#construction mediation

[batcavescolony]

I just saw a ao3 tag that was like "Sigmund Freud would enjoy this“ and I'm gonna need you to expand on that. In what way? "id, ego and super-ego" way or "Oedipus complex" I need more specifics here.

#sigmund freud #ao3 #writers on tumblr #id ego super ego The three agents are theoretical constructs that Freud employed to describe the basic structure of mental life #id: uncoordinated instinctual desires #super-ego: the critical and moralizing role #ego: the organized realistic agent that mediates between the instinctual desires of the id and the critical super-ego #or #Oedipus complex: a son hating his dad and wanting to f his mom #because those are two VERY different things and i need to be sure #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #its probably oedipus knowing fanfic its probably that but still

[propp]

people discussing “femininity” as though its an actual concept worth protecting and not an artifical notion created by and in service of the patriarchy. like a woman isnt lesser for conforming to femininity but A. that conformity is not a default and is not natural, she is putting in effort (conscious or not) to uphold it and B. that conformity, while perhaps necessary to move through a world out to hurt her, is not really transgressive/feminist. femininity is womanhood as imagined by men. that doesnt really imply anything that unsavory about feminine women but there’s no use lying through our teeth to ourselves

#this is coming from a girl who does present femininely and is cognizant and self aware that this is an aesthetic mediated by male desire #also before anyone asks yeah this applies to femme lesbians as well. its transgressive because theyre doing it in relation to other women #but its still a set of standards constructed by patriarchy and doesnt exist in a man-less vacuum #mine

[ammarthemystic]

Waiting for China to invite international academicians and at the same time honored to serve remotely as an expert in HIAC Commercial Arbitration Expert Team of Hainan International Arbitration Court(HIAC) #China   The Second China International Consumer Products Expo(Hainan Expo) was held in Haikou from July 26 to 30. To better serve the needs of Chinese and foreign exhibitors for commercial arbitration and mediation, I was invited to join the HIAC Commercial Arbitration Expert Team again for the second Hainan Expo. It is always a privilege to support the Hainan Free Trade Port Business Environment Construction and the development of Hainan Arbitration! #arbitration #business #team #development #construction #environment #import #earbitration #mediation #adr #Uzbekistan #centralasia #centralasiatechlaw #law #innovation #ai #tech #consultants https://www.instagram.com/p/ChcN0wPDmfI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#china #arbitration #business #team #development #construction #environment #import #earbitration #mediation #adr #uzbekistan #centralasia #centralasiatechlaw #law #innovation #ai #tech #consultants

[yourtongzhihazel]

thoughts on anarchism?

The anarchists I've met IRL, especially while organizing, have been some of the most wonderful comrades and I wouldn't hesitate to work with them again. I'm sure there's many online too who're just like them. I do admire how quickly they are willing to use direct action, even if it's not the best tactic to be used or the only means to an end. Some anarchist ideas, while not necessarily achievable on a large scale, are certainly is very helpful for short term, small scale survival, like mutual aid for example.

Anarchism as an ideology though, I do have strong disagreements with. When I was first dipping my toes into studying political-economy, I had a very brief time where I was following both anarchist and marxist accounts and forums. And often, when I asked the marxists a question about how things would or potentially could work, they could point to real examples as much as they could theoretical ones, and they could point out the pros and cons of their own systems. But when I asked anarchists similar questions, there was generally a kind of hesitancy or wishy-washiness or vagueness which I really didn't get from the marxists. As a poc, I remember a black man had asked anarchists what the solution to a group of racist factory workers voting him out of their work force was and no one had any answers beyond, "well at that stage you really wouldn't expect racism on that level". But the marxists would say racism is a social ill that takes time to combat, even after the revolution thus the proletarian state exists to ensure cases like that are investigated and corrected. A more poignant example would be like the Chinese trans woman who sued her former place of work for firing her for being trans and the state sided with and supported her rights. In some ways, I think I was always inevitably going to go down the marxist route given my family background, but that's not to say I didn't give anarchism a fair shot in the beginning.

More theoretically, the roots of anarchism has always been deeply entwined with petite bourgeois ideology. Similar to liberalism, it supposes that the liberation of the collective comes from the liberation of the self. That's not to say anarchists are liberals (well, actual anarchists anyway), but rather, has been influenced by a deeply individualistic ideology like liberalism. The reason we marxists tend to call anarchists idealists can mainly stem from our biggest disagreement, which is the utilization of the state. It's unreasonable to destroy the greatest tool a class has in the class war once that class gets its hands on it, especially since the bourgeoisie have no qualms about using it as a bludgeon against the proletariat. The state has always been used as a mediator for class warfare and whichever class controls it controls the arbitration on class conflict. Like it or not, revolution, just like the construction of socialism, will come at different times with different arising conditions for every country. It's simply not enough to rely on hopes of either a total revolution or to defend your own revolution without the tools provided by a state. After the October Revolution, the nascent USSR was invaded by over 20 foreign countries and they threw them all out. During the second world war, more than 4 million fascists were killed on the eastern front and the Red Army marched into Berlin in the end. Both feats would be impossible without strong state apparatuses. There's more to it than just this, of course. If you want, you can read a (admittedly, pretty scathing) critique by J.V. Stalin, Anarchism or Socialism?, for some more detailed information.

My last point is that in many online spaces, there's no doubt a big overlap between radlibs and anarchism or at the very least, anarchist aesthetics. I can't tell you how many times I've been called some slur or 'tankie' or some variation of the two by someone presenting themselves to be anarchist who then turn around and say the most unbelievably liberal talking points. I've now come to realize that the reason for this overlap is two-fold. The first is that in liberal democracies, where individualism is extremely strong and thus anarchism, as a more individualistic ideology, appeals more to radlibs. The second is that anarchism is very easily marketable, even more so than marxism. These two kind of go hand-in-hand as well.

In the west and usamerica in particular, we don't have much of a choice in regards to who we side with and I would actually take an anarchist comrade over the "queering the MIC" libs in the DSA or whatever. I'll still jest about about anarchism tho.

#hazel's press releases

[daisynik7]

Strawberry Soju

🎶 I don’t need another shot of you, but I got to, my strawberry soju 🎶

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre: college au, enemies-to-lovers

Word Count: ~7.0k

cw: asshole!Eren, fratboy!Eren, subby!Eren, blowjob, cunnilingus, face riding, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, unprotected sex, alcohol, language.

Summary: Two weeks before graduation, you are finally done with your senior project. This calls for a celebration with your team, including the person who annoys you the most: Eren Jaeger. The two of you learn to put your differences aside for one night, starting with a bottle of strawberry soju. 

Notes: All characters are seniors in college (21-22 years old), engineering majors. Eren is a frat boy, so some details from my series Rush will be used, but no correlation to that story. Inspired by the song “Strawberry Soju”, which I’ve been obsessed with for the past two weeks. I had a lot of fun with this, so I hope you enjoy! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thank you so much! 

“And now, we are proud to present the winner of this year’s Senior Project Showcase: Team Titan! For their omni-directional mobility gear, designed for construction workers in the field to ensure safety whilst elevated hundreds of feet in the air! Bravo, Team Titan! Bravo!”

Professor Pyxis’s announcement leaves you and your group flabbergasted. Sasha and Connie both have their jaws dropped. Eren, who sits beside you, throws his fist in the air, exclaiming, “Oh hell yeah!” You stay in your seat, in total shock.

Pyxis stares fondly at the four of you, beckoning you towards the stage in the main engineering lecture hall. “Don’t be shy, my young engineers, come here to accept your award!” Hesitantly, you all make your way behind the podium, a polite round of applause from the other students and faculty echoing throughout the room. 

Nearly an entire semester of work has led to this. Five months of grueling research, scrambling to acquire the right materials, complicated design issues that made you want to scream. Not to mention five months spent collaborating with the bane of your existence: Eren Jaeger. The award for first place barely makes up for a semester’s worth of torture; nonetheless, it’s still a pretty trophy.

It was fate that brought the four of you together back in January, the same fate that has spited you for whatever reason, forcing you to work alongside Eren, the most obnoxious, cocky, annoying person you have ever met in your short twenty-two years of living. While you had no issues with Connie or Sasha, you and Eren did not mesh. It’s been apparent since the beginning of the semester when you were chosen to be the team leader. He scoffed, claimed that he “would be a better choice, but whatever.” Your relationship with him was doomed from that day on. 

What’s odd is that he isn’t an asshole to the entire group; his less than pleasant behavior seems to be reserved for you, and only you. He gets on perfectly fine with Sasha and Connie, who have basically played mediator for you two, keeping as much of the peace as possible whenever an argument ensues. He usually instigates it, always making an unnecessary comment to get under your skin. At this point, you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose just to get a rise out of you, because how can one human be this irritating?! 

Despite all the petty drama, you have to admit that he’s smart. Not only that, but he also works hard and gets shit done, no matter how much grief he gives you about it. And, if you squint hard enough, he maybe is, almost, sort of…hot. Strictly speaking from an objective standpoint, that is. Based on media-driven beauty standards and common qualities that are considered conventionally attractive by society. Of course, you will never, ever admit this aloud, especially not to him. You’re convinced that if he ever finds out, his massive head will explode, already overinflated from his gigantic ego. 

Your team crowds Pyxis, who happily hands you the trophy first. Eren, no surprise, snatches it from your clutches to hold it himself, kissing it and lifting it above him like he won a major league championship. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to maintain professionalism in front of the watching staff. 

“Will your team leader give a few words about the project?” Pyxis asks, gaze on you, motioning to the stand. 

You tense up, usually nervous about public speaking. Clearing your throat, you lean into the mic. “Uh, thank you Professor Pyxis and the rest of the faculty for selecting our project. This has been a labor of love for the past five months and we are honored to have it recognized. We hope that this prototype and any of the research associated with it will help improve labor conditions for those working in construction, risking their lives every day.” 

You glance at Connie and Sasha to see if they’d like to add anything else. Connie adds, “Special shoutout to grad students Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Hange Zoe for helping us out a ton with our project, from offering advice to testing it out. We love you!” 

“And thank you Paradise Pizzeria and Café Utopia for fueling many late nighters throughout this whole semester! You rock!” Sasha exclaims, resulting in laughter from the audience. 

Eren grabs the mic from the stand, yelling, “This is dedicated to my fraternity brothers, for providing moral support during these trying times! Alpha Tau for life!” He holds the trophy in one hand, using the other to salute an inverted fist at his chest, sticking his tongue out.  

This time, you don’t contain your eye roll as the crowd laughs even louder, clearly amused by it. He passes the microphone back to Pyxis. “Fantastic! I love the enthusiasm of this team. Let’s give them all another big round of applause!”

After the presentation is over, Pyxis instructs, “They’d like to take your picture next to the ODM gear. The photographers are taking some shots of the other projects, so feel free to take your time heading to the Rose Center.” 

On the walk, Eren passes the trophy to Sasha. “What to hold it, Sash?”

“Sure! Still can’t believe we won!”

Connie puts his arm around her, staring at the prize. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but damn, is it nice to look at.”

Eren catches up to you, nudging you in the arm. “Would it have killed you to smile during your little speech?”

You shove your elbow into his ribs, a little harder than necessary. “I was smiling.” 

“You call that a smile? You looked like you were in a hostage situation. Like, blink three times if they’re hurting you type of deal,” he teases, that cocky smirk plastered on his face. 

“Like you were any better!” You stick your tongue out, mocking him. “Alpha Tau for life, bros!”

“I really meant it. I needed all the fucking help I could get, dealing with you this whole semester. If it weren’t for them, I would have gone fucking crazy because of you.”

“Oh right, because I’m the one driving you crazy, sure,” you respond, sarcastically.

“Hey, at least you’re admitting it! You’re finally making progress!” He claps in front of your face.

You shove him, glaring. “You are such a jerk.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, baby.”

“Oh, I am not your baby.”

Sasha jumps in between, yelling, “Enough! Both of you, stop it!!”

Connie joins in. “Yeah, we won today. Stop ruining the mood.”

Without you realizing it, the four of you have made it to the Rose Center, which is luckily vacant in the midst of your little spat with Eren. This is how your arguments usually go, all because of something petty that never leads anywhere. When the photographer arrives, they direct you to stand beside your project, already displayed in one of the glass windows. They take a couple of shots, then it’s over. Just like that, your senior project is officially done. There’s a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. All that’s left to do is to graduate. 

The sun is setting by the time the photoshoot is finished. The four of you exit the building, Sasha immediately announcing, “I’m hungry! Let’s get dinner one last time as a team!”

“I’m down for that. Any ideas where to go?” 

“Paradise Pizza?”

“No, we’ve had that way too many times this year. Let’s go somewhere special tonight.”

“There’s that all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue place downtown,” you suggest. “It’s only fifteen minutes away if we take the train.”

“Ooohh, I like the sound of that!”

“I’m down. Eren?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets. That too-cool-to-care attitude apparent in his body language. “If that’s what everyone else wants, then I guess it’s fine.” If it had been either Sasha or Connie to suggest it, you know for a fact that he would have a more positive response. Because it’s you, he has to act like he’s being forced into it, reluctant to concede with absolutely everything you propose. 

You go your separate ways to change out of professional attire and into more comfortable clothes, agreeing to meet outside Eren’s in an hour. His apartment is closest to the train station, making it the most convenient. By 7:00PM, you’re inside the restaurant, seated at a table, grill fired up as you browse through the menu. Sasha, the ultimate foodie of the group, orders the first round of meats. You pick the drinks. 

