Credit card companies will TRY to saddle you with this kind of debt by the way - if ever a loved one dies and you are not co-signed on their credit card, do NOT agree to pay their debt unless you ask a lawyer first if you truly have to.
They will say âdonât you want them to go to the grave without debtâ, they will try to guilt you, they will take advantage of your vulnerability.
Source: when my father died, he had some credit cards that my mom wasnât on that she had no access to. The companies contacted her while she was sorting through the bills and getting a handle on how to run the house alone, badgering her with his credit card debt.
She wasnât liable for any of it, but if she had ever agreed to pay before finding out that she didnât need to, she would have been considered to have taken on his debt and would have HAD to pay it. Itâs slimy, itâs predatory, and itâs entirely legal for them to do this.
Never accept the credit card companyâs word about your obligation to pay anyone elseâs debt, if you donât have access to the card, ask a lawyer before agreeing to anything.
i dont think whites understand how being white makes literally everything easier.
it effects everything.
being trans is easier when youre white.
being gay is easier when youre white.
being disabled is easier when youre white.
being a woman is easier when youre white.
being autistic is easier when youre white.
oppression is eased when you are white, as you get extra privileges, and your whiteness is seen as a positive characteristic that in some ways counter-balances your other forms of being a minority. whiteness controls everything.
you are automatically way more innocent in your own oppression as a gay, trans, disabled person because of your whiteness.
i just remembered a story my first plug told me. she's butch and gets mistaken for a man a lot. one time she was walking home when a guy pulled a knife on her and asked for everything in her pockets. panicking, she said "ok" and the guy hearing her voice was like "oh shit, are you a girl?" and she was like "yeah" and he put the knife away and said something like "sorry. i can't do this to a woman" and left. feminist ally.
what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?
would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldnât it?
I'm italian and there's something that people defending this shit don't fucking understand.
they think the âRoman saluteâ is something unrelated to nazis or fascists but the âRoman Saluteâ IS the fascist salute. It's not a different concept, it's the same thing!! It's not "good" because it doesn't have the word "nazi" in it, It's the same shit.
And to people saying "He is throwing out his heart to the crowd" tell me if YOU would do it at a 45 degree angle with your thumb tucked in and your fingers closed together. Personally, a throwing motion in my imagination has your palm completely open and your fingers spaced out
Regardless, This is what propaganda is, They do bad thing and then they say "no it good actually" and the population goes "Ok then it's all good" it's not all good, They're making you think it is. It sucks
Politicians gain power through the Ignorance of the people, don't trust people just because "They said it"
I wanna sit in Joelâs lap while he sips his whiskey, gives me neck kisses, rubs my back and calls me sweetheart. I wanna tuck my head into his neck and smell his Cologne. I want to hear him whisper ďżźin my ear âI love youâ.
shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.
moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over.Â
put on clean, comfortable clothes.Â
put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.
drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.
clean something. doesnât have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink.Â
blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something thatâs got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.
make food. donât just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if itâs ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and youâll feel like you accomplished something.Â
make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you donât think youâre good at it.
go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.
call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someoneâs voice. if you canât, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you donât say much, listen to them.
cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.
people have been calling this portrait very befitting considering the amount of blood on the british empire's hands, and i absolutely agree (i also don't want to know how much this was commissioned for because i think of how many British people are struggling with food and fuel poverty):
[photo: @/WorldTimesWT with caption "Britain's King Charles unveiled the first official portrait of himself since his coronation last May." May 14, 2024.]
in one direct action response to the portrait's reveal, Palestine Action activists did this:
never forget the British royals' support for a terrorist state -Israel, and never forget that king colonizer has personally voiced support for the bombing and genociding of Palestinian people.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader, Christine Lenker (OC) x Reader
Warnings: Nothing for this chapter. Age gap between the reader and Joel but not significant (5-6 years ish). Reader is AFAB but uses they/them pronouns.Â
A/N: Iâm sorry it took sooooo long but itâs finally here
Word count:Â 2.5k +
Well, this is fucking stupid. Turn around and walk away.
Turn around and walk away.
