#We stand with the free people of the world

[salemlunaa]

☀︎it’s not transactional ☀︎

stop looking at methods as a unit of currency…

When people speak of relationships, they say it shouldn’t be transactional because that’s toxic. For example just because your boyfriend/girlfriend has done something nice for you doesn’t mean you owe him or her sex. And the same goes for your relationship with manifesting, you aren’t owed your desires just because you did some method? And why? because you already have them.

Stop seeing methods as if it’s some unit of exchange!! what it’s not:

you do the method ➯ you get your manifestation

you affirm “I AM” ➯ you induce the void state

you listen to that one subliminal ➯ you have your dream body

It’s not something that you exchange, it’s not “I give my time and effort to this method and then in return I get my manifestation” stop seeing it like money. With money you give and you get something you paid for in return. That’s not how it works here because you don’t need to get something you already have and failure to understand will cost you a lot of time with your manifestations and will cost you a lot of blood sweat and tears that just don’t need to shed.

Methods don’t help you get things, the things you wanted were yours the second you wanted them to be. What methods do is remind you, because unfortunately we live in a society that drills a horrible way of thinking into our heads. Thinking that tells us that “nothing is free”, “you have to work for what you want”, “life isn’t fair”. And due to this thinking being instilled in us since forever, we need reminders, in a perfect world we would think of something and it would appear infront of us, but because of society, so much resistance has been created that we need reminders to brake those barriers, those reminders come in methods. And that’s all they are.

Now since i showed you what doesn’t happen, let me show you what actually happens:

you thought of it ➯ it’s here ➯ remind yourself with a method (optional) ➯ stand firm (mandatory) ➯ your already real desire appears in the 3d as a mere byproduct, the cherry on top if you will.

you are “I AM” ➯ you set the intention to induce pure consciousness ➯ you affirm “I AM” to remind yourself (optional) ➯ you’ve induce pure consciousness, congrats

you are the operant power ➯ you decide you want that body, it’s not desired anymore it’s just how you look ➯ subliminal reminds you of that ➯ appears in the 3d as a side effect

So do not come here and say “I tried this method and it failed me”, no. that’s just not possible. You failed to remind yourself and you wavered. Nothing to do with a lifeless method.

Let’s say you want to go to a certain destination? The method isn’t the car driving you there, it doesn’t help you get there, it doesn’t help you get anywhere. Because guess what? you were already at your dream destination, the method just helps you remember even when circumstances shows that your still in the unfavourable destination.

so please stop scrolling endlessly for the “best method”, because there is no method that objectively works better than the other, however there may be methods that help you stand a lot firmer. But you need to remember it’s individual, just because you saw a girl who did affirmations and got her dream life in a week doesn’t mean that will help you stand firm better, visualisation may help you achieve the favourable mindset a lot easier and quicker than a subliminal, everyone is different.

And that is why, you don’t need methods, when bloggers say “all you need is yourself” we’re not tryna give you some sappy motivation, it’s truth. You don’t need any method, at all.

☄️🐋 Methods are the reminder, not the booster or the helper… 💋

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

“Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She’ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

[kkayyerr]

Safe Place.

Summary: The interviewer makes reader uncomfortable and Drew Starkey is there for her when she unintentionally regress.

Warnings: Age regression, talking about sexual stuff and reader being uncomfortable with it, slight angst, fluffy end!

Author’s note: My first cg!Drew Starkey work, hope you’ll like it!🫶🏻🥹

You weren’t a big fan of interviews. Especially when there was a tone of weird and uncomfortable questions that you didn’t want to answer. Today’s interview was one of the most stressful and uncomfortable interviews that you ever had. You and your coworker Drew Starkey were both sending disgust glares to each other each time the interviewer would ask another awfully weird question, making you both want to leave immediately.

 

„I would personally like to see more of you in the revealing outfits.”

 

The interviewer said, looking straight at you, as if he were trying to provoke you. You tried to ignore that comment, even though this time you sent Drew more of a scared glare. You were very uncomfortable, and he knew that if the situation turns out to be stressful enough for you, you’re probably going to unintentionally regress, like it had happened a couple of times before on the set, when you were getting too overwhelmed. You clearly didn’t want to regress in front of the camera, so you tried to hold it in as much as you could. The interviewer didn’t seem to care about your discomfort, continuing with his game. 

 

„Your body just made for those sex scenes; you were phenomenal.”

 

Suddenly, you realized that it was too much. It was already hard enough for you to film in those scenes, and you were not sure that you could’ve done it without Drew’s support. Hearing about it again made you feel dirty and smaller, just from being talked to like that. 

Your gaze became blurry the second before Drew caught your hand, stopping you from sucking on your thumb right in front of the camera. You saw him standing up, letting the interviewer know that both of you are about to leave. He immediately understood that you had regressed, and he wasn’t blaming you for it; he knew how disgusted you might’ve felt just because of those words. You also stood up, almost immediately giving him your hand. You didn’t care about what people would think if they saw you and Drew holding hands in front of the camera; you finally chose to care about yourself too. 

 

„Where are you going? We’re not done!”

 

The man tried to argue, but Drew was just calmly heading to the doors, checking if neither of you had forgotten something in the studio. You still were staying close to him, squeezing his hand even tighter. It was a signal that you were very overwhelmed right now and won’t handle another minute here without throwing a tantrum. He turned around before leaving the room, knowing that he had to give the interviewer an explanation.

 

„We’re done. Your questions don’t sound professional to me, and you clearly make me and my college uncomfortable. We won’t be staying here and letting you talk to us that way, sorry.”

 

Just like that, both of you had left, and you almost sighed with relief when you were finally free from that asshole and his sexualizing questions. Drew stood right in front of you, giving you some time to calm down. You just cuddle up to him, immediately hiding your face in his neck like you did every time you would regress in public. 