“Two bottles of strawberry soju, please!” you tell the waiter. 

“Oh, I love soju!” Sasha squeals. 

You smile at her. “Me too. This flavor’s my favorite.”

Eren, who is somehow seated next to you, grunts. “Strawberry? Of course you’d pick some girly shit like that.”

“Hey man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Connie says. “This shit gets you fucked up fast. Trust me. I’ve gotten soju drunk before, and it’s awesome.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, that’s because of all the extra fucking sugar, I bet. Sounds gross.”

The waiter arrives with the alcohol and four glasses, along with waters to share. You do the honors and pour everyone, except Eren, a shot. “I’m guessing you don’t want any of this gross soju, then?”

He snatches the shot glass, thrusting it towards you. “I didn’t say that. Just pour me some.” 

With glasses filled to the brim, you all cheers, then throw it back. The familiar flavor is refreshing and sweet on your tongue, smooth down your throat. 

“Shit, that’s good!” Connie raves.

“Strawberry might be my new favorite flavor! It’s so yummy!”

You face Eren, grinning. “Well?”

He shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t lie to me. You like it, don’t you?” you tease, nudging him in the arm.

“I said it’s fine, okay?”

You stop pestering him, satisfied knowing that maybe you were finally right about something when it comes to him.

Soon, a plethora of tasty side dishes are scattered on the table. Rice, kimchi, fresh lettuce, potato salad, two helpings of steamed eggs to share. Three heaping plates of meat follow. Sasha begins barbequing, laying out portions of beef bulgogi on the hot grill as the rest of you watch hungrily, the steam and aroma surrounding you like a cozy embrace. Once it’s cooked, you help yourselves, stuffing your faces with perfectly grilled meat and whatever else you desire. Several bites in, you all decide to do another round of shots, first bottle almost finished.

“Good idea to do KBBQ tonight!” Sasha mentions. “I haven’t had it in a while. I forgot how much I love it.”

Connie chimes in, “Same! Which side dish is everyone’s favorite?”

Sasha immediately points to the potato salad. “Is there any doubt that mine would be this?”

“Of course we all know that potato girl. I like kimchi. What’s yours?”

You pick out your favorite. “This one, for sure.”

Eren makes an unapproving noise. “Of course you’d pick that. So basic.”

To keep the peace, especially on this night of celebration, you ignore the temptation to reply with an equally sassy comment. Instead, you ask, “Well, what’s your favorite, Eren?” 

“The steamed egg. It’s delicious and packs an extra serving of protein.” He flexes his bicep with a smug expression. “Not that I really need it.”

Connie and Sasha laugh, while you take a deep breath, using every ounce of willpower to keep your cool. You crack open the bottle, downing the remaining alcohol to help you get through the rest of the night.

“What’s everyone’s plans after graduation?” Connie asks.

Sasha answers first. “I’ll be working with my dad for our family business.”

“I’m sure Artur will appreciate all the new, high-tech engineering skills you have! If I’m still unemployed in two months, can you please hire me?”

“Of course!”

“What about you, Eren?”

“I got an offer in Marley,” he reveals. “It’s a pretty good gig, but I don’t know about moving overseas. I got another in Stohess to work for their weapons warehouse, so maybe I’ll accept that instead.”

“I’ve never been overseas,” you comment. “Sounds interesting if you do decide to go.” 

“Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t sound interesting at all.”

Even your attempt at being polite is met with malice. “You always argue with me for the sake of arguing.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. “No I don’t!”

“You’re literally doing it right now! I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, try harder,” he grumbles, picking meat off the grill.

“My god, you two are exhausting!” Sasha intervenes. 

Connie nods. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of fighting all the time?”

“Honestly, you two should do it and get it over with.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eren leers at Sasha through the smoke. 

“I’m saying get all your anger out by fucking each other. Hate sex is the best medicine for situations like this,” she explains, matter of fact.

“No fucking way,” Eren says. “It’s not like that.”

“Definitely not,” you reiterate, cheeks warm. You pour yourself another shot, already on the second bottle, not offering a serving to anyone else. Desperate for liquor with the direction this conversation is going.

“Wow, you two actually agree on something for once!” Connie teases. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

The duo giggle together, finding enjoyment from your current state of misery. Eren clears his throat, muttering something unintelligible. He reaches for the soju in front of you, avoiding your gaze as he tips it into his empty shot glass, instantly downing it. Before the silence gets awkward, you change the subject, mentioning some idle gossip you heard around the engineering department, to which Connie and Sasha have plenty to contribute to. 

An hour later, the four of you manage to finish most of the food, only a few pieces of charred meat left over. Sasha and Connie rub their stomachs, satisfied by the feast. You and Eren end up finishing the last bottle between the two of you. Since the comment from earlier, neither of you have spoken directly, avoiding each other. 

Connie slumps into the chair, patting his belly. “Let’s play a game while we digest! Truth or eat. If you don’t answer, you have to eat these burnt pieces of bulgogi.”

Eren laughs. “That sounds fun. I’m down.” He looks to you, brow raised, challenging. “You in, princess?”

You bite your cheek, holding in the clever retort at his annoying nickname for you, also relieved he’s back to normal. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha volunteers, sitting up in her seat. “Eren, who’s the freakiest brother in Alpha Tau?” 

Without hesitating, he states, “Armin, for sure.”

“Armin?! Really?”

“Yup. He’s one kinky motherfucker,” he grins. He turns to face you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“You want the whole essay, or an abridged version?” you reply, smirking as you sip on your water.

Sasha giggles while Connie mutters under his breath, “Oh boy.”

Eren doesn’t let up. “Give me one reason.”

Contemplating which of the many grievances you should expose about him, you finally decide on one. “You always disagree with me, no matter what. Whether it’s something about the project, or something as simple as a side dish preference.”

“We already know that, though. What else?”

“Hey, you wanted one reason, and I gave it to you.” You think for a few seconds, adding, “And to be fair, hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.”

It’s true. While he annoys you beyond your wit’s end, you don’t hate him. He’s a quarter of the reason you all achieved what you did. You focus back on the table, avoiding Eren’s expression. “Connie, have you two ever hooked up?” you question, pointing at the duo.

“Gross! No!”

“Absolutely not. We’re practically twins. That’d be illegal.”

“Yup. We’re basically two halves of a whole idiot.” 

You laugh with them, taking another sip of water as Connie poses a question to Eren. “Why do you give her such a hard time?” he asks, referring to you. 

“Here we go,” you mumble, ready for an onslaught of ridiculous reasons.

It’s silent for a few moments, then he takes his chopsticks, grabbing at the charred meat on the grill, placing it into his mouth to eat quietly.

“What?!” Sasha yells. “You’re not going to tell us?” 

Connie smirks. “Must be pretty bad, then.”

You watch him slowly chew the burnt food, a small smile on his face. As if there’s a secret he’s keeping from everybody else at the table. Why would he refuse to answer the question that he basically asked you? Is his hatred for you that intense that he chooses not to say it, to save you from humiliation? What could you have possibly done to him to warrant this kind of treatment? Maybe it’s the liquor leading you to jump to conclusions, to be slightly offended by his choice. Maybe even a little hurt. 

When he’s done, he chugs his whole water. “Alright, my turn again.”

“Wait, really?”

“We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Yup,” he responds, nonchalant. 

“Why?”

“Hey, I ate that shit, right? Let it go,” he states, more aggressively this time.

You remain silent, mind racing with all types of ideas. You pay no more attention to the game, contemplating all the possible reasons Eren Jaeger would hate you so much. To be fair, he’s the one who starts it first. All you do is defend yourself. Why would he have any bigger reason to dislike you more than you dislike him?

Connie yells out your name, breaking you out of your reverie. “Hey, are you in?”

“Huh?”

“Karaoke! There’s a bar down the street.”

After paying the check, split evenly, the four of you head to the karaoke bar, booking a private room for an hour. You all sing your hearts out while sobering up from whatever buzz you developed from the soju. Any strange concerns you had about Eren evaporate. The two of you even seem to get along, performing a few duets together.

On the train ride back near campus, the four of you share more laughs, enjoying possibly the last time you’ll be together. With everyone graduating and off to their own paths, it’s hard to tell when, or if, you’ll ever see each other again.  

From the station, you start you trek home, pausing outside Eren’s apartment to chat a bit more, until Sasha says, “I guess this is goodbye!”

“Yeah, thanks for all your hard work. This was really fun,” Connie adds, smiling. 

“We should all try to keep in touch.”

Eren hugs Connie, then Sasha. The two of you look at each other, contemplating if you should embrace also. Suddenly, you blurt out, “Actually, can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”

You really do have to pee, but surely, you could have made it the extra ten minutes to your own apartment to do so, right? For some reason, your mind convinces you to stay with him just a little longer. There’s a pending task you have to complete before you part ways for good. You hope for closure, to end things on a good note. 

You, Connie, and Sasha exchange hugs, leaving with a final wave, disappearing into the distance. Despite the pleasant warmth of the summer night, there’s a noticeable chill in the air. Not from the weather, rather, from the growing tension surrounding you and Eren. His voice is quiet when he says, “Alright, I guess we can head in now.”

You nod, following him through the entrance. At the elevator, he swipes a keycard, pushing the button to go up to the third floor. The doors open and you step in, still not speaking a word. Arriving at his door, he unlocks it, holding it for you. 

“Bathroom is down to the right,” he points, removing his shoes at the entrance.

You copy him, sliding out of your sneakers. “Okay cool. Thank you.” 

Once you find the bathroom, you swiftly close the door, fully aware that you are inside Eren Jaeger’s apartment. Naturally, curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick glance around the room, you can tell he’s tidy. Towels hung properly, actual floor mats on the tiles, toilet seat down. Is he anticipating a visit from a friend? Maybe a lover? You can’t help letting your imagination run wild. 

Finished with your business, you walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch, television playing a show you’re familiar with. “Have you seen this episode yet? The new season just started,” you mention, stepping towards him.

He stands up, turning to face you. “I haven’t. Was planning to watch it tonight.”

“Cool,” is all you manage to utter. 

There’s another moment of awkward silence until he asks, “You want to watch it with me?”

Without thinking, you agree.

The two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching in silence. About halfway through, with a soft chuckle, he admits, “That strawberry soju wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good.”

This catches you off guard. You look at him, grinning. “Wow. It took you this long to finally come clean about it.”

“Better late than never, right?” He keeps his eyes forward, smirking. 

You adjust, completely facing him. “Since you’re being honest about that, can you tell me why you didn’t answer Connie’s question?”

He plays dumb. “What question?”

“Why do you give me such a hard time?”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yeah, I am,” you confess. “Seems a little odd to me that wouldn’t just say it.”

Finally, he matches you, repositioning himself to set his gaze on yours. “Why do you care so much?”

“I’m curious. Since we’ll be graduating soon, we’ll probably never see each other again. I figured we should put everything out there. Get some closure. Make amends.”

He scoffs. “I wasn’t aware there were any amends to make.”

You’re getting annoyed now, impatient with his round-about comments. “Seriously? You think our relationship is normal?”

“I don’t think we have a relationship at all.”

You stand up, regretting being here in the first place. He’s the same asshole he’s always been. What we’re you expecting? Why would he be any different tonight? 

“Fine. Forget it. What a waste of time. Good job on the project, and I hope you have a great life.” You stomp towards the exit, not bothering to look at him.

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping you loosely around the wrist. “Wait. Don’t go.”

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in frustration, skin tingly from the physical contact. Waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he stammers. “I’m not…I can’t really…” he trails off, not finishing his sentences.

When he doesn’t proceed, you ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you treat me this way? Why me?”

He swallows hard, the truth difficult for him to spit out. “It’s dumb.” 

“I don’t care. Just tell me.”

He lets out a sigh, averting his gaze to the floor. “It’s because I like you, okay?” 

It takes a moment for you to process what he’s saying. Eventually, you stammer, “You like me?”

“Yeah, I like you,” he reiterates, still staring at his own feet. “You’re cute. You’re the smartest person I know. And you’re also a fucking pain in my ass. But I like you.”

That last part would normally have you on the verge of swinging; however, it’s almost endearing the way he says it. Your sudden change in heart has you questioning if you’re drunk from the liquor you consumed hours ago. “Why would you treat me like this if you like me?”

Another deep sigh as he explains, “I don’t know. Because I’m a fucking idiot and I’m immature. I told you, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. I just…I didn’t expect this.”

More silence falls between you two. You look down at his big hand still holding you, racing heartbeat reverberating through your chest. You’re not sure how to react. So, you go with your instinct. 

