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lowgothree · 3 months

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004. ༺BUT WITH EASE༻∘

a/n: OH MY GOD i feel so awkward abt this chapter lmaooo...probably gonna delete later. probably offensive.

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is (still) down bad. paige pining after an ex situationship. kinda angsty. smut (oh lord).

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

paige was being weird. and maybe you didn’t know her well enough to decipher that with certainty but you just knew. she didn’t knock on your door to beg for some of your snacks or inform you she was going to shower or to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with her anymore. she didn’t tell you goodmorning or goodnight…she didn’t tell you much of anything, really. in other words, paige was being fucking weird.

it probably definitely shouldn’t bother you. after all, she’s your roommate and she has that thing with olivia. but it’s fucking killing you. slowly, from the inside out.

TO: SEAN

i think my roommate hates me idk

FROM: SEAN

The sexy roommate that you want so bad?

TO: SEAN

SHUT UP

her name is paige

FROM: SEAN

I know

The basketball player

Why does Paige hate us?

TO: SEAN

idfk

she’s just being weird

FROM: SEAN

Maybe you’re being weird…

Always staring at her and shit

She’s probably terrified for her life😬

TO: SEAN

u r a really bad person

FROM: SEAN

Remind me why you can’t just flirt with her again?

TO: SEAN

cause she’s dating someone

kind of

they’re weird

FROM: SEAN

So they’re weird

She’s weird

But you still want her?

TO: SEAN

real bad

FROM: SEAN

Oh lord

How serious is she with the girl she’s dating(?)?

you start to type a message back and then you see her.

in a sports bra and shorts.

damn.

you try not to stare at her perfectly lean stomach or her toned legs or her back or –– you’re staring. the moment you realize it you’re looking down at your blanket, pulling at the loose strings.

should you say something? would it be awkward to say something…? it’s awkward saying nothing though. before you had enough time to change your mind you cleared your throat and whispered. “hey…”

if the house wasn’t so silent she might not have even heard you.

“hi.” she muttered in response, back and shoulders tensing, doing nothing to soothe your nerves.

weird. weird. weird.

“um, i’m watching a movie…” you clear your throat, trying not to be obviously nervous. “do you wanna watch?”

paige turns around, sighing and shoulders relaxing. “why not?” she shuffles over next to you, plopping down on the couch. she smells fucking good. she sits close enough so that your arms and legs are touching, she doesn’t move for distance and neither do you.

you look over at her, noticing the way her eyes are glued to the screen. “are…are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“you sure? cause you’ve been acting off the past week…”

“it’s nothing…” she dismisses again. this time, you don’t push for more information, deciding that no matter how unbelievable they may be, you’d take her words at face value.

you nod and the two of you watch the movie in silence for about twenty more minutes before paige asks a question that makes you heart stop beating for a moment.

“how many girls have you been with?”

you immediately look over at her only to find her eyes trained directly on you. your eyes flutter a few times, as if trying to blink away the question. “...what?”

“sorry…that’s probably inappropriate to ask but i guess i’m just curious.” she looks ashamed and turns back over to watch the movie as her face turns red.

“five.” you mumble after a few seconds.

she looks at you again, silently. you feel like all the breath is getting sucked out of your lungs a little more every second she doesn’t say anything.

“olivia ended things with me. for real this time.” paige whispers like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. you aren’t exactly sure why she’s telling you this…and you definitely aren’t sure why that makes you feel a bit giddy.

“oh…i’m ––– ” ecstatic. “sorry. that must suck. i know you said you didn’t love her but i’m sure you care about her deeply regardless.”

“i did.” past tense. eye contact. that slow, sultry voice. you feel like you’re drowning in her.

you remain silent, not sure of why her words bring you so much pause.

“you wanna know why she ended things with me?” she moved fucking closer. her hand brushing up against your thigh and that causes the rational part of your brain –– the part that would tell you things like ‘no it’s too soon’, ‘she just ended things with olivia’, and ‘this isn’t how you wanted this to happen’ –– to shut off completely, only leaving you shuttering and nodding.

“cause she thinks i’m attracted to you.”

oh.

paige slowly trails her hand down to rest on your knee and you’ve never felt so stiff. “she isn’t wrong.”

there she goes with that warm, tempting and inviting voice again. before you even have time to react, she kisses you. you go from surprised to melting within seconds. it’s so natural pathetic how quickly you open your lips so her tongue can sweep in and steal what small fraction of sanity you had left. you couldn’t help it –– you actually moaned into her mouth as one of her hands slid down your body, gripping your waist just enough to pull you to her. both your hands come up and grab onto her shoulders so that you don’t sag to the ground from the pure intensity of it all. this is not the kiss you wanted…but you’ve pined after her for long enough that you forget to care. that’s a problem for future you.

she pushed you down, separating her lips from yours so that she could position herself above you. you stretched your thighs to make room for her. you blink and clear you throat. “wait…wait –– ”

she immediately pulls away and stares at you.

“this isn’t a good idea…you just got out of a relationship.”

“it wasn’t technically a relationship.”

paige mutters defensively and you have to physically restrain your eyes from rolling. “you know what i mean.”

“i want you.” she whispers, leaning back into you, hovering her lips over yours and it’s pure temptation. “i’ve wanted you ever since i moved in here…now i don’t have to feel guilty about it…”

“i know you want me too. i’ve seen how you stare at me…just let me have you.” she practically whimpers and you shudder. “it won’t change anything…”

you can’t help but think of all the reasons why saying yes would be a bad idea…you think of every bad reason and then some and ignore them all. “okay…”

she smirked, wasting no time to rid you of your shirt, sucking in a deep breath when she sees you’re not wearing a bra. for a moment…she just stared. it made you feel awkward enough that you reached up to cover your face, she immediately pulled your hands away from your face, giving you a stern look.

“don’t do that.” she huffs. “lemme see you.”

when you nod, she cups your tits and kisses you again. when you tug at your pants, tossing them somewhere to the floor, she pulls back to stare at you again.

“you’re so beautiful…” she whispers softly, she trails her hand down to your underwear, groaning at how soft and warm and wet you were. she reaches her hand inside and you gasp at the feeling of her fingers brushing against you. your whole body tenses.

she starts off so slow, so gentle. “harder. please.”

paige snickers at your politeness. “well, since you said please.” she teases and you roll your eyes.

“shut up––” your words are cut off by a moan when she applies more pressure to your clit.

she laughs again and smirks triumphantly. “you were saying?”

“you’re awful…” you moan. “i...hate you.”

“yeah? your body’s telling me something different, baby.” baby. you moan again. “look at how wet you are, how your legs are shaking…the way you’re moaning for me. you do all this for someone you hate?”

you don’t respond. you can’t. cause she’s speeding up, increasing the pressure. it’s not enough too much. “don’t stop.” and you’re so embarrassed at how quickly she’s gonna get there but you can’t do anything except keep moaning as orgasm washes over you.

she rides it out for you, slowly pulling her hand out of your pants as you try and catch your breath. afterwards you reach for her shorts and shimmy her out of them. this time, she freezes.

“you okay?” you pant, chest heaving from the afterglow. “is it too much?”

“no, no it’s not that it’s just –– i, uh…olivia didn’t really like to give, i guess?”

you look at her in disbelief. “wait…like, never?”

paige shakes her head and you bite you lip. “well that’s a fucking shame…you gonna let me rectify that?”

she swallows thickly and nods. you guide her to lay back, once her back is against the couch she lets you take off her underwear and she slowly spreads her legs. she’s so wet. it shocks you for a second.

“don’t start.” she rolls her eyes when you smirk up at her after you get a good look at the evidence of her arousal. “do i need to remind you how –– ”

you lick a long stripe from her entrance and she immediately stops talking. “oh, so that’s how i shut you up…” you tease but she’s too distracted to respond.

you continue your movement, only stopping to suck her clit which causes her to shift away from your mouth on reflex but you’re persistent, keeping your mouth on her despite all your movements.

she’s moaning, a mixture of your name and pleas and the sounds she makes are addicting. you don’t stop until she’s trembling, physically pulling you away. you lick your lips and she shuts her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

“come here…” paige whispers and you obey immediately, she kisses you –– sloppy and tired and then she wraps her arms around your frame.

she’s so warm and intoxicating, and you try not to let yourself think of the consequences this would have. Especially not when she falls asleep clinging onto you. you allow your eyes to shut with a silent, daunting acknowledgement…this would change everything.