You couldn’t let the world see you like that, but for some reasons you didn’t want to hide from Drew; instead, you would just let him hide you from everybody else who you knew wouldn’t understand and except you like that. 

He was your safe space.

 

„Dada, can we go?”

 

You asked, and his brows raised from hearing your words. You never called him that, and you never regressed that small either. It seemed like his actions today made you more comfortable with him, and maybe it meant more than that, but those were adult conversations. Right now, he was just happy to be there for you.

 

„Of course, little one.”

 

He said, carefully cupping your face in his hands. He knew that eye contact would usually calm you down, or at least that worked all the previous times. 

 

„But maybe we should get you an ice cream first?”

 

He chuckled as you aggressively nodded. Drew was ready to buy a whole fucking ice cream section for you, just to make you forget about today’s awful experience.

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[rootedinrevisions]

Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics. 

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down. 

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around. 

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. 

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips. 

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air. 

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible. 

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving. 

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. 

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[thisismenow3]

This is a huge cop out in two very specific and obvious ways.

One, the media kept showing him so that his charisma could work on swing voters even though the way to deal with firehosing propaganda is to turn off the spigot. And it really is the media at large, a few legacy publications would MOSTLY stand against him but there was way too much of how the legacy media treats republicans before and now; “well of course they’re gonna do this, let’s rag on everyone and everything that hasn’t immediately fixed the problem.”

That last part gets into point two; the media from the written legacy news outlets to the even worse televised outfits (from local to msnbc and cnn) all had badly misinformed the public by doing piss poor journalism for decades. It’s no wonder that people can’t stomach thin pieces not in depth investigative reporting when the news feeds a steady stream of skewed reality with “bleeds it reads” and “let’s just make false equivocation our central model cause reporting is apparently just doing poor polling methodology.” Before you even get to the ways editors and producers bent reporting away from informing people on real solutions on how the world really is with police, labor, healthcare, taxes, etc, you have to contend with the fact that the people hired to the top papers and every news desk were hired because they see value in piss port approaches to journalism. They see value in “boff sides!” everything because chasing the impossible “free of bias” as a personal goal eclipses the professional and institutional primary objective of “inform.” If I’m focusing on the wrong things I’m not building an actual approximation of the reality I’m hoping to convey.

Now add to this that most people don’t tune into news in the same way most people don’t floss. So every “but her emails!” every “Donald became presidential today!” every “we could cover all Biden’s progressive policies and their downstream impacts if it’s more fun to wildly speculate about his health!” has repercussions when it’s most likely one of the only news pieces tens of millions of adults in this country tune into. “This is a threat to democracy!” rings hollow to they engaged when everything about how the news media is operating is the exact same as 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20, etc.

We got here because republicans have overall won the last 40-50 years. From real integration barely ever happening to schools getting worse from conservative policy making every decade to work and organizing getting worse and less, to news outlets phoning it in and patting themselves on the back as if the ten percent of times they actually try at all fixes when they don’t or that it matters when their whole core idea of their job is flawed in such a crucial way… we got here because conservatives understood that you can lose certain battles but you win wars by digging in on certain ones until they go your way. We have had some policy gains but the central premise since Reagan has been to make us less of a democracy and make government more conservative in other ways too. They e always had that. And the press being out to lunch and/or in bed with this agenda is part of how we got here.

Of course this is partially the press’s fault! Y’all couldn’t handle the machinations of the neo con’s decades ago you can’t handle the apotheosis of that which is Trump.

Lastly, the “most Americans” thing ain’t true. Trump got barely more voters than last time, the same is true for most other races republicans won. But way fewer white middle to upper income people from 30-50 voted at all this election compared to 2020. Our country is getting shafted now because a lot of smaller demographics make up the majority that is most voters being non conservatives while conservatives have fewer demographics making up their coalition AND institutional advantages. One of which is a media that has become an easy plaything for conservatives from Rove to Musk and Rogan. Do better journalists at elite institutions

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

A part 2 to either of the girlfriend abuses you series

where we se the recovery or the family of the girlfriend comes after them

People we love

Octava stared down at you, the girl in silent contemplation as you snuggled into her chest, the young lady holding you close.

She ran a hand through your hair, happy to see It'd been growing back well in the small time you'd been staying with her and her family.

As per her mother's Insistence you'd been sharing not just a room, but also a bed for the past few weeks and you'd noticeably improved.

You'd become happier. Eyes brighter. More and more welcoming every day, started smiling again.

Not those forced, people pleasing smiles she now recognised from before.

You weren't as touchy feely as before, but you weren't afraid to sit next to her, or hug her anymore.

Hugs.

You started hugging her again.

She was surprised the first time. You just randomly hugging the girl one morning, holding her for several minutes before youd part, thanking her softly as you walked off.

Since then, it'd been a pleasant surprise throught the past few weeks.

She'd missed the contact with you, desperately so.

Youd always been affectionate with her and just being able to hold you close again was a treat. Especially with you being the one to initiate it. It meant the world to her.

You'd also been sharing her bed, as per her mother's arrangement.

And while she'd initially been flustered and slightly uncomfortable, she'd quickly gotten used to it, the girl coming to enjoy it.

Plotonically, of course. You had slept over many times before.

Well, before you began dating HER!

But you were free now.

Free from her and her horrible and nasty ways. And she'd be dead and buried before she ever let that BITCH lay so much as a finger on you again.

You were stand-offish in bed, then again, you were stand-offish most of the day, which made sense, as you were still recovering.

But it'd be the second week you shared a bed that things... shifted.

You'd kept your distance the first few days, sleeping on the other side of the bed, telling her goodnight softly before curling in on yourself, sleeping tight, keeping clear away from her.

As you'd done the last several days, you all curled up on the other side of the bed, she'd started longing for your warmth.

