished. Everyone had the right to redeem any note for gold, but of course hardly anyone ever did. Same old story.

Place, a Chartist—basically a sort of Jane Austen communist—wanted to bully the Duke of Wellington into letting the Tory House of Lords approve the Reform Act 1832, the first great step in the decline of the British gentry. His idea was to organize the whole lower-middle-class population into a sort of subreddit, and get them to buy $GLD. This would of course mean a run on the Bank of England. Which would wreck the British financial system and cause a revolution. Which would be good for the working man.

And it worked. Not that there was a run—that the “Iron Duke” caved. To this retard. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. In any case, if you’ve learned anything here, at least you’ve learned that 1832 was lit.

Cohesion, commitment and nihilism

From a political or even historical perspective, though, the financial nature of the collective action is not the most important fact about the Retard Revolution. What seems more important is its ironic nature.

In the age of democracy, long before any of us was born—perhaps it is best defined as the age of Francis Place—collective action was inherently sincere. There was nothing even slightly ironic about a Chartist handbill.

A couple hundred years later, the same rainy island emitted a sci-fi TV show in which voters elect a cartoon character. Not everything in Black Mirror will happen. This will.

The ironic approach to democracy uses the same mechanisms, but plays by completely different rules. The normal state of the ironic voter is a state of nihilism; he believes in nothing; he is happy to do anything, “for the lulz.” The idea of sincere and instinctive collective spirit, Ibn Khaldun’s asabiya, is one he finds hilarious and/or horrifying.

Yet he is a human being and a human being is a social animal. He will cohere—he will act in concert with his fellow human beings—and he will enjoy it. But as a modern and cosmopolitan human, he can do so only ironically—as a game.

This is cohesion without commitment. To persuade an army of retards to all buy stock in the same company, it is not even necessary to persuade them to believe in the company.

They understand and believe in their collective action; but this collective action is not a mass projection of an individual action they believe in. It is a collective strategy made from individual actions which are individually ridiculous—but collectively effective.

Normally, cohesion and commitment go together. But we expect cohesion to be the effect of commitment—you obey your officers loyally because of your passionate loyalty to your country. Here, commitment is the effect of cohesion—anyone who hodls side by side with you is your brother, regardless of the stonk.

The capacity for significant collective ironic action is very rare in human history—so rare that I am at a loss to think of another example. It must have happened. Irony is not a new invention—but its distribution across a whole population is unprecedented. Of course, this same population has lost all its capacity for collective sincere action.

Perhaps this is the broad political-science lesson of GameStop: that although politics is the organization of mass human action, the alignment of mass action on the basis of sincere commitment is a phenomenon of the past, designed for the population of the past—a population that now seems unimaginably simple, sincere, and responsible.

But the gamification of mass action on the basis of ironic cohesion is the phenomenon of the future—designed for a population which is only becoming more sophisticated, cosmopolitan and frivolous. I can’t wait till we start doing this with actual elections: nihilistic, gamified voting. Just like that TV show.

Party update

I have good news and bad news. The good news is: January saw strong 30% month-over-month growth—enabling me to buy my children, who are hungry, some tendies. The bad news is: the normies are even stronger.

Retards and gentlemen, we have slipped from #16 to #18 on the Substack politics chart. I anticipated this! I did! Still, it comes as a shock…

So—if you like this kind of shit—well, here’s one way to send a collective message:

#curtis yarvin #mencius moldbug #gray mirror #gamestop

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surveysonfleek · 7 years

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373.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 8

701. What is your favorite mixed drink? mojito or espresso martini. 702. When answering these questions are you often pulled in different directions, as if committing to one answer eliminates the possibility for all others? errrr i don’t really think that hard. i just type whatever comes to my head first. 703. Chicken Mesala, Pasta Primavera, Veal Cutlet Parmesan or Linguini with Clam Sauce? veal cutlet parmesan. 704. If you were alone in your friend's house/room/apartment would you look in their drawers and notebooks? no. i’d be annoyed if a friend did that in my place