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader #im gonna hide now #thanks

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waitingonher · 1 year

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percy jackson dating a child of apollo

characters: percy jackson

content warning: like one curse word

word count: 941

author's note: i accidentally deleted the original ask. oops. i'm also just gonna pretend that it didn't take me like four weeks to write this... (i am so sorry anon 😅)

you are—quite literally—the light of percy’s life! he’s never been more grateful for someone than you. even in his darkest moments, percy knows that he can always depend on you to show him the light.

your guys’ personalities complement each other so well, it’s crazy. percy knows you like the back of his hand, and sometimes, it’s like he knows you better than you know yourself.

his giving love languages are definitely physical touch and acts of service!!

your boyfriend is ALWAYS touching you somehow. whether it be a hand on your lower back or his knee touching your knee, percy just likes to be close to you. it’s definitely a surefire way of telling everyone that you’re his!

life as a demigod is certainly rough, so he’ll do everything in his power to make your day at least a teensy bit better. a few of things he’s done for you include maintenance for your instruments and/or bow & arrow, folding your laundry, and cleaning around your cabin, but the list could go on for miles!!

as you enter the dining pavilion for breakfast, you quickly spot percy who waves and beckons you over to his table. “morning y/n,” he says, kissing your cheek as you sit next to him. you smile, “hi percy! have you seen my bow? i can’t seem to find it and i have a class to teach later today.” “oh yeah sorry babe, i have it,” he pauses to swallow his food, “i remember you were talking about needing to replace your bowstring, so i had will give it to me so i could fix it for you.” almost knocking him off of the bench, you tackle percy into a tight hug, “aw thanks percy! you’re the best.” he laughs at your sudden attack, “of course babe, happy to help.”

as for his receiving love languages, percy loves physical touch and quality time.

whether it be hanging out with you in the infirmary or trailing behind you as you teach an archery class, he values every minute spent with you.

he’d even clean the entire amphitheater with you without making any complaints. i swear, this boy is so head over heels for you.

percy loves, loves, LOVES when you include him in your favorite hobbies/activities. even if he isn’t very good at it, he’ll always try his best, because he knows that doing so makes you happy. and percy would do anything to see you happy.

he doesn’t even mind when you chide him for messing up because the way you smile and laugh at him has him in a chokehold.

percy remembers all of the little things!! it could be the tiniest detail ever, like which brand of paint brushes you prefer to use, and he’d store it away in his mental “y/n folder.”

as you organize your bow into its rightful spot on the rack, you feel your boyfriend pull you into a back hug, planting chaste kisses on your cheek, “hi babe, done with your training?” “yes percy, but i’m all sweaty!” you laugh, trying to escape his grip. he simply chuckles, “i don’t care, i missed you today.” you turn around to face him with an amused look, “we ate breakfast together?” percy merely shrugs in response before grabbing your hand, “anyways, come with me, i’ve got a surprise for you.” “oh? what is it perce?” you question. he chuckles, “you’ll see.” minutes later, you and percy reach the entrance of his cabin. he swiftly goes inside and returns, holding the gift behind his back, “okay, give me your hands and close your eyes.” closing your eyes, you hold out your hands, “is it keys to a brand new car?” you gasp, “or is it a snake? because i’m actually gonna kill you if it is.” percy laughs before placing the object in your hands, “you can open your eyes now. it’s honestly not much, but you mentioned something about liking this brand before.” at that, you open your eyes to see a new set of your favorite paints, “holy shit percy! are you serious? when’d you even have the time to get these?” he grins, “last week. i was in the city for a tiny errand chiron gave me.” “gods, you’re amazing, i love you,” you say, pulling percy into a kiss. percy pulls away with a lopsided smile spreading across his face, “how many more paint sets will i have to buy you in order for you to kiss me like that again?” “as of now, none,” you respond, leaning in for yet another kiss.

for the longest time, you and percy have had this weird ongoing thing where you two will try to come up with the weirdest pet names for each other.

percy will come up to you and greet you with a casual “hi pookie dookie pie, how’s it going?”

or you’ll address him as “sweet cookie sugar face” because he was eating one of sally’s cookies.

everyone is so confused because they don’t know that it’s been an ongoing joke between you guys.

“good morning honey bunny boo bear! how’d you sleep?” you ask your boyfriend. percy holds back a laugh, “morning, i slept very well. and how’d you sleep, snookums?” out the corner of your eyes, you spot leo and piper looking at each other, eyes wide and their jaws on the floor. “i’m gonna barf,” they say simultaneously, both slapping a hand over their mouths. you and percy stifle your laughter before putting on a serious face, “you guys wouldn’t get it.”

gods you two are the cutest thing ever!

#[🦈] em's writing #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fluff #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 3 months

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A Pirates Life For Me

Pairings: father Killian Jones x child/teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Killian Jones child

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, and Killian Jones being the best father ever, I guess there’s some spoilers for those who haven’t watched all seasons I guess, mention of when he died, NOT proofread yet

A/N back to writing ya’ll (hopefully), thought I’d start it of easy with some headcanons, so a few other will come out too but this is the first because recently I’ve been obsessing over Killian again along with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hunter (from tbb)

Side note half of this got deleted and couldn’t really remember what I wrote so it’s definitely not as good as the first draft

First things first you were raised on the Jolly Roger, you would most probably grow up as a pirate, and when old enough you’d help him fighting against the other pirates that would attack you at times

I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to deal with wearing dark colored clothes, he doesn’t do light color therefore neither do you at least until you’re old enough to decide for yourself what clothes you want

You’d beg Killian to buy you the biggest hat ever as you read somewhere that pirates has hats, he never bought you that hat… he did steal a tiny hat that fit you perfectly though…

He was scared to death that he would be like his own father, but don’t worry he’s both like that he’s the best and he’d never leave you like that

Your initials are written beside the wheel (you know where he wrote with his hook for Bae/Neal)

Things you carved into the ship as a kid can still be seen in the most random places

He childproofed the ship, put child locks on nearly every cabinet not knowing if it was child appropriate things in them as the crew would put their things in random places, he did not find the thought of you finding a knife, sword, or gun and accidentally hurt yourself very comforting

Adopted child, biological child, doesn’t matter he loves you the same.

Depending on when you were born you might of watched The Dark One rip the heart out of your father’s lover

One of many traumatic events

Killian values you more than anything else, if he had to choose between revenge or you, he’d always choose you, he’d do anything for you even if it meant him dying

He still knows how to say no to things though

He made a mental list in his head on things he would teach you

1. How to sail

2. How to navigate with stars

3. Sword fighting

4. How to survive on Neverland (just in case Pan decided to kidnap you or something to mess with him)

5. How to escape from Neverland

6. What plants are poisonous or not

7. Do not make deals with the dark one

And then the list goes on and on, he would want to teach you everything he knows about everything really, he just doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did, or to end up being a villain as he wants you to get your happy ending

Somewhere along the road you got dragged into wanting to help your father get revenge, nearly succeeded in multiple occasions, but as it turns out villains don’t really get their revenge

You once made the crew find a hook and clothes similar to Killian’s and later on that day you’d run up to Killian, hand clutching a hook and act as if you were the captain of the ship, imitating your father (with a really bad “adult” voice). He would let out a wide smile, eyes twinkling and a soft gaze as he looked down at you trying to reach the wheel. He’d eventually pick you up and let you steer the destination as he helped you turn the wheel the other way than he had set the course too. This was also the first time he taught you how to sail. Or somewhat, it wasn’t like you took much of the information in as you soon got bored and went to watch over the railing at the crashing waves.

Btw I’m tired of fics where Captain Hooks child likes Peter Pan, why because a parents ideals usually sets with the child, meaning you’d probably hate Peter Pan and Rumplestiltskin as much as your father does

He would tell you stories of his older brother and how he was a hero and he wished you’d met him, you would eventually in hell though later as you went to rescue your father so that’s fine, turns out he wasn’t the hero your father made him out to be, but that’s fine you only need one hero and that’s your dad

He would also tell you stories of his adventures, it made for quite the long entertaining tales as he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead before continuing his story which he altered to be a bit more child friendly and a bit more dramatic

He lets you have some of his clothes when he’s going away for a long time because he knows you’ll miss him

He lets you wear his jackets/coats, you freezing he’s already put his jacket/coat over you, even if they’re too big for you , he loves how adorable you look in it as he’s reminded that you’re still just a child and he doesn’t want you to grow up

He’d try to teach you how to paint, might succeed might not still he loves the bonding time he’s good at painting in any universe you can’t tell me otherwise

He hates seeing you hurt

If you get hurt on a raid he’d made sure whoever hurt you would suffer, you want him kiss the injury better, he’d do so in a heartbeat even if it meant his reputation would falter slightly

He starts dating someone else (Emma) he’d make sure that person treated you right, if not he’d dump said person

If he founds out you like someone he wouldn’t be overprotective, he’d still be protective but he’d mostly be supportive. He’d tease you about it until it became annoying, he’d encourage you and give you advice (even if most of his advice failed)and if it failed he’d be there to comfort you through it all

You’d blame Emma for turning Killian into a dark one and you’d blame Emma for Killian’s death

When you rescued Killian from hell he promised you he’d never die again if not of old age and that he’d never take of his good luck ring ever again as you thought he jinxed it by giving it to Emma

You were glad for his sake when he married Emma just because you saw your father happy with someone else again and not just grieving and seeking revenge for his ex lover

He hugs surprisingly great, he’s like your human sized pirate teddy bear

He misses the times when you would come into his room late at night after a nightmare and crawl under the covers and cuddle close to him, not because you had a nightmare but because he liked that you knew you would always be safe with him

He would hate that you’d have nightmares after his death and you no matter what age you are in would sometimes go into his room to make sure he was still alive and maybe even sleep beside him, he’d wake up to you sprawled out over the whole bed clutching his side tightly as if you were afraid he’d disappear

Will make sure you get your happy ending

He’s just father material it’s as simple as that (just look at Nook, love Nook though but original Hook is the best)

#Killian Jones #x reader #x you #x y/n #x child!reader #x teen!reader #killian jones x daughter!reader #killian jones x fem!reader #killian jones x teen!reader #killian jones x reader #Captain Hook #captain hook x reader #ouat x reader #Killian jones x gn!reader #Killian jones x child!reader #Killian jones x son!reader

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corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

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you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1: you don't have to go home

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set after the finale (like a few hours later lol) but before the epilogue. Joel catches a moderate but not life-threatening illness that forces you to tackle a subject you'd rather avoid.