You kiss him.

~~~

Eren doesn’t know why he started it months ago at the beginning of the semester. If he’s being completely honest, he’s got the body of Greek god, the intelligence of a genius, and the maturity, or in this case, immaturity, of a fifth grader. That being said, whatever it is that he has going with her, he’s decided to classify it as a schoolboy crush. Like a kid on the playground picking on another kid, doing everything they can to garner all their attention, no matter how annoying it is. 

It began with snide remarks here and there, nothing ever too cruel to be considered bullying, but enough to make her bite back. He’s not sure why he kept it up so long, especially after realizing he actually likes her. In his mind, negative attention is better than no attention at all. He can’t be normal around her; being a nuisance is what he’s comfortable with.

Another reason is that he’s intimidated by her. She could see right through his cocky demeanor. Break him down into the vulnerable little shit he really is. The grief he caused her is some bizarre defense mechanism, a way to deny his true feelings for her. All to protect himself and his heart. 

He was supposed to go to a frat party tonight after hanging out with the team. Instead, he finds himself alone with her in his apartment, everything revealed, his confession hanging heavy in the air. 

Even more unexpected is her leaning forward to kiss him, lips soft and gentle against his. Hesitant and uncertain. Sweet and tangy from the lingering essence of the strawberry soju from earlier. Before he gets carried away, he pulls off, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” she admits. “But I can’t deny that I’m curious.”

“We shouldn’t do this then. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just…shut up and let me check something.”

He obeys, closing his eyes, waiting for her move. She kisses him again, more confidentially this time, hand sliding to his nape to pull him closer. 

“Fuck, are you sure this is okay?” he breathes out, slowly losing his composure.

She nods, smiling. “Yes.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“If you ask me one more time, you’re really going to piss me off,” she warns, grazing her mouth along his neck, sucking at the skin of his throat.

He nods erratically. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Fuck.”

She pushes him back towards the couch, falling into the cushions. He watches in awe as she strips her sweatpants, revealing pink lacey panties.  She sits in his lap, legs spread wide with him between, clothed pussy against his pulsating cock. His hands are to his sides, clenched to the cushion of the couch. With her lips brushing his ear, she whispers, “You can touch me if you want.”

His cock twitches, erection growing by the second as she straddles him. Carefully, he slides his palms around her waist, moaning a trembling, “Thank you.” Hands at her bottom, he squeezes her ass cheeks in a firm grasp, fingers slipping underneath the fabric, dangerously close to her arousal.

Without thinking, he blurts out, “Use me. Do what you want with me. You’re the leader.”

There’s a wicked smile on her face as soon as he says it. “Eren Jaeger is going to let me use him?”

All pride is thrown out the window. He doesn’t care anymore about giving into weakness. With graduation only two weeks away, and no promise of ever seeing each other again, he decides fuck it. He’s going to do whatever he can to fulfill this fantasy of his. And if that means submitting to her, begging and groveling at her feet, he’ll fucking do it. 

“Yeah,” he growls. “Use me as your fuck toy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just fucking use me.”

“Didn’t think Alpha Tau’s frat star would behave like this,” she murmurs, sucking on his ear lobe. 

“Does it turn you on?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Fucking wreck me apart then. Don’t hold back,” he demands. There’s already precum leaking from his tip, soaking through the cotton of his briefs. “Consider it payback for this semester.”

She responds by grinding her hips on his lap. He’s desperate to feel her without fabric separating them, but he knows what he agreed to. He can’t do anything without her permission, without her initiating. She rides him for another minute, his palms on her ass, following her motions. His cock throbs beneath her, aching for release from the confines of his pants. There’s an audible whine developing in his throat, needy for anything.

On cue, she swings her leg over to kneel beside him, tugging at the waistband of his sweats and underwear. He lifts his hips as she slides them off simultaneously, freeing his stiff cock. He watches her marvel at his erection, noticing desire in her eyes. Before he knows it, she’s bent towards his lap, mouth hovering his dick, licking at the slit. 

“Fuck,” he moans. “Goddamn.”

She continues to tease him, leaving the shaft untouched, tongue swirling the tip, lapping at his precum. 

“Fuck, please. Touch me,” he begs, legs quivering from arousal. 

Without warning, she wraps her fist around him, surrounding the tip with her mouth, bobbing up and down in sync with her strokes. She starts slow, increasing the pace with each guttural moan that emits within his chest. The temptation to buck his hips into her warm, wet heat is tantalizing, but he reminds himself that she’s in control, which only turns him on more.

She uses her other hand to fondle his balls, causing him to swear loudly. “Fuck!”

He feels the vibration of her giggle through his cock, clearly enjoying the way she’s unravelling him, his orgasm approaching fast. “Can I please come?”

She shakes her head, still working his dick. 

“Fuck. I can’t…I can’t hold it.” 

She releases him from her mouth, stroking him, face close to his. “You think you deserve to come now?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Apologize first.”

“Huh?”

“Apologize. Admit that you’re a fucking asshole.” She nibbles on his ear lobe, dragging it down between her lips, still jerking him off. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a,” he chokes on his spit before he can finish. “Fucking asshole.”

“Tell me your desperate for it. That you need it.” 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking desperate, I fucking need it. Please.”

“Good,” she whispers, pumping him faster. She kisses him on the lips, grip tight around him as his cock swells, hanging by a thread at the edge of his climax. “Go ahead. Come for me, Eren.”

At the sound of his name on her sultry lips, he does, hot cum shooting straight onto his t-shirt. “Fuck!” he yells, eyes shut tight, riding out one of the best orgasms of his life. She strokes him until his balls are completely drained. Finally, he opens his eyes to inspect the scene, shocked by the mess painted across the bottom of his shirt, spilling onto his abdomen. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters, smiling at her.

She grins back at him. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all. Really fucking good, actually.” He kisses her, fingers drifting down to her arousal, rubbing the fabric against her clit. “Come here. Let me eat this pretty pussy out. Please. I want it so bad.”

“Since you said it so nicely, I guess I can let you have a taste.” 

~~~

You stand up, leaving room for him to lay down on the couch. He doesn’t need to be told. He expects you to ride that pretty face of his. When he’s flat on his back, shirt stripped off and completely naked, he turns to watch you slip out of your panties.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he praises, reaching down to rub his balls. “I think about this a lot, you know.”

You toss your underwear to the floor, watching him play with himself, removing your remaining clothes. “What do you think about?”

“This. You, naked in my apartment. Riding my face till you come. Fucking your wet pussy right after.”

“I guess tonight’s your lucky night,” you tease, lifting your knee across him, straddling his face. 

“Yes, it is,” he replies, licking his lips, eyes wide with lust at your pussy above him, already wet with arousal. He cranes his neck upwards, tongue out, desperate for a taste.

“Not yet.” You lift up enough so he’s out of reach. “Watch me play with myself first.”

“Fuck,” he swears, salivating.  

You wet your middle finger with your slick, rubbing circles around your clit. He watches in a daze, biting his lower lip, brows knit together in concentration, focused on you pleasuring yourself right above him. He squirms beneath you, thrusting his hips into the air, in an effort to feel anything. “Get it fucking juicy for me, baby. I want to fucking drown in it.”

The little nicknames you’ve grown accustomed to hating has a very different ring to it now. For the first time all semester, you don’t mind it. You actually like it. With your free hand, you run your fingers through his hair, redirecting his gaze on yours. “That’s right. I’m your baby. And what are you?”

He swallows hard. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re my fuck toy.”

“Fuck yeah. I’m your fuck toy, baby. I’m your fuck toy. Use me, please.”

With your grip firm on his hair, you sink lower, your pussy pressed to his open mouth. He licks your clit, swiping his wide tongue over it, moving side to side. You moan at the glorious sensation, rocking your hips across his face to feel more. He latches onto your swollen bud, humming in pleasure as he suckles on it. His hips rut into nothing again, arms at his sides, clutching hard at the cushions, letting you be in total control. This power he gives you turns you on more than you imagined. Maybe because all semester, he always acted as if he had the upper hand. Knowing how desperate he is to be beneath you, to please you beyond any other desire he has, it only spurs you on. 

You grind yourself on his face, the squelching noises indicating how sloppy he’s eating you out and how wet you’re becoming because of it. He’s relentless, alternating between licking, slurping, and sucking at your clit. You blissfully indulge in it until you climax on his tongue, bud over-stimulated, pussy soaked with his spit and your slick. 

“Fuck,” he muffles, slurping the cum from your sleek entrance. Legs wobbly from your orgasm, you lift off him, shifting to reposition yourself comfortably on top. His cock is hard beneath you, sticky with his cum from earlier. Through shiny lips, he whines, “I’m so fucking hard again. Fuck me. Fuck me with that wet pussy.”

Reaching behind you, you align him with your slit, sinking down on his shaft. He lets out a gasp, “I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck.” Concerned, you attempt to lift off, but he shakes his head fervently. “Don’t. Please baby. Fuck me till I come. I need it. I need it.”

You ride him, bouncing your ass on his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside you. He moans loudly, babbling filthy words from his needy mouth.

Use this cock, baby. Fuck me like a toy. 

Make yourself come on this dick. 

It’s all fucking yours. Take it, baby. Take it. 

I’m all yours. I’m all yours.

You moan with him, another climax approaching. Grabbing his wrist, you guide him to your clit. He caresses your puffy bud with his fingers. “I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Can I come with you, princess? Please, can I come inside you?”

You nod wordlessly, pumping him in and out of you faster as he rubs your clit relentlessly, determined to make you orgasm. When you cry out in ecstasy, he joins you. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming, baby.”

For the second time tonight, both of you come, this time together. He spills inside you, filling your cunt with his warm, creamy load as you coat his dick with yours. Your body is spent from the euphoria, throat dry from whining in pleasure, and your curiosity satiated. It’s a lie to say you’ve never imagined being fucked silly by Eren. No matter how much he annoyed you, irritated you, aggravated you, there were moments this semester when you thought about it. How good it would feel to ride him, fuck him dumb until he’s begging for release. 

“I’m exhausted,” he giggles, limp on the couch, softening cock still inside you, wrapping you in a snug embrace.

“Me too.” You settle into his arms, relaxed and comfortable against his chest. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, caressing your back tenderly. “Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate, repeating it a few more times as he nuzzles his nose into the top of your head.

You cuddle together in a comfortable silence. “Sleep here tonight. I have an extra toothbrush and you can wear my clothes.” 

Accepting his offer, the two of you start tidying, picking up strewn wardrobe from the floor, wiping away the sticky aftermath of sex. You hop in the shower, rinsing your bodies clean, exchanging passionate kisses while the water splashes you. After you dry off and brush your teeth, you change into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers he lends you, jumping into the bed beside him. He smiles at you. “You look good in my clothes.”

You give him a smooch, getting yourself cozy under the covers. He spoons you, arm sliding over your waist, interlacing his fingers with yours. His breath is pleasantly warm on your neck. “I know we’re probably past this already, but I want to formally apologize. It wasn’t right the way I treated you, and I’m sorry. Genuinely.”

“Apology accepted,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry too. For saying anything that hurt you out of anger.”

“You don’t have to be. I deserved it.”

“Still, I’m sorry. And no one deserves that.”

“All is forgiven then.” He chuckles softly. “For two smart people, we sure are dumb.”

You laugh with him. “If only we were a tad bit smarter, we could have started this months ago.”

“Yeah," he says, nestling his face against your neck. "You’re right.”

