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tadashisdisaster · 1 year

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𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐩_𝐀𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 part 1

CWˏˋ°•*⁀➷ idk if there’s gonna be smut here, suggestive humor, college life, breakups, toxic relationship, college boy/girl curiosity

AN ~ arny is so JJGSJIISOJAMAHJSJSISH IDFK. also comment below if u have an addiction to coffee? I do☕️ vanilla mocha latte🤍or just plain coffee with a medium amount of creamer and 3and a half spoon fulls of sugar. 😌Yus pls.

You slam your door and chuck your shoes off to the side. “FUCK.” Arny peeks his head through the crack of his door. “Um, so…how’s your day been?”

You and Arny have been roommates for a full year now. You two have grown really close over the past few years, and so have feelings that remain one sided. Arny has been your friend since high school. Sure you had your ups and downs but that’s what make you two so compatible.

You rip open the fridge and snatch 3 strawberry milk boxes and flop yourself on the couch. You peal the straw off the box and stab the top of the box with the bottom of the straw. ‘SIIIIIPPPP’ you sigh and place the box on the coffee table and lay down.

Arny (who had been watching you practically rip the fridge door off and murder a milk box) finally opens his bedroom door all the way and shuffles towards you. He places his hands on his hips and look down at you.

“Rough day huh?” You don’t look at him as you quickly click through your anime series, selecting one and letting the remote slip from your hand to the floor. “How’d you know?” Arny raises his hand, pointing to the fridge. “You literally-” you roll your eyes and respond again without looking at him.

You knew that if you looked at him you would bawl your eyes out, but you wanted to stay mad. You wanted to wallow in your own self pity.

“That was a rhetorical question….doof.” Arny lets out and over exaggerated gasp and puts his hand on his chest. “Well I never…in a million, trillion, billion, years have never been so insulted in my life.” You snort and hide your face in the pillow you had stuffed under your head. “Leave me alone, Barney.” Arny, being used to the old high school nickname, let out a chuckle, “So, that’s how it is…” he climbs on top of you, tickling your sides.

“A-arny…” you try to breathe, “s-stop!” Not really paying attention to the not so innocent position you two were in at the moment, you wrap you arms around his neck, tossing your head back as you continued to laugh.

Arny looks at you, unwanted thoughts creep into his mind. Watching you laugh made his mind race. He subconsciously leans his head to your neck, his nose softly brushes against the your beating pulse, making you jolt.

“Um…Arny?” You hold you hands together at you chest as you shyly look away at the floor. Arny backs off you and quickly licks his lips out of nervous habit. You two sit in silence wait for the other to speak up and break the thick tension.

Arny clears his throat, “Ehem, so, a-about you day?” You fidget with the ring on your finger. His gaze was soft yet intense, making you take a quick glance at your concerned friend then quickly look away. He smirks at how shy you’ve always been, even after 5 years of friendship.

Arny sighs and gets up, “Well if you really don’t wanna talk about what happened then I guess i’ll just have’ta-” you grab his pant leg pinched between your index and thumb. You haven’t bothered to lift your head, afraid to show your flushed face, “He…he cheated on me.”

Your hand fell to your lap. Tears stung the corners of your eyes. All he could do was look at you with utter frustration and confusion, wondering why a girl like you, would decided to go with that douche, Damion, instead of him, who obviously cared so much about you.

Arny ran his hand through his curls and sat back down on the couch. After a few more seconds of silence he clears his throat, “Well…” you look up at Arny, his arms open wide as he looked away from you, his cheeks a tinge pink. You crawl across the sofa and into his arms.

You sobbed into his chest. “Why Arny, why?” Arny knew he couldn’t answer. There were so many answers but only one spoke louder, “I-I don’t know.” He stroked your hair planting a small kiss to your temple. You had the tendency to fall for toxic guys, making you and your life miserable. You would get upset (angry) whenever he would tell you “He’s not that great of a guy y/n, if you would just-” you’d end up arguing and the fight always ended in “YOU’RE NOT MY FUCKING DAD, GOD, GET THE FUCK OF MY BACK ARNY!”

You had avoided Arny until your boyfriend either left, cheated or did other things to you that made you leave the relationship, only then would you find your way back to him and cry your heart out. “I don’t think I wanna date anymore.” You blankly state as you look at you fuzzy duck socks.

Arny hums at your response knowing that your “statement” wasn’t going to last that long. You said that every time your heart got shattered to a million pieces, then (with Arny’s help of course) put the pieces back together and then hand the not fully healed heart to another.

You get up and walk towards your room. “I’m gonna go shower…and wash this,” you do a circular motion with your pointer finger around your mascara covered face. “l’ll see you for dinner. Or maybe order something, I might even cook if i don’t feel tired, you know how I get after a good wash.” You awkwardly chuckle walking to your door. Just as you grab the knob Arny stops you.

“When did you get-”

Arny’s hand was gently placed on yours preventing you from continuing to turn the door knob. Maybe you were too busy rambling about dinner, that you hadn’t noticed him get up and walk behind you, but the way his warm chest brushed against your arm sent goosebumps up and down your spine.

“Y/n, I…” you blush waiting for him to finish his sentence. His face was dangerously close to yours making you yearn for more contact. “Y/n I love you.”

To be continued…..

#tadashisdisaster #khai’s feed❕#love khai #birlap x reader

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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You're starting to recognize Tommy f as a problem everybody is they're huge fleets involved again and there's several trillion each that's very large because of the capabilities they have now we're going after them and we're breaching and we're fighting in space that's foreigners and some rebels they're taking times of their ships like a million an hour just nowhere near now you have way more than that so we have to get going and he said a million an hour out of a trillion so trying more and we're going to go ahead and do the aliens and that's going to be either the breaching preferred the monster.

Thor Freya

You don't know it's a primary concern right now is this blockade and also the iron ore core and the ships and The fleets and we have to clean them all out we have to do something it is so damned annoying there's far too many ships and this far too many people who are building ships on the ground and underground in the core and we have to have an approach and we have to develop one and he said that we have two major groups as cover they're supposed to find the tunnels and they have and we need to have Frank Castle Hardcastle start to formulate the plan and to initialize it and they are and it's working this really only a few other things we can do in the core is about 1/10 mind out if you can call that because they haven't hit the real solid ore which is in the middle as our sun pointed out and the volume of or is tremendous there's so much more in the core that you have a hard time calculating it and yeah it'll change the gravity all this iron missing is causing people to weigh less the sun was in the scale about 249 lb and he's now 249 lb but about 4 months ago or 5 months ago he'd be about 2:45 he's wondering about it too because the exercises doesn't eat as much and he's still up around 250 it's kind of weird it's not that good for you but he's going to be feeling stronger

We need to get on these items and we need to get on them now they're not really seeking the war as much as I should and they sounded like madness overseas so it really means that they don't believe it's happening he's trying to point out where the gates are in the openings and it's only a guest for him so he can't tell where it is Will and Bill know and mac daddy and they don't want to tell anyone they're getting their ass kicked

Nuada Arrianna

My son was close and it's not the poles cuz we can't have to do that into something in the way and it is nearby the United Kingdom and there's a big hole there and tons of people researched it so there are a few more than will and Bill and Mac Daddy but it is going slowly and everybody thinks the movie Black widow came out from this discovery and we think it is and everybody is moving on it now it's a huge amount of ore it is gigantic it's it's like twice as much volume as the moon no it's it's 10 or 20 or 20 times the volume of the Moon a solid ore it's like 90% pure it's about 17x the volume of the Moon but all of it is 90% roughly at that number

Thor Freya he was about correct it's about 6,000 miles of very very usable or and Tommy f wants to mine at all and exclude everybody it's gotten very hostile and very aggressive

We're moving on all the shatteredome to try and make them safe because people are not protecting them and he's threatening people with it

Thor Freya

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stock-research-institute · 2 years

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Worried about the U.S. recession! S&P 500 falls below key 4000 points, shorts keep adding to their positions, where is the bottom signal?

U.S. stocks opened lower and closed sharply lower, with the Dow Jones closing down 1.71% at 32336.02; the S&P 500 closed down 3.07% at 3996.90, falling below the 4000-point barrier for the first time since April 2021; and the Nasdaq Composite closed down 3.78% at 11685.44. U.S. stocks recorded their worst 3-day loss since September 2020. European stocks fell 2% in tandem on Monday, with the pan-European Stoxx 600 index falling for a fourth day to a two-month low

According to U.S. Big Data StockWe, there was an unusual imbalance in the long-short ratio today, with a spike in people buying put options Put

Estimates from Morgan Stanley, a leading Wall Street investment bank, suggest that those new U.S. retail investors who entered the market in 2020, when the epidemic blockade began, have lost more than the rest of the market in 2022, and have now all but given back all those spectacular gains they once made.

Yet despite saying that the market value of the U.S. stock market has evaporated by about $9 trillion, many retail investors are still holding on to the market, at least in terms of their positions. In stark contrast, professional fund managers have been pulling out. Data compiled by Morgan Stanley's prime brokerage unit shows that hedge funds have been reducing their risky positions in recent months, with equity exposure having fallen to a two-year low.

Right now there are signs that investors in the market have also gradually begun to feel disappointed with the decline in the stock market. In April this year, retail investors bought $14 billion in stocks, the second lowest since the end of 2020, according to Morgan Stanley. As personal savings as a percentage of disposable income have fallen to pre-epidemic levels, Vanda Research analysts, including Giacomo Pierantoni, are wondering if retail investors will have any more capital to continue buying in a big way.

In the options market, where they once rushed to calls for quick profits, trading activity is now tilted toward puts. At Bank of America's private client division, those wealthy individual investors have sold stocks at the fastest pace since last November over the past four weeks.

U.S. Personal Savings Rate Falls to New Low

Americans' savings are at their lowest level in about a decade as rising prices for everything from gasoline to groceries continue to put heavy pressure on their budgets.

New data released Friday by the U.S. Commerce Department show the personal savings rate has fallen after record-breaking inflation. the savings rate fell to 6.2 percent in March 2022, down from 6.8 percent in February.

Peter Schiff, chief economist at European Pacific Capital Investments, tweeted:Â "To buy higher priced goods, consumers drew on their meager savings, bringing the savings rate down to its lowest level since December 2013."

In March, U.S. inflation hit a 41-year high of 8.5 percent, well above the 2 percent inflation rate that the federal government usually favors. Soaring gasoline, grocery and housing prices were the main reasons.

At the beginning of the epidemic, the savings rate of 34% was astronomical. As the economy stalled in the summer and spring of 2020, people stayed indoors and virtually stopped spending on things like travel, restaurants and live entertainment. Millions of people also received several rounds of economic stimulus checks.

The result was a dramatic rise in the personal savings rate, dwarfing even the 28 percent savings rate during World War II. At the height of the epidemic, TD Economics economist and chartered financial analyst Maria Solovieva estimated that Americans had hoarded $2.7 trillion in "excess savings.

Recession fears grow

Investors are increasingly concerned about the limits of Federal Reserve policy, Rus. Ukraine war . The war in Russia and Ukraine and an epidemic blockade in one country, as well as supply chain disruptions, pose significant threats to inflation.

An analysis by Bank of America shows that the earnings call mentions indicate a poor business environment, with the gap between "better" or "stronger" and "worse" or "weaker" dropping. The gap between "better" or "stronger" and "worse" or "weaker" fell to its lowest level since the second quarter of 2020. Business optimism also fell from last quarter, but remained above historical averages, strategists including Savita Subramanian wrote in a report. The ratio of good and bad guidance and earnings revisions maintained by the bank also fell to its lowest level since that period, fueling fears of a recession, it also said.

J.P. Morgan's Pandit said it is unclear how the biggest market stress will affect the economy, with Russia. The situation in Ukraine has an impact on food and energy prices, but the impact from a country may be more "neutral" because the epidemic cases may have a downward trend. And added that "a soft landing for the Fed is not a foregone conclusion."

Many people are watching the behavior of U.S. consumers, and some of these trends are worrisome. Soaring inflation may be keeping consumers away from stores, with retail traffic in the last week of April down nearly 11 percent from a year earlier, according to a Bloomberg analysis.

Americans are also buying less. Ravin Gandhi, chief executive of GMM Nonstick Coatings, a supplier of kitchenware and bakeware brands such as Calphalon, Pyrex and KitchenAid, said on Bloomberg TV last week that the company is seeing customers delay orders. Maybe that's because people are demanding less home goods, he said, but it's still a troubling sign.

"We're seeing some phenomena where people are suddenly stopping ordering for 30 or 40 days with little to no explanation," he said in the interview. "To be honest, the last time I saw a pattern like that was around 2008, 2009. I hope we don't get to that point, but this is very troubling for us now." Consumers are under tremendous pressure, he said, although the market is awash in a lot of recession denial. But "the market is telling us that it's time to accept a little bit of that."

For a bottom reversal to occur in the market, inflation must fall back

The market is paying close attention to the April CPI consumer price inflation data released early Wednesday morning EST. Some analysts say that if CPI shows no signs of slowing down, it will increase market concerns about accelerated tightening of Fed monetary policy. If inflation shows a tendency to top out, it will help restore risk sentiment, but it will not fully reverse investors' pessimistic outlook. U.S. nominal CPI is expected to jump 8.1% year-over-year in April.

But we see from the big U.S. stock data above, Wall Street institutions today's bets to see if Wall Street economic experts and data doctors have researched the results of whether inflation has topped out and fallen back or not.

For more information about U.S. stocks, you can add WhatsApp +852 5573 4944

#investing #stock market #business #economy #finance #awesome #long post #news #stock #us stocks

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searidings · 3 years

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....🥺 can you please tell us more about that season 5 alternate ending where andrea ends up using the dagger pretty please, just like who does she end up hurting and the others reaction? if only you want to of course !

hooookay this ask got me to open that wip for the first time in a year and actually it's not that far from being complete! but idk how to finish it and i feel like i've done the s5 conflict resolution thing in multiple fics now like how many is too many? i fear i may have hit that limit. BUT since you asked, here is the beginning of it. please note:

1) this thing is angsty and also it's unfinished, so read at your own peril

2) because i wasn't ever expecting to finish/publish it, i've recycled bits of description from it into other fics. so if you see stuff i've repeated elsewhere no you don't <3

The last thing Lena sees is a flash like dark shadow pass over Andrea’s eyes, before a kryptonite dagger slides between her ribs.

The sound she emits is less of a scream and more of a surprised squeak as she sinks to the ground.

If you want to get to Supergirl, you’re gonna have to go through me.

It’s not that she hadn’t believed Andrea would do it. Lena was under no illusion of safety when she placed herself between Supergirl and the glowing green rock in Andrea’s hand. She’d come to terms with the possibility of dying for Kara long ago.

What she hadn’t been able to prepare for was the pain. The abstract of sacrifice was all well and good, but. Reality, this searing epicentre, a point of white hot agony turned molten, seeping through her body. No amount of her mother’s decorum training had prepared her for this.

Something is filling her mouth, thick and dark and oozing. She can’t scream. Kara sits, eyes silver, a world away. Kara. Lena has to move. She can’t. Andrea steps over her, and is that the pounding of receding footsteps or the dogged beat of Lena’s heart? Either way, it’s slowing. Every inhale cracks her body down the centre, each exhale buries shards of glass inside the gaping wound.

Her eyes are beginning to mist at the edges but she strains, listens. The sound that cuts through the haze is not the scream she dreads, Kara’s agony as her veins sear emerald. It’s not a scream, but a shout, and then a blur passes over her like light and shadow.

Concrete cracks, or perhaps it’s Lena’s ribs. Sounds are muffled now, the world dulled down like the inside of a snow globe. Underwater, time passes sluggishly to where she lies, drifting, encased in glass. But someone is fighting the current, resisting the pull. Hands grasp her shoulders, burning where they touch. Through the rolling fog comes Kara’s face, blurring out in red and blue and gold and sickly green. Lena wants to push her away, keep her separate from the venomous substance protruding from her chest, keep her untainted. But Kara’s hands are dancing there-away along her cheeks, her jaw, Lena’s own name sounding from her lips over and over, a siren song, calling her home. It’s raining now, wet spots peppering her brow, or maybe the sun is crying.

“Lena, Lena,” Kara is saying. It sounds like her heartbeat and she cannot bear for it to stop.

“Kara,” she manages, a whisper, a prayer.

Her face flashes within Lena’s line of sight for one perfect moment, and is she green-tinged or is it Lena’s failing vision? A shiver passes through the air between them, I’m sorry fluttering like a bloodstained white flag but whether it falls from her own lips or another’s, Lena cannot say. Then a sudden pressure at her ribs, a heavy push and release that feels like salvation and damnation all at once.