Warnings: established relationship, angst, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, poor communication, p in v, illness, anxiety, avoidance of feelings, major life decisions

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you see Tommy’s smug face at dinner, you turn on the heel of your boot to leave.

“Where’re you going?” Ellie says, coming up behind you. “You eating outside?”

“Sure, yup, that’s it,” you say, clutching your tray with both hands.

“Cool! Joel, I’m going to eat outside too,” she calls over her shoulder.

You risk a glance to see Joel looking at the two of you, brows wrinkled. He shrugs, and Tommy shakes his head at you.

“Chicken,” he mouthes.

You flip him off and go find a patch of grass to picnic on.

Ellie talks while she eats, food occasionally spraying out of her rapid-fire mouth. You’re more than happy to sit quietly and listen, to hear about the other kids she’s met and the neat things she’s found in her new room.

Your fortune doesn’t last. Tommy comes out of the hall with his hands in his pockets, still smirking.

“Ellie, why don’t you go grab some dessert?” he says as he helps himself to a seat on the ground.

“No thanks,” she says, looking between you.

“It’s pie,” he says.

“No thanks,” she says again. She puts on a very unnerving fake smile made worse by her widened eyes.

“He’s trying to get you to leave—“ you start.

She interrupts. “I know. I wanna hear whatever it is.”

“He’s trying to get you to leave so he can ask me about grownup stuff.”

Her nose crinkles as she catches on. “Ugh,” she groans and hauls herself to her feet before going inside. She takes both of your empty trays with her, and you feel a little sting of pride, however misplaced.

“So,” Tommy grins. “Nothin’ between you ‘n my brother, huh?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “Shut up.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You look up, and the smugness is gone. “What all did he tell you?”

“Just that y’all had ‘some kinda situation’ back in Boston. And that you stayed over there last night.”

You snort and shake your head. “I guess ‘some kinda situation’ is about right. I didn’t want to tell you I was fuckin’ him for rent.”

His eyes widen. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And for food, before that. Didn’t want you to think I was a whore, I guess.” You’re sitting with your legs crossed, but it doesn’t stop your knee from bouncing as you look anywhere but Tommy.

“Hey, no,” he says, leaning forward. “Look, ain’t nothin’ wrong with surviving however you got to.”

You feel a wretched sting at the corner of your eyes. He was always so goddamn genuine, but it was still hard to accept his words at their value.

He scoots over and grabs your hand. “I mean it. I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

“That why you don’t wanna move into their place?”

“What?”

“I was gonna offer to help move your stuff, but Joel said you told Ellie you were stayin’ put.”

“Do you need me to? To make room for someone?”

“No! No, you can stay. I just figured you’d want the company. And well, Joel said—“

You wait, but he pretends to be distracted by a honey bee.

“Joel said what?”

“Just, he thought you would. Since y’all lived together before, and you talked about it.”

You snort. “We talked about it? Is that what he calls our conversation from this morning?”

“I dunno. It’s Joel. You think he gave me all the details?”

“Fair. Nah, I’d like to stay on my own. Not that anyone asked me to do anything different.”

It’s then that Maria wanders out with Alé, setting her down to explore. She screws up her little face, ready to rage about being placed on her tummy before she realizes she’s somewhere fun.

Joel and Ellie come out a few moments later to find the three of you watching Alé intently. She’s given up on trying to eat the grass after several unsuccessful attempts. Her little fist would open and close, only to find herself empty-handed when she brought it to her mouth.

Now, however, she’s returned to frustration and is attempting to roll herself onto her back.

It’s not going well, but you’re all watching and encouraging her.

Ellie squats to peer down at her. “You’re like a big potato,” she says.

Joel wipes a hand down his face. “Ellie,” he warns.

“What?”

“Is that any way to talk to your cousin?”

She looks up at him, startled. “Uhh. I don’t know. I’ve never had a cousin before.” She regards Alé again. “You’re a strong potato. You can do it.”

Alé responds with a loud yell as she pushes again and then falls quiet as she finds herself flat on her back looking up at Ellie.

Her little audience cheers and claps, unfortunately startling her. Maria and Tommy shower her in praise, and you stand up, stepping back by Joel.

“You comin’ back to ours?” he says, not looking at you.

“No, not tonight.” You need the space. You’ve grown accustomed to being alone, found peace in it even, and the last two days have been a new kind of exhausting.

But you see the way his lips twitch into a scowl before he schools his face back to neutral.

“Mind walking me home?” you offer.

The tension falls just a fraction from his shoulders. “Course not,” he says. “You gotta lead the way, though.”

Tommy shoots you a look you don’t know how to interpret when you say goodnight.

“Are you going to be gross? Do I need to stay out of the house?” Ellie says far too loudly.

“Nah, you’re safe,” Joel says, shaking his head.

It’s weird. You hold hands on the walk back. It’s a quiet intimacy you’d never even considered to share with him before.

The warmth of his palm and cradle of his fingers are undeniably nice.

It’s also undeniably awkward. You stand on your porch, stiffly holding hands like he hasn’t been inside you a hundred times over.

You look up at him and appreciate the way the sunset falls across his back.

He brings his free hand up to cup the back of your head and gives you maybe the chastest kiss you’ve ever had. Certainly more than you ever thought him capable of. It kind of hurts your feelings, actually.

“What the hell was that?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You kissed me like I’m your grandma!”

He rolls his eyes to high heaven. “I was tryin’ to be respectful.”

“Gross. You know what? That was disrespectful. Kiss me proper, Miller.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, even though it results in the boner he was trying to avoid in the first place. He gets you pressed up against your front door with a handful of ass and your soft moans against his lips.

You break away when you hear a voice down the road and put your hand against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Guess I should get goin’,” he says. He doesn’t move, though.

You’re all too aware of the way his cock is straining against his jeans and you almost invite him in. How you manage to find the self-control not to, you’ll never know. But it feels important, somehow, that you sleep alone tonight.

“You wanna meet up for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. His hands rest on your hips as he steals one last kiss. “I’ll see ya then, sweetheart.”

You can’t seem to stomach the idea of watching him walk away, so you go inside.

He waits until he hears the deadbolt click before he heads for home.

Summer withers, and autumn sees you spending the night together a couple of times a week. Always you at theirs—you never ask him over to your place. It’s a silly line you’ve drawn, and even though you know you’re the one who put it there, you feel bitter on the cold nights alone.

Worse yet, you know you’re only doing it out of stubbornness. You made a big fucking deal out of it, and now you have to stick with it so it doesn’t look like you’re weak. Like you can’t be alone. Like you need him.

And also, no one has fucking asked you to do any differently, so. Whatever.

But it’s not like you don’t know that he wants to.

No, he hasn’t asked, but he may as well have. His clothes are kept to one side of the closet. There are three empty drawers in his dresser.

His books are crammed on the top half of the shelves in the living room, stacked askew in a way you knew had to drive him crazy. The fuck you quilt hangs over the back of the sofa, though it’s more often found wrapped around Ellie.

By the first snowfall, he keeps a toothbrush for you in the medicine cabinet beside his own. There’s a Joel-shaped indent in the left side of the mattress, betraying how the right stays vacant when you’re gone.

The list goes on. The coffee mug. The little tin of vaseline for your chapped lips on the nightstand. All the spaces where nothing sits, waiting.

But he doesn’t ask.

You haven’t seen Joel for two days. It’s weird. You’re not sure how to feel about it—you’re the one who wanted space, after all. But so far, you’ve at least��met at the mess hall for a meal each day.

You’re walking home after working the breakfast shift on the third day when Ellie catches up with you. You’ve seen her around but haven’t wanted to ask after Joel, not wanting her to think you only talked to her for him.

She looks nervous, though. She’s fiddling with her sleeves and won’t look at you, so you come to a stop.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Sure, that’s not suspicious or anything.” You’re trying not to be anxious, but her energy is rubbing off.

“Look, don’t get mad; I only agreed not to because it didn’t seem like a big deal, but now it seems like a big deal—”

“Are you in trouble? Is somebody making you uncomfortable?” A thousand bad scenarios have come to life in your mind, each increasingly ridiculous but horrifying. Maybe that’s why Joel’s missing. Maybe someone laid a hand on Ellie, and he killed them. You hope he did.

“What? No,” her scoff cuts through your panic. “Joel’s sick. He didn’t want you to come by and get sick, so he made me promise not to say anything. But he’s being stupid, and now he can barely walk to the bathroom without hacking up a lu—wait, where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to give your idiot father a piece of my mind,” you growl.

She jogs to catch up with you, but her face is red, and she won’t look at you again.

Your brain catches up with your tongue, and you pause. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be weird—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Let’s go. I wanna watch you yell at him.”