705. What would you really like to do but you don't because you are afraid of getting caught? hmm nothing.

706. Of the following, which word best describes you: responsible: this. spontaneous: tactful: uninhbited: 707. Which band would you most likely check out? The Smiths (indi-pop 80's-90's) The Lords of Acid (acid/house/dance 90's) <--- this Front 242 (80's-90's industrial/dance) 708. How can one put an end to procrastination, as a bad habit? make a list everyday and committing to finishing those tasks everyday. 709. What feature would you want on your car that is not currently offered? inbuilt gps. or subwoofers. 710. What kind of poetry speaks to you? song. 711. What is your favorite store that is open 24 hours? there is nothing open here 24/7 but mcdonalds and gas stations. 712. Do you find that sleep is just so much sleepier when you are supposed to be doing something else? sure. 713. Do you also find that the books you chose are so much more luscious when you have a stack of actual assignments that you Should be reading? of course. 714. If you have had the chance to compare the original 5000 Question Survey to this edited version, what is your opinion? i don’t know the original version. 715. What's the most creative answer you can think of for 'what is black and white and red all over'? a newspaper. 716. Why do people slow down on the highway when they pass a cop car pulling someone else over? either to watch or make sure to follow the speed limit in case the cop goes after them instead? 717. Are they afraid that the cop will STOP pulling over whoever he is pulling over and pull them over instead? yeah, just said that lol. 718. It's daddy's birthday. What do you get him? i’ll ask him what he wants a week beforehand. 719. What's your 5,000 question survey nickname? Look at the word next to the 2nd letter of your first name A anything but B bubalicious C captivating D deadly E erotic F funky G greasy H heaps of I indie J jelly K kinetic L lasher M Mr. (or Mrs.) N neglected O ogre-like P parading Q quacking R Rico S stinky T the one and only U uber V Velcro W wishing for X x-tra Y yearning for Z zoobalee Now take the first letter of your last name. A aardvarks B baboo C creme pie D drag queen E eggbert F flex G god H hell I Isabelle J juice K kisses L lightning M mannish boys N nice O octopi P porcupines Q q-bert R rainbows S suave T tushy U underwear V valor W weenie X xtc Y yohimbe Z zipper Put the two words together for your nickname. erotic drag queen. 720. You know that shaky feeling that you get when it's all coming to a climax, and everyone involved is breaking into the good kind of cold sweat, working as individuals and at the same time as a single force of energy, and it all meshes together, and for a brief moment, you're holding your breath and tingling all over, and after it's done you're on an explosive and dizzying high for the rest of the night? What does that feeling come from? drugs or adrenaline surely. 721. How many of your teachers can you imagine drinking or doing drugs on the weekends? i don’t go to school anymore. 722. Do you like Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass? i haven’t seen it. 723. Write a question and answer it here. no. 724. Who is your favorite playwright? none. 725. What movie has come out recently that you couldn’t have less interest in? the emoji movie lmao. 726. What would the worst movie ever be about? emojis. 727. Do you like truffles? Do you like Turkish delight? i like both. 728. Can you tell the difference between a transvestite and a real woman? i mean would it matter if i could/couldn’t? 729. What's funnier, plants or fire extinguishers? neither. 730. For question 720 did you write down sex? You pervert, I was thinking of musical theater. nope. 731. Which is better, leopard print or plaid? haha plaid if i had to. 732. What would you consider ordinary? ugg boots lmao. 733. What is out of the ordinary? idk. 734. Do you ever watch COPS? bahaha yeah when it was on tv at like 2 in the morning. 735. Is there always room for j - e - l - l - o? no. 736. If you had your own TV show, what kind of show would you make it? reality probably. 737. Do you know how heavy things like airplanes stay in the air? i have a faint idea. 738. When do you act the most dramatic? most of the time. 739. Are you one of those people who have, "see photo id,” written on the back of their credit cards? nope. 740. It's mom’s birthday. What do you get her? i’ll ask her what she wants a week beforehand. 741. What celebrity has pretty much disappeared leaving you wondering 'where are they now'? that video vixen, angel lola luv. 742. Would you get angry if you and your girl/boyfriend saw the preview for a movie and talked about seeing it together and then they saw it with one of their friends while you were busy? hahahahaha this has happened before. i was sorta annoyed but got over it quickly. 