Or at least that's what she'd thought, as it'd been the fifth day before you'd head to bed, the two of you getting into bed, you saying goodnight as usual.

Octavia saying it in turn, rolling over to sleep.

But itd be after several minutes of silence that she felt you shift, shuffling across the mattress, Octavia rolling over as you practically latching onto her, pulling her close in an iron grip, hugging her stomach as you laid there.

Octavia laid there for a minute, breathing deep before a smile crossed her face, tears pricking her eyes as she pulled you close, the two of you laid there, Octavia so happy to have you bridge the gap.

That became the norm for the two of you.

You never addressed the situation, never talking about it, it becoming something of a nightly ritual.

You'd say goodnight, the two of you laying there for several moments before you shift and roll, quickly shuffling over to her, holding onto her.

Octavia loved it, the young lady already turned towards you, a smile on her face, just waiting for you to approach.

And like clockwork you turned over, shuffling until you were pressed against her, hugging her core, Octavia smiling softly as you held her close, nuzzling her fluffy chest.

You'd hold onto her with a terrified grip, and while she normally hated overbearing grips, she could tell you needed it, practically relishing the way you clung to her.

Loving it as she held you close, softly stroking your hair as you just hugged her, the young lady knowing it couldn't be easy recovering from what you'd been through.

And it was a month in where the scene began.

Octavia waking up before you, the young lady finding you in her grasp, relishing the contact you shared, the early morning sun seeping into her room as she held you close, the young lady softly stroking your growing hair, relishing the warmth and comfort you granted her.

She breathed softly, the owlet watching your sleeping face, watching as your expression tensed, breathing picking up as you stirred, shuffling, hands gripping her tight, nails digging into her back as you held her tight. Almost painfully so.

Octavia went ridged as you jerked, letting out a strangled.

"...No!"

Your arms gripping holding her like a vice.

"Please... no!"

Your voice was pained... desperate. You clinging to her as if she were the last being in Hell.

You'd whine and whimper for another minute before awakeinging.

You'd jerk awake, releasing a desperate, "NO!" Snapping up as you grabbed at the sheets.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat there, breathing heavily as Octavia sat there stunned, watching you, the young lady sitting up as she carefully reached out to you.

Placing her hand on your shoulder you snapped to her, spinning around and almost falling out of her bed.

You had tears in your eyes as you stared at her, expression horrified as you sat there.

The girl barely processed what had happened when you launched at her, grabbing the girl as you buried your face in her chest.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..." You sobbed, clinging to her, tears wetting her chest. "Please, don't leave me..."

You sobbed, whining pathetically, clinging to her desperately, face buried in the nook of her neck as you sobbed, apologising over and over as you sobbed loudly.

Octavia, snapping out of her shock, quickly held you close, shushing you over and over as you sobbed, the girl unable to even imagine what you'd been through, the young ladies attention solely on you as she did her absolute best to comfort you.

Holding you close, stroking your back as she hugged you, kissing the top of your head, telling you it was alright, over and over again.

You'd stay like that most the morning, you apologising over and over, clinging to her desperately as the two of you just laid there, Octavia doing her best to comfort you as you quickly soaked through her shirt.

It was almost lunchtime by the time she'd finished comforting you, Octavia fiddling her shirt as she sat in front of her, well, 'meal".

The soaked material on her chest holding a far greater weight then simply tears.

You'd all but passed out after your breakdown.

You'd clung to her for what felt like hours, you apologising over and over, sobbing like a baby as you clung to her.

Octavia unable to do anything but hold you close, assuring you over and over you weren't alone. That you didn't need to apologise. That she was there for you.

Not that it seemed to calm you.

You sobbing and crying for seemingly hours before all bit collapsing.

She'd left you to sleep.

She wished to stay with you, she truly did, but she was hungry and needed a moment to herself, the young lady knowing her just sitting around you wouldn't do any good.

So she'd gone to eat, the young lady sat before her meal, mind a million miles away as she played with her meal.

"Ah, hello dear, how are you this morning?"

Stolas' elegant Goetian voice cut the silence, Octavia perking up as she looked up in time to see the man waltz in.

Octavia just sat there sternly, tired and emotionally stressed, playing with her food before she looked up at the man.

"What's going to happen?" She asked softly, an edge to her voice.

Stolas paused, head turning towards the young lady, the demon Prince staring for several moments before piping up.

"Well, uhhh, I was planning on a late breakfast, then-"

He tried to play it off casually only for Octavia to cut him off, coarsely asking him.

"The Bitch!" She snapped, rising to her feet. "What's going to happen to the fucking bitch!"

She seethed, breathing heavy, Stolas taken aback by his daughters outburst.

"Via, darling, me and your mother are handling the situation, trust u-" he tried to deescelate the situation, only from Octavia to snap at her father.

"No! No!" She growled, shoving her meal away. "Look, I haven't brought it up cause I was sure you and mum had something planed, but you haven't seen what I've seen, okay? (Y/N) has been through enough! I need to know he's safe!"

She breathed heavily, gripping their kitchen table.

"(Y/N) deserves more... He deserves... He deserves safety... and we can't give him that until she's dealt with."

She finished, breathing heavy, staring down at the table as memories of your breakdowns flashed through her mind, the young avian gripping her still soaked shirt, emotions spiking violently.

Stolas paused for several moments before walking over, the man hugging the young lady, the owl prince cooing softly.

"I know this has been a lot darling, but I promise, It's all going to be alright. Don't worry... we'll deal with her soon. Everything will be okay. So trust me, were taking care of it my dear little starfire."

Octavia stood there for several moments before sighing, nuzzling her fathers chest, sighing as she leaned against the mans fuzzy chest, shoulders slumping as she released the steadily building tension, the young lady having so much on her shoulder since you'd been placed in their charge.

The two stood for several moments, hugging each other close before your voice suddenly cut in.

"Uuum, I'm not interrupting am I?"