You don’t. Not right away, at least. He’s asleep when you get there, and honestly, it’s a little upsetting how unwell he looks. It kind of shakes the anger right out of you.

You promise Ellie you’ll wait for her to come home to yell at him.

The idea of climbing into bed with him is extremely tempting. Instead, you start to draw warm water for a bath and tidy up the things left behind in the wake of his deteriorating condition.

It’s not much. Even sick, Joel is relatively neat. Also, it’s pretty obvious that he’s been living in the same sweats and tee for the last three days. You make sure to set a clean outfit and warm socks on the bathroom counter.

With Ellie bringing dinner from the mess later, you don’t have much to do other than brew tea. The kettle’s on when you hear a groan from upstairs.

He’s heaved himself to sitting when you crack the door open.

“Ellie, I told you to stay out. I don’t want to get you sick.” His voice is crackling and raspy.

You push it open, scowling. “Well, you didn’t tell me shit, so.”

The glower is there immediately. “I’m tellin’ you now, then. Get out.”

“Nope. You lost that chance. Now you’re gonna suck it up and get taken care of.” You start stripping the sweaty sheets off his bed while he’s still sitting on it. “Go on and get in the bath.”

“I’m just gonna lay back down for a bit,” he mumbles.

You press the back of your hand against his forehead, followed by your lips. “You’re burning up. Get in the tub.”

But when you stand, his head follows, and you let him rest against your stomach for a minute, carding your hand through his damp hair.

“C’mon,” you urge, tugging at his hand. He lets you lead him into the bathroom, a marker of how sick he really must be.

The kettle hollers while he’s stripping down, and he’s settled once you return with the tea.

“I don’t want any shitty leaf water right now,” he grumps.

“Too bad! It has honey and lemon, and your throat’s seen better days.”

He accepts the cup, but he’s scowling.

“Y’know, you’re not very scary, butt ass naked in a tub with an owl on your mug,” you remark, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cabinet so you can see him.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re going to get sick. Did Ellie squeal?”

“Joel, I haven’t seen you in three days. Did you think I wasn’t going to get worried?”

His scowl pouts. “I didn’t mean to worry ya.”

“Yeah, well, you did. So. Don’t do that again.” You purse your lips and look at your tea.

“Hey,” he says, water sloshing as he shifts to get a better look at you. “You don’t gotta do… all this,” he says, gesturing to the mug and the bedroom, where you’ve tucked clean sheets onto his mattress.

“I know.”

He’s loathe to admit it, but the bath did help. Worse yet, the tea helped. He feels a little more human in clean clothes, but you still refuse his help cleaning up.

When you’re done, however, you peel back the blanket and crawl into bed with him. So maybe it’s not all bad, he thinks.

At least, until Ellie gets home and you properly scold him.

He’s asleep more than he’s awake, so you stay. You toss and turn and check on him about a hundred times. If the fever would break, you’d feel better. Except no, you wouldn’t, because that cough that’s settled in his chest scares you far more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not privy to the medical stock in Jackson, but you have a bad feeling that an old man with pneumonia wouldn’t be high on the list for antibiotics.

Not that you think he’d accept them, anyway. He’d be too worried about using up something a kid might need. Or anyone else. He doesn’t seem to realize anyone would put him first.

You and Ellie just might let the town burn for him. (But when you think of Alé, you kind of get it.)

Anyway. When he’s awake, he’s groggy, but you manage to convince him to eat. Never much at once, so you make sure it’s soup or oatmeal. Something soft and packed with nutrients.

On the third day of your stay, he starts to come ‘round the mend. The fever breaks. He starts to stay awake for longer than a couple of hours.

You set him up with what you can and return to your life, but you can’t make yourself go home at night. It’s just because of the damn cough, you tell yourself. You just need to keep an eye on it.

A couple of nights later, he’s awake when you peel the covers back and slide in behind him, arm curling around his waist. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck, nestling in as he rewards you with a contented hum. He lets you hold him for a minute, basking in the embrace before he rolls onto his back.

You’re clinging to him a little too tight.

“Rough patrol?” He says.

You shake your head where it’s buried in his tee. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”

“Don’t like you havin’ to handle anything,” he grumbles. He knows, both because he’s been told repeatedly and because he’s seen you handle the weapon, that you can protect yourself now.

It doesn’t mean he likes it.

“I was with Tommy. We were fine.” You yawn. It has to be past two now, what with shift change come midnight and then all the cleanup after.

He slips his arm under you so he can tug you closer, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. You press a kiss in the thicket of hair at the center of his chest, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to this. He hopes not—he doesn’t ever want to take it for granted.

You yawn again, eyes watering, but your exhaustion is betrayed by the way your hips press against his thigh.

“What do you need, darlin’? Want me to lick your pussy until you fall asleep?”

“Can I ride you?” you counteroffer.

He groans, cock twitching to attention. “Of course, pretty girl.”

He helps you straddle him and reaches to peel the old t-shirt off your body so he can admire your tits in the moonlight. And the way your face goes soft when you see how he’s looking at you.

You waste no time, shifting around until you’ve got his cock in your hand and are settling atop it. You moan in tandem as he spreads you, the broad tip of him easily pressing through the slick.

“Needy tonight, huh? What’s got you all worked up?” he teases.

“Just you,” you say through a gasp as you grind down all the way.

He reaches up, maybe for your breasts, but you don’t find out. Instead, you intercept them and entwine your fingers.

He gets the idea and holds firm, ever your unwavering foundation. You use his support to gyrate, hips grinding as your thighs push around his to slide up and down on his cock.

Your palms are sweaty, but his grip is tight and desperate. His head tilts back, exposing the long column of his neck.

“Fuck,” you whimper as you get the angle just right. It makes you jerk a little, bumping that sweet spot again. He grunts, teeth gritted as you clamp down around him. When he looks back up at you, he’s positively ravenous.

“No,” you say before he opens his mouth with some bullshit.

“C’mon,” he whines.

“You’re still sick. I’m not lettin’ you cough up a lung. You’re gonna lay there and take what I give ya.”

His eyes narrow at the over the top Texan accent you saved for the last bit. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“You think I’m funny. You love all my jokes.”

“Damned if I don’t,” he grumbles, but it’s betrayed by the look in his eyes. “You, too, y’know.”

You almost freeze up but decide to play obtuse. “You’re right; I do love all my jokes.”

He opens his mouth again, so you change pace a little to throw him off.

It works.

Whatever he was about to say, which you know damn well but aren’t prepared to handle right now, comes out as a broken moan.

In the end, it slips out of you a few days later. It’s not triggered by anything; he doesn’t do anything charming, there’s no intense moment of intimacy or heroism that inspires it.

You don’t mean to say it, but you do mean it.

You’re sitting side by side on his porch, steaming mugs of tea in hand. The pale winter sun has barely broken the horizon, but you had still agreed to come out in the cold with him. Agreed it might be good for him to get some fresh air.

The fuck you quilt is draped over both your shoulders. Joel had grabbed it on the way out the door while you balanced the tea and put your boots on. It cocoons you, but there’s still a little space between you, knees knocking together but bodies apart.

You watch his breath curl out into the dawn, and it just happens.

“I love you, Joel,” you say. It’s quiet, softer than the creak of the swing. It takes you by surprise, as your tongue so often does, but you don’t try to reel it back or brace for disaster.

You don’t need to. You know.

But he freezes. Pauses.

He didn’t know, you realize, he wasn’t sure. All this time, he wasn’t saying it but still making sure you knew.

But you haven’t done the same for him.

He didn’t know.

He wraps his free arm around your shoulder and tucks you into him, chin resting on your head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The peace lasts for about a minute.

“Now will you stop being so goddamn stubborn and move in?”

*title from "Closing Time" by Semisonic

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #you know you never stood a chance series #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou 2 spoilers #tlou fic #the last of us pt 2 spoilers

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months

Text

Driftwood - Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @callsignartemis @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @thebaileybugle @spngingerbread21 @@the-person-in-the-circle @thanossexual

Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault.

You know there’s something wrong when Tig comes in that night. You sense the shift in mood when the door opens. He doesn’t even look at you when he steps into the living room, his jaw is set, his teeth clenching together. You raise to your feet, but he shakes his head, steering himself directly towards the bathroom.

“Don’t come near me.” He mutters. “I stink of piss.”

He isn’t fucking kidding. The stench is acrid as he closes the bathroom door taking it with him. A few seconds later you hear the shower turn on and you wonder what the hell is going on because the mood he’s in, you’ve never seen that before. You pick up the fire lighter from the side table and use it to light the wick of the scented candle in the middle of the coffee table.

It’s ‘Driftwood’ apparently. The scent of sage and sea salt floods the room, reminding you of the trip you’d taken up the coast last month. Two days of sun, sea and sex, your fingers running through Tig’s hair, gripping it as he makes you come so hard you can’t fucking think in the aftermath. He’s been in a great mood since then, happy. You wonder what’s changed.

***

Under the heat of the shower Tig thinks about how he has just drowned Kia Ghanezi in bathtub full of piss. He has no remorse for his actions, there’s no regret, there’s just the acknowledgement of the event. He thinks of the video the perverse little shit showed him, the one his older brother Omar Ghanezi had made. A videographer who had no idea she was about to become the subject of his first foray into rape porn. There’s a reason Tig never fucks you from behind, that you find it so fucking triggering.