743. How many people do you think will finish this whooooooole survey? i’m sure there’s people that have. i’ll try my best. 744. Have you ever written a message, sealed it in a bottle and thrown it into a river/lake ocean? nope. 745. If you haven't would you want to? too much effort. 746. If you ever did what would you write? - 747. What do you wish you could always be protected from? danger. 748. What small thing annoys you so much it should be a crime? arrogance. 749. Would you rather watch a video of fish in a tank, or the Yule log on TV? fish in a tank. 750. Is it better to be loved or feared? loved. 751. What causes you to panic? things not going to plan. 752. Do you believe that you have a strong personality? kinda. but lately i’ve gotten a bit more laidback. 753. When Jesus saves souls...does he trade them in for valuable prizes? i don’t think so. 754. What resolutions would you make if it were new years? lose weight, save money. 755. Why wait? i’m not waiting right now. 756. Do you feel like time is on your side or working against you? working against me. 757. What do you do for yourself when you are down to put a little joy back into your life? distract myself with netflix. 758. How much Tolkien have you read? none. 759. These are the songs on the radio. Which are you most likely to listen to: Time Bomb by Rancid Dead Man's party by Oingo Boingo The Sun Always Shines on TV by A-ha 50 Ways to leave Your Lover by Paul Simon Run by collective Soul none 760. Do you believe that Jesus existed as a real person? well yeah, hasn’t it been proven he was real? 761. Do you believe he was the son of god? haha idk. 762. How do you feel about organized religion? it is what it is. i’m all for different religions, i’m just against brainwashing cults. 763. What sentence have you heard lately, that would sound pretty odd out of context? idk. 763. If you had to choose one image to be a symbol of our times, what would you pick? a damn smartphone. 764. Name a group of people: millennials. 765. How many of them does it take to screw in a light bulb? google it. 766. Do you like the movie The Labyrinth with David Bowie and some muppets? i haven’t seen it. 767. Do you like the movie The Dark Crystal? never seen it. 768. Metallica or Guns N' Roses? neither. 769. Do you follow the Chinese zodiac? no, but i know i’m born in the year of the horse. 770. Do you like reggae music? i don’t hate it. 771. What makes your life worth it every day? just all the opportunities i’ve been given. 772. Do you seize each day and sink your teeth into it? unfortunately not. 773. I’ve heard people say that Jim Morrison never yawned because he was just so full of life. How often do you yawn? everyday probably. 774. Who decides what behavior is 'crazy' or 'sane'? idk... 775. Who are the most inspiring artists, musicians, poets, and writers? honestly anyone who’s striving to be successful in those crafts. 776. Did anything historically significant happen in the year you were born? all i know is that pretty woman was released lol. 777. Besides blowing out birthday candles when do you make wishes? 11:11 sometimes. haven’t caught that time in forever. 778. Are you self-sufficient? yes. 779. Is it better to be wanted or needed? wanted. being needed can be pretty hard. 780. What do you feel is an appropriate age to lose one’s virginity at? whenever the person is ready. 781. Do you feel that the appropriate age for girls and for boys is different? probably. 782. Are you a hard person to get to know? not really. if i get along with someone and conversation flows well then it’s fine. 783. What is the craziest thing you have ever done out of anger? thrown my phone into the other side of the room. 784. What's the MOST annoying sound you can think of? nails on a chalkboard. 785. What's the silliest vegetable you can think of? bittermelon. 786. Do you believe in love at first sight? no. 787. Name one thing you have referred to in the past as “better than sex”: i haven’t. 788. What do you see when you turn out the light? nothing. 789. Do you like jazz, blues and/or swing music? i don’t typically listen to it but it’s nice. 790. Do you prefer gold or silver jewelry? white gold. 791. In what ways do you want your children to be like you? everything except my laziness. 792. In what ways would you want your children to be different from you? my laziness lol. 793. What was the scariest movie you've ever seen? idk. the conjuring. 794. What was the funniest movie you've ever seen? 40yo virgin. 795. What was the worst movie you've ever seen? umm idk, like mean girls 2 haha. 796. Are you a good massage-giver? i think so. 797. What is one question that no one can ever truthfully answer 'yes' to? idk. 798. Is there more to this world than human beings can perceive? i’m sure there is. 799. If matter is neither created nor destroyed then is it possible that you are made up of molecules that once made up Ghandi or Jesus or Einstein? well possibly but i doubt it. 800. Are you often sarcastic? pretty often.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[HR] Heaven Was Lost