Turn around and-
âWhere you goinâ kid?â Tommyâs voice rings out in a gruff Texan drawl thatâs been growing on you. He crosses the street in three long strides and a very-happy-with-himself smile on his face and swings an arm around your shoulder which almost trips you. Heâd been quite the character for as long as you can remember, and itâs been a while. The wife only exacerbated his constant smiling, and you were as happy as you could be for him, but youâd never tell him that.Â
âI was actually heading to yours, wanted to drop off the cookies I made for Mariaâ, you mumbled, shrugging his arm off and increasing your pace, wanting to avoid all conversation. Tommy had thisâŚgift as he called it; He knew instantly when your mood was off or when youâre not telling the truth. This could turn out to be one of those moments unless you power-walked to his house and finished what you came for: cookies.
âKid, you know I ainât letting you off that easy right?â he says, turning a concerned eye towards you. Damn, it might be too late.
âTommy, I have stuff to do, okay? Move,â you command and return his gaze with a stern one of your own. He stares at you a beat longer and shit shit, he kno-Â
âOkay, but you better come over for Christmas dinner this year. Mariaâs always asking about you kid.â Phew.
ââŚFine. For Maria,â you respond, struggling to contain my breath of relief at his ignorance of the volcano of feelings threatening to tear your chest wide open. Holiday season in the apocalypse was not fun for everyone but you didnât have it in you to break Tommyâs or worse, Mariaâs heart.
âWhatever you say kid, Iâll take those cookies of your hand, you can get back to your âstuffâ,â he says, putting up his fingers in air-quotes. He reaches out to grab the box of cookies from your hands, but you pull it back, just out of reach.Â
âThese better make it to Maria or Iâll hear about it.â Your attempts to make a threat prove futile as Tommy manages to manoeuvre the box out of your hands with his signature smirk plastered all over his face and his eyes shining with amusement. âAye aye capân,â he signs off with a goofy laugh spilling from his lips and continuing in the direction of his home.Â
A smile threatens to take over you face as you watch his figure retreat in the distance. But then you remember, you have to go homeâŚalone. The smile never comes, and your heartbeat stumbles at the thought of being alone. You would have thought youâd be used to it by now, what with the apocalypse and a dead family. You thought you were used to it until you met him. Images threaten to take over your mind and you shake your head as if to physically get rid of the feelings his thoughts always brought on. Unfortunately for you, there was no seeing him again. Ever probably. Â
Sometimes when youâre alone, you think back to the months you spent with him and wonder if heâs still alive. Maybe alone and still on the road like when you met him. Or maybe heâs settled down now. Found a home, a partner, a family. Or maybe heâs dead or worse, one of the clickers. You wonder if he still thinks about you. About those days you spent trekking through ruined cities and camping out in desolate buildings at night. Or about the times when he would insist on keeping watch because he was too tense to fall asleep. And the times you had forced him to get some sleep, so he didnât burn himself out. And the times you held each other in embraces that encompassed your body and mind. Warm, soft and grounding. Embraces that tethered you to each other and made you feel alive and dizzy and safe.  Something you hadnât felt in a long time.
Sure, Jackson is safe. You have a few friends scattered around the settlement that you couldnât imagine life without anymore but thereâs something about being wrapped up in the arms of someone you love and feeling safe. Your eyes start to burn with unshed tears, and you try to powerwalk your way the rest of the way home and before you know it, your house comes into view. You almost sob at the chance of being in bed and crying your heart about before a figure blocks your view and you walk straight into it.
âI know you love to see me but that kinda hurt,â a buttery voice came above you. Your gaze raises to look at the source of it and your breath gets caught in your throat. Brown locks frame her face and small wisps of hair get caught in her lashes which lift, giving you a view of those familiar hazel eyes. Your eyes trail down her plump cheeks and lips when you see them tilt upward in a smile.Â
âI bought you something,â her voice sounds again. You swallow hard in an effort to clear your mouth of its sudden dryness. When you try to speak, your voice comes out croakier than you had hoped.
âWhat is it,â you rasp and immediately cough to cover up your nervousness. She smiles even wider and shows you the item she had tucked behind her back the whole time. ItâsâŚcoffee.Â
âYouâŚwhere did you find that?â you gasp, as she places the bag of coffee in your hands, and you inspect it for the liquid gold itâs going to be once you make it to your kitchen. Your eyes raise to meet hers again and you see a shimmer of something that youâre not ready to accept yet.Â
âPatrol,â she answers, looking right back into your eyes. âFound an abandoned house a few miles out, got rid of a few clickers and found this bad boy just sitting on a shelf,â she says as she shifts nervously on her feet while her fingers begin to wind and unwind, a tell-tale sign of her fidgeting.
âChristineâŚâ you trail off, while staring at the bag of coffee in your hands. âI canât accept this, it might be the last bag you find in a while,â your arms stretch out in front of you, offering the coffee back.