“What’s it like to hear your girl beg?” Kia had asked him. “To know that no matter what she says, what she does, it isn’t going to stop.”

He’d lost his shit then, beaten the fucker with his own laptop before plunging his face into the bathtub and holding him under. He hoped that he felt terror in those final moments, that he understood what it was like to be degraded, humiliated, brutalised.

In a final act of dehumanisation Tig had pissed on him.

Then he had taken that laptop, deleted the file and smashed the fucking thing to pieces, before tossing it and Kia Ghanezi off the edge of the dock.

There used to be three Ghanezi brothers and now there’s one.

***

When Tig comes out of the bathroom, he’s clad in that navy blue robe of his, the one that highlights the darkness in his features. You watch with apprehension because you can sense something underneath the surface, you just don’t know what it is. He sits down beside you on the couch, gently closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. There’s an agony in his features, and it feels so fucking visceral that you can’t help but reach out for him.

“Tell me.” You say, pressing your forehead against his, your palm coming to rest on the nape of his neck. “Tell me what’s hurt you so badly.”

He wants to shake his head, to tell you no but he’s never kept a secret from you, not in the time you’ve been together, and he can’t start now. This shit will fester if he tries to hide it, it will erode him from the inside out and he can’t do that to either of you, he values what you have far too much.

“I killed Kia Ghanezi today.” He tells you.

You reel away from him as if he’s fucking slapped you. He doesn’t reach for you; he doesn’t try to explain himself, he just gives you the space to process it. You press your palm to your chest, and he knows your seeking out your own heartbeat, the comforting thrum of it in a moment of panic. He hates this, he hates the fact he’s even fucking doing it, but you need to know.

“There’s more.” He tells you, refusing to look away. “He showed me the video.”

The sound that leaves your mouth fucking kills him. It’s an anguished noise, like a muffled scream and it resonates right through his bones. Out of everything that has happened to you, you think that this could be the worst. The man you love seeing you so fucking degraded. It’s one thing to hear about it but seeing it…

“It’s gone.” He says gently. “I deleted it.”

You don’t look at him, you fucking can’t, because that shame it riles up inside of you like a tsunami, forceful and violent. You feel the wave crest and then it slams into you knocking the air right out of your lungs because Omar Ghanezi is destroying you all over again. He’s reaching out from beyond the grave and tearing away the best thing you have in your life.

“Talk to me.” Tig pleads, his shoulder nudging yours. “Scream, shout, hit me if you need to.”

You don’t want to do any of those things. You want the earth to swallow you up whole, drag you down and shelter you from all the hurt you know is coming because no relationship can survive something like this. The two of you express yourselves through physical intimacy, it’s how you communicate. How the fuck is that going to work now? How can Tig even look at you without seeing what happened to you.

“Did he suffer?” You find yourself asking as you press your palms between your knees.

There’s silence for a moment. You can tell that Tig’s trying to pick and choose which details to tell you.

“Yea.” He says finally. “It was fucking brutal.”

“Good.” You tell him. “Because he’s the one that filmed it.”

Tig wishes he could resurrect the fucker and murder him all over again. Instead, he takes solace in the memory of Kia’s last moments, his airways flooding with piss as he struggles and fights knowing he’s going to die in the hell of his own making.

“C’mere.” Tig says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer. He cradles you to his chest, his lips ghosting over your hairline, before he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your mouth. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you, how much I want you…”

He tips your chin up so that he can look into your eyes. He sees the desolation in them, the power this has to ruin everything if he lets it. Your hair's breadth away from bolting because for you this is too much to take. The knowledge of what he’s seen haunts you and you think it haunts him. The truth is it doesn't, the thing about Tig is, he’s always been great at compartmentalising. It’s how he’s survived all of these years. The video doesn’t change how he sees you, how he feels about you, but it’s made him realise just how strong you really are. Coming back from that shit, working in that industry in the aftermath…

He can’t even begin to fathom the strength that must have taken.

When he kisses you, it’s with conviction, one that he hopes reminds you that you’re a badass and that you’re stronger than any of this fucking shit. He pours everything he has into that kiss. His love, his adoration and his fucking passion because despite the hell that has been today, he’s still popping a woody at seeing you in those pyjama shorts.

He feels the moment that things shift, that fire as it ignites inside of you and suddenly you’re kissing him back, your fingers undoing the belt of the robe he’s wearing. He finds himself on his back amongst the couch cushions, his aching cock in your hand and your palm on his throat thrusting his head back. It takes him zero to sixty. He whines, thrusting up into your grasp as your grip on his throat tightens.

“Fuck.” He rasps as your thumb smears the pre-cum over the head of his dick before gliding down along the length of it. “Fuck baby, just like that.”

You work him slowly, your mouth covering his, tongue delving deep as you let him fuck your hand. He can’t get enough of it, his hips arch frantically and he whimpers against your lips as he chases the ecstasy that fucking races through his synapses. His palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck, keeping you close as the sound of his ragged breathing fills the air. He’s close, you know it and he knows it, you just need to give him a little more…

He cries out when you stop, it’s a rough guttural noise that expels from his chest in a single breath. He isn’t above begging you, if that’s what you need. He’d give you anything you God damn wanted. He opens his eyes, meeting yours and he sees the vulnerability in you, the wavering between taking control and relinquishing it. There’s a desperation in your gaze and he senses his actions in the next few seconds are pivotal. You can’t vocalise what you need, but Tig knows you, he can read you like a book.

“Take off your shorts.” He tells you, shifting into a sitting position on the couch as you stand up and do as you’re told. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re saying my name.”

His firm hands come to rest on your waist, guiding you so that you’re straddling his hips, chest flush against his. It’s still not enough, he senses you need the skin-on-skin contact, so he grasps the hem of the vest top you’re wearing and strips it from your body, tossing it over the back of the couch.

Fuck, your tits look so fucking good. He’s distracted in the moment by the sight of them, the urge to run his tongue over those pretty nips overcomes him. His palms cover your breasts before he guides the left one, his favourite, because of how crazy it makes you, into his mouth. He sucks just slightly and the sound that comes out of you, it almost makes him come there and then. He eases into you, your tight heat enveloping his cock and clenching around him as his thumb skates over your right nipple, rolling it just slightly.

He keeps you there, seated on his cock as he plays with your tits, drawing out a symphony of moans that make sweet music in his ears. When your hips start to rock, his cock dragging across the walls of your pussy, he knows he has you right where he wants you. His arm loops around your waist, holding you in place so there’s no space, no distance, just intimacy.

“That’s it isn’t it baby?” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth as he thrusts up into you with slow, powerful strokes. “That’s the sweet spot.”

Your fingers tangle in his curls, gripping them tight as you guide his mouth back to yours. He drinks down your pleasure, swallowing each one of your moans as he chases the euphoria until it reaches it’s peak. He holds you on the brink, his hand clasping your jaw so that he can look into your eyes at the moment of climax.

“I love you.” He tells you fiercely. “I will always love you.”

And you fall, you fall so fucking hard you can barely come back up for air. The ecstasy, it consumes you, a tempest of emotion and rapture. You kiss him like you’re drowning, like he’s your lifeline in a torrid ocean, the only way back to the shore. In that moment you know he has you, that he’ll always have you. He’s your anchor, your saviour, the man who loves you no matter what.

“Thank you.” You whisper as he kisses away the tears that stain your cheeks. “Thank you for giving me this.”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#tig soa #tig trager fanfic #tiggy #tig trager x reader #tig trager #alexander trager #alexander trager soa #alexander trager x you #alexander trager x reader

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lean-mean-demon-genevieve · 7 months

Note

Who’s this Anson character? I took a step back from tumblr and now I feel like I need a book to figure out what I missed lol.

With him yet again leeching off of appearing with Jared this weekend, now seems as good a time as any to circle back to this ask because I too have been perplexed by Jared’s supposed friendship with this guy for some time. And as per usual, I brought receipts.

Anson Gordon seems to first be publicly linked to the Pads in Sandy Molinare’s Instagram in 2016. This looks like he has been a part of the wealthy, and fairly conservative circle that both the Pads and the Ackles use to run with at that time.

He clout-chased a few times in 2018 in his IG story and wanted to let the world know he has famous friends, with Jared and Danneel (in the background of a video) making appearances. He then started more regularly sharing pics of himself attending UFC fights with Jared in January 2020. And since then, his presence has only grown to include other Austin goings-on, more testosterone fueled events, some weapons safety and/or stuntman gig on Walker that included some brief screen time, meeting up with the Pads on their 2021 Italy trip, Jared’s car accident last year in which he and his son were passengers, and a spot on the Pads Family Feud team earlier this year. He is seen, and confused for Jensen somehow in the comments, in this IG post of Jared’s, sliding down a slide like best buds. He is regularly seen showcasing himself on socials interacting with Pads errand boy, Charlie Capen (you won’t convince me he didn’t record that slide video), as well as Clif and various Walker actors.