At that the pair turned, finding you stood in the kitchen doorway, hugging yourself, in a rather pathetic state, Stolas stepping back as Octavia perked right up.

You looked exhausted.

Bags under your eyes, growing hair in a mess of 'bed-head', clothes dishevelled as you looked at the pair.

"N-no, not at all my boy, please come in!" Stolas stumbled, quickly inviting you into the room, doing his best to raise the rooms spirits.

You'd do so, walking in, still holding yourself as you got yourself a drink of juice, taking a seat besides Octavia.

The girl was tense, though quickly relaxed as you shared a smile with the girl, a soft, tender smile on your face as you sipped your drink.

Octavia quickly returned the gesture, the tension in the air quickly disappearing as the two of you sat there.

Stolas would chat up the two of you, you speaking sparingly, clearly not in a speaking mood, Octavia's gaze rarely leaving you as she discussed the days plan with her father.

The three of you would finish your respective 'meals'. You once again washing your mug, Octavia sticking close this time, an ache filling her gut as she noticed the fading bruises on your forearms.

She was happy to see them fading, knowing you were healing was a major comfort to her, but even then, it still hurt knowing you'd suffered as you did.

The girl holding herself responsible on some level.

Finishing up in the kitchen the three of you'd end up in the 'greenhouse', you sat amongst several of Stolas' plants.

You and Stolas happily discussed said plants, you genuinely smiling as one of the larger plants nuzzled up to you, you practically beaming as you discussed the various aspects of her fathers unique plant collection.

Octavia just sat on a nearby arm chair, smiling softly as you seemed to come out of your shell, right at home as you discussed the man's carnivorous flora.

The young lady smiling as she watched you engage with her father, practically beaming as saw your eager, giddy nature seep out, reminding her oh so much of what you were like before...

Before you met that Bitch!!!

You'd be discussing the unique features of a carnivorous plants when youd be interupted by an imp servant, the servant whispering something into the mans ear before Stolas would stand up staight.

Clearing his throat, the man would excuse himself, telling you something urgent had come up and he'd be right back.

And so, youd be left alone, you playing with one of his plants before shed turn to you.

She was about to ask you about your favourite part of fathers collection when a series of violent slamming sounds rang out.

The two of you froze, Octavia on her feet just as the shrill voice streeched out.

"Where the fuck is my Boyfriend!"

An all too familiar voice screeched, the girls feathers standing on alert, Octavias heart beating like a war drum as you instinctively pulled in on yourself, the plant on your lap pulling itself away.

You froze, eyes widening in horror, Octavia recognising that expression.

That look in your eye.

A look of utter horror and fear.

The sound of the palace doors slamming open snapped her from her state, the girl rushing over to you, stopping before you just as the heavy footsteps rushed onto the room.

You began breathing heavily, seemingly bordering a panic attack, Octavia about to reach out and comfort you when the door to the greenhouse suddenly burst open, the girl spinning around.

There she stood.

Your Ex girlfriend wasn't an ugly girl, not by any means.

At least not physically.

By all conventional standards she was a very attractive young lady.

Though Octavia couldn't give less of a shit what conventions may think.

She could have been the Queen of Hell for all she cared.

The bitch was your abuser.

And as far as she was concerned that made her the most repugnant bitch in Hell.

And if she had it her way, she'd be a dead bitch.

The young lady breathed heavily, clearly unhappy, eyes pearcing as she glared right at you, an ominous aura filling the room.

Octavia would take a defensive stance, the young lady stepping before you as you sat there holding yourself, frozen, shaking like a leaf as the young lady put herself in between you and your abuser.

"Come here. Now." The young lady ordered, her voice suspiciously level, eyes glaring, almost as if she were putting on an act.

Looking back at you, your eyes were glued to the floor as you gripped yourself, all but hiding behind Octavia, unable to gather the will, or courage to do anything but sit there.

"Darling." The girl began, voice suspiciously sweet. "I haven't seen you in weeks, I just wish to make sure your alright."

She spoke in a sinisterly sweet tone, extending her arms for a hug.

The girl suddenly all calm and seeet as if she were some caring figure. As if she weren't the bitch who abused you for Lucifer knows how long.

"He doesnt-" Octavia went to speak for you, wanting to tell her off, only for the other young lady to snap at her, telling her curtly.

"I wasn't talking to you!" She spoke, contempt thick in her voice. "I was talking to my darling boyfriend~"

She cooed, smiling to you, a sinfully sweet smile crossing her face as she softly held her hands out.

Octavia just sneered, planting her feet, intent on telling her off, but before she could speak you stepped forwards.

Octavia stared in horror, breath caught in her chest as she stared, the girl turning, raising an arm, about to say something when you looked at her, smiling softly before stepping before the girl.

The young lady just smiled, a sisnister glint to her eye that made her skin crawl, the girl smiling at you as you stood before her. Youd take a deep breath, composing yourself as you stepped to her.

But after a moment, you took a deep breath, and looking back at the girl with a surge of integrity, you turned to your 'girlfriend', telling her curtly.

"I think you should leave."

Your voice shook, fists clenching the hem of your shirt as you did your best to look at the girl.

Octavia was shocked, relieved and proud to hear you stand up for yourself, but a deep sense of fear would hit her, the young lady getting an ominous feeling in her guy.

The young lady on the other hand just froze, staring at you for several moments before speaking coldy.

"What did you just say?"

She was incredulous, a sneer crossing her face as she stared down at you.

"I think..." You began, breathing heavily, heart racing as you clenched your fists, trying to stay composed. "I think you should leave... We... I think we're done!"

If the young lady had been unhappy before, she was utterly enraged now.

Before either of you could even react, the lady had slapped you, the young woman grabbing you by the hair, violently yanking at it as she knocked you to your knees.