Lena hears a scream, two screams, billions. She is left gaping, open and exposed. Invaded by the air and exalted by the sticky-sweet blush of her own blood, her body purging itself. Through the slick of gathering crimson her head rolls to the side, darkness pressing in around her, eyes blazing with the final image of a limp hand on the ground beside her, veins shot through with glowing green.

For a long time, there is only darkness. The deepest blackness she has ever known, all-encompassing. Devouring light, thought, feeling. Lena floats, tethered to her own existence only by the pressing weight of the dark, closing in until the end of the world.

Slowly, sensations begin to blur in and out. Cold, a deadening flow, hooking into her very marrow and stripping her from the inside out. She drifts, and then there’s heat, scorching, radiating out from her ribs in scalding waves, and she wishes for numbness.

For a moment, Lena thinks she sees the star-burst of veins behind her eyelids, but then they are gone and all is black again. Sound fragments filter through her peripheral awareness. A great noise, banging and shouting and exploding. She slips back under.

Vibrations reach her, but they must be sounds because Lena no longer has a body with which to feel them. She floats, untethered, sinking beneath the surface of a dark ocean so vast it surely cannot know she’s there. In the deep, voices flicker.

“Haven’t you heard that you’re supposed to leave the knife in? She’s minutes from bleeding out.”

The blackness turns to blood around her, not vibrant red but sticky dark, the kind so loaded with the very force of someone’s life that it moves slowly, crawls under the weight of it, sucking light from all it touches.

“Her veins were green, Alex.”

An eternity passes.

She dreams of her mother, dark hair fanning behind her as she cuts through the still waters of the lake. The scene is calm, but the growing dread means Lena knows what’s coming and suddenly it’s not her mother but Kara before her, and the lake isn’t clear but radioactive, glowing green, and still Lena stands at the shore and watches her slip away, helpless.

Words float through the haze and Lena wishes she could reach out, grasp them, weigh them in her hands to know the truth behind them. Radiation and poisoned and flared and gone, the sounds making physical shapes in the darkness. She thinks of a child, two dark-haired children, of hours spent pouring over a dictionary. A cruel laugh when she got a definition wrong, grudging silence when she got it right. How she wishes now to be wrong, to mishear, a stay of judgment on the world these words conjure into being. But the focus is gone, and she slips away again.

“—whatever you have to do! Or so help me, I’ll—”

Though Lena is nothing now, just an exhale in the wind, she smiles. Warmth blooms, the blackness not crushing but caressing for a moment, and she drifts into memories of happier times.

A million years pass, a billion. Lena is upside down, and right way up, and no way up at all. If she still had a face, she might feel the pressure of a warm forehead against her own. If she still had hair, the imprint of lips pressed gently against it might still ache. If she hadn’t burned every meaningful bridge in her life in the year before her death, she might believe the trick of a whisper wrapping on the breeze, words of comfort, of promise.

But she had, so she doesn’t, and time collapses in on itself as Lena watches, motionless and alone.

Though she has always been nowhere, she can feel herself drifting further and further from the last thing that might just resemble a somewhere. The eons slow. If she were a doctor, Lena thinks, then this would be the time to make herself comfortable. To say her goodbyes.

She cannot look at blackness any longer, cannot bear the glowing green after-image that seems to stick to every corner and edge. She thinks of blue, of rain-washed skies and Kara’s eyes, conjures it into being with every fibre she has left. Wraps herself up in it, plunges headfirst, drowns.

“Like it matters!” Kara says, no, shouts, from somewhere far above and below her. Lena would flinch, if only she still had a body. The voice rings out through the void. “Like any of it matters now.”

Lena is privately inclined to agree. She tries to breathe, but the full weight of the universe, of every universe, presses in. As everything, even the blackness, dulls, there emerges a crushing, cracking suffocation, and Lena wonders why she can’t even die in peace. A high-pitched scream, maybe hers, maybe Kara’s, maybe her mother’s, maybe the world’s, stretching out before her like a pathway. Though there’s no doubt where it ends, Lena almost wants to follow it, if only to escape this sensation of being crumbled, submerged, denied life as its very essence is wrung from her being.

And then a hundred trillion bolts of lightning shoot through her at once, and Lena is gone.

When she wakes, she wakes secure in the knowledge that she must be alive. Sure that the pain that had burst through her, blighted every nerve with an agony so intense she feels its phantom grip even now, could only lead back to life. Sure that no departure could hurt that much.

When she wakes, it is through cracked, dry eyes to the sight of pipes and ceiling vents, the bland, industrial grey that can only denote underfunded government property.

When she wakes, Kara is standing at the foot of her bed, hands behind her back and looking every inch the righteous hero, and Lena’s unsteady heart sinks. She’s been on the receiving end of this authoritative pose more than enough for one lifetime. At least her hands aren’t on her hips.

But Kara’s eyes brighten as they meet Lena’s fluttering gaze. “Lena.” Quiet, reverential. “How are you feeling?”

Lena takes stock. Alive, to begin with. Every limb still intact. Aside from an unnerving constriction in her chest and the fact that her blood feels a little like it’s burning her cells as it courses through her veins, it could certainly be worse.

When she speaks her voice is hoarse, cracking. “What happened?”

The same darkness creeps into the edges of her vision as she listens to Kara list the extent of the damage. She presses her lips together, willing away the blackness, registering only snippets.

Stab wound. Kryptonite poisoning. Collapsed lung. Cardiac arrest. Resuscitation.

Leviathan, gone. Andrea, captured. Lex, escaped.

The words wash over her like a freezing tide, and Lena wonders if maybe the darkness had been easier after all.

It takes far longer than it should for her to realise that the room has fallen silent. Kara is watching her, concern etched into her features like tears carving through stone.

Lena swallows as best she can. “And you?”

A corner of Kara’s mouth quirks up. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

But she doesn’t look fine. She looks exhausted, her face drawn, blue eyes lacking their characteristic shine. Even her hero’s stance can’t mask the fatigue weighing heavy on her shoulders.

But Lena doesn’t have the strength to argue the point. She rolls her head to the side, joints popping and releasing, noticing for the first time the tangle of IV lines threading into her skin. She lifts her other hand to touch them, feels the warning tug of more needles even as Kara steps forward, arms raised as if to stop her.

Her hands reach toward Lena, or at least, the spaces where her hands should be. Huge white dressings swaddle Kara from the wrists down, so bulky they do not resemble hands at all. Lena’s breath catches in her lungs as she takes in the unwieldy bandages, third degree burns and possible nerve damage echoing through her mind and she understands now why Kara had hidden them behind her back.

The inhale she aims for seems to stick in her ribs and she can feel again the crushing, the cracking, the dizzying lack of oxygen as her head spins. Kara is by her side in an instant, radiating warmth and just breathe, Lena, it’s okay, a comforting weight settling against her hip. Lena thanks the thick blanket for blurring the press of rough bandages where there should be warm skin, softening it into something just nondescript enough to be calming.

When her pounding pulse has slowed, the heart monitor downgrading to a less frenetic beat, she sucks in a breath despite her lungs’ protestation, waits for her vision to clear. Kara is still there, and dread opens up in Lena’s chest.

“You— you touched it. The kryptonite. You pulled it out.”

Kara doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just nods, her gaze locked on Lena’s own. Lena lies catatonic, paralysed with the knowledge, unable to move even as Alex enters the room. Dimly aware of low words exchanged between the two sisters and then Alex at her bedside, gentler than Lena’s been worthy of seeing her in years. Just rest, Lena, the press of a button on the IV monitor, and she sinks back into oblivion.

#i wrote this immediately after the s5 finale (clearly) and before i finished it i got the idea for 'with the birds' and blasted that one #and then i was just like well. i've just done kara and lena's whole big reconciliation arc. do i really want to do it again #even though the premise of this one is different and reading through it again today i still quite like it #but i just don't know. i don't want to redo the same theme constantly and also i haven't thought up a satisfying ending #but there's 16k words written so like. i guess i should never say never #who knows #anyway thank you for your interest! i'm touched that you would care about this idea #and i hope you like this beginning! though as i said. it's angst city #i've just never recovered from that scene you know?#lena standing between kara and a threat whispering 'if you want to get to supergirl you're gonna have to go through me'#has anything sexier ever happened in the history of the moving image i'm not sure #truly the fic basically writes itself #anyways. bon appetit i guess #hope you're having a wonderful day #asks #anonymous #ridings writes

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blossomingimagines · 3 years

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Of A Broken Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 5,339

Summary: You never thought you would see her again. Never thought you would feel your heart skip a beat because of her emerald green gaze again. Never thought that you would let her back in. You also never thought that you would have to think about planning your brother’s funeral either. (Set after and during (sort of) Infinity War.)

Notes: Everyone requested a second part of Requiem... so I thought I would make one. I hope that you all like it. (Also the reader was under the assumption that Tony had returned. She wasn’t aware that Tony wouldn’t have a way back.)

Tag List: @username23345 // @stephanieromanoff // @ima-gi--na-tion // @chickenhavewisdom // @hi-i-1 (I’m not sure if some of you wanted to be tagged but you mentioned a part two in Requiem... so I thought I would do so just in case.)

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism.

Your gaze was leveled with the sky. Tracing over the sparkling stars and the distant worlds dotted between. Worlds that you would never be able to make out with your naked eye. Even though you knew that they were there all the same.

Was Tony on one of them? Your mind cries out. Tears coming unbidden to your eyes as you tried to quell the incoming sobs. Was he all right? Was he already dead?

The thoughts were familiar to you. Looping constantly within your head like a taunt. Images of your brother’s dead body flashing across your mind. Hollow brown eyes, normally filled with so much life, staring into your own. Never to have the same spark again. To have mischief lurking within their depths as various emotions played through his brilliant mind.

Clenching your hands against the railing you were leaning against, you lower your head as you take in deep breaths. Ever since Tony had disappeared with the ship you had been left in an almost fugue state. Barely being able to interact with anyone. Barely allowing yourself the pleasures of living.

Eating had become a challenge because Tony could potentially not be doing the same. How could you possibly enjoy your meal if Tony was starving? How could you allow yourself the simple pleasures of Earth if Tony was suffering away from it? Away from you.

The thought of Tony truly being gone hadn’t fully set in. You had dealt with this before. Had lived with the knowledge that Tony could be lost to you. Afghanistan had been hell for you and for everyone that loved Tony. You hadn’t given up hope that he would be found. That your big brother, the only family you had left, would be returning to you.

You had less hope now. At least when Tony had disappeared in Afghanistan he had still been on Earth. Now you didn’t know what galaxy he was in… let alone the planet. His absence became more and more obvious the longer it went on. The days slipping past you like water through your fingers. The knowledge that Tony may truly be gone this time crushing you.

It didn’t help that you were surrounded by the people that hurt you the most. The people that you thought were your family but ended up being your biggest heartache. Closing your eyes once more, you crane your neck back. And even if you couldn’t see the stars you knew where you were looking. You had long since memorized the layout of the sky above your terrace in the Compound. It wasn’t the Tower but you didn’t think you could bear to set foot in it. Not without Tony being there to greet you.

You could hear the distant murmur of voices beneath you. No doubt the others trying to figure out what to do. The sound causes yet another stab of pain to lance through your heart. While you wouldn’t wish what had happened on your greatest enemy, you couldn’t understand how they survived when Tony didn’t. How they could be using the things he made for them after everything they had done. Didn’t understand why you had to see them every day and not Tony.

You still remember, with perfect clarity, seeing them again after so long. Remember seeing her again after everything.

You wished that your heart didn’t still react the way it did.

Stepping off of the QuinJet, you pull your jacket tighter against your body. Your eyes taking in the various faces as you went. Desperately searching for something familiar to ground you. You needed something to make sense. You needed to have someone you love be okay.

Spotting a familiar face, you break out into a run. Relief interlacing itself within your shout. “Wombat!”

At your yell, Rhodey whips around and pure relief flashes across his face. His arms are already opening for you as you barrel into him. Burrowing against him as you clung as tightly as you could.

“You’re okay,” you choke out with tears falling from your eyes. “You’re okay.”

Rhodey’s arms tighten around you at your choked statements. The pain he was holding back showcasing itself within the shaking of his arms. By the way, he followed every minute movement of your body as you shifted in his embrace. Finally, after a few moments, you take a small step back. Making sure that you maintained eye contact with him through it all. You needed him in your sights at all times. You don’t know what you would do if he disappeared too.

His pained gaze flits to various points behind you. His throat bobbing up and down as he tried to form his question. “Di-” He clears his throat. “Did Pepper make it?”

You nod. “She’s on her way now.”

Rhodey hums but his gaze still hadn’t returned to yours. Causing your own to narrow as worry started to fill your chest. “Rhodey.” You wait for him to turn back towards you. Even if his gaze wouldn’t stay solely on your own for long. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t offer an answer. Something that only causes your worry to grow that much more. Rhodey had made it his life's work to deliver the hard truths to family. You didn’t want to think of what this meant that he wasn’t able to tell you.

Stepping closer, you place a light hand on his chest. “Rhodey,” you implore gently. “What happened?”

There’s a tense silence until he finally meets your gaze. Tears finally begin to fall from his eyes as a pained sound escapes his mouth. “Sam.”

He didn’t have to say anything else for you to understand. You had already seen so many people you knew crumble before your eyes. Seen innocent bystanders disappear with the breeze as their remaining family watched in shock. The screams for help and the mournful howls of grief following soon after. New York City quickly became a desolate wasteland of what it used to be. The City That Never Slept growing quiet.

Wrapping your arms around Rhodey, you offer him another hug. There were no words that you could say that could take away his pain. No words that would ever make the grief go away. That would ever erase the image of ashen faces crumbling against the wind. Faces of loved ones, of people you didn’t even know, forever seared into your brain.

Raising your head, you meet Rhodey’s gaze once more. A small frown furrowing your brow.

“Where’s Tony?”

“We’ll have to take another jet to scope the area for more survivors. I thi-”

Whatever was going to be said was immediately interrupted by your entrance. Not that you cared for anything he had to say. Your gaze honing in on his baby blue one as you made your way towards him. While he didn’t look the same you could still see the self-righteous asshole underneath. Something that caused your anger to grow even more.

You didn’t notice the other occupants of the room. Didn’t notice the way pained green eyes followed your every move-- even though there was worry interlacing the expression. Didn’t notice anything except for Steven Fucking Rogers.

Even the splitting pain that erupted across your hand as you punched him did little to detract from your anger. All you could feel was your pain. Your grief at what had happened. No amount of physical pain could ever measure up to your emotional trauma.

“You asshole,” you snarl. “This is exactly what Tony was afraid of. This is exactly what he tried to protect the world from.”

Steve didn’t make any move to protect himself from your shoves. His blue gaze turning sad; almost remorseful.

“I know, Y/N.” He turns his head away as shame colors his face. “I know that this is what Tony was afraid of.”

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name like you’re still his friend. Don’t you dare act like what you did didn’t happen.” You scoff as you take a step back from him. Your gaze finally looping the room for the first time. Only briefly pausing over Natasha’s silent form. Hating the relief that flared through your body at the sight of her. An emotion that you were sure crossed your face by the way something shifted in her gaze. By the way, her stance loosened ever-so-slightly. Turning away from her, you meet Steve’s gaze once more. “Tony knew this was going to happen. It’s why he fought so fucking hard for the Accords. Why he fought so hard to keep the team together.”

Anger finally graces Steve’s face at your words. “The Accords were going to treat us as servants, Y/N. There was no way we could sign them.”

An incredulous laugh falls from your lips at your words. “This isn’t the forties, Rogers. You can’t just do whatever the hell you want and expect to get away with it. There have to be limitations on what people with your abilities are allowed to do.” You shake your head as you turn your back on him. Moving towards the door. “Tony was going to fight for your rights. He wasn’t going to let your humanity be stripped from you. But there had to be fail-safes in place to protect the innocent people of Earth.” You shoot him a glance over your shoulder. Withering with its intensity-- with your anger. “Or is one person truly worth more than the millions of lives you destroyed? Or the billions, maybe even trillions, that are now gone because you couldn’t see past your loyalty to him?”

“This isn’t my fault, Y/N.” Steve replies. “This is because of Thanos. He is the one we have to stop.”

A small smile quirks your lips at that. “Still the idealist I see.” You shake your head. “We all made mistakes, Rogers. Could have done things in a different manner. But never forget that you were the one that split the team-up. That you were the one that decided Barnes’s life was worth more than everyone else's.” You chance one more glance towards Steve. Your eyes are sympathetic because you already knew what happened to him. “I’m sorry for your loss. No one deserves to see their loved ones perish like that.”