I will be 100% transparent here about my political leanings that run deeper than fandom. I don’t like this guy because I feel like he is the very conservative, aging frat boy of my nightmares. I don’t care that he’s rubbed elbows with other rich people at the Out Youth Gala, he is a salesman at the end of the day. I feel like he and I would strongly disagree on a lot of important (to me) issues/values, and the transference I feel when I look at him is strong. (That means he reminds me of people I know in real life.) He appears quite motivated to flex next to Jared at any opportunity and draw attention to himself. (Jared doesn’t showcase him nearly as often. The slide post kinda surprised me. Again, who’s a good boy? Charlie is!)

To me, Anson comes off as caustic, shallow, arrogant, and chauvinistic. Here’s the story of how I got bored and nosy during the pandemic and came to these opinions:

This post from February 2021 was deleted months later as Anson posted more and more with Jared and Walker actors and gained followers/eyes on him. Now why in early 2021, would some folks from Texas even joke about secession?? The most obvious answer: the growing uproar over covid, mask mandates, vaccines, general pandemic limitations on their gentrifier (sorry/not sorry, wealthy Austinites) rich-kid fun. Look out y’all this privileged white male is “startin trouble.” Somebody ask this guy where he was on January 6th.

Exhibit B is less damning, but it irritates me so imma include it:

A smug face and pose like this with a firearm captioned “virtue signaling” sure feels like a jab at the sNoWfLaKeS, given the rest of the context. No, shooting guns isn’t a crime, and in fact it’s this guys livelihood, but why add the snark if you’re not an ass and hoping to instigate? It feels like a safe bet that gun laws were also up there on the list of reasons for Texas secession dreams.

Exhibit C, posted to his story in August ‘21 just prior to his IG account going private for a few months and right about the same time the Pads themselves got Covid:

I would love to know how Jared responded to being tagged in this mess. No I’m not suggesting he gave the Pads Covid, but I do think someone from the Pads or Walker team told ole boy to cool it with the anti-mask rhetoric so as not to reflect negatively on Jared, hence the private account. However you may feel about mask mandates at this point, remember that this was late summer/fall of 2021. Covid was obviously still rampant as the Pads and Anson himself would soon learn after returning home from Italy. How dare the Uber peasant ask that he respect his safety as he provides a service. Fuck that guy, right?!

It was after this in November 2021 that Anson first seemed to try to redeem himself by attending the Out Youth Gala with the Pads and also with his favorite accessory, his wife, in tow. What I won’t include here are the gross IG story video highlights from a different event that this tool has conveniently saved in which he documents his seemingly intoxicated wife’s side-boob for an uncomfortable amount of time. Guys can dig their wife’s bodies, and even do so on their own social media, but you gotta trust me that the ick factor is palpable. Bodily autonomy being what it is, maybe she’s ok with the multiple posts of this type, and I can respect that…and he’s shared quite a few.

But for me the final straw was when, not 24 hours after the horrific Robb Elementary school shooting in Uvalde, Texas on 5/24/22, Anson’s IG story was plugging his firearm silencer business and hyping the launch of new products at the NRA convention that coming weekend in Houston.

If you followed the link early on when I called him a salesman, you may have already figured out that this man has made a sizable fortune off of engineering top of the line silencers for assault rifles. The IG account tells me that they sell for about $700-$750 each. None of this is a crime, but he’s not exactly reading the room in this moment. In comparison, Gen was sharing post after post to her IG story during this time about the need for reform around gun laws and sympathy for the victims. But this guy knew a big convention was approaching and he needed to capitalize. Then he went golfing.

Are you still with me?

So this is why I cringe whenever I see this Wish version of Jensen snuggling up to Jared.

He’s not deserving of the positive assumptions that some fans/Jared stans have made about him based solely on his proximity to Jared. And let’s be honest, with the great big fandom divide these days, a lot of Jared fans are just all too eager to root for anyone that isn’t Jensen. But, in my opinion, you don’t get to show up at an LGBTQ fundraiser claiming to be an ally when you have no doubt voted to protect your own interests (guns, money) and cast ballots for people who also support drag bans and an end to gender affirming care. It doesn’t work like that, especially not in Texas. He’s invested in Texas staying red, and if you recall or scroll up, there was a time when it wasn’t red enough for him. He’s certainly not voting for LGBTQ+ human rights, but he will write them a check for damage control in the aftermath. What a guy.

To clarify, this is NOT an anti-Jared post, although some may see it as such. There’s no suggested call-to-action for the fandom coming from me. Jared is not Anson’s keeper. But at the same time, to an extent, we are who we associate with and with whom we spend precious time. And Jared spends a fair amount of public time with this clown and allows Anson to attach himself to him and profit off of him. Leeching onto Jared is the best thing this guy did to get his face and his veneers seen by a larger audience. So Jared, I love ya, but it’s not a good look. This guy had no qualms showing people who he was when fewer people were looking, but deleting posts doesn’t delete screenshots. And I’ve got those, as you can see.

#who is anson #idk how to tag this so I guess I’ll just #anson gordon

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everythingwritingg · 1 year

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Writing Effective Character Deaths

By @everything.writing on IG

Ah, the thing that all readers hate but all writers love, though not many will admit it. In many stories, especially about war or in fantasy books, a character usually ends up dying. However, sometimes writing character deaths can be tough for people.

Make sure the death has a purpose. Don’t kill characters just because you wrote a character that serves no purpose in the story. If you have a character you don’t need, delete it from your story altogether. Chances are, if you don’t value this character, your readers won’t, so they won’t feel the sadness after that character died. Also, don’t kill characters for shock value, because this probably won’t convey the grief that follows a character’s death.

Set up a character that readers will care about. If you kill some random character that was mentioned 3 times in the entire story, readers are probably not going to care that much. Make sure you really flesh out the character well, give them traits and quirks that bring them to life. That way, the reader will be much more affected by the character’s death.

Think about how the death is going to be like. Will this be a quick death that will leave the protagonist with so many unanswered questions and cause the other characters to go into denial? Or will this be a slow death that the character is giving their wishes to their character?

Avoid gory descriptions, but focus on the other characters’ reactions. Gory descriptions could end up turning your reader off and make them uncomfortable, unless you’re writing horror. It’s fine to describe the scene and talk about blood, but keep the focus on the other characters’ reactions. How are other characters reacting to this? Show their grief (or their happiness, if the villain was killed). Do characters become withdrawn and lonely? Do they become angry? How does this character’s death drive the plot forward? Will this lead to the protagonist want to kill the villain to avenge their deceased friend?

Strike a balance between foreshadowing and not making the death too predictable. You want to give a few hints that the character is going to die, but you don’t want to outright tell the reader that it’s going to happen or else it could ruin the surprise. This can be a little hard to do, but this is what later drafts are for. In a second draft, you should slip hints that the character is going to die, once you know how and if the character is going to die.

Think about the character’s legacy. Was the character who died a mentor or parent who has given the protagonist a lot of good advice? Or was the character a friend or sibling of the protagonists’ and the protagonist now wants to follow their mission. What lasting impact did the dead character make on the world? How does this affect your protagonist?

My computer is really acting up, and the Ctrl key is frozen in place so it keeps randomly popping random functions. I’m just going to leave it here, and I hope you have a great time killing characters.

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theoneandonlygothicrainbow · 1 year

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Why Claiming Hunter is Beyond Redemption Because of What He Did in Any Sport in a Storm (and other episodes) Doesn’t Make Sense

Before I start this essay, I just want to make it clear that I have nothing against people who dislike Hunter or Any Sport in a Storm. Both of them mean a lot to me, but I understand that everyone has preferences and there is nothing wrong with that. However, I wanted to write this essay because I’ve seen a couple people state that Any Sport in a Storm makes Hunter a terrible person, disregarding information in and outside the episode. Again, you don’t have to like Hunter, but stating that he’s a terrible person is objectively incorrect.

What people need to realize is that Hunter, for his whole life, was desperate to prove himself to Belos, his fellow Emperor’s Coven comrades, and even himself, that he was worthy of being a valuable member to the Coven he was in. He was also used to obeying orders all his life, and the whole “recruitment” thing was an “order” given by Darius. We know Darius didn’t mean it that way, but Hunter interpreted it as such, because his environment is so awful that he doesn’t understand social interaction well. We see that this in this episode, Thanks to Them, AND the deleted scene from Clouds on the Horizon. People act like Hunter went out of his way to do this like Eclipse Lake. He didn’t. He only did it because he interpreted it as an order from Darius.

Willow blaming herself is framed as the wrong approach. It makes sense if you know her character. Willow always blames herself when she feels that she failed. And Hunter didn’t mean to make her feel this way at all. It helps Hunter realize what he did was wrong. She was also never about proving herself to Hunter, only the professor. She helped Hunter show the team because she knows from her conversation with Hunter that he needed help.

It wasn’t about proving herself to Hunter. It was about giving Hunter a new perspective and helping him. Hunter clearly cared about the team. He thinks the Emperor’s Coven is good. He thought the team would thank him for it later. The way he speaks is off putting but it’s because Hunter is bad at social interaction. He doesn’t understand how friendships work and he has good intentions for them, even if he was also looking out for himself. The exchanges with Gus and Skara prove this. And he thought that task would help him get his sigil. But even then the episode clearly shows that Hunter values doing the right thing, and once he realized what he did was wrong, he fixed it immediately. Again, he was ordered to do what he did. Disobeying an order like that is huge in Hunter’s position. And Hunter was willing to take a potentially lethal strike from Darius as well as accidentally show his Palisman in order to protect the team. He was being incredibly selfless and he admits he was at fault this way. Sure he doesn’t directly say “I’m sorry” but sometimes actions speak louder than words.