âItâs a gift,â she announces, while covering your hands with her soft ones. Sheâs holding your hands and itâs the softest thing youâve felt in a while and youâre gonna think about this for-.
âKeep it,â she clasps your hands that hold the bag that youâll probably go through in a week. She smiles widely and squeezes your shoulder in reassurance, but it only makes your heart lurch at her warm touch. She turns to walk away with a whispered âbyeâ leaving you with, what can only be described as heart eyes. You stare at her back for a long while and secretly hope she looks back, but she never does. You exhale a long, tired sigh and stare at the coffee in your hands. Coffee. You couldnât believe two things: a. coffee still managed to survive the outbreak and b. she just gave it to you. Like it was nothing. But it did mean something to you. How could she possibly- A gasp leaves your lips as realisation floods your consciousness. Â
âYou know what I miss the most from before?â you slur drunkenly, while leaning heavily on your arm that was resting at the bar. Christine looks at you with unfocused eyes and red in her cheeks, probably as drunk as you are right now but neither of you seem to care. She takes a long sip from her whisky and tucks her palm underneath her chin, resting her elbow on the bar.Â
âYour house?â she mutters with an unsteady hand spilling whisky on your hand. She giggles when she realises what sheâs done and starts to apologise but you can only muster a loud giggle in response before you make a very slow attempt to wipe your hands on your jeans. The room seemed to be spinning with how many drinks youâd just had but you couldnât look away from her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, but you could still see the speck of green in her irises if you looked close enough. For a minute you forgot what you were talking about, too lost in looking for that hint of green before she laid a hand on your shoulder. âWell, what is it?â she questions.
âCoffee,â you sigh dreamily. âI had this whole routine, you know. Itâs kinda stupid now that I think about it but every morning Iâd wake up and Iâd have the worst mood known to mankind.â She laughed but inched forward, curiously gazing at you, her hand back to being tucked under her chin like a little kid being told a wonderful story. âIâd go downstairs, fire up the espresso machine. God, that fucking espresso machine. It was the fucking best. Iâd go brush my teeth while it was heating up, extract a double shot, steam some milk and make very poor attempts at latte art. Every morning. It wasnât special but it wasâŚâ you trailed off as you felt tears pool in the corner of your eyes. âI get it, I had the same thing with cigarettes,â she says, taking a slow sip of her drink. âCouldnât take a shit without it.â Your ears perked up and it took a second to realise what she was saying. Your eyes locked and you break out into a fit of laughter, keeling over each other and holding your stomach in pain.Â
âI canât believe you just said thatâ you wheeze through laboured breaths, cheeks hurting from how hard youâd been laughing. âI canât even imagine you smoking.â
âYeah well. Guess Iâm different now. But the point is that itâs not stupid. I know exactly what you mean. I think itâs okay to miss the little things. Important even. I donât ever wanna forget what life was before this because it was a big part of me. Those little things made me, me.â
You snap out of your daydream when you hear kids screaming nearby, throwing snowballs at each other. You crack a smile while walking up the steps of your porch and swing the door open, your eyes still focused on the small bag of coffee in your hands. You almost walk into a kitchen counter because you canât peel your eyes away. No one had been this nice to you in a really long time and while on the surface, it didnât seem like a big deal, it was to you. It meant the world to you that someone remembered little things about you. It was hard to be kind in the world you were in, and it was nice to see that people still found ways to do that. Even if it was just dated coffee.Â
You rummage around in your cabinets before you find one of your most valuable things in the house: a cafetière. You smile triumphantly before filling up the kettle with water and being careful to pour just enough coffee grounds, not wanting to spill or waste any. You rest your elbow on the counter, watching the water bubble and thinking about Christine. You think youâve become a bit obsessed lately but now that you think about it, you donât know her that well either. Sure, youâd hung out a bunch of times but all of them were super casual and none of them involved any real get-to-know-each-other conversations. Thatâd be too much of a date like setting.Â
A loud knock on your door makes your ears perk at the sound and silently hope and wonder if its Christine. A smile makes its way onto your lips as you practically skip to the door. You pull it open but its only Tommy. Your smile fades slightly but he notices anyway and raises an eyebrow at your crossed arms and faint smile.Â