Even though it’s better than not knowing...

Moving closer towards the door, you place a gentle hand against the wooden surface. Your gaze turning somber as you meet Natasha’s gaze once more. Maintaining eye contact even though you were speaking to the room as a whole. “Maybe the people we should have been protecting the Earth from were you.”

You don’t wait for a response as you’re already gone. The thunderous echo of the door slamming behind you being all that was left of your presence.

You find Thor outside with an anthropomorphic raccoon. Something that barely causes you to pause as you settle down beside the god. Your gaze remains level with the horizon even as you felt Thor’s gaze on your face. His electric blue eyes like a weight against your skin.

His deep rumbling voice soon breaks the silence. “Y/N.”

“Thor.”

A silence settles over the three of you. Your gaze never wavering from the setting sun. The silent fields rolling with the wind. A hollowness exuding from the world that left your stomach churning with nausea.

“Is the Man of Iron, all right?” Thor breaks the silence once more. His deep voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I haven’t seen him.”

At the question, your mouth thins into a line. Finally breaking your gaze with the horizon as you met Thor’s. “Tony isn’t here, Thor.”

The revelation causes Thor to reel back. His shock etching itself across his features. “Friend Stark was dusted?”

You shake your head; trying to ignore the pain that struck your chest at the very thought. “No, Thor. He went after Thanos with Peter.”

The God of Thunder’s brow furrows. “So you do not know if he lives?”

You shake your head once more. “No, Thor. I don’t know if Tony is alive or not. I may never know what has happened to him.”

There’s another moment of silence before another voice speaks up. Your gaze shifting towards the raccoons. Deep brown eyes, that reminded you so much of Tony, stare back at you.

“He’ll be all right. If he’s in space then that means he’s run into my team.” His pointed snout looks back towards the sky with a hint of longing across his face. “They’ll take good care of him.”

At his words, a breath of relief falls from your lips. Your shoulders loosen at the sheer confidence within the raccoon's tone. That is until Thor interjected once more.

“But what if they were dusted too, Rocket?’

There was no answer. Only the silence of the world, a world that would never be the same, settling over the three of you. Your eyes once again returning towards the sky.

All with different levels of longing interlaced within.

Staying in Wakanda was stifling. While it was a beautiful country with astonishing marvels, you couldn’t help but be weighed down by everything. From the silent grief that permeated the air because T’Challa was gone. To the dark looks directed towards the sky whenever an airship flew overhead. Not to mention being surrounded by Rogers and his team.

Pepper’s arrival was like a breath of fresh air. You weren’t sure you were still capable of smiling, with true joy, before she appeared. Her bright blue eyes meet your gaze across the yard. Her own bright smile, with unshed tears filling her gaze, appearing as she rushed towards you. Her slim arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. The familiar floral scent of her perfume calming you.

You hadn’t been around when Pepper had seen Steve again. Hadn’t seen the colossal fallout that had occurred but you had definitely heard about it. Thor had been all too happy to tell you the tale of ‘Lady Potts decimating her star-spangled foe’. Something you were more than eager to hear.

Which is how Pepper had found the two of you. Laughing over Thor’s depiction of events. Her own agitation quickly falling away at your joy. And, while it didn’t last long, you were thankful to Thor for allowing it to appear all the same.

Returning to the United States, to New York City, was like stepping into a nightmare. At least while you were in Wakanda you could pretend that billions of people weren’t dead. That it hadn’t been something that affected half of the universe. Seeing the empty cars on the side of the road. The few people littering the street looking lost. Faces pale and emotionless as they shuffled aimlessly from place to place.

It was a sight that you would never forget. Yet another thing that you were going to have nightmares about.

The Compound wasn’t any better. Echoes of days long passed hitting you with full intensity as you made your way through the silent halls. The laughter that sounded so foreign to your ears now ghosting across your ears on a phantom breeze. Distant chattering that only seemed to fade the closer you got to it. Memories haunted the halls of the Compound. But nothing would ever be worse than the Tower. The place that you and Tony had built together. A great marvel that was forever placed within Manhattan's skyline. Knowing that he wouldn’t be there when you arrived caused you to stay away.

You didn’t think you would be able to handle those memories. Of lazy Sunday afternoons lounging around in pajamas while Pepper was taking various calls. Tony doing his best to make her break away from her no-nonsense CEO facade. Only succeeding once before Pepper shot him a withering look that held no heat behind it. The sound of his laughter bouncing off the hallways as he cheated at Mario Kart. Your own expletives joined in soon after as you were hit, once again, with a shell.

Knowing that the Compound did this to you; even though you rarely visited it. How could you possibly set foot in the Tower? The one place that had made you feel truly at home.

Drinking helped ease the pain. Helped quiet the memories that kept surfacing as you stayed in the Compound. You know that it wouldn’t be what Tony wanted. That he never wanted you to have the problems he had, but as the days passed. As the pain, the grief, continued to grow, you found it harder and harder to resist the amber liquid. Tony wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there to tell you a joke when you were feeling low. He wasn’t there to tell you that he loved you in his own special way.

He wasn’t there.

So you settled for the numbness and the sound of his voice in the distance. Always there in a dark corner but never obtainable.

Anything would be better than not having him with you.

On the second week of your stay in the Compound, the others appeared. The sound of the QuinJet only pulling your gaze towards the yard for a moment before you looked back down. You knew that they would be coming sooner or later. The world needed protectors. And they had just lost their greatest. The people of Earth needed to have someone to look towards.

It was only a matter of time before they called on them.

You didn’t even raise your gaze when you heard them enter. Their voices petering off when they noticed you sitting on one of the many couches with a StarkPad in hand.

“You didn’t think I would just let you stay here by yourselves, did you?”

Your question was only met by silence. You were hoping that they didn’t question you on how you knew. That they didn’t notice the dark shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep. Or the empty decanter on the glass table before you.

Steve was the one to respond. “We didn’t but I wasn’t aware it was going to be you, Y/N.”

Glancing up, you narrow your eyes. “Well, I’m the only Stark left so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, Rogers.”

You don’t wait for a response, suddenly finding it too hard to be in the same room as him, as you stand. Trying to ignore the way the room spun ever-so-slightly at the motion. Easily gathering your bearings as you made your way out of the room.

Trying to ignore the way an emerald green gaze watched you as you left.

You weren’t surprised when she found you-- annoyed maybe but not surprised. Sometimes you hated that she knew you so well. Hated that she could still read you like a children's book.

You didn’t bother to turn towards her as she stepped onto the terrace. Your gaze remains level with the horizon. Hoping, no matter how much it hurt, that you would see something. Anything. A single sign that Tony was coming back to you. That he was alive.

Feeling her warm presence settle beside you should have caused you to tense. Should have caused you to move away at the closeness. It should have caused you to do a lot of things but you don’t. You simply stay rooted to the spot as Natasha leveled her gaze towards the side of your face. Her keen green eyes took in everything that she could see.

You tried not to tense when her eyes flickered down towards your hands. Towards the glass that, by some miracle, hadn’t broken due to your tight grip. The amber liquid glowing softly underneath the moonlight.

She doesn’t say anything for a long while. Simply standing with you underneath the moonlit sky. The only sound passing between you being your breathing.

Until her husky voice finally breaks the silence. “He wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself, Y/N.”

You tense. “And how would you know what Tony wants Natalia?”

You didn’t have to be looking at her to see the wince that you caused. Your own heart feeling heavy at your acidic retort. But, unlike most people, she didn’t shy away from your anger. She didn’t even seem to be fazed by it.

“Because, despite what you may think, I still consider you and Tony my family. I know how much Tony loves you, Y/N. I know how much you love him.” She grows silent for a moment before she continues. Her tone much softer than it was before. “And I know how much I love you.”

Your eyes slip shut at the quiet admission. A painful lurch of your heart telling you what you had been trying to ignore for the last two years. That you love Natasha Romanoff. That you always would… no matter what.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. Finally turning your gaze to meet hers. “You can’t just come back into my life after two years and say those things to me. You can’t just say you love me like it’s going to fix anything.”

Her eyes flash. Turning razor sharp before your eyes as she steps closer. “It could change everything, Y/N.” Emerald green implores you to listen to her. To actually hear and understand what she was trying to say. “I love you, Y/N Stark. You are the love of my life. You are the only love of my life. I hate myself for hurting you. For breaking us apart because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. You are the only woman that has ever made me feel cherished. The only person that has ever made me feel truly loved.”

You shake your head. “You left, Natasha.”

“Because you told me to,” Natasha cries. Her green gaze grew even brighter because of unshed tears. “Do you think I wouldn’t have stayed? That I wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail to keep you? That I wouldn’t have let this whole world burn if it meant I could be with you for one more moment? You told me to leave, Y/N. I had already broken enough that day. I wasn’t going to stay and break your heart even more.”

“And you think this time will be any different?” You ask with an incredulous frown pulling your brow down. “You think that I don’t have nightmares about my parents death? That I don’t see my mother being murdered while my father couldn’t do anything but watch? You think that I’m not haunted every single fucking day that the love of my life kept that from me. That you lied to my face about one of the single most important things in my life.” Moving away, after setting your glass down, you run a hand through your hair. Your mouth thinning into a line. “You don’t think I wanted you to stay too?”

At your admission, Natasha moves towards you. Her gaze desperate as she took your hand in hers. “This time I will, Y/N. I won’t let you go again. Doing so last time almost killed me. I promise that I won’t ever lie to you again.” She shakes her head as she takes another small step closer, her hand resting gently against your cheek. “I promise that I’ll love you the way you should be loved until our last dying breaths.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the touch. It had been too long since you had felt her. Felt the way her fingertips ran across your cheek. The simple elegance that she always exuded being interlaced with her love for you. But you couldn’t forget what had happened. Your heart lurching in your chest as you remember the sting of betrayal once more.

Pulling away from her, you take a few steps back and fold your arms over your chest. You needed to have distance between your bodies. You wouldn’t be able to think clearly if she was near.

“I need time to think, Natasha.” You finally say after a tense stare off. “I need to come to terms with a lot of things in my life.”

Nodding, Natasha takes a small step back. Even though it looked like everything in her body was telling her to move towards you. Her green gaze glowed with a gentle warmth. “I’ll wait for as long as you need, Y/N. I’ll be damned if I lose you again.” Turning away from you, Natasha pauses at the door. Her gaze meets yours once more with a small smile quirking her lips. “And, just so you know, I had nothing before I found this family. Before I found you.”

Then she was gone. Leaving only you and the echoing of her words behind.

Now…

You haven't truly spoken to Natasha since the exchange. She had kept true to her word about waiting for you. Her gaze always finds yours the moment you enter a room she was in. Always making it clear that you could approach her whenever you wished to. Though she never forced her presence onto you. Maintaining a respectable distance from you at all times. Not far enough for you to not know she was there but not close enough for you to feel crowded.

You had tried to come up with ways why you couldn’t let her back in. Her betrayal being the main factor but even you knew that it wasn’t valid any longer. Even Tony had told you to look past it. That Natasha was so head over heels for you that her reasons had been honorable. Severely misguided, maybe, but honorable.

Oh, Tony, if you were here I wouldn’t feel so lost. You would just tell me what to do. Give me your patented smirk and berate me about my head being up my ass. Lowering your gaze, you run a frazzled hand through your hair. If I get one sign that you’re alright I’ll give her one more chance. I’ll make it work because I know that this is what the universe wants. That you returning to me is a sign that I’m supposed to be with Natasha.

At your eternal declaration, you glance towards the sky. Hope fills your chest as you observe the moonlit sky. Only to quickly be crushed as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Your heart breaks even more in your chest at getting your hopes up.

Stepping back from the railing, you decide that it would be best if you headed in. Maybe drown your sorrows with a few glasses of whiskey before turning in for the night. Pressing your hand against the smooth glass of the door, you have to squint at the sudden light from behind you. Your eyes barely being able to focus through the brilliant blaze. Glancing behind you, your eyes widen at the sight of a spaceship being placed down onto the ground. Your breath catching in your throat as you leapt into action.

You didn’t even register your mad dash through the Compound. Didn’t notice the confused looks or the shouts of your name. Didn’t register the cold grass against your bare feet as you rushed across the lawn. All you could see was the spaceship.

All you could see was the hatch opening and two figures exiting.

All you could see was the exhausted face of your older brother. His dark brown eyes meet yours through the darkness. Relief flooding his expression as he hobbled towards you. Disconnecting from the blue arm that was keeping him steady.

All you could register was the feeling of having him in your arms again. Your nose pressing into his neck as you clung to him. Soft sobs rip from your throat as his calloused hands gently run through your hair.

“You’re alive.”

It was like a mantra that you brokenly repeated over and over again. Each time making it even more real that Tony was actually there with you. That he wasn’t gone. That you could still see, touch, and hear him.

His answering response never failed to bring more tears cascading down your cheeks. “I’m here.”

You could hear the others as they approached you. By the tensing of Tony in your arms you know that Rogers was at the front. Pulling back, you touch Tony’s face. A soft sob falling from your lips at how emaciated he looked.

Offering him a watery smile, your thumb gently rubbing against his cheek. “We’ll have to get some food for you. I don’t think the space diet suits you, Tones.”

He offers you a small smile in return. The familiar spark reigniting in his gaze before fading away. His next words came out in a dull whisper. “I lost the kid.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your own shock filled you as the devastation in Tony’s eyes became apparent. You had known for quite some time that Tony thought of Peter like a son. That Tony would do anything to keep him safe. You viewed Peter as a little brother you always wanted. A warm presence that filled your life with meaning once more. His childish antics brightening your day and bringing a smile to your face. Knowing that he was gone? That you would never hear his horrible jokes again? Or his anxious rambles? It broke your heart. For both losing Peter and for Tony having to witness it.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” You shake your head. “He was a good kid.”

“Yeah he was.”

Opening your mouth, you’re about to respond but a shrill cry breaks through. “Tony!”

Turning, you could see Pepper rushing towards you both. Her blue gaze locked with Tony as she ran. Without thinking twice you move aside as Pepper takes your spot. Moving away to give her and Tony some privacy. Or however much one could get in an open lawn.

Not realizing how close you were to the others, you flinch at the sudden presence at your side. Your gaze meeting Natasha’s. Her green gaze filled with warmth and happiness. A small smile quirking her lips as she observes the scene before her. Pepper’s strong hold on Tony not wavering in the slightest even as Rhodey appeared too. Both taking their turns in showering the genius with hugs.

Shifting, your hand gently brushes the back of Natasha’s. Her eyes shifted towards yours for a moment before returning front and center. Biting your lip, you deliberate on what to do. As Natasha had clearly just given you the sign that the ball was in your court. That however you reacted to this situation would be all up to you.

You could step away. Pretend like nothing had happened. That it had been a simple accident and nothing more.

Or you could take her hand and finally accept what your heart was screaming at you. What it had been trying to tell your stubborn mind for the last two years. That Natasha Romanoff was the love of your life and you were never going to find anyone like her. That despite all this tragedy you could learn how to be happy again because she was by your side.

I did promise the universe, you muse with amusement dancing across your mind. And I don’t like breaking promises.

So, without breaking eye contact with the scene in front of you, you take Natasha’s hand. Allowing a small smile to quirk your lips at the way she immediately interlaced her fingers with yours. Noticing the warm smile that was now curling her lips through your peripheral.

Squeezing her hand, your heart leapt in your chest at the answering squeeze in response. Your body singing with happiness at having Natasha returned to you.

Despite everything, despite all the hardships you would now have to face, you would be able to do so.

As long as you had Natasha by your side you could get through anything.

And nothing would ever change that.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #avengers #infinity war #of a broken heart #avengers x reader #reader insert

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lightsinthedistancee · 3 years

Text

Under the Cover of War: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Pairing: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: “‘Let’s go,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s run.’ His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. ‘Please.’”

Following the destruction of the Hosnian System, a promise and a dire decision are made by you and Poe.

Warnings: Language

“Why?”

The single word is clipped, volatile, dangerously soft in nature. It’s a question, a plead, an accusation, all at once. It seems to scream in the silence, to imply a million other queries that Poe doesn’t want to answer.

He simply remains quiet as he stares at your back turned to him. You sit on the edge of the bed, breath shaking, refusing to even look at him.

He inhales, blinking rapidly. “Sweetheart—“

“Why?” This time, it’s a scream. The sound is ragged, painful, your voice cracking. It makes him flinch, makes him draw into himself.