As for Willow forgiving Hunter? First of all, she doesn’t completely forgive him. You can see she’s upset with him at the end of ASIAS, but she wants to give him another chance. She hopes to see him again (“52 weeks before Caleb’s next day off”) when Hunter is out of the Coven. We see that Willow is still skeptical of him in Labryinth Runners, along with the rest of the team. They care about him because they know he cares about them, but no one tries to vouch for Hunter until he brings up the breathing thing, which was the proof Willow needed. After Hunter helps Gus, THAT’S when the school trusts him to talk about the Day of Unity.

Second of all, Willow’s softer response makes perfect sense if you know the episode and her character. Willow understands that Hunter was in a messed up situation due to their exchanges, and she tries to help him because that’s her main goal in life. She wants to “be strong to protect the ones she loves.” She relates to Hunter because he wants to prove himself, just like she did.

There are two other things that people seem to forget as well:

1. Hootys Moving Hassle. In that episode, Willow peer pressured Luz to do a conjuring at Hootys House so she can prove herself to Amity. Willow was in the wrong and she realizes by the climax of the episode, just like Hunter in ASIAS. She would understand why he did what he did.

2. Amity did something wrong to Willow and it took YEARS for Amity to make amends, all the while Willow was bullied. Hunter found out what he did wrong and fixed it very quickly. He took responsibility faster and Willow would appreciate that because of her experience with Amity.

And this all from just Any Sport in a Storm. We’ve seen sympathetic moments from Hunter in Hunting Palismen and Eclipse Lake as well. Even if Hunter didn’t end with being the complete good guy in those episodes. In Hunting Palismen, we see him bond with Luz and despite him about to betray Luz, he instead decides to back down and let Luz take the Palismen, even though he needed them to please Belos. We see this further when the first thing he tells Flapjack is “you shouldn’t be here, it’d be bad if Belos saw you.” Again, he clearly values doing the right thing.

Eclipse Lake is definitely Hunter at his worst and least sympathetic, but what it shows is that Hunter is in a dire situation where if he doesn’t prove Belos, he’s as good as gone. That’s why he betrays Amity to get the key and threatens Luz for it. The threats Hunter makes are not out of malice. If they were, he would have started with them in almost every situation he was in. He only uses threats when he has no other option. So trying to claim Hunter is a bad person for said threats doesn’t work.

I feel like people also need to realize that Hunter was more than willing to put himself in danger in order to keep people safe in both Labryinth Runners and Thanks to Them. Hunter literally exposed himself to a group that would have taken him back to Belos AND sacrificed himself in an attempt to take Belos down. You could also throw Clouds on the Horizon and Kings Tide in there as well with how much he protects Willow and Gus in the background.

Has Hunter done bad things? Absolutely. I’m not justifying those actions. But frankly he clearly has earnest intentions AND has done so much good to help his friends that holding his character back for said bad actions just doesn’t make sense anymore. I feel like a lot of people are just blowing them out of proportion or neglecting to see his character progression.

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vague-humanoid · 9 months

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Hannah doesn’t have to call herself a tradwife because she already is one. As such, Ballerina Farm has become the lodestar for those still aspiring to establish an aesthetically pleasing—and, ideally, monetized—pastoral existence. Most of her acolytes are less subtle about their politics, which they assume Hannah shares. In 2021, Morgan Zegers, the founder of the Turning Point USA-affiliated group Young Americans Against Socialism, said that Ballerina Farm gives her “DAILY inspiration on how to live out my values as a Conservative.” On her podcast, Zegers, who recently got engaged and does not have any children, gives “young unmarried women who dream of becoming a traditional wife and stay-at-home mom one day” advice on how to “become an asset for your future family.”

She is far from the only tradwife-in-training who has been inspired by Ballerina Farm. Take Gwen the Milkmaid, a Canadian “ASMRtist” and wellness-influencer-turned-tradposter. “Pov: you used to be a pro-abortion, anti-marriage, lesbian ‘feminist,’” reads the caption on a TikTok post of her rehydrating sourdough starter, “but now you’re getting married to your fav man on earth, love serving him, and can’t wait to make babies.” Like Hannah, Gwen is blonde, posts videos of herself cooking and frolicking in prairie dresses, and emphasizes the difference between her old life and the new one she has built for herself—or, rather, the life she hopes to have built, someday. In one video, Gwen asks God “why I don’t have a fifty-acre farm, seven children, forty chickens and five jersey cows yet.” Lacking a multimillionaire father-in-law, or a dairy cow of her own, she’s forced to churn store-bought cream into homemade butter. Gwen’s videos turn the subtext of Ballerina Farm’s videos into text, as if to compensate for the ranch she lacks: Gwen is proudly antigovernment, antivaccine, and anti-birth control.

Ballerina Farm has also been frequently boosted by Evie Magazine. Billing itself as the conservative answer to Cosmo, Evie publishes articles on everything from “How to Wear Shorts Like a French Girl” to the supposedly rampant child sex trafficking to which the Biden administration has turned a blind eye. In February, they responded to a minor scandal that broke out when details about the Neelemans’ family wealth began circulating on TikTok. The article ends with a full-throated defense of Ballerina Farm. “Our culture has become far too comfortable with criticizing people for being rich,” it reads. “There’s nothing wrong with having money or coming from money. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with using that money to create a beautiful homesteading life that creates useful food, products, and content for people all across the country.” For Evie, the Neelemans’ secret wealth isn’t proof that living off the land is largely inaccessible to the masses but a symbol of the virtuousness of Ballerina Farm’s mission. They have enough money to live glamorously; instead, they choose to live a simple life. That this simple life might be an expensive illusion is never considered.

A month later, the magazine published a treatise on tradwives by Gina Florio, a personal trainer who moonlights as manager to Candace Owens, a conservative commentator whose BLEXIT foundation urged Black people to abandon the Democratic Party. (Owens has also promoted Ballerina Farm on Instagram. Hannah, for her part, reposted the endorsement and later deleted it.) Like Gwen the Milkmaid, Florio is a reformed liberal who wrote for Teen Vogue and PopSugar before she “left the left.” Tradwives, she argues, are superior to “the shrieking, blue-haired protester who wants on-demand abortion and supports the ‘free the nipple’ movement.” She describes Ballerina Farm as the example on which conservative women should model their lives: “The children are blonde and seemingly well-mannered. The father herds cattle in a cowboy hat. And the mother is impossibly beautiful as she milks cows in her overalls, loose braids, and zero makeup.” This is all in contrast to “the average twenty-five-year-old woman” who “lacks basic domestic skills, serially dates multiple men, and loudly opposes manners and decorum.”

To her credit, Florio acknowledges that it’s functionally impossible for most women—even those who want nothing more than to dedicate their entire lives to caring for a husband and children—to fulfill the tradwife ideal. She points out that real wages have stagnated since the 1970s, making it impossible to raise a family on a single income. “We have to really ask ourselves if we want to truly return to tradition,” Florio writes, “or if we want to just fantasize about the perfect trad wife who is both gorgeous and domestic.”

#good article

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lady-wildflower · 1 year

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Some thoughts on Wednesday and heteronormativity

I was just reminded of something that quite amuses me about Netflix’s Wednesday, which is how... it literally took me until the second time I watched it to go “wait, are they trying to set up a love triangle here or something?”

Like, don’t get me wrong, I understood that both Xavier and Tyler were meant to be in the supporting cast who were considered allies by Wednesday (very suspiciously in the case of Xavier), but the possibility of romance didn’t even enter my mind for Xavier and for Tyler it felt so clearly forced that it didn’t compute that he was even supposed to be a contender. Like, to the point that Wednesday remotely being okay with Tyler kissing her before the vision surprised me.

Because nothing either of them say about it makes any fucking sense. Were there deleted scenes or something? Tyler talks about mixed signals which to me is either evidence he’s trying to muddle her up and confuse her to benefit his own plans or he’s a moron. Same for Xavier. Because those ‘mixed signals’ were entirely in the boys’ heads. Wednesday never at any point shows anything more than mild tolerance for their presence, and before the reveal I was literally wondering what the fuck Tyler was talking about when he mentioned mixed signals. Both boys take Wednesday tolerating their presences with at best neutral aloofness as evidence she likes them, with zero actual evidence present. I do think that kinda speaks to the way IRL cishet guys often do behave, but it came wildly out of left field for me when I watched the show for a second time, already knowing the twists, to go wait... WHAT THE FUCK??