Nothing else is said as the two of you drift into sleep. It’s nice, having closure on a previously volatile relationship. However, something else lingers after tonight. Another door opens, leading to the unknown. He confessed his true feelings for you. You didn’t have time to process it, too focused on settling your truce through sex. While there’s no doubt that you find him physically attractive, can you really move on from the past and give him a chance? 

~~~

The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he decides to keep it that way, not wanting to disrupt this moment of peace. Not wanting to complicate it any further. He knows that this is the beginning and the end of whatever this fling is. She hasn’t reciprocated his feelings and he won’t pressure her to, not tonight. Maybe not ever. No matter how badly he wishes to see her again, keep in touch, make it official, he won’t ask that of her. At the end of the day, it’s his own fault for waiting too long, for being too late. Time has run out, and now he’s paying the price.

They stay in each other’s arms, Eren listening closely to the sound of her steady breathing. Cherishing how her fingers fit seamlessly in his, the small smile on her lips as she drifts into a tranquil slumber, the warmth and weight of her body against his.  

The next morning, he wakes up, alone. If not for the stack of clothes he let her borrow folded neatly at the end of the bed, he would have thought last night’s events were all a dream. He vaguely recalls her waking up beside him, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, sneaking out on her tippy toes at the crack of dawn. Still, he searches the apartment, calling out her name to no response. 

Throughout the week, he’s constantly on the verge of texting her. He never goes through with it, though, scared to be rejected. Afraid of having the final memory of her be one of heartbreak. 

As a last-ditch effort, he devises a plan. Eren hosts a party at his place to celebrate the upcoming graduation. He invites the Alpha Tau brothers, plus some sorority girls for good measure. However, his main objective is to invite her. He ends up sending a group text to his senior project team, casually informing them of his little gathering. Sasha and Connie both reply, announcing their attendance, but she doesn’t.

At the party, he tries not to think about her, distracting himself by socializing with the crowds of people already filling his apartment. When Connie and Sasha arrive together, he decides to try one more time before he consumes his sorrows away. After exchanging polite greetings with them, he asks, “Have you guys heard anything from her?”

“Nope. I don’t think she even texted back, right?”

Eren’s ready to reach for the closest container of booze he can find. The duo walks past him to enjoy the party while he remains standing, watching the door for another minute. Just as he’s about to turn his heel, he sees it open slowly. 

She walks in, her favorite drink in hand, a happy expression on her face as soon as she spots him. In the background, someone yells out, “Eren! Tequila shots?”

Waving the familiar bottle at him, she smiles.

“Nah,” Eren responds, gazing at her with a grin. “I’m sticking with strawberry soju from now on.”

--------------------

Taglist: @liliorsstuff-blog @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @belovedackerman @wtfiswrongwithme1

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x fem!reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #aot smut #strawberry soju

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct. 

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut. 

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging. 

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you. 

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies. 

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make. 

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe. 

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time. 

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.” 

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable. 

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you. 

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization. 

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his. 

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine. 

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes. 

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.” 

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain. 

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.” 

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly. 

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.” 

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.” 

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?” 

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.” 

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.” 

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things. 

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.” 

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying. 

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?” 

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!” 

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.” 

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Then it’s fine.” 

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility. 

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose. 

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission. 

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him. 

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.” 

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight. 

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already. 

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night. 

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had. 

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon. 

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.” 

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.” 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.” 

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility. 

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.” 

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.” 

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment. 

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.” 

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you. 

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention. 

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?” 

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.” 

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?” 

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?” 

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.” 

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end. 

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.” 

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction. 

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere. 

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.” 

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.” 

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him. 

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink. 

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?” 

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?” 

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.” 

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?” 

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking? 

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.” 

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.” 

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.” 

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you. 

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo. 

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?” 

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.” 

“Clearly.” 

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera. 

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.” 

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint. 

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other. 

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours. 

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features. 

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.” 

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night. 

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly. 

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group. 

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there. 

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm. 

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing. 

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.” 

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.” 

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.” 

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.” 

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow. 

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.” 

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?” 

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you. 

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?” 

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper. 

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless. 

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance. 

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable. 

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-” 

“You haven’t-” 

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.” 

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts. 

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak. 

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing. 

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.” 

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?” 

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you. 

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.” 

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other. 

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.” 

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling. 

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you. 

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…” 

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not. 

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.” 

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes. 

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?” 

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.” 

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak. 

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.” 

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you. 

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly. 

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?” 

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…” 

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?” 

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot. 

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility. 

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.” 

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust. 

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it. 

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t. 

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance. 

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?” 

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming. 

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?” 

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum. 

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder. 

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear. 

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-” 

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.” 

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand. 

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone. 

“Get the fuck off her.” 

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice. 

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you. 

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?” 

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall. 

“She’s not going home with you.” 

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist. 

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?” 

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.” 

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words. 

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist. 

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it. 

“Please,” you beg one last time. 

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm. 

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness. 

Civility. What a broken construct. 

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now. 

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now. 

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE ​​😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE ​​😎Don’t encourage them. 

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date? 

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s. 

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date? 

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything. 

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck? 

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it. 

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE ​​😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE. 

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? 

NANCE has left the groupchat.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours

[legallybrunettedotcom]

BUFFY READING LIST

As promised @possession1981 and I have compiled a list of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and Angel) related academic text and books. I think this is a good starting point for both a long time fan and for someone just getting into the show, or just someone interested in vampire lore. I have included several books about the vampire lore and myth in general as well. Most of these are available online.

BOOKS

Fighting the Forces: What's at Stake in Buffy the Vampire Slayer; edited by Rhonda V. Wilcox & David Lavery

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy - Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale by James B. South

Buffy Goes Dark: Essays on the Final Two Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Television, edited by Lynne Y. Edwards, Elizabeth L. Rambo & James B. South

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Myth, Metaphor and Morality by Mark Field

Televised Morality: The Case of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gregory Stevenson

Undead TV: Essays on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Elana Levine

The Aesthetics of Culture in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Matthew Pateman

Girls Who Bite Back: Witches, Mutants, Slayers and Freaks by Emily Pohl-Weary

Why Buffy Matters: The Art of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Ronda Wilcox

Into Every Generation a Slayer Is Born: How Buffy Staked Our Hearts by Evan Ross Katz

The Lure of the Vampire: Gender, Fiction, and Fandom from Bram Stoker to Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Milly Williamson

Blood Relations: Chosen Families in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel by Jes Battis

Sex and the Slayer: A Gender Studies Primer for the Buffy Fan by Lorna Jowett

Diseases of the Head: Essays on the Horrors of Speculative Philosophy; edited by Matt Rosen (chapter 2 Death of Horror)

Public Privates: Feminist Geographies of Mediated Spaces by Marcia R. England (chapter 1 Welcome to the Hellmouth: Paradoxical Spaces in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Open Graves, Open Minds: Representations of Vampires and the Undead From the Enlightenment to the Present Day; edited by Sam George and Bill Hughes (chapter 8 ‘I feel strong. I feel different’: transformations, vampires and language in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

The Contemporary Television Series; edited by Michael Hammond and Lucy Mazdon (chapter 9 Television, Horror and Everyday Life in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Joss Whedon and Race: Critical Essays; edited by Mary Ellen Iatropoulos and Lowery A. Woodall III

Buffy and the Heroine's Journey: Vampire Slayer as Feminine Chosen One by Valerie Estelle Frankel

The Existential Joss Whedon: Evil and Human Freedom in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Serenity by J. Michael Richardson and J. Douglas Rabb

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 20 Years of Slaying: The Watcher's Guide Authorized by Christopher Golden

Reading the Vampire Slayer: The Complete, Unofficial Guide to 'Buffy' and 'Angel' by Roz Kaveney

Hollywood Vampire: The Unnoficial Guide to Angel by Keith Topping

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Monster Book by Christopher Golden

Slayer Slang: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Lexicon by Michael Adams

What Would Buffy Do? The Vampire Slayer as Spiritual Guide by Jana Riess

ARTICLES, PAPERS ETC.

Bibliographic Good vs. Evil in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by GraceAnne A. DeCandido

Undead Letters: Searches and Researches in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by William Wandless

Weaponised information: The role of information and metaphor in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Jacob Ericson

Buffy, Dark Romance and Female Horror Fans by Lorna Jowett

My Vampire Boyfriend: Postfeminism, "Perfect" Masculinity, and the Contemporary Appeal of Paranormal Romance by Ananya Mukherjea

Buffy, The Vampire Slayer as Spectacular Allegory: A Diagnostic Critique by Douglas Kellner

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer": Technology, Mysticism, and the Constructed Body by Sara Raffel

When Horror Becomes Human: Living Conditions in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" by Jeroen Gerrits

Post-Vampire: The Politics of Drinking Humans and Animals in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight", and "True Blood" by Laura Wright

Cops, Teachers, and Vampire Slayers: Buffy as Street-Level Bureaucrat by Andrea E. Mayo

"Not Like Other Men"?: The Vampire Body in Joss Whedon's "Angel" by Lorna Jowett

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Domestic Church: Revisioning Family and the Common Good by Reid B. Locklin