The loud cry echoes, disintegrates as the seconds pass.

He wishes he could transport himself back to five minutes ago, before either of your holos had rung. Before the First Order had reported a victory to him, before the Resistance had reported a devastating, unfathomable loss to you.

He wants to return to when he’d laid beside you, running his fingers down your sides, when the memory of pressing you into the sheets was still fresh in his mind.

But somehow he knows that whatever the two of you have will never return in any way.

“How could you?” you whisper, the shock of five of the galaxy’s most populous planets being obliterated in mere minutes still in the process of shattering you to pieces.

Poe wants to shrink into the air, disappear in moments. He knows you’re crying, that you can’t handle it. He’d be lying if he said he himself was handling it at all.

“I…I don’t know what happened.” He stares at the sheets, tears running down his own face. He can’t imagine it. The deaths of tens of trillions. Their screams, the pain they must have felt in the blinding light of imminent death.

Your hands tighten into fists as you shake. Your form is locked in tension, perhaps about to abruptly turn around and strike him, perhaps about to break and collapse into a distraught pile of bone and flesh. “You’re a liar.”

The words are akin to a strike itself. He near hisses, unstable in his new knowledge. “Why the fuck would they tell me? I’m not even a colonel.” His volume rises, swirling in the atmosphere, ready to completely burst free. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it—“

“But you certainly have something to do with those who ordered it!” You finally turn to him. You’re livid. Eyes red with tears, lips in a tight line, a glare that threatens to break him.

And your statement is not something he can deny. He deflates, silent. He can feel your eyes on him expectantly, but nothing comes.

When enough time passes, you stand from the bed, grabbing your things from the bedside table. As your fingers delicately wrap around the blaster you regularly carry around, he briefly thinks that perhaps you’re about to turn around and shoot him.

But you don’t, and something new finds home beside your anger: a heartbreaking sense of disappointment.

It’s on instinct when his hand shoots out, grasping your arm. “No, wait…please. Don’t go,” he says quietly.

You’re all he has. There’s nothing more to say other than that. Life in the Order is a cold one, always has been. While he may not agree with the side you’ve chosen, you’re the sole warmth in his life, the sole radiant light.

You jerk in his grip, but he tightens it, eyes unashamedly pleading with you, begging you to not leave him.

Even in the place you always meet him, buried beneath layers of rock, surrounded by passages of clandestine activity necessary in your illicitness, his meetings with you never fail to be the only times he’s truly happy.

“Please…,” he pleads once more, thumb running over your knuckles.

A debate takes place on your features, and he can read you better than he can anyone else. He’s the person you’d let into your heart, the person you’d revealed every personal secret to. He’s the one who’d whispered ‘I love you’ one fateful night, the one to whom you’d whispered it back. He’s the one that had challenged your blind loyalty to any ideology, the one to whom you’d done the same.

He can see all those things viciously, ruthlessly grappling with the horrifying events that had just transpired: bodies being ripped to shreds, building being reduced to dust, life being annihilated in fire.

And in an act of emotional obscurity, the two opponents are shockingly close.

It’s evident which wins out when you limply fall back to the bed, body slumping to lie down, eyes tiredly closed.

“Then tell me why,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Why what?”

“I want to know why you joined the people who did…this.”

And at that simple request, he feels his walls rise. Even if they’d fallen long ago when he was around you, they’d never truly disappeared.

“I thought we don’t talk about stuff like that,” says Poe quietly.

“Well, I changed my fucking mind.”

He gazes around the room, reminded of the sole thing that prevents full, unconditional commitment to the other. The space they are in is a brutal reminder of the fact, for it presents itself in sets of two, an embodiment of duality.

Two blasters on top of the bedside table. One polished and new, the other dull and thoroughly used.

Two sets of boots clumsily scattered by the door. One shiny, lacking a single scuff mark, one that’s appearance suggests it’s been passed through several owners.

Two jackets. One with the hexagonal, sixteen-rayed symbol of the First Order, one with the starbird of the Resistance.

It’s a glaringly horrid representation of the two of you, never destined to be the same.

“Did your tongue also vanish along with the five planets?”

He slowly comes back to the present with your words, forcing away his disconnect.

It’s not something he can afford right now. Maintaining his privacy, hiding the events of his past, concealing the cause of his motives—he can’t afford any of that if he wants you.

And somehow, all he does want is you. You, you, you—to the point that he wonders if it’s unhealthy, if it’s even real and true, but that’s something he refuses to consider in the moment.

Even though you’d seen some of the darkness through him, he is certain that your loyalty to light is stronger, if only marginally, and that means he has to tell. He has to reveal.

“My mother,” he simply says, gaze unfocused. “She was a rebel pilot. She died.”

The slight stirring of your body freezes. He’d never talked of his family’s loyalties; he’d always given the impression that they’d passively existed in the deluge of light and dark that had overtaken the galaxy.

“She’s why I joined.” He flinches at the memory, grimacing at the pain he’d felt as a boy. “She died because of rebellion recklessness. Because of belief in blind hope.”

The anger—it’s simmering once more, bubbling higher, inching further and further to the edge of his chest.

And he can tell yours is too. Your fingers grip at the sheets as your eyes narrow. “Reckless…blind…hope?” He’s questioning your belief, accusing it of something dangerously irrational, and you yearn to lash back on instinct, to defend the beliefs you’d lived your life by—even as your own doubts of it conceal themselves in the background.

He laughs bitterly, his voice rising again. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s what the New Republic lived off of, and it was a fucking mess.”

You tense up, practically shrieking your next words, wholly, viciously attacking him back. “Who are you to say that—“

“There were people revolting in the streets!” he yells, his voice perhaps even louder than yours had been. “There were people in the Outer Rim starving! It was chaos—“

“And the First Order is what? Orderly?”

“They’re better than you and your—“

And he falls silent all of a sudden. He stops himself.

He knows where this is going. It’d happened and been resolved before, but he has a sneaking suspicion that that won’t be the case if the two of you continue down this road.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, his back slumped as he rubs his face with his hands.

“Me and my what?” you ask quietly.

He just shakes his head.

You fall back to your laying down position, head burying in the sheets, trying to block everything out. He’s right. He’s entirely right. The flaw in the Light, the flaw in the Republic, but you can’t bring yourself to denounce the loyalty you’d inherited.

He sniffles, hiding his tears behind his hands, and his figure—he knows it’s one of pure pain. As good as he’d gotten at hiding his emotions, they always seem to show themselves in your presence, no matter how hard he tries to defeat them, and it’s undeniable that you feel them to the fullest.

“You say ‘mama’ in your sleep sometimes,” you whisper all of a sudden.

At the revelation, he goes still. It’s an unsettling thought…that perhaps you’d known of his weakness long before he’d willingly showed you, long before he thought you deserved to know.

That maybe you’d heard the words of him crying out for his mother before you’d even known the slightest deeply-personal thing about him, when you’d only known the feeling of him inside you and the feeling of his lips on yours and the weight of his body as he slept beside yours.

His reluctance to look at you only increases tenfold when the shame floods in. The shame of a lifetime at this point—of weakness regarding his family, of putting blaster bolts in people who didn’t deserve them, of not being able to let go of his past, something he’d been striving for his whole life.

It all externally devolves into a mere fit of subtle trembles.

“Poe?” Your tone is soft now, gentle. You’re on your knees, sitting up, a single hand on the side of his face joining the space between the two of you. A certain mixture of concern and inquisitiveness finds home in your eyes, and for a second, he thinks your expression reflects one of a person staring at a beaten-down, once-aggressive animal.

“I regret it—joining the Order,” he simply says, voice cracking. The gas, plasma, fire, flesh, and bone of the destroyed system fill his imagination. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Only if you mean it.” There’s still no sympathy to your voice, but there’s a softer edge to it, the kind that’s always existed but disappears in every fight.

“I do.” He leans back into the pillows, forearm over his eyes. It feels as if this has been going on for far too long, for he’s exhausted.

Your hand finds its way into his curls, tracing from his hairline to the base of his neck. It’s hauntingly reminiscent of what he’d felt so passionately and tenderly before the conflict had even begun.

“All darkness dies in the light,” you whisper.

It’s an ambiguous statement to many, but he automatically knows what you’re asking of him—you want his darkness to die in your light.

And while part of him begs and yearns to submit to your wish, something about your words perturbs him—the words unsaid. His darkness…the one he’d held for so long, you don’t want it to disappear, you don’t want it to transform, no, you want it to die. You want him to kill it.

“I can’t,” he says softly, fingers fumbling with the sheets, almost hoping to blindly find you.

“The Light Side’ll—“

“I’m done with the fucking sides,” he interjects, his words lined with a sharp edge. A puff of air leaves his lips as he desperately wishes for calm, one with at least some semblance of permanence. He finally looks at you, eyes now completely devoid of any anger or menace they’d held before, just the sadness of someone who’d made one too many wrong choices. “It’s just pain either way, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a brief expression of hesitance crossing your face. “But you have to choose.” The hesitance turns to anguish, a revelation in its most subtle form. “There’s more pain if you don’t, and perhaps…perhaps that’s why I chose my side.”

He props himself up on his forearms at the mere implication—the implication that your unwavering loyalty to the light is not so unwavering, that you’d gone head in like he had with his loyalty and was now beginning to doubt things.

“Some don’t choose—“

“And they suffer for it,” you interrupt, finishing his statement with your own thoughts. It’s something you’ve seen your whole life: those who don’t choose being made to do so—often in violence.

He laces his fingers with yours, delicately wrapping each of your digits around his palm.“We’ve suffered our entire lives, darling,” he muses. “Born into a galaxy at war, a brief respite, and then yet another one…just suffering, suffering, suffering…within us, around us…what’s a little more?”

The whole room seems to freeze as you peer at him, part curiosity, part doubt, part disbelief. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think you know,” he says softly. The warmth staring back at you is undeniably something you would die for.

“Say it.” Your whisper is said with the deepest conviction, awaiting the words that would cement your decision, perhaps a decision you won’t know until you hear the offer leave his lips.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs. “Let’s run.” His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. “Please.”

Your breath shakes, just barely, contemplating, debating. There’s an inevitable weight to war, the kind that crushes people to pieces, and the temptation to run from such a force—it feels right. It feels right to be free, to live safer, to be with whom you want. “There’ll be sacrifices to make.”

“There’ll be sacrifices either way,” he insists, and you’re certain he’s right. “Darling….” His words fade off, and he surges forward, gently locking his lips with yours. It’s tender and pleading, the ultimate question asked once again through touch.

“Poe….” The way you say his name is filled with something decisive, something deliberate. The seconds pass. He waits. “Let’s go.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

#pluralistic

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jtsfavslut · 3 years

Text

Falling [G.D]

Description: Just when Y/N thought she was over Grayson, he pops back into her life, making her wonder if you could fall for the same person twice. Inspired by ‘Falling’ - Harry Styles.

Warnings: None, Just sad stuff lmao!!!

Word Count: 4K+

Also a special thanks to cole [ @blazedgraysons] for keeping up with my annoying ass questions while I wrote this, and for helping me and giving me advice I love you <333

Her small feet carried her body down the familiar street, cars zooming past her as her body softly bumped into the others around her. The loud sounds from the environment being blocked away by the soft, yet loud music that was coming out of an old pair of Airpods she had gotten for Christmas back in High School.

This was Y/N's daily routine. Get up early in the morning, do her business in the bathroom, get dressed, and walk over to her favorite cafe. The Beachwood cafe had become Y/N's second home ever since she moved to L.A, spending most of her time there, before and after class.

A smile lit up her face as the familiar blue door came into her view, a content sigh falling past her lips as she got closer to the door.

The strong smell of coffee hit her nostrils as she walked inside, music being paused as she walked fully inside, giving her attention to the cashier that greeted her every morning, "Hi Y/N, your stuff is on your table," she smiled up at Y/N before pointing towards her usual table.

It was the one by the window in the corner of the shop, the bright yellow and blue floor illuminated her small journey to the table, where her coffee and breakfast sandwich happily waited for her to approach. She sat down, hand reaching into her Yellow Kanken backpack, another Christmas gift from high school that she dearly took care of, she pulled out a brown journal and a pen.

A journal filled with memories and random thoughts that popped in her head. Y/N thought writing things down was good for the mind and body. She believed that writing things down would help you keep your thoughts safely, and lock memories into place without overworking your mind. A pen that has been through many journeys on the same yet different page.

All pages were the same until the pen went over it, recording things until the end of time. They were all the same until she wrote down her thoughts for the day.

Her small hand gripped onto the pen as she wrote down her thoughts from the previous night, coffee cup in the other hand as she slowly sipped the liquid.

Last night I thought of him again, just until I drifted off. I don't know why. It hasn't happened in months. Nothing bad, just a memoir of all of our memories together. Like the time we broke into the school's pool one night. Where he pushed me in with all my clothes on, then he jumped in and we made out by the stairs. Funny how we never got caught since cameras were around us. Or when we had our senior trips to the mountains in Colorado, and how he kept sneaking into the girls' room just to be with me. We were lucky we didn't get caught again. I tried to not keep thinking about him. I know it's time to finally drop it and move on, but how? How do I erase all those memories from my brain? How am I supposed to just drop it and move along? Just how? I don't need or want to know why just how.

She softly slammed the notebook closed, right before she could feel a slight burning in her eyes and a rock starting to form in her throat. The subject of her and a past lover that she was still holding onto, still being a deep wound to her.

She thought about and remembered Grayson every day. After all, he was her everything during her entire High School life, and he still was…...sort of. Grayson and Y/N started dating in the 9th grade, right about in the middle of the year. He asked her out behind the school's bleachers during lunchtime, a mixture of flowers from his mom's garden that she shyly accepted from him after she said yes. That was followed by their date to the movie theater, where he held her close to him every time she faked being a little scared, not that he could tell, and three dates after he officially asked her out where she said yes again, and that was followed by an accidental kiss, he was leaning towards her cheek when she accidentally moved her head to the side, causing his lips to land on hers. Neither of them complained, just smiled at each other and carried on.

They went on for 6 years, all of high school and two college years, where he decided to break it off because of distance. He went off on how being across the country from one another was hard, and the fact that the time difference from New York to California was 3 and 4. She didn't complain. Didn't give a reason as to why not, even if she had trillions of them. She didn't try to change his mind. She simply said okay, and wished him the best. She still loved him though.

The words that her grandpa had spoken replayed in her brain every time she questioned why she still thought about him; "You never stop loving anyone sugar, you just kinda love someone stronger. If you stop loving them, then you never loved them to begin with" She thought about that, and that made her feel better. Maybe there was someone out there who she would love more than she loved Grayson.

With a quiet sigh, she put her journal away, switching it with a book she picked up at the library a few days prior, yet read a million times.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book she read many times in school, mostly everyone has. It's the one book from school she actually enjoyed, so she picked it up from the book shop down the street from her apartment before work one day, and didn't get to read it until now.

She opened the book with a small smile, the sensation of the book against her finger bringing nothing but happiness to her, and took her mind off whatever was bothering her. She lost herself in the book, almost done with half of the book before her alarm rang, signaling it was time for work. She left a 20 on the table after putting all her stuff away in her backpack and walking out of the shop and towards her job which was a paid internship at a local hospital downtown, all she did was watch and help out with minor cases like cuts, sprains, X Ray's and the occasional stuff like questioning. She entered the hospital, sanitizing herself and changing into her uniform, walking over to her area, that being the Pediatrics Emergency room where her boss, mentor, whatever you might want to call him, Dr. Reyez, and the rest of the team were waiting for her.

"Morning everyone," she chirped at the tired yet awake health care workers, who all had smiles on their faces. "Morning Y/N, you're going to be practicing by yourself today, can you handle it?" Dr. Reyez asked her, which she just nodded her head with a smile. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in her brain.

"I'm pretty sure yes! And I can just reach out to you guys if anything, right?"

"Yeah, just page us if anything. Your first patient should be here soon, just go wait by the desk," Reyez instructed her and that's exactly what she did. She sat on the desk for over 20 minutes until someone came in with a toddler covered in rashes.

"Hi baby, I just need to ask you and mommy a few questions, yeah?" She sweetly and patiently asked the 5 year old as his mom was filling out some papers, to which he just nodded his head.

"Okay, Xavion, did you eat something new today? Maybe something you've never eaten?" She asked and both the mom and son nodded their heads.

"Do you think he was allergic to something?" The mom asked, causing Y/N to shrug.

"Well, it depends. We need to get an allergy test for him. It doesn't hurt or anything, we just scratch and pour a drop of the allergen over it and see how they react. Mom, do you happen to remember what he ate today for the first time?" She replied by recording some notes down on her clipboard before telling a nurse to get an Allergy Antibody Test ready.