My name is Kelly Bisset. I can't say I've ever lived a good life. Now, I won't bore you with details about my dysfunctional family, or the shit they put me through.

Just know that it resulted in me living in poverty, and in the worst part of town. The Sunshine District. What a joke. The city government completely gave up on this hole. There's trash everywhere, and I don't just mean the stuff on the ground. It isn't uncommon to see someone get assaulted just because somebody stiffed them on drugs or something.

I live in an old mobile home. The neighborhood is lined with metal gates and railing. I guess it was to protect people from burglaries. Not that it ever worked.

If you ask me, the worst part about living here are those spikes sticking out of the asphalt. Maybe they were leftover from some unfinished construction? It wouldn't surprise me. Getting a nice big hole in my shoes wasn't exactly uncommon.

Living here made me lose my faith in life itself. I mean, isn't life just one big game where you trade pieces of paper until you're in the grave? Unlike a lot of games, life isn't fun, nor is it worth the time you invest in it.

Those were my thoughts about life before this particular experience. Sometimes I would crack a slight smile about what comes after all this. The afterlife. I was raised to believe that after all our suffering on earth, we'd get to enjoy a super fun afterlife. In my opinion, this made life worth living. I figured "If it's bad now, at least it won't be forever!"

One evening while it was pouring rain, I was on my way back home from work. I tried to get any sort of warmth from my coat, but the cold made the walk absolutely miserable.

That's when it happened.

I couldn't see straight with all this rain in front of my face, and I tripped on a wet piece of garbage. My body came crashing down as fast as the rain itself, and I was impaled in the side of my neck by a spike sticking out of the ground.

It happened so fast. The spike pierced my skin like a fork through a piece of meat. I could feel blood beginning to leave my neck, and I could barely breathe. All while cold water is continuously pouring on my body.

I wheezed on the ground while I attempted to crawl away. In a moment of blind panic, my hand came down on the asphalt and was impaled by another spike. I couldn't even scream. My breath was short and my neck had a big open wound.

Nothing I ever experienced in this life ever compared to this pain. Soon there was a sizeable puddle of my own blood next to me, mixed in with the rain water.

My vision started to fade, and suddenly I couldn't feel my body anymore. It was like I was floating. In these moments of sightlessness, I still had my thoughts with me.

"Am I dead?"

Suddenly I could smell something. It was almost like a forest at dusk, with a light breeze too. Then it changed. Oh lord did change...

Now it smelled like fire and ash. My mind filled with dread. You hear about this stuff when you're a kid, and I never thought it could happen to me.

Then my sight returned to me, and I really wish it didn't. My head was pointed at the ground, and I could just see pure ash. After a lot of fighting with my overwhelmed emotions, I finally lifted up my head.

I almost wanted to cry. There were dark clouds in a misty-grey sky. The landscape was almost completely engulfed in black fire.

One question kept entering my mind, but I already knew the answer.

"Where am I?"

"Hell."

There seemed to be rubble from old structures near where I was. I really didn't know where to go, though. In the distance I could see hills and mountains, equally as hellish-looking. I could see the silhouettes of tall inhuman creatures walking around. They were hunched and terrifying.

I almost wanted to curl up in a ball. Why me? Why was I sent here? I finally lifted up my legs to walk through this torture pit. My feet made an unsettling crunch as they came down on the ash. All I could think about was my life. I wasn't necessarily a bad person. Can't say I was a caring one either.

I walked carefully while trying to avoid the strange black birds with glowing eyes flying around. My eyes focused on the stuff in the distance again, and I could see some sort of crumbling ruin with towers and ramparts. A castle maybe? I couldn't imagine who that would be for.

One of those creatures began to come my way. I quickly ducked behind some rubble, hoping it hadn't seen me.

I looked at the ashy ground next to the rubble, and my jaw dropped as far as it could go. There was a pale white figure, lying on its side. I reasoned that they were likely someone else who was sent here to be tortured.

That is, until I saw those wings...

The figure had frayed white wings on its back, and what looked like a tattered gown on its body.

"No... no, this is all wrong." I thought to myself. I approached the figure and crouched to look at it closer.

"H-hello?"

My mouth barely wanted to open, but I had to know who this was.

Its eyes looked towards mine, and I could see its mouth begin to slowly open. The figure let out a desperate groan, as if it couldn't speak anymore.

"What is this place?" I asked with tears forming in my eyes.

"Hea... heav..."

No... I didn't want to believe it. My blood ran cold, but I forced myself to respond.

"Heaven?" I said.

"Heaven... was lost..." the angel said.

"W-what? What does that mean?!" I stammered.

"She... couldn't save us..."

Before I could respond again, the angel's head was stomped by one of those creatures. I was swelling up with emotions at this point, most of them being fear and confusion.

The monster picked me up with its hands wrapped around my torso. I tried to free myself by climbing out, but I couldn't.

It looked straight into my eyes and gave my a wide grin. The thing's teeth were leaking blood, and they were razor sharp and long. They were metallic like needles too.

I wanted to beg for my life, but it would be useless. My life already ended on earth. This was my soul I was about to lose. The very essence of my existence was nearly destroyed by this monster.

Its mouth began to unhinge, and I felt nothing but fear inside of me. Then it happened. A bright white light appeared behind it. I know it sounds crazy, but it was almost like the light was staring directly at me.

The light got brighter and brighter until everything around me was pure white, and then my surroundings changed again.

I was back.

I was standing in my neighborhood. The cold rain was pouring down, but I hadn't been impaled and killed yet. I took several deep breaths to keep myself calm, and I sat down on the ground, trying to figure out what I had just been through.

I saw Heaven. The afterlife itself. But it wasn't what we were all raised to think it is. I have spent my adult years completely despising life, but relishing in the fact that the afterlife would make everything better.

I was wrong. We are all wrong. There is no end to our suffering.