"You dont get to think! Is that how I trained you!?" She snarled, her voice suddenly booming as she violently yanked on your hair.

You were almost immediately on your knees in tears as she tore at a clump of hair, you desperately gripping her wrist as she yanked at your scalp.

"I put all my time into making you worth something and you think you can just walk away?! You dont get to think! You useless excuse of a Goetia!"

She snarled, voice filled with such venom.

You were in tears, sobbing violently, profusely begging for forgiveness as she brutally yanked on your hair, something she had done countless times before, the reason you'd started wearing it short.

But with your hair grown out, she once again had a solid grip, the pain intense, your body seizing with pain.

Before the bitch could say another word however, Octavia stormed over, slapping the bitch right across the face.

Hard.

The bitch stumbled back, releasing you, allowing you to fall to the floor, sodding as Octavia came to your aid, pulling you close, holding you to her chest as she shielded you, you quickly latching onto the girl, sobbing violently into her chest.

Seeing you cling to the girl, apologising profusely into her cheat, the bitch would become enraged.

Storming over to the girl as she held you, the bitch would raise her hand, intent on slapping Octavia, fire in her eyes as she stood over the young goetia.

However before she could strike the girl, her hand was suddenly grabbed, the bitch looking up to find none other then Stolas of the Ars Goetia standing over her, a powerful sneer crossing his face.

His eyes glowing a sinister red.

The bitches face instantly fell, the girl stumbling back, not getting far as his grip remeaind firm as steel.

The bitch tried in vein to explain herself as Stolas only tightened his grip on her forearm, the man glaring down at her before he snapped at her.

"Shut Up!"

He'd tell her bluntly.

"You see that boy?" The man spoke, a deathly cold tone to his voice. "He doesn't belong to you."

"He belongs to me now. To my family. He belongs to me and my daughter. Not you..."

Octavia would try and make sense of his statement, when Stolas suddenly smacked her with the revelation.

"That boy is now engaged to my daughter and I won't have anybody, least of all some spoiled little bitch daughter of a Duke abusing him."

Hearing this, the young woman's face went pale, Octavia's own eyes bulged, the revelation being a metaphorical slap to the face, even more so for her then the bitch before her.

"B-Bu-I-I, No I didn-nt."

The bitch tried to speak again, trying to justify herself to a prince of Hell, but Stolas didn't care, the man harshly twisting her arm, a sickening snap ringing out as the girl screamed bloody murder, her forearm bending at a disturbing angle.

You meanwhile just clung to Octavia, face buried in her chest, holding onto her even tighter as the bitch screeched in pain, Octavia holding you even tighter, doing her best to comfort you as you clung yo her, mind still processing her father's revelation as you flinched at the girls screeches.

The Demon Prince would drag the girl out of his Palace by her collar, the girl screeching and crying in pain all throughout.

The Bitch begged for mercy as Stolas rather ruthlessly tossed her to the street, using her amr as leverage as he threw her, the girl screeching in pain as she held into her shattered forearm, the girls yowls of pain being heard for blocks.

You meanwhile just sat in her arms, sobbing into Octavias chest, Octavia doing her very best to comfort you.

The girl both overwhelmed but also deeply concerned, the owlet pushing aside her own feelings and conflicting feelings as she did her best to help you, focusing on your emotional distress.

You'd cling to her, your violent sobs finally settling down as Stolas re-entered the room.

The man standing over the two of you for several moments before eoctavua looked to him.

"When were you going to tell me?" She'd ask softly after several minutes, not quite accusatory, but with a notable edge to her voice, her attention on you.

The man stood in silence for several moments before sighing, the avian looking down at the both of us.

"It was recent. Very recent. The finalisation only just being finished. Your mother managing to secure the agreement with his family only this morning. We were waiting for the right moment to mention it and well..."

They'd both look down at you as you desperately clung to the girl.

"He needs you dear. Now more then ever."

He'd stand there for several long moments before he'd step out of the room, the two of you being left alone.

You'd cry softly into her chest, the girl just holding you close as she gently hushed you, gently kissing the top of your head.

"... I'm sorry...." you spoke softly, gripping her arm.

Octavia would hush you, rubbing your back.

"Hey, it's not your fault." She tried assuring but you just pushed her away, wiping your eyes.

"No!" You began, barely holding back sobs. "You don't deserve this!"

You sobbed, pulling away as she reached out to you.

"You deserve a man who will protect you!" You turned, staring at her, an anger in your eyes as tears streamed down your face.

"You deserve somebody strong. And brave. And capable. And-And-Not somebody... Not somebody weak and helpless... you deserve somebody... some... thing... More..."

"And I'm... I'm just nothing..."

You finished so softly. So weakly.

The girl utterly decimated at the idea of you genuinely believing you were nothing... it was too much.

The girl would grab you, yanking you towards her as she forced you to look at her.

"Don't you dare!..." she'd sniffle, eyes welling up with tears. "You are something! You so much!"

She'd gasped, her breath shaky as she struggled keeping her composure.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me (Y/N)! My best friend..."

She'd begin crying, furiously wiping tears from her eyes.

"Your not nothing. Your everything to me (Y/N)... You deserve so much more and I'm so, so sorry!" She'd cry, looking to him, lip quivering, breathing shaking as she looks down at you. "I should have been there! I should have protected you!"

She'd sob herself, leaning into the crook of your neck.

"I knew it... I knew she was rotten and I... I didn't stop it when I could have..."

She'd cling to you, nuzzling your neck.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N)!"

You'd just hold you, utterly bewildered.

"N-No, Octavia, you-You saved me!"

You'd pull back, looking at her.

"Y-Your the best part of me! The best thing-person I could ever ask for!"

You'd tell her, struggling to stay coherent as your breathing hitched over and over again.

"You-You deserve more, so much more then m-me!" You'd sob.

"I DONT WANT MORE! I WANT YOU!"