"He ate everything that he usually does except for some broccoli I gave him," the mom replied and Y/N nodded her head before writing it down on her clipboard and walking them to the testing room.

Once the results came back around half an hour later, Xavion was, in fact, allergic to broccoli, and other things that Y/N had to explain to the mother. She got about 15 minutes of break time before Reyez called her another minor emergency.

"It's an 11 year old, possible breakage or sprain to the leg, you can handle this one right?" He asked and she nodded her head, "Good, they're in room 217, good luck," he added before sending her off to the room.

She quickly made her way over to it, grabbing her clipboard on the way, "Hi, I'm Dr.Y/LN, I'm going to be taking care of you guys today! May I have the child's name and date of birth please?" She nicely asked as she walked inside the room, quickly walking over to the desk area that was in the corner and placing her stuff down.

"Uhhh, Caleb Dolan, August 17, 2008," a deep voice that she could recognize from anywhere spoke as she turned around. Her heart dropped at the sight of Grayson in front of her. She tried to reassemble herself, after all, she couldn't make any mistakes right now, Reyez was trusting her and she couldn't afford to mess the opportunity up.

"Caleb, August 17, 2008," she mumbled as she wrote it down on her piece of paper, "Caleb, do you mind telling me what happened, babe?" She asked with a smile on her face. Her smile turned into a small frown as she looked up at the boy who happened to be in pain.

"Me and uncle Gray were practicing for the soccer game that's next and I fell on the mud and hit my leg really hard," he explained as she walked towards him nodding her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, One being okay while 10 being the worst, how would you rate the pain?" She asked, walking over to the walk to grab a pair of gloves, putting them on, and walking back towards him.

"Uhh a seven," he replied and she nodded her head.

"Okay Caleb, just know this might hurt a little okay? It's just protocol to check if it's dislocated, broken, or sprained okay?" She asked and he nodded his head, a few tears falling down his face from fear. Grayson quickly leaned down to wipe off his face whispering a quiet 'you'll be okay' as Caleb grabbed his hand.

"Can you try and move your ankle for me? Just try and move it," she explained and he muttered at quiet yes before moving his foot in a slow circle, she nodded her head before placing both hands over his ankle checking for any bumps, which there were none to find, "Luckily for you Caleb, it's just sprained! There are no bumps meaning it's not dislocated, and you can move it meaning it's not fractured! Just to make sure, we're going to need an X Ray' just to make sure there are no hidden surprises yeah? Dr. Lindsey will do those with you, and I'll be right here when you come back," she smiled up at the boy before Dr. Lindey moved him to a wheelchair and took him to the X Ray room, leaving Y/N and Grayson alone in painful silence.

"So this is what you do? This is where you work?" Grayson was the first to speak after a couple of quiet seconds,

She cleared her throat and nodded her head, placing her hands inside her white jacket, "Yeah. It's a paid internship so it's basically a job, what about you? What are you doing here?" She asked to make direct eye contact with him.

"Moved here after me and E graduated, looking for some roles and an agent," he spoke, his voice not as deep yet shakier than when he first spoke.

"Any luck with that?"

"Yeah. We've landed a few small roles here and there," he answered and she just nodded her head.

"That's good! I'm glad everything's working out for you," She gave him a genuine smile before continuing to fill out Caleb's paperwork.

"Listen, I know it's been 2 years but-," Grayson began to speak before Y/N cut him off. "-Grayson just don't. I'm at work right now, and it's enough seeing you after 2 years, but I don't really need this right now. I'm sorry," She apologized before leaving the room to get some papers before walking back in, thankfully Caleb was already in the room when she walked in.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle up with this and then you're good to go, buddy. Make sure you don't apply pressure on it for two weeks. And carefully when you're playing any sport, I don't want you back here," she said while wrapping his ankle up carefully. She gave Grayson the discharge papers, their hands touching each other for a split second before she pulled away waving them off before walking to where her team was.

"That guy was looking at you intensely," Reyez pointed out, earning a glare from her.

"Don't even start," she rolled her eyes before taking a sip from her water bottle that was on her desk.

"Wait is that the?" Jacob, one of the nurses, asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's him," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Holly shit Y/N, I knew you said he was hot, but girl? That man is hotter than-,"

"Mackenzie, don't you dare," Y/N joked towards her other co-worker, "God why do you do this to me? I was almost over him and then you put him on my path again? The universe hates me,"

"I'd go for it again if I were you," Mackenzie encouraged earning a glare from her.

"Alright, leave her alone before she starts to crumble, Mackenzie go fill out reports, Y/N go take a breather," Reyez ordered them around and they all nodded their heads, going on their way to do what they were told.

. . .

Soft snores began to quietly run past her lips as she drifted off to sleep, all before a feeling of suddenly falling down an empty whole woke her up. She shook her head letting out a quiet 'fuck' before turning to look towards the clocks on her nightstand, 3:30 AM being brightly displayed on it. Y/N let out a loud sigh, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Her mind suddenly clouded with knotted thoughts and notions, too many of them just to focus on a single one. She pushed her body up, just enough for her to reach over and grab the small yellow backpack that she lazily threw on the floor, pulling her journal and pen out before throwing it back on the floor.

She clicked the pen and opened the journal, blank pages waiting to be filled up, her hand delicately moved along the paper as she scribbled letters and words on the empty pages, thoughts clearing out of her head, one by one.

I saw him today. He looked different. He's grown. After it all, it has been two years. His voice is deeper too. He wanted to talk, but I said no. Maybe if I did, I would fall for him again, or something. I'm doing just fine, so why did he have to move here. Anyway, Reyez finally allowed me to take care of patients by myself today. It was fun, I liked it, I guess. Luckily I'm free tomorrow because I can't sleep at all now. Maybe it's the repeating thoughts of him running through my mind, or just simply the lack of melatonin in my body right now. I'll probably go to the park tomorrow, stop at the cafe first then make my way there, but anyway, I'm going to try and sleep now.

It was a quick entry, nothing special, just her major thoughts being written down, just enough for her to feel better. She got up from the bed walking over to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter and sipping it. She crossed her bare legs over each other, looking out of the big window in her living room. Her favorite part about the apartment? It was the window that looked down on bright LA city. Y/N could sit there for hours and not notice the time pass by, she knows this because it happened before. She left the kitchen and walked towards the window, propping her body down on the small couch she had in front of the window. She laid her head on her hand, watching the few cars that sped down the street, the small yet bright red lights disappearing into the distance as her eyes followed them until they could.

Her eyes softly closed as she laid down on the couch, drifting off into another universe. The next morning she woke up at around 8 AM, doing her daily routine, except she stopped at the Cafe, picked her things up, and made her way to the park. It was an old park, there was an old playground that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. She sat down on an old bench drinking her coffee as she watched the scenery.

She didn't take her notebook out, her mind not having any thoughts, or at least no thoughts relevant enough for her to write down. She just took her time to take her surroundings in. She admired how the wind moved the trees, yet they were so strong they didn't crack. The way the birds lifted off whatever surface they were, and drifted off into the sky. She admired the rare butterflies that randomly appeared just to disappear once again. She simply admired the earth, something that she didn't do quite often; Always being too deep in her thoughts to actually study the things around her.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" Grayson's voice spoke out of nowhere, making Y/N do a slight jump in her seat as her heart raced.

She brought her hand up to her chest, a sigh falling past her lips as she glared at Grayson who was chuckling, "You fucking scared me,"

"Sorry," he sighed, sitting down next to her.

They both let out sighs. Both knowing that there was no escaping the conversation that was about to happen, a conversation that was long due.

"You could, hmm, you could go first," she spoke after a few moments of silence, throat dried making her clear it in the middle of some of her words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You were working, and Ummm, it wasn't the right place or time to talk about things. I'm also sorry because I never gave you an explanation as to why we should've broken up. After all, you didn't ask anyway," He softly spoke. He thought every word through, studied each meaning before letting them run past his lips.

"I didn't ask because it's what you wanted. Your decision was clearly made. I mean, I don't think breaking up with someone is a spontaneous thought is it? Your decision was made, and if you felt like I was holding you back, then I had to let you go, if I loved you, then I think I did the right thing." Her words were careful too. And quiet, so quiet feeling that if she spoke too loud the things around her would break.

"I didn't want to break up. I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? We were always so busy, and we made time for each other, but it was exhausting. And when you were out with friends, I felt like I was annoying you or something," he sighed and she shook her head, the thought of her ever getting annoyed at Grayson's presence being absurd.

"Oh God absolutely not," she chuckled, "I thought I was annoying you. Like I wondered if you talked about me, or not. I wanted to know if I annoyed you because I felt like I did,"

It was true. In her journal, multiple pages were filled out with her question herself on whether Grayson talked about her or not. Even after the breakup, she wondered if he'll ever need her. Most pages were about him, all of her thoughts revolved around him, always.

"I did. All the time, to the point where I said your name subconsciously," he smiled, remembering the conversations he had with his friends about her, and how great she was.

"I did too, well not say but write," she sighed, leaning her back on the bench.

"You wrote about me?"

"Grayson you know I did, that's a dumb question," She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee that was somehow still warm.

"Do you still write about me?" He asked and she stayed quiet, not knowing whether she should answer truthfully or not.

"Honestly speaking, I do. I write about everything that comes to mind, so sometimes? Yeah," she sighed, knowing that it would be easier if they just told the truth.

Maybe this was the closure that they both needed, yet never got. Maybe this was going to help her fully move on from him, and have thoughts that don't include her.

Or maybe not. Maybe this would help them reconnect. Y/N left it all up to the universe. She was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't change your future since it's already written about. When she got home after a couple of hours she took a shower, lit on her favorite candles, and did the expected. She took out her notebook and wrote.

We spoke today. He told me the reason why we broke up. It wasn't an intentional meeting though, I was just admiring nature. I was looking at the butterflies I think. He randomly spoke. And I know it was long due and needed so I just told him to say it. It's better to just get it over with than to just keep pushing it back, I think. He told me why he wanted to break up, which right now, sounds like a valid reason. I just wonder why he didn't just say it back then. It would've saved me a lot of nights, don't you think? He now knows I write about him, and where I go to write about him. Maybe I shouldn't go there anymore. It sounds out of this world I know. But maybe, just maybe, I should just close that chapter in my life.

There are just too many memories of him at Beachwood. That's where he surprised me the first time he came to visit. And it's where I write about him the most. I could find another cafe near here, there's plenty.

I just wonder if we're ever going to see each other again. If I'll ever fall for him again, if that is even possible. Because I don't think you could fall for the same person twice, right?

That was the last page in her journal. All the pages filled with her delicate letters, her writing being eternal. Filled with on-going words until the end, where an unanswered question laid. The weight that was once on her shoulders began to fade, and for once in her life, the thought of her future no longer made her afraid.

This is the first time I’m proud of a something I wrote, so if this flops, I will deactivate! Just kidding, sort of. Anyways, yeah, I feel like my writing has improved, and as always, if you have any tips, and/or constructive critism, please, please, please drop them in my inbox, and don’t worry, I won’t say your hurting my feelings lmfao!!

Tag List: @guiltydols @evergreendolan @ydolanssss @rhyrhy462 @resilientdolan @simplyxdolxstyles @simplyxdolxstyles {If you wanna be added to my Tag List, just let me know :) lol}

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Little Gems

Hi all ... it’s been awhile ... but i just can’t leave Mulder and Scully alone for long ...

Sorry about that ... the kid has a new baking business she’s running out of our kitchen (she’s 16, btw) ... we COVID-quarantine finished our basement ... I rewrote my entire third novel ... I’ve had things to do :)

Love and hug and enjoy ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Little Gems

It was the look that made her stumble on her words, stutter through two syllables, hesitate on the third before rallying to pull herself back to the courtroom. Face flaming hot in an instant, she hid her clenched fists below the wooden barrier and carried on, trooper that she was.

His look.

In the middle of her sentence, she’d looked at him, the quickest of glances to see his encouraging lip twitch or the barest of nods … instead, she’d gotten popping jaw muscle, flaring nostril, and furrowed brow. She’d done her stumble because, without thought to present day for half a second, she’d rewound the past two minutes in her head. What the hell had she done to deserve that pointedly angry look?

For the next 43 minutes, she steamed slowly while her demeanor revealed nothing, back to calm, cool, collected, cadence smooth, sentence structure sound. Finally free, she moved past Mulder, dodging the crowd in the hall and slipping through his fingers as he reached for her arm, elbow, to turn her, yell at her for not saying some theory or other of his that would have gotten the case thrown out but allowed Mulder the righteous indignation of his truth.

“Hang on.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

&&&&&&&&

Continuing through the crowd at a pace not meant for five o’clock on a Thursday afternoon near a Metro station, she didn’t care that he’d driven her there. She didn’t care that her ring of keys was in his pocket. She didn’t care that her stomach needed food, her brain needed a drink, her sweet tooth needed several dozen peanut M&Ms. She did care that she had approximately $10 in her pocket, which was more than enough to get her home and she had no room for anymore cares at the moment.

She always knew that house key tucked and forgotten behind her badge would come in handy.

She would be seeing his ass tomorrow and not a moment sooner.

Mulder, on the other hand, stood there watching her storm away. Not quite sure why she was so angry with herself over a few misspoken words but the set of her shoulders and the way she threw out the ‘see you tomorrow’ told him if he did indeed see or talk to her before tomorrow, he’d possibly and probably walk away with one less appendage, be it finger or more important things.

Watching her until she disappeared into the Metro Station, he noted it contained a Blue Line so, knowing she’d get home via either Foggy Bottom or Rosslyn station, he let her go, knowing she had a key behind her badge and her emergency cash behind that.

His mind wouldn’t let it go, however. She’d been good. Damn good. Until her stumble, which, for reasons unknown to him, had made her angry. She had hesitated on two words, taken a quarter second deeper inhale than usual before she gathered and continued. He highly doubted anyone but himself had noticed but given it was Scully, she probably imagined she’d screwed everything up completely.

He chewed on this as he returned to his car, unhurried because, regardless of if he ran or crawled, he’d still be stuck in some kind of traffic between here and there.

&&&&&&&&

Scully, for her part, hated the crowds in the Metro, disliked strangers pressed this close to her, shuffled together with the unwashed masses of society, tourist and native alike, all collectively tired from their day and frustrated same as she with the swaying train and the endless wait to put on comfortable clothing and take a deep breath.

And it afforded her time to analyze Mulder’s look.

Which is exactly what she did not need at this point in time.

&&&&&&&&&&

Both moved several times during the evening to pick up the phone, find out what the other was thinking but in the end, Mulder fell asleep on his couch, worried about her, and Scully fell asleep on hers, angry at him.

&&&&&&&&&&

He honestly thought the next day would be okay. She would have spent the evening picking apart her testimony and should have, logically, arrived at the conclusion that she’d done nothing to hinder anything. He would be telling her that today when she walked in, deciding at 5:42am, while shaving, that a little reassurance would be an appropriate thing.

She walked in still irritated but hiding it … not so very well ... but well enough to return his greeting and nod when he told her she’d done fine the day before and not to sweat the stumble.

Her mug got set no so gently down on the edge of the desk , tea splashing out the sides.

All right.

Plan B.

Waiting until she’d wiped up the carnage of her very own personal DC Tea Party, he handed her her keys from the day before, “come on. We’re taking the day off.”

With a sigh, “we can’t.”

“After your stellar week with Kersh and Skinner, you deserve diamonds and ice cream. Come on.”

Fuck it. It was Friday. Why not follow? God know, she could just as easily be irritated with him outside as she could be in the confines of the basement.

&&&&&&&&&

“Are you kidding?”

“When is the last time you touristed DC? I mean, like, looked around and went to stuff and stared at it and read the little signs and learned something from what you read on those little signs?”

Another sigh, “it’s been awhile.”

“Then come on.” They walked over to the Mall, then Mulder tuned them to the Museum of Natural History.

Seeing the building and the crowd, “Mulder, it’s going to be packed in there.”

“Not where we’re going.” Up the steps, weaving through throngs in shorts and gym shoes, flipflops and sunglasses, they stood out like a tandem sore thumb, leather heels and barely there hose, Trinity tie knot and tartan pattern socks.

They drew more than a few stares. Thank God he’d left his suit jack behind.

Once they’d dropped the donation fee and flashed badges for guns, he led her past the dinosaur bones and then up to the second floor. Even though she wasn’t exactly happy, she had to ask, “um, you realize you passed the T-Rex, right?”