There is no salvation for humanity.

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#Blogger #Story

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citizentruth-blog · 6 years

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10 Keys to Well-Being (Plus Motivational Quotes) - PEER NEWS

New Post has been published on https://citizentruth.org/10-keys-to-well-being-plus-motivational-quotes/

10 Keys to Well-Being (Plus Motivational Quotes)

The very interesting Greater Good Science Center at UC-Berkeley has some assertive and scientifically-based ideas on wonderful topics such as well-being, fulfillment, meaning, happiness, flourishing, etc. Along with U-Penn’s Positive Psychology master’s program, these are two powerhouse schools that take the science of optimism, happiness, flourishing, and well-being seriously. It’s neat to see, since at times in the past, topics such as these, or “psi“, or values and virtues such as meaning, goodness, love, and wisdom were not considered suitable subjects for psychological science to research and investigate. In this blog, I discuss ten keys the GGSC, positive psychology, and I suggest for greater fulfillment, joy, contentment, and success.

Altruism

“Altruism is when we act to promote someone else’s welfare, even at a risk or cost to ourselves. Though some believe that humans are fundamentally self-interested, recent research suggests otherwise: Studies have found that people’s first impulse is to cooperate rather than compete; that toddlers spontaneously help people in need out of a genuine concern for their welfare; and that even non-human primates display altruism,” according to the Greater Good Science Center (GGSC). Altruism is one of the “values of the wise” — values that inspire and attract wise persons (for example, wisdom vs. foolhardiness, and truth vs. wishful thinking). I pair it with kindness and magnanimity, creating a mighty triumvirate of loving instinct.

A few quotations about altruistic behavior, self-sacrifice, love, and goodness:

“If you truly want to live up to the ideals our forefathers had in mind, if you sincerely care to embody the spirit of Jesus, Buddha, or Mohammed, stop hating and start loving. Love even when you don’t really feel it, even when you think you’re faking it. Soon, you won’t be faking it anymore, and you’ll be a better parent, a better friend, a better American, a better person.” ~ Alan Colmes

“Brotherhood is the very price and condition of man’s survival.” ~ Carlos P. Romulo

“There is no greater satisfaction for a just and well-meaning person than the knowledge that he has devoted his best energies to the service of the good cause.” ~ Albert Einstein

“The lover of mankind strengthens men, for he himself wishes to be strengthened; he helps men toward success, for he himself wishes to achieve success.” ~ Confucius

Awe

“Awe is the feeling we get in the presence of something vast that challenges our understanding of the world, like looking up at millions of stars in the night sky or marveling at the birth of a child. When people feel awe, they may use other words to describe the experience, such as wonder, amazement, surprise, or transcendence.

The most common sources of awe are other people and nature, but awe can be elicited by many other experiences as well, such as music, art or architecture, religious experiences, the supernatural, or even one’s own accomplishments,” the GGSC notes. I think of it as wonder; as vision; as radical creative thinking. Mindfulness and gratitude are aligned with seeing the world with awe. These special experiences fire our synapses and engender a greater sense of well-being.

A few quotations about Awe:

“The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust

“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting — a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ~ William Butler Yeats

Find the Good Side of Things, People & Changes

Ever heard an old person either say “Kids today!” or “Damn liberals!” or hear a young person absolutely demonize or denigrate an individual with whom they don’t agree (or, as in Dana Carvey’s impression of “grumpy old man“, just be sour and mad at the world)?

As can be gleaned from this Q&A with the engaging researcher Robert Sapolsky, political differences is a major issue nowadays — much more so than in the past. It divides us in homes, in communities, and in the United States. Add money to the mix and it’s political gamesmanship and subterfuge writ large.

But seeing differences between the self and the other is often not healthy. Tribalism, Sapolsky notes, is oh-so-easy. He says: “The easiest symbols that we grab on to in deciding if someone is an “us” or a “them” are visceral ones. Being disgusted by someone’s personal behavior—the way “they” do stuff—is a much easier entrée to hating them than disagreeing with their views on the trade deficit. Primates are hard-wired for us/them dichotomies. Our brains detect them in less than 100 milliseconds. Our views about things are driven by implicit (unconscious) processes.”

Gosh, that leaves one with a negative feeling. As Sapolsky puts it: “It’s depressing as hell.” That it is.