She'd cry out, clinging to you.

The both of you standing there for several moments, staring at each other as the girl held back her sobs.

"You... Your my best friend (Y/N)... Your the only person I've ever wanted... you... you mean everything to me (Y/N)..."

She spoke softly, staring into your tear stained eyes.

You'd grasp onto her, the two of you holding each other close as you broke down in tears.

You just clung to each other, the two of you breaking into tears, clinging to each other as you broke down, your only comfort being each other's embrace.

Youd sit there, holding each other for what felt like hours, unable to do anything but cry and sob, desperately holding onto each other.

But eventually you would both settle, eyes running dry as you held each other, both of you just leaning into each other's shoulder, holding each other.

Time would pass in a blink, both of you leaning on each other before you'd finally pull back, sluggishly leaning back as you rubbed your eyes.

Silence would ring out for several minutes as you wiped your eyes, doing your best to compose yourself, neither of you really looking at each other as you sat there.

"... Did..." you'd wipe your nose, still unable to look at her.

"Did you mean what you said... about... you know..."

You asked her, unwilling to put it into words lest she utterly deny it.

Octavia would sniffle wiping her nose, straightening herself as she reached out, cupping your cheek.

"I did. And I still do..."

She'd lean in, kissing your cheek.

"You... you mean so much to me... please don't ever, ever say your nothing."

She'd turn you to her, looking into your eyes.

"You mean so, so much to us (Y/N). To me. To me and my parents. Your... your a part of us. A part of our family."

She'd nuzzle her nose against your own.

"Your the best (Y/N). No matter what that bitch may say or think. You deserve all the love and attention in the universe."

She'd hold you close as you broke into giggles, the two of you quickly breaking into laughter as you held each other close.

After several minutes of laughter you'd settle, humming softly as you pulled back, the both of you staring into each other's eyes.

"... Thank you... Octavia..."

You spoke softly, looking into her eyes.

Octavia just smiled, nuzzling you.

"You deserve it. That and so... so much more."

She'd reach out, pulling you into a hug, you happily hugging her back, the girl gently nibbling at the feathers around your face.

It was a simple, but intimate act between Goetia.

Preening. A simple, delightful act between two demons that truly cared for each other..

You'd giggle as she nipped and nibbled on your feathers.

Eventually you'd pull back, giggle as she smiled at you.

You both sat there for a long moment before humming.

"Thanks O. You... Your really the best thing that ever happened to me."

You'd sit alone for another moment before she'd smile.

Getting up, she'd extend a hand, smiling down at you.

"Let's go, (Y/N)... Let's get out of here. You need a shower."

You'd stare at her hand for several moments before a gentle smile crossed your face, breaking into giggles.

Taking her hand she'd pull you up, smiling warmly as you pulled on her hand.

You'd stumble slightly, sniffling as you looked you her, the girl holding you close.

"Thanks O..." You spoke softly, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Octavia just smiled, moving forwards as she held you, the both of you walking into her manor.

Your home. The girl embraced you completely.

The young lady loving you unconditionally.

[dcdreamblog]

We all know about how the HUAC trial of the 50s was, accentually, the end of the mystery men but something that is rarely talked about is the massacre of the 70s. where doctor Trapp killed over 35 superheroes and supervillains over 2 years, witch the most famous victims being the justice experience.

Care to talk about all of those fallen heroes?

Yes, well I must admit to my professional biases first. I know that one of my bad habits, the bad habits of my entire academic focus is that it makes it seem that there were no superheroes between the retirement of the JSA and the foundation of the JLA. It's obviously not true. If you're not from the United States you'd have good cause to be offended by the implication. But there's a reason. The first reason is that because my focus is on the Golden Age it's easier for me to present historical narratives from that angle to the layman, no offense. The second...is because of what happened to that forgotten middle generation.

The tragedy of the Justice Experience.

(Image of the Justice Experience created by famous cartoonist Bruce Timm. (OOC: Gwhitmore on DA). Perhaps for a never made cartoon along the lines of his famous MAU franchise)

They appeared in the early 70s, from the left to right: Acro-Bat, Bronze Wraith, Songbird, The Manx, Mr. Action and Major Flashback. They were a very low key organization but not by choice.

The media, and especially the police and the government were still deeply anti-vigilante by nature. The records of the Experience are heavily incomplete because anything they did was poorly reported and any criminals they caught were often fully credited to the police or the FBI no matter how much sense that made or how much everyone knew it was bullshit.

And that institutional disinterest probably killed them.

A villain by the name of Dr. Trap made it his personal mission to hunt down the heroes and villains of this era, as well as their friends and family. Due to legal pressure the heroes of this era had been unable to organize in the vein of the heroes of previous and following periods and the law enforcement of the time refused to take the threat of a supervillain seriously. Treating Dr. Trap as LESS dangerous than a normal killer due to his "eccentricities"

Nearly two dozen villains of the era were killed inside their own jail cells when prison staff refused to upgrade security or even increase nightly patrols.

The only survivor of the Experience was the Bronze Wraith who would later be revealed as an alternative alias of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter. The raid that eventually captured Trap was the only case between their dis-and-reappearance that prompted the public return of the Justice Society who were able to track down and capture Trap within HOURS using their wider organizational net and remaining government contacts, further placing a spotlight on the culpability of authorities in the massacre.

35 people lost their lives in less than 2 years, the powers that be have still yet to acknowledge the role of police disinterest in exacerbating the crime and allowing Trap free reign despite standing condemnations from both the Justice Society and the Justice League. To this day the Martian Manhunter holds a private vigil alongside those the Experience left behind, taking place not on the anniversary of their deaths but of their foundation, to further bring light to their deeds.