“He’s not going anywhere, Scully. I’ll see him on the way out.”

She hadn’t been to the second floor since, well, she wasn’t even sure what was on the second floor or if she’d ever been there at all, to be honest. Mulder turned her when they got out of the elevator and before she knew it, she was in a quiet area, glass cases surround her, a few people milling but the majority still downstairs with the bones and fossils.

“There’s nothing like the gem room in the morning.”

She fell in love as she took her first good look around. Minerals and elements and crystals along the walls, lights dimmed in spots, a sign for the Hope Diamond beckoning. Looking up at him, “how long has this been here?”

He laughed, quietly of course, because the area felt akin to a church or other place where silence and low murmurs were preferred over screaming children and echoing chaos, “the building, since around 1910, but the contents,” pretending to do some heavy math, using all his fingers and some of hers just for fun, “longer than that.”

Her crank meter dropped like a rock but some remained, “one day I’ll find you funny.”

Taking her elbow and feeling happy she didn’t jerk away from him, he led her towards the wall, “first, I’m going to take you on a tour of the blue section.”

“Are we dispensing with scientific names today? Will it be the green shiny ones and the square yellow ones and the ones that look like table salt but will kill you instantly if you ever tried to put them on a piece of corn on the cob?”

“One day, I’ll find you funny as well.”

They wandered in somewhat comfortable silence, sharing the oft-comment of ‘this one’s pretty’, ‘this one’s three trillion years old’ …

“Three billion, Mulder.”

“Once you get above a couple million, it’s all just really damn old and doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure you passed your science classes in high school?”

“Cute girls helped me cheat.”

She didn’t doubt it.

&&&&&&&&

Round about an hour later, while looking intently at the diamonds, Scully finally had to ask, her anger drained away, an empty hole left behind waiting to be filled with some kind of explanation. Standing beside him, hand resting lightly on the edge of the case, she asked in a soft voice, “why did you get angry at me yesterday while I was on the stand?”

What?!

“What?!”

“Right before I humiliated myself by not being able to say the word ‘epiglotal’, I looked at you and you were pissed at me.”

What?!

“God, Scully, no. No. I wasn’t mad at you at all. You were doing great.” He was leaning into her at this point, the intensity radiating off him enough to send world leaders to their knees in fear and her cheeks to warm at his proximity, “I wasn’t mad at you at all, I swear.”

Still quiet, “then what were you mad about?”

Talking at the glass but catching her reflection beside him, he felt like an idiot but didn’t think this was the time to attempt a lie, “um, the little shit paralegal behind me was whispering to his buddy about things he could imagine doing to you if he could get you alone in the closet in the hall for a few minutes.” She stayed silent as he stood there, feeling his stupidity growing in leaps and bounds, until he had to do something. Moving his hand closer, he reached out until he found her pinkie, hooking it with his momentarily, “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m sorry I messed things up.”

Sliding her hand out from him a second later, she moved it to his back, running fingers along the indent of his spine, up and down, down and up, stopping to palm his side before letting her arm dangle between them, “it’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t irritated with me. I should have asked you sooner, I guess, instead of letting things fester in my head.”

Her touch sent his skin buzzing, his hand always on her back, but hers rarely on his, and he knew she felt his quick breath in but both ignored that for now, “just to let you know, I’d have throttled him had we not been sitting in front of that many lawyers and the judge.”

She finally smiled, the left side of her mouth turning up, “I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Going for broke, he moved his hand to her elbow, then slid it down, working his fingers into hers, as he leaned in a second time, a little bit closer, a little bit quieter, “jealousy is an ugly thing, Scully, let me tell you.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Finally, finally, finally meeting his reflection, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Now warm from head to toe, “since I’ve already showed you the diamonds, how about I go get you that ice cream now?”

“In a few minutes.” Wrapping her free arm around the one holding her hand, she whispered over to him, “I kind of like it here.”

#msr #xfiles fanfic #x-files fanfic #no mama scully but peanut M&Ms so that's something #i miss the smithsonian and dc and travel #diamonds and ice cream #i think i like it here too #My writing

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sintheyokai · 3 years

Text

Meeee, writing something for Obey Me? Shocking yes but an idea popped in my head regarding my OC, Arabella Roun, and I simply had to write it because it's the first time I've ever had a full script in my head (again shocking, especially from a writers point of view). I value your time, so this story will be in two parts, the first of which will be under the cut:

[Part 2]

No Father of Mine (Part 1)

************************

**for additional information, Arabella is originally French living with her found family in Mexico and she's multilingual. Translated French will be italicized and translated Spanish will be bolded, unless presumed otherwise. This is pre-Belphrelease.

Arabella is many things- an assassin, an actress, a spy, all of which require a mask she's worn since childhood. All of which, as she learned in her previous home, require a heart of stone. Because of this, Arabella does not see herself as kind, unworthy of praise where praise is due. Despite these thoughts, however, she is determined to pay off Mammon's debt, even if it means dragging in others to do so. While doing so, the topic of a name comes up, which brings along other, uncomfortable topics.

"Mammon, exactly how much do you owe those witches?"

It was a very sudden question Arabella brought up at dinner, pulling out a notebook and pen from her bag. She received many stares from the six avatars that watched over her, even Leviathan had paused his game to stare in disbelief.

"Bella baby, you DO know what you just asked for, right?"

"I do, Asmodeus, and I am fully prepared for an answer."

Mammon grimaced, scratching the back of his head as the numbers churned in his mind.

"Severalllll billion Grimm I think? I couldn't give you an exact number."

Arabella made a noise in the back of her throat, "Very well. But it is below the trillion mark?"

Mammon nodded. He knew that much. Conversation thought to be over, the lords continued to eat.

But Arabella was not quite done yet.

"Do you know how much that would be in human change?"

Several distressed sounds were heard.

"Why are ya so damn interested in my debt!?"

"If a normie like you has that much money, I'm eating my headphones."

Lucifer finally silenced the whole table.

"I understand you and Mammon are very close to each other, Arabella," he started, "But the thought that you could pay off his debt is ludicrous, and will teach him not-"

"With all due respect, Lord Lucifer, I've earned quite a lot of money doing my human world job," Arabella interrupted, "If you will not answer my question then I will ask another: how much Grimm is equal to a human dollar?"

"Bout 500." Of course Mammon would know that instantly. She nodded at him and began to write in her notebook- 500 Grimm= 1 dollar; Trillion Grimm= ??? dollars.

Asmo looked like he was about to faint, "Arabella, our sweet little human, you can't be serious! You say you have a lot of money but this is Mammon we're talking about, you shouldn't spoil him like this!"

"It is because of his debt that they hold power over him, is that not correct?"

The room became silent. Arabella continued.

"Now, I do not know where lines are drawn in terms of morality here - how far people must go before someone finally says enough is enough. But where I draw my line is when you have people who hold themselves higher than they really are, and they flaunt it for all the world to see. Even worse are those who think that no one will challenge them, then abuse their power further when someone finally does. If these witches want money I will give them that money. But I will not let them hold that much power over a lord of Hell and do nothing when they laugh in his face."

She noticed Mammon slightly tearing up, and she almost smiled. She didn't, instead turning her attention back to her notebook, "Now please allow me to work."

The permission given was silence.

************************

"So if 500 is 1 then it's reasonable to assume 5000 is ten... right?" Arabella was muttering to herself.

The sudden switch in languages nearly sent the table into a frenzy once more, especially Asmodeus.

"1000 is two, two times five, 1000 times five... Yeah yeah okay that's 5000. How many 0s is a trillion again?"

"Oh darling you speak Fre-" Asmo tried to squeal before Arabella covered his mouth.

"Trying to count. It's much easier in my native language. So a trillion is... A million iiiis- six. So a billion is nine, meaning a trillion is twelve zeroes. Twelve, twelve, Quetzalcoatl please save me."

"Oi, how many languages do ya spe-"

"Several, Mammon, and if no one is eating please get out so I can concentrate."

The room stayed quiet from then on.

"A trillion is twelve zeroes... Wait." she paused, "What the hell all I needed was a trillion divided by 500, fuck. Okay so that's.. gods above what is that." She pulled out her D.D.D., quickly typing the numbers into her calculator

"What I'm getting is that I would need 2 billion to pay off your debt." she directed towards Mammon writing the number down in her notebook, "And that's if I did this correctly."

"I'nt tha a lo'?" Bell asked, mouth bulging with the others' unfinished plates.

"Well yes," Arabella said, "But with a little contribution from my other family members and friends, this could actually be paid off. If I spent all the money I have currently saved, aside from money used solely for donations to charities and money set aside for familial business, that would take a chunk out of such a large number in itself. The remainder would be about 1.5 billion."

"As impressed as I am with your determination on this matter," Attention turned to the eldest brother, "I'm concerned as to where you got all this money."

"My job pays high depending on how well the end result is. And my squad produces very good end results, Lord Lucifer." She turned to Mammon.

"Mammon, what nationalities are these witches? I'm aware there are three, but remind me where they come from."

The demon clicked his tongue, "One is from Romania, one's from Japan, and the last one's from France."

"Alright, so 2 billion divide by three.. that's going to be uneven." She typed the numbers, keeping in a strangled chuckle. "66,666,666.67 dollars per witch. How ironic. Okay so converting that means..." she typed a few more numbers, "270,700,010.21 lei for Romania, 7,312,366,949.56 yen for Japan, and 55,022,751.91 euros for France. Provided I didn't mistype anything."

Arabella stood up, "Very well then! I'm going to make a phone call to a few family members, a few friends of mine, and we'll get this sorted."

Notebook with these calculations in hand, she walked to the common room, unaware of the six lords following her all the way.

************************

And that is Part 1! I will post the second part within a day of posting this at the same time, so keep an eye out if you want, please reblog if you can, it’d be really appreciated, and send me feedback if you feel like it too.

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makeste · 4 years

Note

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go

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midnightactual · 3 years

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Kurayami’s Perspective

To understand Kurayami, it’s important to understand what a typical zanpakutō even is in the first place. Most of the available evidence in the series revolves around Ichigo, who is obviously unique, but it still gives us some insight into what the average zanpakutō is like.

ZANPAKUTŌ IN GENERAL

Ōetsu has the following exchange with Ichigo in chapter 523:

Ichigo: Oh yeah?! So these guys are the embodiment of asauchi! But... why are we being attacked by them?! Ōetsu: So close!! Ōetsu: Embodiment, huh? Yes, yes, yes. So close, so close. It’s a bit different, but that’ll do for now. But what’s more important... is that they’re angry at you. Ichigo: Angry?! About what?! Ōetsu: The way you two use your zanpakutō. Ichigo: How we use it...?! Ōetsu: You don’t understand? I don’t blame you. How you fight? How you swing it? No, no. Then what? It's something more fundamental! Ōetsu: Have you been using it as a tool? Have you been interacting with it as a subordinate? Have you been relying on it like a partner? As a family member? As a friend? A superior? A junior? Pet? Acquaintance? Lover? Mistress? Ōetsu: GIMME A BREAK!!! Ōetsu: This how they feel about you. This is what I mean by more fundamental.

Just from the way this is being discussed, we can say that zanpakutō are none of the things that Ōetsu lists off. When Ichigo eventually returns in chapter 538, the asauchi he selects takes on his appearance and hairstyle. In chapter 540, when Ōetsu disintegrates the asauchi for forging, it starts with a hole in the heart, like a Hollow. In chapter 541, “THE BLADE AND ME 2″, we get the following:

Ōetsu: Have you figured it out, Go-Ichi? Ōetsu: The reason why this asauchi turned white... the moment it touched you? Ichigo: ... No... Ōetsu: Perhaps you thought to yourself that... it’s just like... the Hollow in you. Ōetsu: That's right. This guy is... the Hollow inside you. I had that asauchi become the catalyst to draw this zanpakutō out. Ōetsu: Do you understand what that means? Ōetsu: This Hollow is... your zanpakutō, Go-Ichi. Ōetsu: The Hollow named White that Aizen created is made from layers of many Soul Reaper souls. Oddly enough... that is also how my asauchi are created. Ōetsu: That Hollow entered your body... and melded with your Soul Reaper powers. It became your zanpakutō. Ichigo: Wait a second... so then... Ōetsu: That’s right. I know you know... Ōetsu: ... About the man who's been... pretending to be a zanpakutō inside your soul!

We go on to learn that “Zangetsu”, the Old Man, is a manifestation of Yhwach, and Ichigo’s Quincy powers. Ōetsu and Ichigo then reforge both Zangetsu in chapter 541, “THE BLADE IS ME”, and Ichigo bids farewell to both, giving the following internal monologue before the title drop:“I won't ask... for your help anymore. I won't tell you to stay out of my way either. Nor will I ask... you guys to fight with me. I... will fight on my own. Thank you. Zangetsu. You are... me.”

All of this is very unequivocal: asauchi are created in the same fashion as artificial Hollows and become zanpakutō upon fusing with Shinigami powers. Once fused in such a fashion, they are their wielder and there is no real distinction between the two. It would seem from the actual Zangetsu’s behavior that he generally represents instinct, impulses, killing intent, and self-preservation instinct, although he is no mere “Id” given his relatively cordial interactions with “Zangetsu” in chapter 112. All of the talk of him being a Hollow and “taking over” Ichigo is just that: talk to motivate Ichigo through fear. (Which is necessary for evolution, remember?) Zangetsu has no real interest or desire in taking over Ichigo any more than Zabimaru wants to take over Renji. He also can’t, since he’s already fused with Ichigo’s Shinigami powers and is Ichigo.

“Tensa Zangetsu” in chapter 409 tells us, “I don’t care. I don’t care what happens to things you want to protect. [...] Make no mistake, Ichigo... What you want to protect... is not what I want to protect!” In chapter 420, White Tensa Zangetsu says, “Tensa Zangetsu is you,” and “What I wanted to protect was... you... Ichigo!” This not only foreshadows what Ōetsu says, but given that both Zangetsu are fused at this time, we can discern that this is the desire of both, to include his “actual” zanpakutō. This reasoning is presumably why Isshin’s Engetsu refused to teach him the Final Getsuga Tenshō in the first place.

(This is not an Ichigo analysis, but it seems evident that Isshin and Ichigo’s Final Getsuga Tenshō would not be the same. The existence of White Tensa Zangetsu suggests that Ichigo’s Quincy, Hollow, and Shinigami powers are acting in unison and that what he uses against Aizen is in actuality likely a combination of what Isshin called the Final Getsuga Tenshō, Letzt Stil, and Segunda Etapa. It is unclear whether what Isshin called Final Getsuga Tenshō is available to all Shinigami, only Shiba, or only himself and Ichigo. By comparison with Letzt Stil and Segunda Etapa, presumably all Shinigami should have something similar as a final mode, but perhaps it’s a Shiba specialty, as it seems unlikely only Isshin would know of such a thing, and if ever there was a time for people who did know to use it, Thousand-Year Blood War was it.)

(This is also not a Tōshirō analysis, and I don’t presume to know what’s up with Hyōrinmaru in chapter -16, let alone The DiamondDust Rebellion if it’s taken as canon, but suffice it to say, based on what Ōetsu says his experience is clearly not typical in any event. Nor is it a Kaname and Kenpachi analysis, as it’s not clear what’s up with taking the zanpakutō off someone else who died. Nor is it an Arrancar analysis, as their zanpakutō seem very different.)

All this still raises several questions, such as ones like: why does an old and experienced Shinigami like Shunsui treat Katen Kyōkotsu in chapter 649 in exactly the sorts of ways that Ōetsu mocks over a hundred chapters earlier? That’s unclear. It could be that what Ōetsu reveals isn’t widely known, and that Shinigami are allowed to labor under false impressions of what their zanpakutō actually are for some reason (such as to limit their strength). Or maybe Shunsui just finds it entertaining despite knowing the truth.

Anyway, to recap, in general:

asauchi are created in the same fashion as artificial Hollows, and effectively are themselves weaponized Hollows (which fits well with the zanpakutō which Hikone used, Ikomikidomoe, which was made from a primordial Hollow)

the asauchi facilitate drawing out the “instincts” of their wielder into a manifestation which is similar to but distinct from Hollowfication, creating a zanpakutō and its attendant spirit (or at least manifesting this spirit if it existed a priori) while leaving the wielder seemingly unaltered

zanpakutō spirits are their wielder at base, and a zanpakutō is an extension of its wielder

zanpakutō view the protection of their wielder as an overriding priority

KURAYAMI IN PARTICULAR

Accordingly, it should be understood that Kurayami, like most zanpakutō spirits, is a reflection of Yoruichi’s base impulses and desires. Unlike most Shinigami, by virtue of her high office and family pedigree, Yoruichi knows this. She was thus increasingly horrified by what she saw as a result, and internally continued to otherize Kurayami...