Tyler I personally write off as him trying to manipulate her, get her out of Laurel’s way while they prepare, etc. When Wednesday says his “date” is a quid-pro-quo for nearly getting him killed, she’s right, and I personally find it really uncomfortable the way they did an Almost-Kiss in it because Tyler 100% pressured her into that situation. Same for the later kiss (and it’s worth noting for later that Enid was the one who prompted her to go there in the first place). But Xavier? Assuming they were trying to set up a love triangle with Tyler and Xavier, dude has completely made up something there, because not only does he seem to think Wednesday should like him, he actively ignores the things she says. Wednesday has never expressed an interest in having a phone - in fact, what she has expressed is disdain for them. And yet, Xavier gets her one anyway, a gift she has outright said previously that she doesn’t want, as if it would endear him to her anyway. Of course she’s not going to text you you clunge! She doesn’t want a phone!

And like, when you really get down to it, what the fuck is Xavier’s appeal supposed to be? Yeah he’s a mildly emo artist but he’s not remotely on her level in terms of darkness and he can’t meet her on that field - he’s trying to force her down to his. Every skill he has is either pretty much there for the main plot and not the weird love corner b-plot, or something Wednesday either derides or is exponentially better than him at - he’s not even better at archery than her. And I do think, if I take the show at face value, that Xavier is 100% imagining any interest he thinks Wednesday has in him. Because Wednesday tolerates his presence for a bit and then considers him her prime suspect for like 80% of the show. She doesn’t express any interest in him as a person, she doesn’t even express remorse for ruining his life temporarily! When she meets him in the cell, it’s because he might have useful information! And in regards to his art, Xavier isn’t as macabre a person as she is, he can’t meet her at that either - he’s a jogger who does Pollock art to ‘90s alternative rock. The most macabre original thing, not borne of his nebulous connection to the Big Bad, he paints/draws is the spider, which Wednesday was not exactly impressed by. The problem with Xavier in this way is he’s too middling - he doesn’t go far enough. They didn’t make him weird enough, for lack of a better way of describing it.

When you really get down to it, what does Xavier bring to the table? Nothing. He doesn’t even make much of an effort to understand her (despite all the pontification of her cello solos being “the only time I get to see the real you,” which frankly I think is him projecting). He’s not got anything to offer, and given Wednesday’s behaviour where she does seem to need you to bring something to the table, there’s zero reason for her to even consider him anywhere near a friend other than sharing classes. And Tyler, well, until the twist he’s just a slightly troubled Regular Dude, and Wednesday Addams is not gonna be interested in that either.

All in all, I think both Tyler and Xavier had some kinda Assigned Love Interest Syndrome. The writers were so focused on making them seem like relatable love interests to an audience that they forgot to make them seem like plausible love interests for Wednesday herself. Neither of them are remotely compatible with her, and frankly I’m surprised Xavier isn’t running for the hills given she’s demonstrated a completely unfazed willingness to destroy his life if it suits her. To the point that it’s not an unpopular theory that Wednesday is aromantic and asexual, because her behaviour for the most part supports that theory!

Which brings me to my second point.

Enid. Motherfucking. Sinclair.

Enid is a perfect fuckin foil for Wednesday, and the most important thing here to me in this conversation is how no, she’s not macabre, she’s the exact opposite. But fundamentally, she’s not just the exact opposite but a mirror of Wednesday on the opposite side of the spectrum - when Wednesday is all dark and creepy, Enid is equally bright and cheerful. That equality is the point - she can meet Wednesday on Wednesday’s turf, because where Tyler and Xavier would be steamrolled by Wednesday, Enid is the immovable object to Wednesday’s unstoppable force, and vice versa. She’s not just a Regular Lass, she’s so intensely bright that she can, well, meet Wednesday at her own level. She can challenge Wednesday in a way Xavier and Tyler... just can’t.

I might also add; Wednesday didn’t show the slightest bit of sorrow or remorse at potentially ruining Xavier’s life, not even retroactively, nor at literally torturing Tyler. Ya know what did make her feel bad? Hurting Enid’s feelings when Enid left.

So who the fuck ELSE was I ever going to ship Wednesday with? The regular guy barista and the mildly emo artist didn’t even register on the same RADAR. They don’t foil Wednesday, they’re not on her level, literally the only reason I can think of for someone to ship them is because they’re boys and they’re looking at the show through a 100% heteronormative lens where a girl daring to tolerate a guy means she loves him. It’s to the point that I can only assume they’re building to an Enid/Wednesday relationship in later seasons, because the alternative fucking baffles me. Ajax doesn’t even make much sense for Enid either, he’s just a superficially positive boy who, I guess he gets to be a bit goofy, but I literally couldn’t name any other traits he has other than harmless goofy stoner. Meanwhile, Enid is the only character outside of the Addams family itself I’d say Wednesday even cares about. The fuckin- coded “Thing missed you” exchange??? Wednesday actually cares about Enid, which is not something which can be extended to her supposed love interests. Which makes it perplexing to me that those boys are even supposed to be on that RADAR. Combine that with the clear (though clumsy) queer subtext surrounding Enid, and ye gods how can you not think that Enid is the far superior love interest for Wednesday?

As for what’s behind the curtain... I don’t know. I don’t know if the writers were just oblivious to the fact they’d essentially written a WLW love story in Enid and Wednesday, or if they were queerbaiting, or if they were playing it safe to see how the first season got received before diving into the lesbianisms next season. The whole WednesGay promotional thing has lended a lot to think it’s queerbaiting and I can’t conclusively say I don’t think so too.

I don’t know that it’s a good thing that I can’t tell if the writers are chugging the oblivious heteronormative Kool-Aid, or if they’re hedging their bets.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #tyler galpin #xavier thorpe #queerbaiting #heteronormativity #writing #analysis #did i write fanfiction entirely based on this?#yes #it's called Girls' Night In and it's on AO3

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soullessjack · 4 months

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will probably delete later bc this website’s post-point aim is so low it pisses on the poor and im fucking tired But as someone with a special interest in media literacy/media tropes/propaganda (conjoined interests if you will) it is very odd and strange that so many ppl are still arguing that fiction is entirely separate from reality as if they’re two different dimensions or something. And what’s even stranger is that so many also believe that representation is important in media even tho .. representation is like the biggest example of fiction affecting and being important to reality—next to propaganda, of course, which also runs with representation as a form of intentional misrepresentation with intents to target someone. the thing is. And a LOT of y’all are not going to like this. but fiction does inherently have bearing on reality, because it is a reflection of reality created by real people. fiction cannot exist without reality as a baseline. We use fiction to represent ourselves, our world, and we use it to explore all aspects of possibilities of what we could be, what we can’t be, what we shouldn’t be, etc. we explore our own extinction, our greed, our impact on the world, by telling stories. Every culture on the planet has stories that shape it, that become mythologies and theologies and religions and traditions. Are those suddenly not important just because they’re fiction?

What about propaganda? Propaganda itself is also a form of fiction. Propaganda posters depicting racial caricatures and animalized “enemies” are just paintings, just drawings with just-words on canvases and paper. Stereotypes of Black ‘thugs’ and greedy Jews in books are “just words,” but they’re not. The Red Scare was always depicted as a faceless anonymous enemy, an iceberg on our ship, a red shadow, a buzzard eating bones, and yet it had half of the states convinced that someone they knew was secretly a commie with the same intense paranoia as if they had leprosy. Are we supposed to shrug off the still-prevalent effects they had on the world just because they’re fictional? Just pretend that stereotypes or racist beliefs or commie paranoia don’t exist anymore, since they were perpetuated with fictionalizations?

Fiction doesn’t just affect reality, either. It reflects reality. It shapes reality, and that in itself continues to shape more and more fiction, which then shapes reality over and over again. Books like 1984 and TKAM stand as examples of the past, of where our reality once stood, of what we used to value and believe and what used to be trendy and fashionable and desirable. Even books that are pure fantasy have undeniable elements of reality in them, either by way of the author’s bias or as a commentary (WHICH IS YET ANOTHER FUCKING EXAMPLE. IF FICTION DIDN’T AFFECT REALITY THERE WOULD BE NO SUCH THING AS SOCIAL COMMENTARY IN MEDIA). Fantasy Racism is fictional, but it’s still racism, and it still reflects one of the most horrific ongoing aspects of our reality. What we create is undeniably a reflection of ourselves and what we value, what we’re afraid of, what we see in our world and lives, what we want out of life but can’t get.

No, writing about dark topics doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or inherently an advocate for them. George Orwell wrote the poster child for a fascist dystopian society and he was a fucking socialist and it was a fucking warning of what we could become. “Fiction doesn’t affect reality,” and yet it’s been used for centuries to deconstruct real world ideologies and values and standards. It’s how we understand the world. The Greek and Egyptian Gods existed to help us understand the weather. Zeus is lightning, thunderstorms were his incurred wrath. Apollo is the sun and his daily task of bringing light to the world on his chariot is the sun rising and setting. If fiction didn’t affect reality, then the Sesame Street writers wouldn’t have been concerned about the potential message Mr. Snuffleupagus would send to kids and kids cartoons wouldn’t be utilized to introduce children to heavier topics or help kids feel represented and just kids media in general stands as an example of fiction again affecting and being important to reality because it quite literally shapes children’s perception of reality as they are developing and

it’s 6am im fucking tired im over caffeinated my ribs have been fuckjng sore all day goodnight you get the idea . Or I fucking hope you do. Because Every day I open this app and see the stupidest shit ever and I am fucking tired of it

#txt #okay now I go to bed before the anger makes me suicidal

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