The Manhunter has very rarely spoken on his time with the Experience in public saying "their memories are a private matter". His is also quoted as saying "I made a vow to myself that no longer would I allow my allies to suffer in silence. I unveiled my alien visage to the world, I encouraged my teammates to operate openly and without fear. And forever more I have deeply mistrusted those who hold power in human governance."

Justice Experience Remembrance Day is July 6th.

[samah-h]

A Confession from the Heart of Suffering: An Unbearable Reality

I hope you read my confession, and thank you. This is the reality of all the people of Gaza.

Whenever I think of the life we used to have before the genocide, I have to struggle to hold my tears so I don't cause my children more pain than what they already feel. Our life, then, was neither easy nor perfect but it was full of warmth and the simple joy of being together under one roof .

We have never felt completely free because we have always been under a siege that has only gotten worse during this war but at least we felt somewhat safe and we had quite a decent life with the means that we were allowed.What kept us going was our belief that the future might be brighter one day.

Unfortunately, there seems to be no better tomorrow for us anymore. Nothing remains of our previous lives but rubble and memories, and the future is so bleak and full of uncertainties.It's not just the walls of our house that were turned into ruins, it's our hopes and dreams that were reduced to ashes. Now, we only dream of things that might seem so trivial to other people around the world like being able to sleep in and wake up in a comfortable bed or having a meal without standing for it in line for hours.

We dream of having enough clean drinking water so we don't have to worry about dying of thirst. We dream of the days we had a home with a regular kitchen and stove, the days we could celebrate special occasions with family in peace. Above all, we dream of not losing the people we love in a split second and of living safely and with dignity.

Instead, we have been wrongfully sentenced to a life of fear, displacement, and humiliation beyond belief. It is a living nightmare here now. Everything needed to ensure the bare minimum of decency and normalcy is denied to us. As you well know, there is no safe place in Gaza anymore and We are deprived of simple rights like having having a roof over our heads or enjoying some peace of mind for even one single day. The airstrikes and the buzzing of drones almost never stop. We live with a very real sense of impending doom day and night.

The water and food scarcity are only getting worse with time. Even regular chores like cooking or doing the laundry have become true challenges. I cannot propely bathe my children because the little water we get is polluted and their sensitive baby skin keeps getting irritated.

Before the war, my nine- year-old daughter was so picky about which outfits to wear; it made me laugh that she acted that way at her age but now we don't even have enough warm clothes for the winter. It kills me each time she says she doesn't need fancy clothes anymore and only wants to feel warm and go back to school. What makes it worse is our tent has recently been flooded by rain.

The whole camp turned into a swamp overnight. The children woke up soaked, shivering and terrified. It was almost impossible to calm them down as the rain kept pouring. We are doing our best but even if we succeed in finding the treatment, it's going to cost almost a fortune. This is why we need your support even more now.

All we do now is fight for survival every day. I never imagined,even in my darkest nightmares, that I would be searching high and low to put food in my children's mouths and keep them warm or that I would be begging the world to literally save their lives but I have no other choice now.

Despite the unbearable suffering we're daily going through, I still believe in humanity. please keep us in your prayers and help us anyway you can. Donate if you're able to,reblog and share our story as widely as you can.We are grateful to each and every one of you

Vetted by @bilal-salah0

7,464$ / 10,000$

[savagewildnerness]

The thing is, is Lestat truly *more* lonely as a vampire than he was as a human? Until Nicolas, Lestat was SO lonely as a human. Almost Lestat’s entire human existence was loneliness. No?

I *suppose* Lestat is too much of an extrovert-people-person. And so being a vampire; inherently separate to humans is Hard.

However…

As a solitary-inclined introvert, who still occasionally feels lonely, immortality, I imagine, would FREE me!

I mean OK Rolin, but when you have literal eternity with zero restraints imposed by age & decay & decline & impending death, you have eternity to achieve any personally fulfilling individual desire! Or to just enjoy what you love.

From my perspective… it’s an insult to the loneliness of mortals who must grow old & in so doing, inevitably everyone’s life becomes smaller & lesser in a way a vampire could never comprehend (& then we literally DIE) & if I wasn’t such a silent introvert & could speak my internal world the way I can type it I would stand there & argue my point with Lestat right NOW!!!!

(I had many more options, but they were all variations on No, with concessions, so better to keep it simpler, I thought…)

[yourlowkeyidiot3]

Salty rant v2

This is basically me angrily screaming about Ford again (wow what a surprise) to a wall (myself, my rotten brain and my blog) so feel free to skip this

Fuck it I'll bite

Gf fans when you tell them Ford had every right to be mad at Stan for ruining his Project (he saw it as the only chance to prove himself and get accepted in his dream school, and even tho WE know it was an accident, Ford doesn't he thinks it was a purpose sabotage and it really doesn't help that Stan didn't told him which resulted in him making a fool of himself Infront of ppl he wanted to impress and then Stan tried to pass it off as something that didn't matter even tho it mattered so much to Ford, like of course he'd be mad everyone would be mad in his position)

Gf fans when you tell them it's not Ford's fault that Stan got kicked out it's all Filbricks fault (seriously guys, blame the fucking abusive father, not the 17 year old living in an abusive household)

Gf fans when you tell them standing up against an abusive person (especially if they're your parent) is hard to do for yourself let alone for someone else

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wasn't the "golden/favourite child" Filbrick dgaf about him and only wanted to use his intelligence for money and both Ford and Stan were abused just in different ways (seriously find a different dynamic to describe an abusive household than "golden child" and "scapegoat" I say as I put a gun in your head)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wanting to go to college isn't egotistical

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wanting to make a name for himself doesn't make him egotistical (he literally grew up in an abusive household, and was bullied and treated like an outcast for most of his life, him seeking out validation is a trauma response not egotism)