“Buffy vs. Dracula”’s Use of Count Famous (Not drawing “crazy conclusions about the unholy prince”) by Tara Elliott

A Little Less Ritual and a Little More Fun: The Modern Vampire in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Stacey Abbott

Undressing the Vampire: An Investigation of the Fashion of Sunnydale’s Vampires by Robbie Dale

"And Yet": The Limits of Buffy Feminism by Renee St. Louis & Miriam Riggs

Meet the Cullens: Family, Romance and Female Agency in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Twilight by Kirsten Stevens

Bliss and Time: Death, Drugs, and Posthumanism in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Rob Cover

That Girl: Bella, Buffy, and the Feminist Ethics of Choice in Twilight and Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Catherine Coker

A Slayer Comes to Town: An Essay on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Scott Westerfeld 

Undead Objects of a “Queer Gaze” : A Visual Approach to Buffy’s Vampires Using Lacan’s Extended RSI Model by Marcus Recht

When You Kiss Me, I Want to Die: Gothic Relationships and Identity on Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Ananya Mukherjeea

Necrophilia and SM: The Deviant Side of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Terry L. Spaise

Queering the Bitch: Spike, Transgression and Erotic Empowerment by Dee Amy-Chinn

“I Want To Be A Macho Man”: Examining Rape Culture, Adolescent Female Sexuality, and the Destabilization of Gender Binaries in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Angelica De Vido

Staking Her Claim: Buffy the Vampire Slayer as Transgressive Woman Warrior by Frances H. Early

Actualizing Abjection: Drusilla, the Whedonversees’ Queen of Queerness by Anthony Stepniak

“Life Isn’t A Story”: Xander, Andrew and Queer Disavowal in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Steven Greenwood

S/He’s a Rebel: The James Dean Trope in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Kathryn Hill

“Once More, with Feeling”: Emotional Self-Discipline in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gwynnee Kennedy and Jennifer Dworshack-Kinter

“The Hardest Thing in This World Is To Live In It”: Identity and Mental Health in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Alex Fixler

"Love's Bitch But Man Enough to Admit It": Spikes Hybridized Gender by Arwen Spicer

Negotiations After Hegemony: Buffy and Gender by Franklin D. Worrell

Double Trouble: Gothic Shadows and Self-Discovery in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Elizabeth Gilliland

'What If I'm Still There? What If I Never Left That Clinic?': Faërian Drama in Buffy's "Normal Again" by Janet Brennan Croft

Not Gay Enough So You’d Notice: Poaching Fuffy by Jennifer DeRoss

Throwing Like A Slayer: A Phenomenology of Gender Hybridity and Female Resilience in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Debra Jackson

“You Can’t Charge Innocent People for Saving Their Lives!” Work in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Matt Davies

Ambiguity and Sexuality in Buffy the Vampire Slayer: A Sartrean Analysis by Vivien Burr

Imagining the Family: Representations of Alternative Lifestyles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Vivien Burr and Christine Jarvis

Working-Class Hero? Fighting Neoliberal Precarity in Buffy’s Sixth Season by Michelle Maloney-Mangold

A Corpse by Any Other Name: Romancing the Language of the Body in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein for the Adam Storyline in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Amber P. Hodge

Sensibility Gone Mad: Or, Drusilla, Buffy and the (D)evolution of the Heroine of Sensibility by Claire Knowles

"It's good to be me": Buffy's Resistance to Renaming by Janet Brennan Croft

Death as a Gift in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Work and Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Gaelle Abalea

“All Torment, Trouble, Wonder, and Amazement Inhabits Here": The Vicissitudes of Technology in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by James B. South

Staking Her Colonial Claim: Colonial Discourses, Assimilation, Soul-making, and Ass-kicking in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Jessica Hautsch

“I Run To Death”: Renaissance Sensibilities in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Christine Jarvis

Dressed To Kill: Fashion and Leadership in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Christine Jarvis and Don Adams

Queer Eye Of That Vampire Guy: Spike and the Aesthetics of Camp by Cynthea Masson and Marni Stanley

“Sounds Like Kinky Business To Me”: Subtextual and Textual Representations of Erotic Power in Buffyverse by Lewis Call

“Did Anyone Ever Explain to You What ‘Secret Identity’ Means?”: Race and Displacement in Buffy and Dark Angel  by Cynthia Fuchs

“It’s About Power”: Buffy, Foucault, and the Quest for Self by Julie Sloan Brannon

Why We Love the Monsters: How Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer Wound Up Dating the Enemy by Hilary M. Leon

Why We Can’t Spike Spike?: Moral Themes in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Richard Greene and Wayne Yuen

Buffy, the Scooby Gang, and Monstrous Authority: BtVS and the Subversion of Authority by Daniel A. Clark & P. Andrew Miller

Are Vampires Evil?: Categorizations of Vampires, and Angelus and Spike as the Immoral and the Amoral by Gert Magnusson

BOOKS ABOUT VAMPIRE LORE AND MYTH IN GENERAL

The Vampire Lectures by Laurence A. Rickels 

Our Vampires, Ourselves by Nina Auerbach

Vampires, Burial, and Death: Folklore and Reality by Paul Barber

The Secret History of Vampires: Their Multiple Forms and Hidden Purposes by Claude Lecouteux

The Vampire Cinema by David Pirie

The Living and the Undead: Slaying Vampires, Exterminating Zombies by Gregory A. Waller

Vampire Forensics: Uncovering the Origins of an Enduring Legend by Mark Jenkins

Slayers and Their Vampires: A Cultural History of Killing the Dead by Bruce A. McClelland

The History and Folklore of Vampires: The Stories and Legends Behind the Mythical Beings by Charles River Editors

Encyclopedia of Vampire Mythology by Theresa Bane

Vampires of Lore: Traits and Modern Misconceptions by A. P. Sylvia

The Vampire: A New History by Nick Groom

Vampyres: Genesis and Resurrection: from Count Dracula to Vampirella by Christopher Frayling

Race in the Vampire Narrative by U. Melissa Anyiwo

Vampires, Race, and Transnational Hollywoods by Dale Hudson

#btvs #buffy #buffy the vampire slayer #💾 #buffy summers #ats #angel the series

[csuitebitches]

Going From a Fixed Mindset to a Growth Mindset

Lesson #1: growth is not linear. You will not improve drastically overnight. As I’ve stressed this before, things take time and consistency and concentration.

A fixed mindset is basically a belief that the person you’re born as - your intelligence and talent - are fixed. They cannot be changed, no matter what.

Science has shown that this is not true. It’s 100% possible to get smarter over time and with dedicated effort.

This is what a growth mindset is - believing that you can be better over time, and that your current level of intelligence and talent is temporary.

People with fixed mindsets are insecure, and it shows. Fear of failure; taking constructive criticism to heart; feelings of jealousy when someone they know is doing well… we’ve all known a person like this, and been this person ourselves at some point in our life.

Growth mindset is therefore the opposite but the effects are as grounding; it can help battling anxiety, depression, burnout issues, behavioural issues and so on.

I understand that a lot of you don’t have people in your life with a similar mentality of personal growth. I’m therefore reopening my Discord. My followers can meet, connect and help each other out.

Now, how does one transition from a fixed to a growth mindset?

Here are some things I think could help:

1. Detaching yourself from the definition of failure

If you’ve already decided the outcome of a certain situation without even trying, then you’re still stuck in a fixed mindset. Things like “there’s no point in me applying for that job because I don’t have the skills and I won’t get it anyway” - applying for that job wouldn’t hurt, even if you don’t get it. Stop limiting your opportunities that you never know could actually work out. A growth mindset person will always try to make most of the opportunities they have.

2. Not getting attached to any outcomes

Don’t get attached to favourable or unfavourable outcomes. When something goes well, have gratitude in your heart but don’t let it get to your ego. Life is about constantly learning. Don’t get attached to compliments and don’t get disheartened by criticism.

3. Actively working on yourself

You can learn a language at any age. You can start learning how to dance or sing or ride a horse at any age, if you’re doing it for the pleasure of learning (getting into competitive stages could be challenging if you’re not young). Someone who works on themselves has a growth mindset.

4. Stop self depreciating yourself

If I see one more IG bio that says “I’m so boring uwu” I will literally throw hands. Stop talking shit about yourself. Classic fixed mindset case. It’s childish and people pleasing behaviour.

5. Stop the comparison game

Stop resenting the people around for the good work they do in their life/ if their life is easy. We all have our challenges, whether we show them publicly or not. The more you work on your inner peace and inner self, the less you’ll feel the need to compare yourself to someone else. Jealousy is a disease and a sign of a fixed mindset.

6. Appreciate and thank yourself for being you.

If you’re nice to your mum, siblings, friends when they need your support… you can be nice to yourself too. Growth mindset does not come from berating yourself.

7. Recognise mistakes and take accountability

Admitting that you’re wrong is never easy. However, I’ll always have respect for someone who can admit that they messed up, rather than someone who will make up stories to justify their antics.

8. Provide yourself with at least 3 productive self-care hours a week

Self care here doesn’t mean skin care or hair care. I mean brain care. You feed your brain good things that it needs to stay calm and ever-growing.

These could include: brain games, mediation, a hobby, watching an educational documentary, doing a short online course, reading… anything that’s good for your brain.

9. Stop being a chameleon

Have you ever met those sort of people who will do anything to fit in? It could adopting that group’s mannerisms, thought processes, opinions… now, to an extent, that is normal and subtle. However, when it starts going too far to a point where you can’t be yourself anymore, thats a problem. In my opinion, that’s an example of not being able to practice your growth mindset publicly.

Privately, you may be growth oriented - but it needs to reflect in your words and actions. If you’re holding yourself back in doing certain things because you’re afraid of what other friends will think of you, you need better friends. Embrace people who have a growth mentality.

10. Using social media for better purposes

I made a separate Instagram account where I only follow educational stuff - think history, geography, arts and architecture, science, tech, business - and absolutely no people. It’s my way of using social media to ensure I learn more. Social media may be the devil, but you can be smart and alter it to your purposes, to give you that kick that you need to educate yourself.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #strong women #getting your life together #feminine energy #balance #growth mindset #fixed mindset #mindset #growth #fixed #mentality

[cillian-gets-me-wetter]

right side of my neck - lip gallagher x fem!reader

warning: angst and fluff, yearning, cheating??? (just kissing) exes who always find their back to each other, allusions to sex, groping

disclaimer: i do not own any characters mentioned in this story. this is for fictional purposes only. do not copy or claim any of my work as your own.

a/n: i’ve been posting super frequently, my bad y’all. based off the song, right side of my neck by faye webster, takes place during season 3 (mandy, don’t run me over pls), comments, reblogs and constructive feedback are appreciated!! 🩷🎀

summary: you and lip gallagher had a tumultuous history. while you were ian’s best friend, a relationship (if you can consider it that) with the older gallagher brother was the last thing you expected. you two stop seeing each other when not long after, he starts dating mandy milkovich. after they get into a fight, he’s at your doorstep, needing a place to stay and wanting to talk things out.

here are resources for supporting palestine and gaza 🇵🇸

masterlist

italics and bold: the past

unedited: present day

“The right side of my neck still smells like you”

you were unwinding from the day, deciding to do your nightly reading in the living room. your parents were both at work so you had the house to yourself for the evening. your cat, persimmon, was curled up in your lap as you were lost in your book until a knock brought you back into reality.

you gently set persimmon to the side as you got up from the couch and walking over to the door. you opened the door carefully and to your surprise, lip gallagher was standing there. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh, “look, lip, i really don’t want to argue at this time of night.” the “relationship” you had with the older gallagher brother was questionable at best in the most recent years.

you were born on the south side, meeting ian in kindergarten and being attached at the hip since. so whenever you and ian hung out together, lip was there. you basically became one of the family as you grew up along side of them as both of your parents worked all of the time. as the three of you got older, puberty and rising teen angst became a threshold.

with high school, financial struggles and inadequate situation ships piling one on top of another, you found yourself in the arms of the older gallagher after being stood up on date and you happened to bump into him in midst of taking the l home, offering a joint and his company to help cope with the shitty night.

while you two talked about what happened as well as his past with karen as you smoked the joint he had as well as few bowls from the bong and weed you stole from one of your past hookups, he sets his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. you quickly straddled his lap, giving him a passionate kiss, starting an ongoing on and off and not so secretive situation-ship.

it was supposed only an outlet of releasing stress and escaping from reality for a bit. as you two continued to hook up, your feelings inevitably became a barrier and a burden for him to carry. you decided to express how you feel and not to your surprise, he didn’t take it well, resulting in an argument and him deciding that he didn’t want to continue leading you on towards something he wasn’t capable of giving to you.

not long after you two stop seeing each other, he soon starts dating mandy milkovich, another girl that is in the same grade as you and ian. seeing them together and him having her over in your second home made your blood boil. he clearly knew how angry you were but acted unscathed, resulting in constant bickering between the two of you and ian having to be the mediator as well as the venting outlet for how you two felt towards each other.

tension between you and the new couple grew so bad that you began to stop frequently going over to the gallagher home and avoiding ian and the others altogether. the family missed your presence and having you around. lip missed you being there even though you couldn’t tell through his cold, tough exterior.

his face and heart dropped at the sudden accusation, his chest ached knowing that things between the two of you didn’t so well and that your relationship wasn’t in the best place. he looked down at his beat up old shoes and back at you, “i didn’t come here to argue. i don’t have anywhere else to go and you were the first person that came to my mind. can i come in?”

your eyes softened at the rare side you were seeing of lip. the last time you saw him being vulnerable with you was when he discovered that he wasn’t the father of karen’s son, hymie. you remembered that he was looking forward to being a father and wanting to be different than his own. the night he came back from hospital, he showed up at your window, crawling in bed with you and laying on your chest.

“the baby wasn’t mine. when he was born, he looked nothing like me.” you ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. “are you okay?” what else can you really say to someone after they find out or witness that? he shook his head. “i don’t want to talk about it anymore. i just want to lay here with you and forget for awhile.” you nod understandably and kiss the top of his head gently. “i’m here if you need anything, lip.” he took in a deep breath and exhaled, “i know. you always have been.”

you nod, moving out of the doorway and watching him enter your home, taking off his shoes and leaving his coat on the hanging rack. you shut and locked the door behind you, “you can make yourself comfortable. do you want anything to drink?” he walked over to the couch and sat where you were previously sitting. “uh, whatever you have is fine with me.”

you walk out of the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing two cans of cold coca-cola out of the fridge, internally thanking your mom for being able to afford majority of the essentials while grocery shopping. you shut the fridge door and walk back into the living room, seeing persimmon happily purring in lip’s lap while he was softly petting her orange fur. you knew that lip never grew up having pets but he took a liking to the tabby cat.

the feeling being mutual as she grew accustomed to lip’s weekly visits and sleepovers. you sat down on the other side of the couch next to him, setting the two cans on the set of coasters on the coffee table. he grabbed his can, cracking it open and taking a few sips, setting it down next to yours. he cleared his throat awkwardly, “how have you been?”

you shrug, “i’m okay. just been busy with my classes and everything.” he nodded understandably, “you haven’t came over in a while.. it seems like you’re avoiding everyone.” you ask, “are you speaking for everyone or is it just you?” he looked away nervously, “i mean like the family hasn’t seen you in a while. debs and carl ask about you all the time.”