Here are some quotations to increase well-being by seeing commonalities, others’ perspectives, and being forgiving and humble – basically, optimism and positive thinking before judging:

“We spend so much time talking and judging what we think we know. . . We need to ask more questions and spend more time listening. Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to talk or be thinking the whole time how we are right and they are wrong. We also need to shift our mindset and see things from other people’s perspectives. Really appreciate and respect their perspective, not just be thinking how our’s is morally superior. We need to give more than we get in all interactions with others. Live to serve and to help make a difference in other’s lives. In short, leave this life better than we found it.” ~ Robert L. Lloyd

“All too often, visions of virtue or decency have been invoked to brand as immoral and dangerous anyone who is different. Such aggressive moral dogmatism — which, it is worth stressing, can occur on both the political right and left — is one of the greatest enemies of human dignity.” ~ Elizabeth Kiss

“Judging others takes a great deal of energy and, without exception, pulls you away from where you want to be.” ~ Richard Carlson

Mindfulness

The GGSC has this to say about this slightly-elusive value: “Mindfulness means maintaining a moment-by-moment awareness of our thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and surrounding environment, through a gentle, nurturing lens.

Mindfulness also involves acceptance, meaning that we pay attention to our thoughts and feelings without judging them—without believing, for instance, that there’s a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to think or feel in a given moment. When we practice mindfulness, our thoughts tune into what we’re sensing in the present moment rather than rehashing the past or imagining the future.”

Once you get your head around it, practices that lead to greater mindfulness — including but not limited to meditation — you can benefit from the positive effects on the human brain. Here is what my old friend Laurent Grenier, an author who found some interesting ways of dealing with his quadrapalegia, counsels:

“If you lead a happy life, of which you may be to some degree unmindful, never let a day pass without reflecting on the life of misery you could be leading instead. Imagine having lost everything and everyone you love. You will be happier for the realization that you are spared this misery.” Hard to do, but good advice. A good movie can help, I think.

Here are some quotes on this fascinating skill that will surely lead to greater relaxation, health, and well-being (and who knows, perhaps happiness and success):

“Practicing mindfulness over time reveals and develops the qualities of wisdom and compassion, the twin virtues of the discipline. Wisdom means seeing clearly into the fundamental nature of reality. Through meditative practice, we can deeply recognize the eternal arising and passing away of all phenomena and see the unsatisfactory quality of ordinary human experience that derives from the illusion of the self as an entity separate from the rest of reality.” ~ Mark W. Muesse

“Each moment of the year has its own beauty, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Research has suggested that in a few short weeks, mindfulness meditation practice can bring about physiological, psychological, and social benefits in our lives. From increases in gray matter in the brain to alleviating physical ailments such as migraines and fibromyalgia, the benefits of mindfulness and meditation practice more generally have been touted for everyone ranging from executives to schoolchildren.” ~ Hooria Jazaieri

Compassion

Next among values and phenomena that can lead to more well-being in the lives of aware individuals is this “suffering together.” Compassion is a deep empathy, a lovingness, a true caring. “While empathy refers more generally to our ability to take the perspective of and feel the emotions of another person, compassion is when those feelings and thoughts include the desire to help. Altruism, in turn, is the kind, selfless behavior often prompted by feelings of compassion, though one can feel compassion without acting on it, and altruism isn’t always motivated by compassion,” the GGSC points out.

As usual, when trying to figure out exactly what a particular value or virtue really means, I look to a wide array of diverse quotations to elucidate the concept. That is what Values of the Wise is all about.

Quotations about compassion:

“With compassion, we see benevolently our own human condition and the condition of our fellow beings. We drop prejudice. We withhold judgment.” ~ Christina Baldwin

“The Good Samaritan story illustrates altruism. Filled with compassion, he is motivated to give a stranger time, energy, and money while expecting neither repayment nor appreciation.” ~ David G. Myers and Jean M. Twenge

“We humans have the capacity to change the world with acts of love and kindness. Let’s start by teaching our children the importance of compassion.” ~ Goldie Hawn

Industriousness

A Buddhist proverb counsels, “If we are facing the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.” You may have also heard the oft-quoted, “Idle hands [or an idle mind] are the devil’s workshop.” If you’ve ever watched/read “Little House on the Prairie,” you know how deeply-ingrained hard work, discipline, industriousness, and persistence are in the American ethos. We work too hard now, considering how much of a cut of the profit workers receive, and considering that famous economist John Kenneth Galbraith predicted in the 1940s or 1950s that by 2000, we should be working less than twenty hours a week due to the awesome increase in technological capacity.

Well, a short workweek may not have come to pass, and America may be one of the hardest-working, most sober/religious of nations, but it still is a virtue — and one that can lead to well-being, contentment, and prosperity. Once one gets to about $75,000, happiness levels out, but up to that point, it is hard to be happy in the modern world if one is deprived, poor, or otherwise harried.