... But she probably missed some things in the process, because she was too close to see them clearly for what they truly were.

Kurayami is a hardliner. Her attitude toward Yoruichi is similar to Zangetsu’s attitude toward Ichigo. As discussed, Zangetsu postures in the fashion he does to try and compel Ichigo to take steps that are necessary, but which Ichigo refuses to take. The ultimate examples of this are Zangetsu taking control of Ichigo’s body in an attempt to take down Byakuya, and likewise fatally wounding Ulquiorra. Kurayami’s constant admonitions of Yoruichi, advocacy of first strikes, and appeals to violence are her version of the same idea, as Yoruichi’s preferences for socializing, toying with her opponents, and avoiding killing might get her killed instead one day. (See also: Askin.) She always pushes for the maximal use of force, for overkill, because as Ripley says in Aliens: “I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

Kurayami only cares for Yoruichi’s continued existence. Despite being perfectly aware of Yoruichi’s guilt regarding what occurred during her time in the Onmitsukidō and Gotei 13, Kurayami would happily kill a million, a billion, or a trillion people if it meant that Yoruichi continued to live. The lives of others aren’t meaningless, but they simply do not matter to her in comparison. It’s not exactly that she only views Yoruichi’s compassion, empathy, and sympathy as weaknesses, as they can be tactically advantageous, but she believes Yoruichi is too committed to them even when it imperils her.

Kurayami largely disdains others. Being Yoruichi herself, knowing everything she knows, Kurayami can reflect upon Yoruichi’s life and judge it from a somewhat different point of view than Yoruichi herself. What she finds isn’t great. Kurayami’s perspective is that others have used and abused Yoruichi, either blatantly to get what they wanted, or subtly through needing her. Her position is thus that almost everyone else can fuck off and die. “Leave Yoruichi alone,” and “You all don’t deserve her,” are fairly apt summations of her point of view. While this hostility isn’t (usually) actively violent or lethal, she is unlikely to treat most of those Yoruichi knows in any fashion other than condescendingly.

To summarize: Kurayami is actually Yoruichi’s biggest advocate and booster, just in her own way. She’s hard on and critical of Yoruichi because Yoruichi has been trained to be predisposed to learning best from that kind of input, and because Kurayami cares enough to settle for always being cast as a villain if it means Yoruichi goes on and succeeds. She believes that almost no one is worthy of Yoruichi’s time and attention, let alone her blood, sweat, and tears. And finally, she has an infinitely negative amount of compassion for anyone who would oppose Yoruichi, regardless of any and all reasons involved in any dispute or conflict.

She loves Yoruichi (and how can she not, since they’re one in the same?) and would gladly turn the universe to ash for her to keep her going even one more day. Lobbying for murderous rampages is in effect a posture she adopts to make a point rather than a desire she lusts for. She’s never actually at risk of losing control or going berserk—it’s always only ever about doing what needs to be done with minimal risk.

#Out Of Character #Long Post #Headcanons #Event: MIRROR

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exhausted-joy · 4 years

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INTO THE WOODS [YANDERE!JIMIN] [05]

SYNOPSIS: Park Jimin is your needy, clingy, summer camp cabinmate that both creeps you out and makes you regret ever trying to be socially engaged during your summer break. After submitting truckloads of request forms to switch cabins and getting rejected, you realize that you must swallow your pride and get comfy with your new cabinmate. He hates it and so do you—at least, that’s what you thought.

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NOTE: WOW look who’s made an appearance!! so here i am w/ an update after... what? ten thousand years? not sure if anyone even remembers this fic haha! thanks to my co-writer, luciole (on quotev), this chapter was able to get finished after sitting on one scene for the longest. thank you for waiting and hopefully i can get back into the groove of writing asap! <3

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You want to enjoy your trek back to camp. You really do. But it's incredibly hard to do so when your chronically antisocial cabinmate won't respond to a single word you say.

Each joke you crack is swallowed whole by the silence that follows, and every comment you make on your unfortunate surroundings falls on deaf ears. Perhaps you just weren't funny or you were being annoying, but that couldn't possibly be the case. You would be more inclined to believe that Jimin suddenly converted back into a mute, but you certainly wouldn't buy the Hellen Keller act anytime soon.

Despite his clear avoidance, the silences between you two are no longer awkward - for you, at least. When he doesn't laugh at a joke of yours, you don't feel the intense sear of embarrassment raising the hairs on your skin but, instead, there's a comfortable silence.

You'd like to believe that maybe he's not so much of a verbal laugh kind of guy, he just prefers to keep it all in. It's an unintelligible assumption, but it helps somewhat soothe your irrational fears of Jimin growing a sudden hatred for you.

"Hey, Jimin," you call from behind him, having lagged a few paces back due to his somehow inexhaustible stamina that keeps him in the lead pretty much at all times. "Can we please take a break? I think my lungs are about to collapse."

The boy halts in his steps and looks back to give you a single nod, his face stoic and unreadable. You shift uneasily and avoid eye contact, suddenly unnerved by his change in personality, though not surprised. You spot a large log covered in a thick layer of moss a few feet away and make your way over to sit on it.

Plopping down, you think back to anything you may have said that could have offended him in some way. Was it the joke you made about how big his hoodie was on you? Perhaps he had thought you were calling him fat? You didn't mean to hurt his feelings, if that's the case.

You thought you were making some progress with him, but it looks like you are back at square one again. It's discouraging, yet you aren't quite sure why.

Did you really want to be his friend? Or were you only bearing the weight of his strange tendencies because, in retrospect, you literally had no other choice?

You glance at Jimin, watching as he coolly rests against a tree turned away from you, his dark hair falling into his eyes. You just can't seem to figure him out; one moment he's the one initiating conversation and the next he's pulling back as if he's been burned. You wish you had some kind of sixth sense to help you understand the burdened inner workings that make Park Jimin, but you unfortunately don't.

And you're honestly too much of a coward to ask him if everything's alright, so maybe it's best if you just give him some space. He can't ignore you forever - you live in the same cabin after all, and a pretty small one at that. He would have to talk to you sooner or later. Right?

You sigh, shaking the intrusive thoughts from your mind. There is no use in mulling over something you can't control; if Jimin wants to indulge in his bouts of teenage angst, then so be it. You take a moment to recollect yourself and catch your breath, taking the chance to tentatively attempt at tidying up the bird's nest of hair that sits tangled atop your head.

But the bird's nest seems determined to stay until you get hold of a hairbrush, which, considering your current situation, could still be quite some time away. Getting up in favor of leaning against a tree yourself, you absentmindedly mirror Jimin's stance as you watch him from the corner of your eye. Nope, still not one sign of social capability.

This time your sigh is louder. Loud enough for him to hear and, low and behold, he turns his head in your direction to look at you. At this point, his constant changes in behavior from open to antisocial to intrigued are starting to get on your nerves, and you decide to show it.

Narrowing your eyes enough for him to notice, you turn away to stare at a tree in front of you which looks exactly like all the other hundreds of trees surrounding you.

Stunning, you think ironically. Like I haven't seen enough chunks of nature in the last twenty four hours.

Suddenly, a prickly feeling creeps up your spine. You're familiar enough with it by now - he's looking at you. Staring, more accurately, so intensely you can feel goosebumps welting up the skin of your arms despite the soft fabric of the hoodie that shields you from the cold morning air. But you don't turn around, you don't bother at this point.

Jimin musters you from his peripheral vision. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended you somehow? A million questions of the like course through his head all at once.

Even though he hasn't been able to come up with an appropriate topic for a new conversation after awkwardly ending your last one, he feels somewhat wronged by your behaviour. It's not his fault he was too shy to just start babbling about, even if that's what you might want.

He can feel a familiar heat crawl up his neck, whether from shame, embarrassment or anger - he can't tell. Jimin wants to talk to you. So what's stopping him? His fear of abandonment? His innate ability to drive away those he loves? The possibilities spin through his mind, fueling the insecurities that burn fiercely within.

Whatever it is, the answer to his questions are not yet transparent, and he refuses to bend backwards to figure it out. In the end, this struggle would all be for nothing; you are a temporary piece on this board of chess, a queen who will fall if he gets any closer. When camp ends, so will whatever this is. It happens, it's life. Right?

And in that case, is this the reason why Jimin is currently making his way over to you, palms clammy as he wracks his mind for a conversation starter, for something, anything to say?

You raise an eyebrow when you see the boy approaching you. Oh, he finally wants to talk now? You scoff but hold back on a clipped comment, knowing how sensitive Jimin can sometimes get. You don't exactly know him that well yet either, though you honestly wouldn't put it past him to spring a knife on you if you say something that doesn't sit well with him.

"Yes?" You question as your roommate halts in your wake, his eyes gleaming unsurely in the midst of the early morning sunlight.

He peers at you, seemingly conflicted. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again like a fish. The cycle continues a couple times before you begin to find it humorous. You hold it in though, for his sake, and gesture for him to just spit it out already.

"...Are you mad at me?"

The question stikes you silly, and you are hardly able resist the urge to actually burst out laughing. So it has been a misunderstanding. Here you are, pondering over the trillions of possibilities as to why this boy could be mad at you, yet him thinking you are mad at him not being a single one.

Still, you are incredulous at this revelation, and you do your best to express it in the most unassuming way possible.

"Me? I thought you were mad at me!" You cry, eyes almost bugging out of your skull with vexation. Jimin tilts his head, slightly furrowing his eyebrows in perplexion.

The way his hair moves across his forehead as he tilts his head makes your heart flip, but you push the feeling away. It must be low blood pressure from your lack of proper meals the past day and night. Looking at the shifts in Jimin's expressions, it seems a lightbulb has flickered to life with the way his eyes glaze over in realization.

"Ah, I see.." He breathes, almost in relief, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Your eyes widen for a millisecond at the unusual display of emotion, but then he shocks you even further when takes two large steps towards you. Now he's suddenly right in front of you, impossibly close with you craning your head back to look up at him.

"..Uh..?" You whisper in confusion, furrowing your eyebrows as his hands slowly rise up to your face.

In a flash, Jimin grabs the drawstrings of the hoodie and quickly pulls, scrunching up the hood and masking your face from view like you had done earlier at the campsite.

"J-Jimin?!" You squeak as you hear the pounding of footsteps and a quiet chuckle that reminds you of a chuffing tiger.

Astounded, you struggle to pull the hood from your face. When you do, the only thing you see is a glimpse of Jimin's white shirt before he disappears behind a tangle of large branches. A twinge of fear pulls at your gut and you take off after him, afraid that you might lose him in the thicket of eternal tree trunks.

It doesn't occur to you that the usually stoic boy just showed you his way of having fun. Of joking around, of horse play. Why exactly was it so strange to you? Shouldn't you be happy that he's acting like this so openly? You aren't sure how you're supposed to feel but, for now, you can only think about how worried you've become at this sudden surfacing of positive growth.

Was he perhaps.. warming up to you? It's a thought so obscure that you almost laugh out loud at yourself but as you catch up to Jimin moments later, you are almost rendered speechless at the sight of him smiling.

It's a genuine, toothy smile that reaches his sparkling eyes and you're shocked to see the sight of his pearly whites. But as quickly as it comes, it goes, wiped from his face in seconds as he turns away to face a dirt path that leads through a somewhat familiar scene with trees, trees, more trees and-

Was that.. smoke? It billows through the tops of the trees, its fading grey fingers curling up into the morning sky. You've half a mind to jump up and scream with joy. A campfire! And from the looks of it, a big one. Of course, one can never be entirely sure that said smoke doesn't come from illegal and possibly murderous poachers camping nearby, but the chance is considerably slim.

Jimin feels himself tensing up beside you. So this is it, huh? His blissfully isolated alone-time with you was finally coming to an end. Disappointment curls in his stomach; things would go back to how they used to be, wouldn't they? He almost wants to pick you up and carry you back through the trees and into the small clearing where you'd spent the night. Where he'd made some of the happiest memories in a long time.

Of course, semi-kidnapping you back into the forest was out of the question. The last thing he wants is for you to hate him, avoid him like the plague, to shun him too just like the others-

You suddenly grab his hand without a warning, immediately stopping his train of thought- and if he isn't mistaken, there's a tiny blush on your cheeks. His heart skips at least three beats, the way your slender fingers curl around his bigger hand making his insides feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy.

The smile you shoot him is dazzling as you practically drag him by his hand towards what is, hopefully, camp. Running after you, he hesitantly entwines his fingers with yours, too.

—

Who knew isolation could be so blissful. After having been swarmed by fellow campers with a hurricane of concern, curiosity, and wonder how you hadn't been eaten alive by a cave bear, the camp supervisors had mercifully decided to send you and your socially inept partner to your cabin to relax. Formalities and questions would be dealt with tomorrow.

You take one long lazy look around your temporary living space. Sleep looks irresistible, almost delectable right about now. You let out a lengthy yawn as you plop down on your bed, all the drained energy and missing sleep from your little expedition suddenly hitting you like a brick.

Jimin, at the other end of your shared room, seems in a rather similar state to you, oddly enough. You can't recall him ever even so much as expressing the need to sleep- no yawning, no eye rubbing, nothing. Maybe some good old fresh air wore down his vampiric tendencies a bit. Your roommate has already silently shuffled into his own bed, albeit horizontally, although that didn't seem to bother him at all.

As much as you would like falling asleep on the spot, diving in the peaceful silence between you and Jimin, the way the bends of your arms and the hairs in your neck stick together tells you that you need a shower, desperately.

Already kicking off your shoes, you do your best not to fall asleep on your feet walking towards the small bathroom, having just enough presence of mind left to grab a pair of clean pyjamas before entering. Once inside, you basically rip off your sweaty clothes and toss them Kobe-style into a hamper nearby.

The cold water hitting your skin feels like bliss after a while of overheating. When you emerge, you can feel more like an actual human being rather than a caveman with the bodily hygiene of an ape. You get dressed and leave the bathroom with a sigh and a tired, relieved smile on your lips.

Jimin props himself up on his elbows, his gaze lingering on you a lot longer than necessary. You might not be aware, but he notices right away; above your cozy pyjamas, you've automatically thrown on something else - his hoodie. His hoodie. That strange sensation he always seems to get when he sees you drowning in his jacket creeps up his throat again to grasp him in a chokehold.

You take notice of Jimin's fall-back into staring out of the corner of your eye, but it bothers you strangely little. It would appear that, while mostly being incredibly, cripplingly awkward, being lost in the woods with your cabin mate had somehow brought you closer in a mutual, silent way. Maybe a peaceful co-existence is possible for the two of you after all.

With shallow motions you crawl under your blanket, turning so you face Jimin's side of the room. With your last bit of conscience, you shoot your groggy cabin mate an exhausted, yet earnest smile. And before you're out like a light, you can still see him inconspicuously reciprocate your action, all while gazing intently as if you might disappear if he so much as glances away.

His smile... your mind slips into a state of comatose, your heavy eyelids finally closing as your train of thought drifts into dreamland. The dark haired boy listens as your breaths grow heavy, watching as your body relaxes beneath the sheets. His eyes flicker around the room, his face subsequently heating up.

Her smile is really nice. Jimin thinks bashfully as he settles into bed, facing away from you, and quickly pulling his blanket over his head. Just a simple thought, but if only you could see the grin on his face right now.

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theinvisibledoodlewizard · 3 years

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Had a dream (nightmare) yesterday morning. And it’s probably cause I saw a bug in my dad’s truck and my grandmother being in the hospital stressing me out, but eh. Thought I’d share. It’s creepy though!

So it started with me at my grandparents house, (warning. The setting shifts a lot) and grandma was home. And fine. Something about that bothered me. But everything else in the dream was so realistic that I brushed that off. (In reality, she hasn’t been at the point in the dream since last year… maybe longer)

Well, I go outside with dad and sis to get something out of the truck. And as I open the door, there’s a tick on it.

Shift to now on the grandparents back deck and it’s on the storm door into the house.

I didn’t want Zoe (my dog) to get the tick on her. So I asked sis to hand me a tissue to squish it with. That was absurd on many levels. Cause I don’t have the hand strengthen actually squish a tick… I’ve tried on many times. And second, WHY WERE THERE TISSUES OUT ON THE TABLE OUT THERE?! They would get rained one SOOOOOO bad! That was weird.

Well I at least got it off. So that was good, threw it off the deck. But as I turned back going to go inside, there were two ticks on the door. Odd, because I hadn’t seen them before, but they were exactly where the previous one had been…..