you smiled softly, reminiscing helping out with the younger ones, whether it was keeping them entertained or helping out with homework. debbie and carl enjoyed spending time with you whenever you came over and weren’t upstairs with ian or lip. “i miss them a lot, i’m sorry i haven’t been around.. it’s just that-” he encouraged you, “you can say it..”

you let out a shaky breath, “it’s just that it’s hard seeing you with her.. so i just have been keeping my distance.” he sighs, “i know this hasn’t been easy for you and i’m sorry for that but it doesn’t mean you have to avoid everyone because of me.” you shook your head, “you don’t understand, lip..” he retorts, “what don’t i understand?”

you sit with your legs crossed on the couch next to him, “your house was a safe place for me.. it was somewhere where i felt like i had an actual family to go home to instead of being alone. when you started inviting her over, it felt like i was intruding.” he shook his head in protest, “you never intruded on anything..” you cut him off, “yeah i was.. it was so awkward and hurtful just seeing her be in the same place i was in.”

he asks, “like you would see me kiss her and she’d be there in my room wearing my clothes and you would think about how it was before?” you nod embarrassed of being this exposed to him despite him basically seeing everything physically but emotionally and internally, it was another can of worms to deal with and you didn’t want to push him away because of how you feel towards him, which was what happened anyway.

he nods again, attempting to grasp everything you feel about the current state of their downfall. he pulled out a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket as well as the lighter, sparking it and taking a long drag. he exhaled the smoke out of his mouth, handing it over to you, you holding it and taking your own drag. he said, “me and mandy got into a fight tonight and she was staying in my room so i just left the house before she did and came here.”

you exhale the smoke out of your nose and mouth, handing the cigarette back to him. you ask, “what did you guys fight about?” he looked over at you as he took another drag, “it was about you actually..” your eyes slightly widened, why were they arguing about you and what was the argument about in the first place? you laugh slightly, not knowing how to react to what he said.

you look over at him as he hands back the cigarette, “why did you guys argue about me?” he sighs, “well, ian was talking to me about how he hasn’t seen or heard from you and asked me if anything else happened between us?” you nod, “what did you say to him?” he shrugged, “i told him that you said you have feelings for me and that i didn’t handle it well and i guess debs overheard and asked if you and i dated in front of everyone at dinner so mandy was angry and she kept prying about everything that happened between us.”

you sighed, burying your face in your hands. the last thing you needed was mandy milkovich sending her minions after you, you two already didn’t get along well enough and the drama being over a guy is pitiful and demeaning to fathom. he set his hand on your back, “she’s not going to do anything to you. i’ll make sure of it.”

you uncover your face, “i’m not intimidated by her. i just don’t to be involved in any drama, especially over a guy.” you nervously rubbed your face, dreading going to school the next day, knowing her and her friends would possibly be there talking about what happened with you and lip. he asks, “do you regret doing anything with me?”

you shook your head, “no. i mean i have my regrets in life but i wouldn’t consider anything we did one of them.. i think it’s just apart of life.” he nods, “i never thought of it that way. before you ask though, i don’t regret anything we did either. i regret the way i’ve been acting lately towards you and i’m sorry for that.” you shrugged and rested your head on his shoulder, “you don’t have to apologize, i’m just glad you’re here.”

he smiled softly at you, “i’m glad you let me in.” you lifted your head up to look at him, “you’re always welcome here, lip.” he kissed your cheek and pulled you into a warm embrace, you laid your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you. he kissed your forehead as you laid your legs on his lap, pulling you close to him. you both sat in a comfortable silence for what felt like eternity until he eventually broke it, “do you remember that time we got drunk at the park instead of going to prom last year?”

you laughed softly, “i remembered that as if it happened yesterday..”before the junior year prom, you had been asked by jared, a popular guy in your class but he ended up ditching you for another girl that night. lip decided to sit out until you called him crying. he dropped everything and met you at a local park near his house, bringing a bottle of vodka that you both shared together. he said, “do you know what that night made me realize?”

you tilt your head in curiosity to hear what he was going to say. he continued, “it made me realize how much i love you.” your eyes widened slightly as your mouth fell agape, you felt your heart skip a beat and wanting to leap out of your chest.

“lip, i need to tell you something..” you both laid in his bed under the covers after hooking up for the second time that night. he lit a cigarette as you laid on his chest, coming down from your climaxes. he took a deep inhale as he let the smoke absorb in his lungs as he exhales, watching his chest rise and fall as you lay on top of him.

he asked, “what is it?” you sighed nervously, “i don’t think i can hold back anymore, lip…” he looked down at you as he smoked, “what are you talking about?” you looked away from him, petrified of what he was going to say or think about you. “i don’t want to just hook up with you anymore.. i want something more.” he sighed, and put out the cigarette in the ashtray next to him, rubbing his face in frustration. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

you nodded, “yeah.” he shook his head, “i can’t date you.. you saw how things went with karen.” you sighed, “yeah but this is different.. i genuinely have feelings for you, lip. and i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” he looked at you, “you don’t understand.. i’m not good at being with anybody. i’m not this version of me you created in your head. you wouldn’t like dating me..”

you shook your head, “we can take things slow.. i just want to be with you..” he said, “i can’t give you what you want.. i’m really sorry.” you nodded, getting out of bed and putting back on your clothes. he sighed, “are you really leaving?” your voice cracked tearfully, “there’s no reason we should keep doing this.. i love you and you don’t want me..” he retorted, “it’s not that i don’t want you, it’s just that i’m not a good person to be with..”

you bit back, “you want me on your terms and i can’t do it anymore. i’m just going to go home. don’t call or text me..” he got up and placed his hands on your shoulders, “just stay the night.. it’s really late and i don’t want you walking home.” you shook your head, “i just want to go home.. please.” he nodded sadly, moving his hands away from you and out of your way. you grabbed your bag off of his floor and walked out of the room, heading down the stairs as tears streamed down your face.

you stumbled over your words, “you love me?” he nodded, “i do.. and i’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” you said, “but i thought you couldn’t give me what i wanted..” he sighed, “i got scared. i thought that if we did date, it wouldn’t have ended well between us and you mean so much to me that i don’t want that to happen.” you said, “i still mean what i said back then. i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, lip.” he smiled softly, “i know you wouldn’t. and i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you..”

you both stared at each other, smiling softly as he cupped your cheeks and leaned in, closing the distance. his lips pressed softly against yours, you immediately kissed him back while your hand found its place at the back of his head. your fingers ran through his shaggy dirty blonde hair as he lets out a light moan into your mouth, you pull away slowly as the kiss attempts to grow more intense. he looked at you concerned if he did something wrong, “is everything okay?”

you nodded, “everything’s fine.. i was just wondering what you’re going to do about mandy?” he sighed, “i have no idea yet. i just want to spend the rest of tonight with you. is that okay?” you nod eagerly, “of course. you might have to kiss me again though for me to fully agree.” he laughed softly, “come here then.”

he pulls you back into him, his lips touching yours fiercely as he slips his tongue in your mouth. you both moan softly as your tongues explore each other’s mouths, your hands wandering into his shirt as he takes off his jacket and throws it to the floor.

you straddle his lap, his hands grasping your hips but not breaking the kiss. the heat between you both growing more intense when his hands kneaded your ass, causing you to buck your hips into his and let out a whimper against his lips. he pulled away from you, wanting to look at you and soak in the moment.

his hands move teasingly slow up your body, making you shudder and grind your hips on his crotch. he whispered, “want to go to your room?” you bit your bottom lip, nodding eagerly. he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as you laughed, making him smile softly at you. you leaned in and kissed him softly as he lead you both down the hallway and into your bedroom, continuing where you both left off.

you rubbed your eyes groggily as you opened them up, you place your hand on lip’s chest as he snored softly next to you. you kissed his small triangle tattoo on his chest while you admired how peaceful he looked. you trace the tattoo delicately with your fingers as you watch him sleep.

his eyes fluttered open, smiling softly when he saw you. you leaned in, giving him a peck on his lips. he pulled you back in, kissing you deeply. he whispered against your lips, “good morning, baby.” you snuggled into his chest, “good morning. how did you sleep?” he kissed your forehead, “i always sleep good with you. how did you sleep?”

you smiled softly, “i slept really good.” you left a few tender kisses down his neck as his right hand slipped under the covers, groping your right breast. you whimper when he kisses you desperately, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. he crawls on top of you as you both kiss, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer to you. his phone rings on the nightstand as you both make out on your bed, him ignoring the call.

the ringing sound ceased when it started ringing a second time, making you detach from his lips. “who’s calling you?” he looks away from you, grabbing the phone off the wooden surface when you saw that mandy was the person calling him. he sighed annoyingly as he set it to vibrate and set it back on the bed, attempting to kiss you once more when you stop him.

you said meekly, “you should go, baby.” he asked, “do you really want me to go?” you shook your head, “i don’t want you to but it’s best if you do. you and mandy clearly have things to work out.” he nodded understandably, he knew you were right about needing to go back. he got up out of your bed as he gathers up his clothes and putting them back on.

he asked, “what does this mean for us?” you shrug as you got up out of bed, “i have no idea. all i know is that i love you but i don’t want to get in between your relationship with her more than i already have.” he threw his shirt and jacket on when he walked over to you, cupping your face in his hands. “i love you too. i’m going to come back for you when i figure this out, i promise.”

he kissed you lovingly, brushing his nose against yours. “do you mind walking me out?” you smiled, “i don’t mind at all.” you both walk out of your bedroom and down the hall into the living room. he grabbed his shoes from by the door, putting them back on. you unlock the door for him as he stands in front of you, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he buries his face, inhaling the scent of your sweet perfume on the right side of your neck.

he lifted his face from your neck, giving you a gentle kiss goodbye. your noses brush against each other once more, “text me when you get home. i love you, lip.” he pecked your lips before opening the door, letting in the cold morning breeze. “i love you, baby. i’ll see you later, okay?”

you nod as you watch him walk out the door, down the porch steps and into the street. you closed the door once he was out of sight, locking it behind you. you stand against to the door, taking in a deep breath. you wondered if it was a dream that lip gallagher actually loved you. you exhaled as you smiled to yourself knowing that it truly wasn’t a dream.

you wondered what was going to happen next with you two but all that you knew was that you were going to stick by his side and he was going to be by yours.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher imagine #shameless us #shameless imagine #shameless fanfiction #izzy writes 💕

[many-shades-of-violence]

as your college roommate(s)

✢ content warnings: none

✢ characters: Smoker, Law, Corazon, Doflamingo, Shachi & Penguin

Smoker, majoring in Criminal Justice, embodies the essence of a "no-nonsense roommate," maintaining a room that reflects military precision in its impeccable organization and strict "no clutter" policy. Unleashing his wrath is not advised.

A punctual roommate, Smoker is always on time for everything, from classes to laundry, showcasing his commitment to discipline and order.

Beyond his room's physical discipline, Smoker takes on the role of the de facto organizer of the shared home. His talent for planning and coordination extends to home logistics and meticulously planned road trips.

During finals, Smoker transforms into a reliable study partner, demonstrating a disciplined approach that proves invaluable for those seeking constructive criticism during group study sessions and exam preparations.

Law

Law, the quiet and mysterious roommate, immerses himself in his own world surrounded by medical textbooks and anatomy diagrams, reflecting his major in Medicine.

A go-to person for minor injuries and health concerns, Law's medical knowledge becomes particularly appreciated during stressful exam seasons or, for some, PMS woes.

Law's hidden quirky sense of humor occasionally surfaces, catching roommates off guard with unexpected jokes and sarcastic comments, often shared in passing in the kitchen.

While Law may not actively organize study sessions, his room remains a haven for consultations, offering a quiet space for focused discussions despite the closed door.

Corazon

In university, Corazon studies art, transforming the room into a mini art gallery with his side adorned with paintings, sketches, and various craft projects.

Hosting small gatherings for art sessions, Corazon's free-spirited nature influences roommates to discover their own creative sides, fostering an atmosphere of self-expression.

Corazon assumes the role of peacemaker within the roommate group, mediating conflicts and promoting a harmonious living environment.

During exam season, Corazon's calming presence transforms the room into a serene space. As a sought-after study companion, he breaks down complex topics and, if unable to assist with content, ensures study breaks are accompanied by snacks.

Doflamingo

Doflamingo, majoring in performing arts, infuses the room with his flamboyance, turning it into a vibrant and bold space with colorful decorations and ever-changing styles.

The eccentric and flamboyant roommate, Doflamingo's outgoing personality doesn't overshadow his surprising focus when tackling studies, often burning the midnight oil on ambitious projects.

The room becomes a hub for extravagant parties, establishing it as the go-to spot for social gatherings on campus.

Doffy's unconventional study methods include impromptu motivational speeches and mnemonic devices. Those who can't handle the drama are advised to steer clear to save themselves from potential headaches.

Shachi and Penguin

Shachi and Penguin, nursing majors and childhood friends, bring a laid-back and easygoing vibe to the living space, filling their rooms with comics, CDs, and musical instruments.

The dynamic duo turns mundane activities into adventures, infusing a playful energy into everything from grocery shopping to doing laundry.

Despite their carefree demeanor, Shachi and Penguin are incredibly supportive friends, always ready to assist with assignments or lend an ear during late-night chats.

Their laid-back attitude extends to studying, making the experience enjoyable. With Shachi's logical approach complementing Penguin's creative thinking, they offer a well-rounded study experience as deadlines approach.

#one piece #op #writing #one piece x reader #my stuff #trafalgar d law #donquixote doflamingo #one piece headcanons #trafalgar law x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #corazon x reader #donquixote corazon #smoker x reader #smoker #shachi #penguin #shachi penguin #shachi x reader #penguin x reader #shachi x reader x penguin #sfw #college au

[fatehbaz]

In 1946, Argentina introduced twenty beavers (Castor canadensis) to Tierra del Fuego (TdF) to promote the fur industry in a land deemed empty and sterile.

Beavers were brought from Canada by Tom Lamb, [...] known as Mr. North for having expanded the national frontier [...]. In the 1980s, local scientists [...] found that beavers were the main disturbers of sub-Antarctic forests. The fur industry had never been implemented in TdF and [...] beavers had expanded, crossed to Chile, and occupied most of the river streams. The Beavercene resulted in apocalyptic landscapes [...]: modified rivers, flooded lands, and dead native trees that, unlike the Canadian ones, are not resilient to flooding. [...]

At the end of the nineteenth century the state donated lands to Europeans who, in building their farms, also displaced and assassinated the indigenous inhabitants of TdF. With the settlers, livestock and plants also invaded the region, an “ecological imperialism” that displaced native populations. In doing this, eugenic and racializing knowledges mediated the human and nonhuman population politics of TdF.

---

In the 1940s, the Argentinian State nationalized these settlers’ capitals by redistributing their lands. [...] In 1946, the president of the rural association in TdF opened the yearly livestock [conference]: We, settlers and farmers of TdF have lived the evolution of this territory from the times of an absent State. [...] [T]hey allied with their introduced animals, like the Patagonian sheep or the Fuegian beaver. At a time when, after the two world wars, the category of race had become [somewhat] scientifically delegitimized, the enhancement and industrialization of animals enabled the continuation of racializing politics.