Industry vs. inferiority is a key milestone in human psychological development according to prominent developmental psychologist, Erik Erikson. As Lumenlearning.com points out, “During the elementary school stage (ages 6–12), children face the task of industry vs. inferiority. Children begin to compare themselves with their peers to see how they measure up. They either develop a sense of pride and accomplishment in their schoolwork, sports, social activities, and family life, or they feel inferior and inadequate because they feel that they don’t measure up. If children do not learn to get along with others or have negative experiences at home or with peers, an inferiority complex might develop into adolescence and adulthood.”

My sister is exemplary of effort and striving. She is actively a daughter, wife, mother of three, business owner, and reads and shares information passionately. She really gets a charge out of this lifestyle, and productivity is the result. I admire someone who finds one or more avocations and pursues them indefatigably — even in the absence of pay or a mandate. Indeed, as the quintessentially-American proverb has it, “People may get more tired by standing still than going on.”

Here are a few quotations about industriousness, effort, productivity, and dedication:

“Americans have shifted away from an energetic, purpose-driven, higher-order pursuit of value, and are instead moving toward security, insulationism, materialism and minimum-commitment thinking. Rather than building upon our history of sacrificial innovation and difficult labor, regardless of immediate or tangible personal benefits, many Americans are seizing our economic prosperity as an opportunity to slack off and opt for personal leisure, [and] short-sighted consumerism….” ~ Joseph Sunde

“Work saves us from three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.”~ Voltaire

“No ethic is as ethical as the work ethic.” ~ John Kenneth Galbraith

Empathy

Yet another key to well-being is empathy. The GGSC indicates that “[e]mpathy seems to have deep roots in our brains and bodies, and in our evolutionary history. Elementary forms of empathy have been observed in our primate relatives, in dogs, and even in rats. Empathy has been associated with two different pathways in the brain, and scientists have speculated that some aspects of empathy can be traced to mirror neurons, cells in the brain that fire when we observe someone else perform an action in much the same way that they would fire if we performed that action ourselves.”

Take David Brooks’ advice and don’t confuse empathy with rationality: “People without social emotions like empathy are not objective decision-makers. They are sociopaths who sometimes end up on death row.”

Here are three unique perspectives on empathy from three disparate individuals:

“Don’t judge anyone harshly until you have been through his experiences.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“To separate egoistic distress reduction from empathy-based altruism, Daniel Batson’s research group conducted studies that aroused empathy. Then the researchers noted whether the aroused people would reduce their own distress by escaping the situation or whether they would go out of their way to aid the person. The results were consistent: with their empathy aroused, people usually helped.” ~ David G. Myers and Jean M. Twenge

“Wealthy Christians talk about the poor but have no friends who are poor. So they merely speculate on the reasons for their condition, often placing the blame on the poor themselves.” ~ Jim Wallis

Forgiveness

This beautiful and difficult virtue is one of humanity’s highest levels of achievement. Well-being is inextricably tied to the emotional grudges one holds, I’m afraid (I say that because I feel justice more easily than I feel forgiveness). But, it’s true. It’s tied to psychological well-being, heart health, and optimism. In fact, hostility and it’s ugly little brother cortisol is/are one of the main psychological predictors of heart disease!

Berkeley’s GGSC has this to say: “Psychologists generally define forgiveness as a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness. Just as important as defining what forgiveness is, though, is understanding what forgiveness is not. Experts who study or teach forgiveness make clear that when you forgive, you do not gloss over or deny the seriousness of an offense against you.”

Alan Scott puts this virtue in this light: “I think there is a human condition where many people assume that if we forgive others for the wrongs they do to us (or those close to us) that we are, in a sense, letting them off the hook when perhaps they should be punished. The offender gets to go on their merry way through life, while we are still suffering because of their actions. I almost felt like if I forgave someone, then I was condoning the wrong that they did! Not so. Forgiveness is a necessity for us, not vengeance. God is the true judge, not us.”

I may not see it as a God thing, but I do see the psychological research point to the benefits of forgiveness when it comes to mental health and a flourishing life.

“You hold too much anger inside. It poisons you. Do you want to carry so much pain into your next life? …You must forgive. You must let go of your pain. You must let go of your anger.” Those are the wise words of the Chinese healer who tries to get Michael Keaton’s knotted-up and angry guy character to relax before his cancer kills him. It’s a fascinating scene in a fascinating movie called My Life.