Now the door changed ever couple seconds. From the truck door, to that storm door, to the door at my house, to the sliding door. And it depended on where it was, but sometimes I’d want to be going inside, and others outside. But either way the ticks were multiplying on the door, crawling through the small crack that was open. (I’m not sure how… the door was always closed)

Well I was getting dizzy from how much the door was changing. It felt like everything’s as spinning. And even though I knew the ticks would probably climb up my arm, I had the feeling that if I opened the door, it would stop changing. So I fought my instinct to pull away (good gosh I didn’t wanna touch that handle) and when I got close enough, the ticks moved away. I held onto the handle more a moment, and the dizzying changing slowed to a halt. It was now just a plain white wooden door like for the inside of a house. And I was floating in a gray nothing. There was some floor under me, but I couldn’t see a shadow to know it was there. Well, the ticks had kinda crawled off… so I thought I was ok. I don’t know why, but I still wanted on the other side of that door. I didn’t remember what I needed over there…. I just had the distant memory that I needed something from over there….. to get inside.

I flung open the door…… that was a mistake. Turn away now if the rest hasn’t made you.

Inside the door….was a infinite tunnel of crawling ticks, thousands, millions, trillions…. I couldn’t see them individually really… just a moving wave of black blood suckers…. All coming out now that I’d opened the door….. there wasn’t and end, no light at the end of that moving, pulsing tunnel. Just forever stretching blackness, and legs wiggling. They surged out faster that they really should’ve….. covering the door, walls, floor. And because I hadn’t let go of the handle, I had to watch in frozen terror as the crawled up my arm. And all over me…… as they were gonna suck every drop of stuff out of me…..

Then woke up. In my bed. Alone. Safe. I thought I still felt them crawling. But I then remembered what a dream was. It wasn’t real. I was ok. So I rolled over and went back to sleep. I was too tired to worry about something that hadn’t happened. I have actual real stress that I have to handle. Like grandma being in the hospital. And then it clicked that that was what had been off. And I really knew it wasn’t real.

Almost ever time after I rolled over after that. I’d have a moment where I would be thinking about how I need my parents to check and make sure a tick wasn’t hiding in my hair. (I’ve been really ‘lucky’ with ticks, in that they love me) But I’d tell myself it wasn’t real, and go back to sleep. But I’d do it again when I rolled over again. And when I woke up for real. That kinda sucked. (Pun intended. ;])

#random thoughts #nightmare #yeah…#it’s a doozy of a nightmare #don’t wanna have it again #heh #wonder where that came from….#this probably should been on the spoopy blog instead….#oops

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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What Percentage Of Republicans Are On Welfare

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-percentage-of-republicans-are-on-welfare/

What Percentage Of Republicans Are On Welfare

Democrats Return The Favor: Republicans Uninformed Or Self

Republican States Are Mostly on Welfare

The 429 Democratic voters in our sample returned the favor and raised many of the same themes. Democrats inferred that Republicans must be VERY ill-informed, or that Fox news told me to vote for Republicans.;;Or that Republicans are uneducated and misguided people guided by what the media is feeding them.

Many also attributed votes to individual self-interest whereas GOP voters feel Democrats want free stuff, many Democrats believe Republicans think that I got mine and dont want the libs to take it away, or that some day I will be rich and then I can get the benefits that rich people get now.

Many used the question to express their anger and outrage at the other side.;;Rather than really try to take the position of their opponents, they said things like, I like a dictatorial system of Government, Im a racist, I hate non-whites.;

Average Spending Of Welfare Recipients

Compared to the average American household, welfare recipients spend far less money on all food consumption, including dining out, in a year. As families with welfare assistance spend half as much on average in one year than families without it do, there are some large differences in budgeting. Families receiving welfare assistance spent half the amount of families not receiving welfare assistance in 2018.

The Gop Push To Cut Unemployment Benefits Is The Welfare Argument All Over Again

The White House is on the defensive over accusations from Republicans that expanded federal unemployment benefits, which were extended through Sept. 6 as part of Bidens $1.9 trillion coronavirus relief package, are too generous. The GOP argument is that people receiving the $300 weekly benefit have little incentive to return to work. The criticism from Republicans has gotten louder in the wake of a disappointing jobs report.

Its an argument that echoes similar claims conservatives have been making about government assistance programs for decades that people are taking advantage of the system in ways that allow them to collect checks while sitting back and relaxing.

As Washington pays workers a bonus to stay unemployed, virtually everyone discussed very real concerns about their difficulties in finding workers, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell said Monday. Almost every employer I spoke with specifically mentioned the extra-generous jobless benefits as a key force holding back our recovery.

But Democrats counter that millions of Americans need that money to get by. More than 20 million jobs were lost in the early months of the pandemic; 10 million American workers are currently unemployed, the Labor Department says.

Democrats say the sudden demand for more workers from businesses is outpacing the number of workers that can get back into those jobs, especially since many schools arent fully open, and many workers cant afford child care.

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The Politics And Demographics Of Food Stamp Recipients

Democrats are about twice as likely as Republicans to have received food stamps at some point in their livesa participation gap that echoes the deep partisan divide in the U.S. House of Representatives, which on Thursday produced a farm bill that did not include funding for the food stamp program.

Overall, a Pew Research Center survey conducted late last year found that about one-in-five Americans has participated in the food stamp program, formally known as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. About a quarter lives in a household with a current or former food stamp recipient.

Of these, about one-in-five of Democrats say they had received food stamps compared with 10% of Republicans. About 17% of political independents say they have received food stamps.

The share of food stamp beneficiaries swells even further when respondents are asked if someone else living in their household had ever received food stamps. According to the survey, about three in ten Democrats and about half as many Republicans say they or someone in their household has benefitted from the food stamp program.

But when the political lens shifts from partisanship to ideology, the participation gap vanishes. Self-described political conservatives were no more likely than liberals or moderates to have received food stamps , according to the survey.

Among whites, the gender-race gap is smaller. Still, white women are about twice as likely as white men to receive food stamp assistance .

How Democrats And Republicans Differ On Matters Of Wealth And Equality

A protester wears a T-shirt in support of Bernie Sanders, an independent from Vermont who is part of … a group of Democrats looking to beat Trump in 2020. Photographer: John Taggart/Bloomberg

If youre a rich Democrat, you wake up each day with self-loathing, wondering how you can make the world more egalitarian. Please tax me more, you say to your elected officials. Until then, the next thing you do is call your financial advisor to inquire about tax shelters.

If youre a poor Republican, however, you have more in common with the Democratic Party than the traditional Wall Street, big business base of the Republican Party, according to a survey by the Voter Study Group, a two-year-old consortium made up of academics and think tank scholars from across the political spectrum. That means the mostly conservative American Enterprise Institute and Cato were also on board with professors from Stanford and Georgetown universities when conducting this study, released this month.

The fact that lower-income Republicans, largely known as the basket of deplorables, support more social spending and taxing the rich was a key takeaway from this years report, says Lee Drutman, senior fellow on the political reform program at New America, a Washington D.C.-based think tank.

Across party lines, only 37% of respondents said they supported government getting active in reducing differences in income, close to the 39% who opposed it outright. Some 24% had no opinion on the subject.

Also Check: Democrats News

Bases Of Republicans Antidemocratic Attitudes

shows how Republicans antidemocratic responses in the January 2020 survey were related to education, political interest, and locale. These relationships provide only modest support for the hypothesis that allegiance to democratic values is a product of political activity, involvement and articulateness, as McClosky had it . Although people with postgraduate education were clearly less likely than those with less education to endorse violations of democratic norms, the overall relationship between education and antidemocratic sentiments is rather weak. Similarly, people in big cities were only about 5% less likely than those in rural areas to endorse norm violations, while people who said they followed politics most of the time were about 7% more likely to do so than those who said they followed politics hardly at all. Given the distributions of these social characteristics in the Republican sample, the most typical antidemocrats were not men and women whose lives are circumscribed by apathy, ignorance, provincialism and social or physical distance from the centers of intellectual activity , but suburbanites with some college education and a healthy interest in politics.

Social bases of Republicans antidemocratic attitudes.

Key indicators of latent dimensions

Political bases of Republicans antidemocratic attitudes

Translation of ethnic antagonism into antidemocratic attitudes in Republican subgroups

Welfare Accounts For 10% Of The Federal Budget

Many Republicans claim that social services expenditures are crippling the federal budget, but these programs accounted for just 10% of federal spending in 2015.

Of the $3.7 trillion the U.S. government spent that year, the largest expenditures were Social Security , health care , and defense and security , according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities .

Several safety net programs are included in the 10% spent on social services:

Supplemental Security Income , which provides cash support to the elderly and disabled poor

Assistance with home energy bills

Programs that provide help to abused and neglected children

In addition, programs that primarily help the middle class, namely the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit, are included in the 10%.

Don’t Miss: How Many Registered Democrats And Republicans Are There

At Least 60 Afghans And 13 Us Service Members Killed By Suicide Bombers And Gunmen Outside Kabul Airport: Us Officials

Two suicide bombers and gunmen attacked crowds of Afghans flocking to Kabul’s airport Thursday, transforming a scene of desperation into one of horror in the waning days of an airlift for those fleeing the Taliban takeover. At least 60 Afghans and 13 U.S. troops were killed, Afghan and U.S. officials said.

Welfare Spending By President And Congress From 1959 To 2014

Republicans’ Facts About Welfare Are “Not Factually True”

America faces many problems today. The current economic recovery has been the slowest since the Great Depression, the national debt has surpassed $18 trillion, and the federal government continues to spend more than it collects. While its not unusual, unethical, or unconstitutional for the federal government to operate with deficits at times, the question is why does Washington continue to overspend? Is there a legitimate reason or is it neo-politics? In this article, well take a look at spending on welfare programs during each presidents term from J.F.K. to Obama. Well also look at the party in control of Congress. Which one was the biggest spender as it pertains to welfare programs?

The Dark Side of Social Benefits

Politicians love to sing their own praises and for a very good reason. Otto von Bismarck, the first Chancellor of Germany, made an astute political observation in the 1880s when he stated, A man who has a pension for his old age is much easier to deal with than a man without that prospect. Bismarck openly acknowledged that this was a state-socialist idea and went on to say, Whoever embraces this idea will come to power. Thus, the strategy of using legislation to gain votes was forever embedded in the political landscape.

Welfare Spending

Lets take a thorough look at federal welfare spending from 1959 through 2013. The following graph includes spending for two data points:

Democrats in control: 13.7%

Republicans in control: 3.5%

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What Is Governments Role In Caring For The Most Needy

Nearly six-in-ten Americans say government has a responsibility to take care of those who cannot take care of themselves. Do these views vary depending on whether the respondent has personally benefited from a government entitlement program?

These data suggest the answer is a qualified yes. Overall, those who have received benefits from at least one of the six major programs are somewhat more likely than those who havent to say government is responsible for caring for those who cannot help themselves .

When the analysis focuses just on just the respondents who have received benefits from at least one of the four programs that target the needy, the gap between entitlement recipients and other adults increases to eight percentage points .

Some larger differences in attitudes toward governments role emerge when the results are broken down by specific program, though in every case majorities of both recipients and non-recipients affirmed that government has the obligation to help those most in need.

For example, nearly three-quarters of those who ever received welfare benefits say government has a duty to care for those who cannot care for themselves. In contrast, less than six-in-ten of those who have never been on welfare agree.

Similar double-digit gaps surface between non-recipients and those who ever received food stamps and Medicaid .

How Come We Are Red And Blue Instead Of Purple

Republicans to live outside of urban areas, while Democrats tend to prefer living inside of urban areas.

Rural areas are almost exclusively Republican well strong urban areas are almost exclusively democratic.

Republicans also tend to stress traditional family values, which may be why only 1 out of 4 GLBTQI individuals identify with the GOP.

63% of people who earn more than $200k per year vote for Republicans, while 63% of people who earn less than $15k per year vote for Democrats.

64% of Americans believe that labor unions are necessary to protect working people, but only 43% of GOP identified votes view labor unions in a favorable way.

The economics of the United States seem to have greatly influenced how people identify themselves when it comes to their preferred political party. People who are concerned about their quality of life and have a fair amount of money tend to vote Republican. Those who have fallen on hard times or work in union related jobs tend to vote for Democrats. From 2003 to today, almost all of demographic gaps have been shifting so that Republicans and Democrats are supported equally. The only true difference is on the extremes of the income scale. The one unique fact about Democrats is that they are as bothered by their standard of living as Republicans tend to be.

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States Have Shifted To The Right

Democrats are floating a plan to tax stock buybacks.

Even excluding health insurance which some experts argue should not count people in this patch of Appalachia draw between a fifth and a third of their income from the public purse.

Perhaps the politics of welfare is changing up to a point. Democrats made big gains this year in elections for the House and several statehouses, running largely on the promise that they would protect the most recent addition to the safety net: the Affordable Care Act, including the expansion of Medicaid in many states. But championing the safety net does not necessarily resonate in the places that most need it.

Take Daniel Lewis, who crashed his car into a coal truck 15 years ago, breaking his neck and suffering a blood clot in his brain when he was only 21. He is grateful for the $1,600 a month his family gets from disability insurance; for his Medicaid benefits; for the food stamps he shares with his wife and two children.

Every need I have has been met, Mr. Lewis told me. He disagrees with the governors proposal to demand that Medicaid recipients get a job. And yet, in 2016, he voted for Mr. Trump. It was the lesser of two evils, he said.

About 13 percent of Harlans residents are receiving disability benefits. More than 10,000 get food stamps. But in 2015 almost two-thirds voted for Mr. Bevin. In 2016 almost 9 out of 10 chose Mr. Trump.

Program Goals And Demographics

Larger group differences emerge when the results are broken down by age and income levelsdifferences that are often directly related to the goals of specific benefits programs.

For example, adults 65 and older are nearly three times as likely to have received an entitlement benefit during their lives as those adults under the age of 30 . Thats not surprising, since nearly nine-in-ten older adults have received Social Security and78% have gotten Medicare benefits. Both programs were specifically created for seniors with age requirements that limit participation by younger adults.

Similarly, Americans with family incomes of less than $30,000 a year are significantly more likely as those with family incomes of $100,000 or more to have gotten entitlement help from the government . Again, this difference is not surprising, as assisting the poor is the primary objective of such financial means-tested programs as food stamps, welfare assistance and Medicaid.

Also Check: Why Do Republicans Wear Blue Ties

Which Party Are You

The average Republican is 50, while the average Democrat is 47.

55% of married women will vote Republican.

GOP candidates earn 59 percent of all Protestant votes, 67 percent of all white Protestant votes, 52 percent of the Catholic vote, making them a Christian majority party.

Only 1 out of 4 Jewish voters will support Republicans.

If you are white and have a college education, there is a 20% greater chance that you will be a Republican instead of a Democrat.

American Republicans have been found to be among the most generous people on earth, and not just financially. Republicans also provide more volunteer hours and donate blood more frequently.

Here is what we really come to when it comes to political party demographics. It doesnt matter if youre a Republican or a Democrat. What matters is that everyone is able to take advantage of the diversity that makes the United States so unique. Instead of trying to prove one way is the only correct path, both parties coming together to work together could create some amazing changes for the modern world. Until we learn to compromise, however, the demographic trends will continue to equalize and polarize until only gridlock remains. If that happens, then nothing will ever get done and each party will blame the other.

Taking The Perspective Of Others Proved To Be Really Hard

The divide in the United States is wide, and one indication of that is how difficult our question proved for many thoughtful citizens. A 77-year-old Republican woman from Pennsylvania was typical of the voters who struggled with this question, telling us, This is really hard for me to even try to think like a devilcrat!, I am sorry but I in all honesty cannot answer this question. I cannot even wrap my mind around any reason they would be good for this country.

Similarly, a 53-year-old Republican from Virginia said, I honestly cannot even pretend to be a Democrat and try to come up with anything positive at all, but, I guess they would vote Democrat because they are illegal immigrants and they are promised many benefits to voting for that party. Also, just to follow what others are doing. And third would be just because they hate Trump so much. The picture she paints of the typical Democratic voter being an immigrant, who goes along with their party or simply hates Trump will seem like a strange caricature to most Democratic voters. But her answer seems to lack the animus of many.;;

Democrats struggled just as much as Republicans. A 33-year-old woman from California told said, i really am going to have a hard time doing this but then offered that Republicans are morally right as in values, going to protect us from terrorest and immigrants, going to create jobs.

Recommended Reading: Did Trump Say Republicans Were Dumb

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