âGood to see you too darling,â his voice drifts into your open house. âAnd what the fuck smells so good?â he shoulders past you, leaving you briefly stunned in the doorway and beelines to the kitchen, with you hot on his tail. He raised the bag of coffee to his nose and takes a deep inhale, his eyes closed in concentration. âWow, thatâs some good shit, where in the hell did you find this?â The kettle clicks off and you yank the bag of coffee back, tying it off and putting it back on your shelf. âA friend. Found it on a patrol.â You can feel his smirk before you even see it but you busy your hands, by pouring hot water into the French press and swirling it around with a spoon.Â
 Tommyâs voice rings out yet again with a hint of knowing in his voice, âThis friendâŚwouldnât happen to be Christine, would it?â Your hand stills for a second before continuing to swirl and incorporate the coffee better, before you put the top on and turn your body to face him. âAnd so, what if it is?âÂ
âOh, nothing. Just thought youâd want to tell her how big of a crush you have,â his smirk widens impossibly while he turns around to rummages in the cabinets. âI donât have a fucking crush Tommy, weâre just good friends.â
âOh yes, absolutelyâ he snickers and delicately pours coffee into your favourite mug. âI just think, given that itâs the end of the world, maybe you should consider putting yourself out there kid. It wouldnât hurt to try at least.â
You felt a twinge in your chest at his words. You knew what he was saying was right, but you couldnât bring yourself to do it. Not again. How could you explain to him that you did try, and it did hurt. A lot. And sometimes you still think about him, it keeps you awake at night. How could you tell him that you found love in the most unexpected of places at the most unexpected of times, but it wasnât yours to have in the first place. Tommy was wrong to think that the end of the world is a great place to find love. He did but most donât.Â
âHey,â his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. âYou okay kid?â His concerning gaze almost makes you cave and tell him. âYou seemed a bit off earlier too. Whatâs goinâ on?â He hands you the cup of coffee and guides you to your couch. He sits you down with a comforting hand on your shoulder and sits next to you, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.
âNothing Tommy. Iâm okay.â Lie.  âYou know how I get around these holidays. I justâŚmiss my family.â Somewhat true.
âOf course, yeah. I miss my brother too,â he whispers, his eyes downturned and his fingers lacing and unlacing, a sign of his nervousness. âIâm sure heâs okay Tommy. Hell, maybe heâs out looking for you,â he cracks a smile and tuns his eyes on you again. âYeah, thatâs what Iâm worried about,â he mumbles.Â
You frown and take another sip, contemplating the complicated relationship between the brothers.  From what youâve heard, Tommy split up from the brother a few years after the outbreak when he joined the Fireflies.  They kept in touch for a while until Tommy met Maria.  Since then, Tommy hasnât radioâd his brother. Â
âMaybe you should radio him. Heâs probably worried sick and what if he-â
âHeâll be fine. Besides, I canât risk everyone here just so we can talk, can I?â he turns his pleading gaze to you and for a second, you think he might cry. Â
âTommy I-â
âIâm gonâ go ahead and help Maria with dinner. You still coming yeah?â
You sigh and realise that this is not something Tommy wanted to discuss at all.  You smile lightly and nod once, placing your hand in a comforting grip on his shoulder.  He stands up and rubs his palms on his jeans before he walks towards the door.  He glances back at you and smiles before making you promise once more that youâd show up to dinner.Â
âI said Iâd be there Tommy,â you sigh with exasperation and follow him to the door where you playfully push him out and let out a grunt because of his refusal to move from the doorway.Â
âThink about what I said kid.  Christine could be good for you,â he ruffles your hair slightly with an annoying laugh and you bat his hand away with a scowl that quickly turns to fondness when he turns back to walk away.Â
If only he knew.
â â â â â
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Days had turned into weeks and months on the road. The road had become a desolate blur of tragedy and pain and loss. But amidst all of that, you met him.
Another survivor. With the most haunted eyes youâd ever seen. But couldnât bring yourself to look away. In some ways, you were the same. The world as it was, forcing you to harden yourself and become cold and calculated.
You met him over 10 years ago in Boston. It was a lifetime ago, some would say. But he had cared for you and loved you like no other. But fate had a twisted way of tearing up your dreams right in front of your eyes. You lost him in the fray.
Youâd made your way to Jackson, a part of you still in Boston. Slowly, you start to build a new life. Without him. Whispers of his name and his touch haunt your dreams and every waking moment.
But a connection offers a promising future. A future youâve craved for what feels like years. Nothing you do can shake the memory of him from your mind.
Will you choose the shadows of the past or embrace a new dawn in a world teetering on the edge?
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
romaincrisis
stormborns
titsay