In 1946, during the same livestock ceremony in TdF, the military government claimed:

This ceremony represents the patria; it spreads the purification of our races … It is our desire to produce an even more purified and refined race to, directly, achieve the aggrandizement of Argentina.

---

The increasing entanglement between animal breeding and the nation helped to continue the underlying Darwinist logic embedded in population politics. Previous explicit desires to whiten the Argentinian race started to be actualized in other terms. [...]

Settlers had not only legitimated their belonging to TdF by othering the indigenous [people], [...] but also through the idea that indigenous communities had gone extinct after genocide and disease. At that time, the “myth of extinction” helped in the construction of a uniform nation based on erasing difference, as a geography textbook for school students, Historia y Geografía Argentinas, explained in 1952: If in 1852 there were 900,000 inhabitants divided in 90,000 whites, 585,000 mestizos, 90,000 [Indigenous people] and 135,000 [...] Black, a century later there was a 90% of white population out of 18,000,000 inhabitants. (357) [...] [S]tate statistics contributed to the erasure of non-white peoples through the magic of numbers: it is not that they had disappeared, but that they had been statistically exceeded [...]. However, repressed communities never fully disappear.

---

Text by: Mara Dicenta. "The Beavercene: Eradication and Settler-Colonialism in Tierra del Fuego". Environment & Society Portal, Arcadia (Spring 2020), no. 1. Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society. [Image by Mara Dicenta, included in original article. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#ecology #forests #imperial #colonial #abolition #landscape #caribbean

[dinodontwait]

Lost but Found!

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers(?), forest au

Summary: Getting lost in the forest was not on your bucket list but who are you to complain if that means you get to spend time with one of the hottest guy you have ever met!

Warning: 18+, smut

Word Count: 1250

A/N: DON'T READ IF YOU AREN'T 18 AND ABOVE!

This is the first time I'm writing smut so please let me know if there are any mistakes!

The argument with my friends had started innocently enough, a spark that quickly ignited into a blazing fire. The flames of tension danced around our campsite, fueled by misunderstandings and pent-up emotions. As the voices rose, I found myself entangled in a web of conflicting opinions.

"I can't believe you would do this without consulting us," Emma's accusing tone sliced through the evening air, the warmth of the campfire unable to thaw the chill in her words.

Frustration welled up inside me. "We're a group, and decisions should be made together. I can't be expected to just go along with everything!"

Mia, always the peacemaker, tried to mediate. "Let's calm down and talk about this, guys. Yn, maybe we should've discussed the plans before."

But the tension was already palpable. I felt my patience slipping away, and my voice took on an edge. "Discuss? When have we ever had time to discuss anything? You two always make decisions, and the rest of us just follow!"

In the heat of the moment, I declared my intent to leave the campsite. The argument had reached a point of no return, and I stormed away, my footsteps carrying me into the heart of the forest, away from the echoing accusations and strained friendships.

Lost in my own thoughts, the forest's shadows seemed to consume me. With each step, I became more entangled in the labyrinth of trees and underbrush. Panic set in as I realized I had no idea where I was or how to find my way back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a dusky hue over the woods, my phone's battery dwindled, exacerbating my isolation. That's when I heard the footsteps. The rustling leaves and snapping twigs alerted me to the presence of someone else. I spun around, heart racing, to see a tall figure emerging from the shadows. It was a young man, and the fading light revealed his face – a kind, reassuring smile softened his features.

"Hey, are you lost?" the guy asked, concern evident in his voice. "I heard you from a distance and thought you might need help. By the way, I am Wonwoo!"

Relieved but wary, I shared my predicament with Wonwoo after giving my introduction. "My friends and I got into this argument at the campsite. It just escalated, and I needed some space to clear my head. I decided to find my way back to civilization, but the forest is disorienting, and my phone has no signal."

Wonwoo's eyes reflected understanding. "I get it. Camping trips can be both exhilarating and challenging. It's easy for tensions to rise when everyone is under pressure."

I nodded, appreciating his empathy. "I thought I could find an exit, catch a bus, and leave this mess behind. But now, I'm lost, and it's getting dark."

Wonwoo gestured towards a path leading deeper into the woods. "Well, luckily for you, my grandparents' cabin is just up ahead. It's a peaceful place, and I think it might offer you the solace you're seeking."

Hesitation gnawed at me, but with no other options in sight, I decided to trust Wonwoo. The path unfolded before us, and as we ventured deeper into the woods, the towering trees formed a natural canopy, filtering the dimming sunlight.

Finally, we reached the clearing where the charming cabin stood. Soft lantern light spilled from the windows, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. The cabin itself seemed to blend seamlessly with nature, a testament to the craftsmanship of its construction.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, and the creaking hinges revealed a cozy interior. Wooden furnishings adorned the space, a crackling fireplace taking center stage. Plush chairs were adorned with warm blankets, and the flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls.

As I stepped inside, the rustic charm enveloped me, replacing the tension with a sense of tranquillity. "Thank you" I murmured, genuinely grateful for the unexpected refuge.

Wonwoo disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. We settled by the fireplace, the warmth seeping into my bones as we sipped from the mugs.

As the fire crackled, I began recounting the events that led me to this point, from the brewing tension among friends to my impulsive decision to venture into the forest. Wonwoo listened attentively, offering a sympathetic ear that eased the weight on my shoulders.

"I visit this cabin once or twice a year," Wonwoo shared. "It's a family getaway, a place to reconnect with nature and find some peace. I never expected to bring someone here under such circumstances, but I'm glad I could help."

The night air on the balcony held a gentle breeze, and the subtle rustling of leaves contributed to the enchanting melody of the forest. Wonwoo and I settled into the comfortable wooden chairs, the moon casting a soft glow upon the world around us. Laughter and shared stories painted the atmosphere with warmth.

As we spoke, the connection between us deepened, the barriers of unfamiliarity breaking down with each passing moment. Wonwoo's eyes sparkled in the moonlight, his laughter resonating with a sincerity that stirred something within me.

A distant growl rumbled through the forest, interrupting our conversation. Startled, I instinctively clutched onto Wonwoo, the abrupt sound sending shivers down my spine. "What was that?" I asked, a mixture of fear and excitement lingering in my voice.

Wonwoo's laughter echoed, a soothing and melodic response to my unease. "Just a forest dweller claiming its territory. They're more afraid of us than we are of them. You're safe with me."

Embarrassed by my reaction, I offered a sheepish smile. "I guess I'm not as brave as I thought."

"No need to be brave when you have someone to lean on," Wonwoo replied, his words carrying a subtle invitation. He took my hand gently, intertwining our fingers.

The atmosphere shifted, a shared understanding passing between us. The night embraced us in its quiet intimacy, the balcony becoming a haven for connection. The moonlight illuminated the vulnerability in Wonwoo's eyes, and I felt a magnetic pull drawing me closer.

Wonwoo's thumb traced soothing circles on the back of my hand, and without exchanging words, the air crackled with anticipation. In that quiet moment, he cupped my face, his eyes searching mine for consent.

"You don't have to be alone in the forest, Yn," he whispered, his voice a gentle promise.

A profound understanding passed between us, and as our lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, the world around us disappeared. I don’t know how we ended up on his bed naked!

He grinned that cocky grin and pushed himself inside me, achingly slowly.

I hissed in relief at the delicious pressure. He pulled out and slid back in again, just as slowly. It felt so good, yet not enough.

"This is torture."

"I know. That's why I'm doing it." He slid into me one more time, possibly even slower than before.

I couldn't take it and glared at him. "Fuck me like you mean it."

He took the bait. His gaze as he looked down at me was hungry. He lifted my ankles onto his shoulders and rose to his knees. He held my hips as he thrust, keeping me where he wanted me as he fucked. It felt divine.

"My god, Wonwoo, don't stop." I am past the point of any self control.

"Shit. Say that again." He didn't pause his steady rhythm, pumping in and out.

"Don't stop?"

"Say my name."

#seventeen x y/n #svt x reader #svt angst #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #strangers to friends

[familyabolisher]

hey, I was reading your posts on the use of 'reading comprehension' and found them really enlightening. I'm wondering, are there similar undercurrents to how people use lack of reading comprehension to describe the tendency for people to read and interpret in bad faith online, or are they different things grouped together under the same label?

hm yeah i would say there are some similar undercurrents happening. i think glibly mocking [a lack of] reading comprehension in response to a bad-faith/hostile/animous/etc engagement (like eg. the trend of replying with 'reading comprehension questions' that aim to glibly point out logical flaws in the initial response and present it as obviously ridiculous and overblown) is falling back on that same discursive construction -- that a lack of 'reading comprehension' is embarrassing, that reading something poorly or wrongly is something you should be sure never to do in public, and whoever can score the most Reading Comprehension Points in the argument wins the discourse.

i also just find it, like, unfunny and boring. even in genuinely bad-faith interpretations of a post, it has an air of smugness to it that i find really off-putting -- it's a very, like, you sir have won the internet for today-type tone. and there are multiple cases where i've seen this Ha Ha No Reading Comprehension thing deployed to suggest that someone reading between the lines of a claim made in a post to point out eg. particular biases, particular suggestions of bigotry, that the post doesn't explicitly name but are certainly discursively present is obviously being dense or hysterical; it's an easy win in a discourse where to name something as eg. subtly racist, transphobic, misogynistic, etc., is already presumed to be hysterical overreaction by people who know better than to outright name it as such but are still predisposed to view it in that light when given the opportunity to do so covertly.

(eg: op says X; a responder points out that X implies Y and is emerging from a discourse of Z; op laughs at them by claiming that they only said X and if you're seeing Y or Z then you clearly have no reading comprehension because X without Y or Z is obvious to op's often already biased audience and the conversation is shut down.)

it's got a real like, deployment of Facts And Logic feel to it; i don't think it does a good job in actually engaging with the responder and understanding where their interpretation is coming from, which can ofc be chalked up to the fact that that's literally not what it's supposed to do -- it's supposed to get a fun dunk in and make the initial responder look silly. i more than understand frustration at people reading your posts in bad faith and i can't fairly be mad at people for lashing out about it -- i've done it before! -- but, like. i think we should just try and steer clear of discursive constructions which reify the stigmatisation of poor reading comprehension (or mediation of tone on the internet, which is also at play here).

#ask

[miyagifangkai]

Sharing The Night

Summary: Reader turns up on Joel’s doorstep after being hurt.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: LOADS OF CURSING, THIS IS 18+ ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS! THANK YOU! Dry humping, kissing, and spicy things!!! 🥵 also possibility of an age gap?? Depends?? Reader is 100% over the age of 18!

Also not greatly proofread lmao

A/N: I have no explanation for this one. I just wanted the reader to get patched up and be on her way but Buddy did my brain have other thots! Also first time writing extra spicy things, constructive criticism is appreciated but go easy on me. Thanks so much for reading! 💕

You knock on Joel’s door softly, struggling to raise your arm. You slowly lower your arm to avoid feeling any more pain than you were already in.

“C’mon, Joel..” you whine quietly.

You hear his heavy footsteps approach the door, “who is it?” he gruffly asks.

“Joel,” you cry, “it’s me.”

You hear the clicks from the locks on the door and he quickly opens the door.

Joel stands in the doorway and takes a quick look at you, “oh, honey..”

He snakes his arm around your waist and helps you inside. You weakly limp to the table and sit in the chair, grunting.

Joel stands there looking at you concerned, “What happened?”

“I fucked up.”

“What’d you do?”

“I didn’t have enough ration cards.. and I told them I’d pay ‘em back but— I couldn’t.”

Joel squats down to get at eye level with you, “just bruised up? Or what?”

You pull up your shirt to expose your torso which was littered with small brusies, scratches, and a huge hematoma at your ribs.

“Bruises,” you grunt, “maybe a broken rib or two.”

Joel’s eyes go wide at the sight of you, successfully hiding his panic. Broken ribs and scratches will heal themselves but that didn’t matter. He knew they’d come back for you. They were gonna get their share and if they didn’t get it, they’ll spill blood.

Joel couldn’t imagine losing you. He always liked having you around and especially with the way you and Tess worked together. Tess being the smooth talker, you the mediator, and he was, of course, the braun.

You always found ways to calm him down, even though he hated to admit that you did. He didn’t want to open himself up too much to you. He knew better. This place is way too dangerous for that. In the blink of an eye he could disappear leaving you alone or worse.

You could dissipate into nothingness.

He shook his head at the thought and sighs. He couldn’t think about that now! You were hurt and it was his job to heal you. Make sure you got enough rest, feed you, hydrate you. You were his to take care of right now. No time for selfish thoughts.

He couldn’t help but feel anger rise. Why did you go alone? Why didn’t you come to him for help?

Joel sighs, “dammit, Y/N. Why the hell’d you do this?”

You scoff, and then wince, “Fuck!”

“Now, now. Don’t over do it,” Joel reaches out and lightly touches your shoulder.

“I needed the supplies, Joel.”

His eyes soften, “Why’d you not come to me, huh?”

“I couldn’t find you at the time and I just—“ you blink back tears, “I didn’t wanna bother you. You got your own shit.”

Joel stands up, ignoring the pang of sadness that haunts his chest, and pours some whiskey in a glass and hands you it, “It’ll help with the pain.”

You take it and shoot it back and grimace from the taste, “damn, strong.”

Joel chuckles, “Yeah,” he takes a seat across from you, “next time. You. Come. To. Me,” he tapped his index finger on the table with every word.

You don’t say anything to him. You just look at your glass in too much pain to move.

“We clear?” Joel’s voice grows louder causing you to meet his eyes.

“Crystal,” you answer.

Joel stands up from his chair, “Now you need to lay down and get some rest. They won’t look for ya here.”

You nod, “Okay.”

You groan when you stand up and Joel helps you to the bed and you lay down.

Your vision starts to get blurry from drowsiness.

Before you fall asleep you say, “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.”

The next morning you awaken to the dim sunlight shining through the window. You give your eyes a second to adjust before you move. You decide to feel the other side of the bed making sure Joel wasn’t lying there beside you. You don’t want to disturb him, he barely got any sleep anyway.

You felt nothing on the other side so you started to raise up. Your vision goes blurry and you start to see black spots from the pain. You gritted your teeth anyway; you were too stubborn to show any more weakness than you already have.

After you finish sitting up you look around the room only to find that it was empty. You squint your eyes from confusion, where the hell is Joel? It’s still early in the morning. He should be sleeping. Oh how you wish he was here with you. Holding you. You soaking in his touch and absorbing his warmth.

You slowly lay back down feeling tired again and you close your eyes.

You awaken to Joel’s door shutting.

“Joel?”

“Hey! Sorry,” you hear him sigh, “it’s me. I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Once your eyes adjust you see that his shirt is ripped, bloody knuckles, a soon to be black eye, and busted lip; it looks like he’s been into a fight. Your eyes widen from pure panic. You wanted to run up to him and hug and take care of him. But you couldn’t. That’s just not how Joel worked. He was a hard ass but you admired him for him in a way.

“Joel, what happened?”

He stops in his tracks thinking of what to tell you, “oh? Uh? Nothin’. Buncha stupid ass teenagers jumped me.”

He continues walking inside and making his way to his coffee pot.

You sit up forgetting about your ribs and you cover up your scream with a whine, “shit.”

Joel glances at you behind him, “I’d take it easy if I was you,” he turns his head back around to finish pouring some coffee in his cup.