Gf fans when you tell them if Ford is petty for correcting Stan's grammar then Stan is equally as petty for refusing to hold his hand over a thank you literally seconds ago (of course he had the right to want him to thank him and be mad, but it was the END OF THE WORLD, they are both responsible in that scene)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford isn't ignorant for being manipulated by Bill cuz 1) Bill is a master manipulator who's managed to manipulate and terrorise humanity since forever using lies/flattery/fear 2) despite having a high IQ he has a low EQ and therefore isn't able to tell if someone has ill intentions due to being....an outcast and therefore doesn't have the social skills to be able to tell others true intentions/manipulations which made him an easy victim for Bill (do u guys even know what manipulation means)

Gf fand when you tell them the reason why Ford didn't try to reach out to Stan was because he thought he was doing fine since he had seen an ad of his on tv (he had no way of knowing Stan was still homeless anymore, and you don't usually see homeless people's ads on tv), not because he didn't care

Gf fans when you tell them Ford didn't force Fiddleford to do shit for him, and that he was against the use of the memory gun and wanted him to get rid of it but Fiddleford literally erased his memories of it so he could continue using it. And that therefore Ford isn't to blame for everything that happened with the memory gun just cuz Fiddleford had bad coping mechanisms. (Seriously you all are acting as if he pointed the memory gun on his head and forced him to abandon his family and build him the portal. No!! Fiddleford made those decisions himself he could had left Gravity Falls at any moment and return to his family but no he didn't, he chosed to stay and start a fucking cult. That is on him. Not on Ford)

Gf fans when you tell them the way Ford acted during the time where he was literally being abused, manipulated and isolated by a demon is way more complex and naused than "ego! ego!".. because he was literally being abused and manipulated...

Gf fans when you tell them the reason why Ford called Stan to hide his journals wasn't because he only wanted to use him as a way to fix his mistakes but because he was literally really desperate and feared for the safety of the world and he didn't have anyone else he could trust and that he was hella traumatized due to being literally tortured both physically and phycological and sleep deprived and on the bring of insanity (of fucking course he wasn't gonna act logically and say mean shit he didn't actually mean, he was losing his mind! Stan had also said mean shit to him because he was angry but nobody talks about that)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford being mad at Stan for opening the portal is understandable, because 1) he literally ignored all the warnings that the portal could potentially destroy the whole world and 2) he was literally about to FINALLY killing Bill after 30 years of fighting for his life in the multiverse to try and find a way to

Gf fans when you tell them Ford's trust issues are completely understandable because he was literally betrayed, manipulated and abused by the "person" he trusted the most (Bill). And the other two people he trusted did something that hurt his trust on him (Fiddleford erasing his memories, Stan ruining his project)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford's and Bill's relationship isn't "toxic yaoi/messy divorce!" And that it was incredible abusive and that FORD was a victim ( average gf fan claims they "don't romantize/support the toxic ((call it abusive guys, that's literally what it is)) elements of this ship I just like to explore unhealthy dynamics in fiction:) *proceeds to make 10 posts of "he fucked the triangle!" jokes and gets mad at you if you actually point out the abuse and makes 100 aus where they get back together/stay together*

Gf fans when I tell them that I really don't care about what Alex has said about Ford being "egotistical" or "ignorant" because that's also the same guy who said he didn't intended for Pacifica to come off as a victim of abuse because controlling your child with a bell is total normal parent behaviour guys (/s). (I stopped listening to most of the stuff he said after that, not gonna lie, cuz most of the stuff he says about Ford's "ego" and "ignorance" are flat out victim blaming) ((I mean come on guys, he literally says he based Ford's and Bill's relationship off REAL LIFE toxic relationships he's seen and then he goes and says shit like how it's Ford's own "ego and ignorance" fault that he's ended up in that situation. Don't you guys think that's a bit weird))

[bloodycoolfrye]

الله اکبر🇮🇷🫂🇵🇸 Iran, Isfahan

Martyr Brigadier General Mohammad Reza Zahedi's cemetery

[violottie]

"Israeli forces have been targeting hospitals in northern Gaza again. Video shows medical staff and patients, including a newborn, fleeing Kamal Adwan Hospital after Israeli missiles struck its emergency department." from Al Jazeera English, 22/May/2024:

[11oh1]

[kinnoth]

If I see ONE MORE FUCKING PERSON be like "well I played and finished the dlc, but I'll wait to draw my conclusions about the lore until after the vaati video comes out"

FUCKING WHAT. It's not vaati's fucking lore! That man is just another fan, just like you! He is not your authority!!! Fucking dig up your own lore! All the information you need is there! Walk around the fucking game, open your eyeballs, and draw your own fucking conclusions!!!!!

I swear to fucking God you are all such cowards about "getting it wrong" that you are denying yourself half the fucking experience of the game by refusing to engage with the lore until someone tells you what to think about it.

Get your heads out of your asses!!!!!

[penwrythe]

Learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable is important. I'm genuinely not okay when I hear, see, and research more about the genocide happening in Gaza, the history of Israel's founding, and its terroristic actions. It is important for me to know.

Taking short breaks (usually a couple of hours or so) does help when things get too much. Then, I return and continue engaging with reblogs on Palestine.

I really don't know what else to say, but this genocide must end. All genocides must end and must never happen again. Keep talking about Palestine, Armenia, Congo, and Sudan! Keep protesting! Keep fighting!

What is important now is to be as loud as you can be! Raise ruckus! Make your voice unavoidable! Be as annoying as possible! Do not let your representatives ignore this!

[wingsofhcpe]

I don't even care anymore. Like it's so funny how much I do Not care. Even as recently as a year back, when I'd see a bad take online (be it meanuingless fandom stuff or serious real-ass issues) I would have imaginary arguments in my head, try to think of valid counterpoints, try to maybe see things from their pov, etc. Now i just see sth rancid and my brain immediately goes nah. Fuck this shit I ain't even gonna argue with you inside my head, you're just fucking stupid. Block. Go be stupid somewhere else.