Here are some quotations about forgiveness as a virtue:

“The greater you are, the more you must practice humility.” ~ Ben Sira

“So many of us hold on to little resentments that may have stemmed from an argument, a misunderstanding, the way we were raised, or some other painful event. Stubbornly, we wait for someone else to reach out to us — believing that this is the only way we can forgive or rekindle a friendship or family relationship.” ~ Richard Carlson

If one by one we counted people out For the least sin, it wouldn’t take us long To get so we had no one left to live with. For to be social is to be forgiving. ~ Robert Frost

Generosity

If there is one important thing my mom has taught me through deed and words, it is generosity. She gives, gives, gives. This doesn’t mean that she is a saint, but it does mean that she gets a great feeling from what she perceives as one of her true callings: to make a positive difference in others, in society, and in the world. She puts her money where her mouth is, as it were. I have seen a very compelling correlation in her between happiness and generosity. It’s a thing:

As Amanda L. Chan points out in this article, “Giving of yourself — whether it be your time, energy or money — isn’t just a boon to those you’re helping. A wealth of research shows that generosity can also have benefits for the giver, ranging from a better outlook at your job, to more years of life.” So give of yourself — your time, your money, your energy, your advice. Mentorship, volunteering, and charity are true ways to greater happiness, well-being, and meaning in life.

Don’t feel bad if you get a charge out of helping others and giving of yourself. That is how the brain evolved — we find certain things rewarding, such as food, sex, competition, and helping behavior. Feel good if you help another person; you deserve it! You could have ignored their need. The warm glow of givingness is something to cherish, not spurn.

Three other succinct quotes about generosity:

“One act of beneficence, one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the world.” ~ Ann Radcliffe

“I’ve never known any human being, high or humble, who ever regretted, when nearing life’s end, having done kindly deeds. But I have known more than one millionaire who became haunted by the realization that they had led selfish lives.” ~ B. C. Forbes

“To do good without ulterior motive is a generous and almost divine thing in itself.” ~ Francesco Guicciardini

Social Integration

Last, but certainly not least, social integration. Social interaction, social relatedness, inclusion, relationships – whatever you want to call it. It’s good. I should know; I have been terribly lonely and felt like a bit of an odd bird in some significant periods of my life. For a while there, I was on Prozac, living alone, doing my thesis on suicide, smoking marijuana, and wondering if life was worth living. Needless to say, I saw more of my therapist than I did women on dates. I just wasn’t in the zone, and my mental issues led to my social isolation, and my social isolation fed my mental issues. I sort of felt inferior to others; unliked; and yet superior to most others. It was quite a quandary.

Science is clear on this topic: human beings are social creatures, and though we do need some individuality and alone time, the feeling that we are alone, different, unworthy is only pernicious. It can lead to suicide, substance abuse, studying philosophy (!), and depression. Anomie is a unique version of this that has been described for some time in sociology. Yes, pets are good and helpful!

Yes, I am now married and even recently bit the bullet and started attending the local Unitarian Church! I have pets I am very fond of, I write every day, take classes, and exercise and fish oil!

On this page, Juliana Breines asks whether some social ties are better than others when it comes to contributing to well-being. She writes: “There’s no question that the digital age has changed the way we relate to one another, sometimes to our detriment, as MIT psychologist Sherry Turkle has argued in her book Alone Together. Though many of us can count Facebook friends into the thousands, research suggests that loneliness is rampant in the United States—we have fewer close friends than we did a generation ago—and takes a severe toll on our health.”

Here are some quotes about social connectedness as related to well-being. The Wisdom Archive holds other quotes about social relatedness, integration, affiliation, and connectedness, and is searchable for free.

“To the extent that we can characterize evolution as designing our modern brains, this is what our brains were wired for: reaching out to and interacting with others.” ~ Matthew Lieberman

“Social situations do profoundly influence individuals. But individuals also influence social situations. The two interact. Asking whether external situations or inner dispositions determine behavior is like asking whether length or width determine a room’s area.” ~ David G. Meyers and Jean M. Twenge

“Humans are a profoundly social species; our drive to connect with others is embedded in our biology and evolutionary history. It begins at birth, in our relationship with our caregiver—and the effects of this relationship seem to reverberate throughout our lives. When we’re cared for as children, we’re more likely to have healthy, secure attachments as we get older.” (the Greater Good Science Center)

I wish well-being, peace, and happiness for you. I will leave you with these:

I believe in courtesy, in kindness, in generosity, in good cheer, in friendship and in honest competition. I believe there is something doing somewhere, for every man ready to do it. I believe I’m ready, RIGHT NOW. ~ Elbert Hubbard

The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. ~ Mark Twain

Optimism has an important place in some, thought not all, realms of your life. It is not a panacea. But it can protect you against depression; it can raise your level of achievement; it can enhance your physical well-being; it is a far more pleasant mental state to be in. ~ Martin E. P. Seligman

Dave Navarro Puts Mental Health & Suicide in the Spotlight with Benefit Concert

#key to happiness #quotes #well-being #wisdom

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