“I am taking it easy. I just forgot,” you mentally slap yourself, “but you’re meaning to tell me that teenagers did that to you?”

Joel takes a seat at the table and takes a sip of his coffee, “Sure did.”

“Hm. Alright, don’t tell me,” you start to get up off the bed. Refusing to show Joel how much pain you were in; you’re pretty sure you broke a tooth from where you were grinding them so hard.

You stagger to the table with gritted teeth and ask, “enough in the pot for me?”

“Yeah, should be. I’ll get ya some.”

You take a seat slowly as Joel stands up and pours you some coffee.

“You went and fucked with them, didn’t you Joel?”

Joel grunts and hands you your cup as you give him a small “thank you” and narrow your eyes at him.

“Didn’t you, Joel?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why’d you go without me?”

“They woulda killed you.”

“They’re going to anyway. I’ll never be able to repay my debt, Joel. Especially with how hard cards are to get now. I’m fucking dead.”

Joel shakes his head at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“What?”

“You don’t gotta worry about ‘em anymore.”

“Wha—“

“I paid it off, okay? You’re fine.”

“Joel!” You wince after you yell, “there’s no way I can repay you.”

Joel shakes his head, “I don’t expect you to.”

You chuckle, “I have to pay you back.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do!”

Joel rolls his eyes and sternly says, “I said no. That’s final.”

You gently lean back in your chair and sip on your coffee. You look back at Joel and notice that he looks extra tense today. His brows are furrowed more than usual and his roughened overall expression is stressed. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind. You wanted to pry but you knew with Joel there was no use. Unless he wanted you to come with him or to help he never budged on telling you anything. You didn’t want to know how Joel got his hands on that many cards as well; you knew he dealt with shady shit and corrupt customers but you didn’t know how many or what shit he was dealing with.

At this point Joel had stood back up and placed his dirty mug in the sink making his way to the couch to sit down. You turn around in your seat with your eyes following his every move. You wanted to say something to him. To ask him what was on his mind or what he was doing later but you didn’t. You had a feeling that you had overstayed your welcome and it was probably time for you to leave; and with that thought. You did.

You got up and placed your mug in the sink debating on if you wanted to wash the dishes for him, I mean it was the least you could do but you didn’t. You had a feeling he would get extra grumpy with you thinking that you had to do things for him to repay him. You walk over to the small nightstand beside the bed and grab your bag.

You walk over to the front of the couch and face Joel, “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you for everything you do for me.”

In reality he hadn’t done much. But if it wasn’t for him you would be a dead woman walking.

Joel’s face stays the same, expressionless, “Welcome.”

You nod your head at him and start to make your way out of his dingy apartment. You felt like he was holding back something from you. You could tell by the way he was practically white knuckling the couch and almost breathing slightly too hard. You didn’t want to think too much about it. No need for false hope. But what if it wasn’t?

You had almost opened the door when you hear him say, “Y/N! Wait.”

You stop in your tracks with wide eyes and slowly turn around, what could he possibly want?

“Yeah?”

Joel looks at you with soft eyes and says in a voice so low you could barely hear him, “Stay.”

“Joel, are you okay?”

Joel looks away from you, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure you want me to stay?”

Joel sighs and looks back at you with a look you’ll never forget. Pupils blown, his cheeks had a sheen of blush to them, the wrinkles of life adorning his features had seemed to soften, his hair disheveled, what else could you say? He looked beautiful.

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

You almost melted. The moon, stars, and all the galaxies felt like they were pumping through your body. You could feel all of the blood rush to your head and the room seemed to spin. Your heart quickened to a pace you could barely handle. It felt like you had run the biggest marathon in history. The wind had been completely knocked out of you. You felt your cheeks flush to a bright red as a breath of air knocked back into your lungs at an unfathomable strength.

You drop your bag onto the floor and walk over to where Joel was sitting and mutter, “Took you long enough.”

You sit on his lap and capture his lips in a passionate kiss. You weren’t thinking. You wanted to make something happen and fuck. You sure did. You wanted to taste him entirely. You wanted to savor every inch of him. You wanted to feel his hands roam your body and grip you at your hips. That you did; and he did exactly what you wanted.

Letting his hands roam from your ass, slide above your hips all the way to your breasts. You let out a small moan when he gently squeezed your breast causing you two to break apart.

“Baby, I—“

“Joel, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited for this,” you gently peck his lips again.

Joel’s hands run themselves back down your torso and rest at your hips, “Oh, I have a pretty damn good idea.”

You two kiss again in a very tender kiss. Barely touching lips this time as you start to feel Joel’s bulge, you buck your hips with a quiet moan. You almost lost it there. You had so much pent up frustration for him and you could tell he did for you. His mouth slightly agape, his heavy breathing, his pupils completely taking over his iris and a sheen of sweat covering him.

You buck your hips again, he tightens his grip on your hips, “Gentle, honey. There you go.”

“Fuck,” you moan as you start to quicken your pace.

“You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me, huh?”

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You feel your stomach do twists and turns at the thought of Joel’s praise. How long you had thought about something like this with him. It felt like pure serenity being here with him. Being able to feel him.

“C’mon, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. So fucking good, yeah. That’s it,” Joel was invested in you. In the sounds you made, in your facial expressions; he couldn’t believe how you were acting. You were just dry humping him, fully clothed, and he still had that effect on you? He felt his dick grow harder at the thought.

You let go. You couldn’t contain your moans as you rode out your orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Joel had nothing to say. He was completely mesmerized by you. His eyes wide, mouth still slightly open as he was currently breathing hard. Using every fiber of his being to not throw you down on the couch and make you his.

You remove your shirt showcasing your bra, “Much better,” you state.

You start to unbutton Joel’s shirt but he stops you, “Not now. Not here.”

“What?”

“How ‘bout we do dinner first?”

You chuckle, “Dinner?”

Joel nods.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I am.”

You shrug your shoulders, get off of Joel, and put your shirt back on.

“Joel Miller, you will forever be a mystery to me.”

Joel shakes his head and chuckles, “I wanna do things right.”

You laugh, “That’s actually really fucking sweet.”

“I know it is. See? I have some romance left in me,” Joel smiles.

“Sure you do,” you pat his shoulder.

You stand up, grab your bag and start to leave.

“Whoa! Where ya goin’?”

“Well, I wanna get dressed up for dinner and also give you time to deal with your current situation.”

Joel looks down and sees what you’re talking about, “Oh, yeah. That.”

“As much as I’d love to stay and watch. I’d rather clean myself up and look nice for when you actually fuck me, Miller.”

You see Joel lose breath at your statement.

“I’ll see you later, Joel. Have dinner ready!”

You close the door and head to your place to get dolled up for the festivities tonight.

Joel leans his head back on the sofa, rubbing his eyes, “She’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #the last of us hbo #the last of us

[writerbuddha]

Okay so I recently saw a reblog to Jedi Apologists refutation of the Jedi being a cult which talked about mindfulness as a bad thing with it’s emphasis on self compassion leading to narcissism (I’m paraphrasing). Anyway, this really didn’t sound right from everything I’ve read about it on various pro-Jedi blogs and have taken away from Star Wars itself. And we’ll when I looked up mindfulness some of the stuff I’ve found went into how the practice has been corrupted by Western capitalism and how Buddhists have criticised the way it’s used too.

So as a practising Buddhist how does Western mindfulness deviate from its Buddhist roots and how do the Jedi use mindfulness in the truest sense?

First of all, people have a tendency to forgot or to actively ignore that there is a difference between these four:

Mindfulness

Meditation

Mindfulness meditation

Being mindful of your emotions

Mindfulness in Buddhism

Mindfulness in Buddhism can be defined as maintaining a flow of voluntarily awareness or attention, holding, bearing something in mind, without distraction, without forgetfulness. This awareness, attention is non-judgmental, not filtering things through subjective opinions, or labeling things as good and bad based on like or dislike. But it entails you to have a clear view of what's happening in your mind, body, and environment, and you can recognize which ways of speaking, behaving and using the mind is conducive to your and to other's well-being, which are afflictive, toxic, harmful to you and to others, and you can do the sensible, compassionate thing.

Buddhist Mindfulness and Western Psychology - mindfulness versus meditation

In the context of Western psychology, "mindfulness" often refers to mindfulness practices incorporated into the Western therapeutic toolkit, most often mindfulness meditation. However, one must understand that even as all forms of Buddhist meditation involve mindfulness, mindfulness is not the same as meditation and not all types of mediation is mindfulness meditation. The Buddha taught his followers to practice mindfulness all the time. It should be clear that one can make Buddhist mindfulness a day-to-day activity, but it would be very difficult to stay in the state of mindfulness as it is defined in Western psychological context.

Mindfulness in the Western context is becoming more fully aware of the present moment and becoming more fully in the present moment, completely and non-judgmentally. It generally involves heightened awareness of sensory stimuli, e.g. noticing your breathing, feeling the sensations of your body, being in the “now.”

Buddhists define meditation as a tool used to habituate yourself to constructive, realistic and beneficial emotions and attitudes, to build up good habits of the mind. It's used to transform thoughts and views so that they are more compassionate and correspond to reality. Some forms of meditation are aimed to develop mindfulness. Whereas in the Western context, meditation is often defined as a set of techniques that are intended to encourage a heightened state of awareness and focused attention.

Therapies incorporating mindfulness practices include: Acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT), Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), Mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT), Mindfulness-based art therapy (MBAT), Mindfulness-based pain management (MBPM) and Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MSBR).

The Jedi way: "Be mindful of your emotions"

The Jedi way of being mindful of your emotions in George Lucas' Star Wars is to hold your emotions in calm, non-reactive ("passive") and peaceful awareness. When you do that, you can realize: you are not your emotions. You are not your fear; you are not your anger; you are not your aggression; you are not your hate. They're arising within you, and when you're not mindful of them, you are pulled by them to places where you didn't really want to go. However, when one is mindful of their emotions, instead of being carried by them, one can recognize where fear, anger, hate, aggressive feelings are leading them, and can choose the light path over the dark path: to act with firmness, spacious clarity and compassion.

This kind of mindfulness practiced by the Jedi, the Jedi teachings of "be mindful of your emotions", "be mindful of your thoughts" and that one's mind should be where one is, in what they're doing, are very much identical to Buddhist mindfulness. But it should be noted that even though many Jedi - Qui-Gon, Yoda, the whole council, etc. - and even Jar Jar were meditating, this doesn't mean that they attempted to incorporate meditation into a therapeutic toolkit.

Western pop-culture mindfulness

The Western pop-culture mindfulness is to immerse yourself into the present moment, focusing your full and undivided attention to your experiences, whether it's within you or around you. It lacks the aim to discern what is conducive to your and to other's well-being, and it's just experiencing passively. Most worryingly, it's promoted as a way to increase the pleasures you receive from the present. Eat mindfully, get a massage mindfully, walk mindfully, have sex mindfully etc. And this is profoundly non-Buddhist, because it's all about squeezing out more intense and more lasting pleasure of the things that are coming and passing. When "mindfulness practice" is removed from other Buddhist teachings, guiding us to release our greed, anger, to develop empathy, kindness and compassion, and non-attachment, "mindfulness" could reinforce negative qualities. For example, if one fails to differentiate between self-compassion and self-indulgence, self-care and self-centeredness, they likely conclude that their narcissistic tendencies are self-compassion.

Most worryingly, mindfulness is conflated with mediation and is marketed as some kind of relaxation exercise or stress-reduction technique. But mediation was designed to gain insight and wisdom, not to relax. Also, it's popular to treat it as a tool or as a magical remedy for psychological healing, whereas it wasn't designed to be anything like that. It can powerfully support therapeutic processes, but one must know that Buddhist practice is not a substitute for, say, psychotherapy. And when pop-culture mindfulness fails to deliver, people often believe, what they did to themselves was Buddhism and mindfulness, whereas that wasn't Buddhism or mindfulness at all.

#star wars #george lucas #buddhism #mindfulness #psychology

[gatheringbones]

[“HOW TRAUMA PLAYS OUT IN GROUPS

Horizontal Violence

When we can’t strike back at those who are truly harming us, we often lash out at those we can reach. We yell at our lover because we can’t yell at the boss. In groups, we may fight even the most minor conflict to the death. We attack our fellow group members with all the unexpressed rage that really belongs to the perpetrators of violence. In our minds, we are always fighting for our lives. Just as enraged dogs will attack one another with no regard for their relative size, we lose sight of real power differentials and may demolish a group member with a blast of anger without realizing that we have shifted from victim of abuse to abuser.

Horizontal Violence Strategies

Friends don’t let friends abuse one another. A group that sets healthy boundaries and standards for behavior needs to hold one another accountable for keeping them.

Offer constructive critique and honest feedback.

Collective intervention: Others in the group can support one another to tell the raging group member that their behavior is not acceptable. Couple this with:

Good cop/bad cop: While one or more group members set and hold clear boundaries, another might offer help and support to find counseling, coaching or mediation.

Mentoring: Assigning the offending person a mentor can provide long-term encouragement to both change behavior and look at deeper patterns.

The Perpetual Victim

Some people cling to the role of victim, claiming center stage. Whatever issue or drama erups somehow always ends up being about them. Their patterns may originate from deep hurt and trauma and we can feel sympathy, but colluding with them is not helpful either to the person or the group. Fruitless efforts to appease them can drain the group’s energy and undermine its effectiveness.

When we are caught up in the role of victim, our speech and actions reflect our sense of powerlessness. To regain our sense of empowerment, we might begin by challenging the inherent assumptions in our words and practicing alternative framings and affirmations.

Blaming

Statement: “You made me feel …”

Assumptions: I am at the mercy of other people’s speech and actions. I am helpless to do anything but respond to how others treat me.

Alternate suggestion: I choose how to respond to other people’s statements and assessments. I can choose what to take in and what to discard. My feelings are real and valid, but I can move through them quickly and separate them from my own assumptions and other people’s judgments.

Blurting

Statement: “I have to speak my truth.” Translation: I’m about to blurt out something hurtful in the most blunt way possible. Assumptions: Truth is uncomfortable, painful and festering. My feelings and perceptions are The Truth, and I must get it out just as I might vomit up a bad meal, regardless of consequences.

Alternate suggestion: I choose to speak my truth, using all my sensitivity, wisdom and skill so that I can be clearly heard and effective.

Bleating

Statement: “I’m being silenced.”

Assumption: If people actually heard me, they would agree with me. So if they don’t agree with me, they are shutting me down.

Alternate suggestion: I can advocate for my own perspective — whether or not others agree — and respect their right to differ. I do not need anyone’s permission to advocate for myself.

Strategies for Transforming the Role of Victim

Clear, fair and transparent ways that people can earn power in the group will provide constructive alternatives to victimization.

Structures and practice of constructive critique can provide positive channels for complaints.

Encourage responsibility with questions like: What would you suggest to make the situation different? What structures would you like to see in place that would help us address your needs and concerns?”]

starhawk, from the empowerment manual: a guide for collaborative groups, 2011

#starhawk #brainspace #currently reading