#ask dark maga

[darkmaga-returns]

Hey man! Before you delete this ask because I call myself a leftist, I want you to read over this ask. I genuinely have no ill intent towards you, I just want to know how you would explain something. If you can give me a solid answer, you'd have "owned this lib". I legitimately want to give you the chance to speak.

Recently, your party made a move to kill a non-partisan government funding bill, at the will of Elon Musk. For this, the party risked governmental shut-down so they could make their changes to the bill. This is not where my question lies.

Among the cuts made in the bill, the party cut 120 billion dollars in pediatric cancer research. I am simply asking if MAGA and Republican party supporters can justify this.

Why did your party take away possibly vital cancer research for children?

Well since you said "my party" I know you don't actually read my blog

[jasmines-library]

Could u pls do a Winchester sister fic like (season 10 ep. 15) but instead of the parasite going into cole it goes into the sister and Dean tries to shock it out like in the episode but then she almost dies and they have to try and find another way

The Things They Carried

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Word Count: 2284 (wow look at me go)

Warnings: Uhhh not sure how to phrase it. Overall gore, kinda throwing up?

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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The woman had vanished without a trace. Well, at least at first. Her body was found strung upside down in the storage room of a remote part of the city Feyetteville, North Carolina. Perhaps one of the most perplexing parts of the victims disappearance, was that not only was she an Army Private, trained in Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu, but her organs had been drained, along with the bone marrow sucked out of her body. This is what had caught Dean’s attention. He now sat in front of you and Sam, the article pulled up on his ipad.

Sam raised his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling as he studied the article once more before handing it off to you. “So…cannibalism. You thinking a Rugaru?”

“Or a God. Maybe.” Dean agreed. A second later he was up on his feet, ready to go. Sam tried to protest. Ever since Dean got the mark of Cain Sam has been solely focused on trying to find a way to remove it. He was constantly on edge and you had to admit you were too. It seemed that no amount of research seemed to give enough answers on the mark. Eventually, with a look from his older brother and a defeated sigh, Sam let up and not even 10 minutes later, the three of you were speeding down the road.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrived in the city the first thing the three of you were told was that the local police had closed the case. However, they had given you a name, and the incriminating evidence. The sheriff; an elderly man, perhaps late 60s with white, thinning hair, had also told you that the offender had also committed suicide before the feds could lock him up. He also told you that this was the third suicide the city had seen in the last 6 months. A pattern. This was definitely something supernatural, if that wasn’t already clear. However, when Sam asked about the body, the sheriff informed the three of you that there were no bite marks, and that the victim had been killed with a bowie knife. That ruled out a Rugaru, leaving your trail dry.

The next step of the hunt was to speak to Beth, the offender's widow. She was rather distraught as she bounced her baby softly in her arms. When she glanced away from it, you could see the pain in her eyes; the dark circles that rim them. 

“Rick was a kind soul.” She insisted sadly, glancing down at the floor. The way she spoke of her late husband was filled with awe, but woven thick was pain that choked up her voice. You could tell that she still hadn’t processed her husband’s recent change in personality. 

“Did you ever notice anything strange?” Sam asked gently, his fingers clasped together as he leaned against the countertop. “Violent mood swings?”

“Weird smells?” You added.

“No….” The woman frowned. “But Rick was- he was-” she stuttered, unable to word what she wanted to say correctly, almost as if she didn’t really believe it or understand it herself. “He was thirsty.”

You tilted your head at her, her words catching your interest. “Thirsty for what?”

Her answer surprised you. “Water. He’d spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. And then, when I told him to stop it was like he couldn’t even hear me. And his skin; it got so dry it bled.”

Your older brothers watched intently. “Did he see a doctor?” Dean questioned gruffly.

The poor woman shook her head. There were now soft tears rolling down her face, mingling with the ghosts of the ones there before. “He just got put on a list to be put on a list. And then he stopped talking. He just wasn't himself–” she sniffled, shifting her baby in her arms. “I thought….maybe it was just PTSD.”

No one said anything for a moment before you broke the silence tenderly. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that Rick had been recently deployed.” Dean said. “Do you have any idea where?”

“No.” She answered rather bluntly. “That stuff’s classified. They don’t even let the wives in on it.”

And the trail runs cold again. 

But then, just as you were about to leave and Sam left your number, Beth stopped you again. 

“There’s one other thing.” she added. “I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She’s married to Kit Verson. A guy from Rick’s team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing.”

The trail picks up again.

After a little while running around after Kit Verson, discovering that he murdered someone else the same way that his friend did, the three of you ended up in an old shack that his wife believed he might have fled to. It was dark. Eerily so. However not as eerie as the trail of dead mice on the floor. Machetties in hand and guns in holsters, the three of your crept through the darkness of the hut. You found him hunched over in the back room of the house. His breathing was rough and ragged as though he might have run a mile at top speed. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, his head whipped around, bloodshot eyes boring into you. His mouth and face was splattered with blood and dirt, and his movements were erratic as he stood up to face you. He gripped you tight, cold fingers like icicles against your skin as he pushed you back against the wall. And then his eyes were pleading with you. The harsh crease between his eyebrows softened for just a moment as he used his body weight to keep you pinned up against the wood panelling. 

“I’m sorry,” he grunted out, wrestling with you to keep you in his grasp. “I can’t stop.”

And then, you were on the floor, dirty ground rising to meet you fast as he made you lose your footing. And then, as you struggled beneath him he made this awful gagging noise as the creature slithered out of his throat and forced its way into you. You coughed, gagging yourself as your brothers rushed into the room. They were on Kit in seconds, but he was strong, throwing your brothers around before dashing out of the door. Quick on his feet, Dean followed, leaving you staggering for breath on the floor with Sam.

“Are you alright?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he rushed to your side, helping you up off the floor.

You coughed. “Some-something’s inside of me–” a grimace spread across your face as you felt it move. “It’s alive–”

“It what?” Sam blinked. “What did it look like? Do you know what it was?”

“Khan worm.” Dean answered, catching on to the end of the conversation. “At Least i think it is. Why? Did you see it?”

You groaned in pain, so Sam answered for you. “It crawled inside her.”

Dean froze, his eyes going wide. “What?”

Sam nodded grimly. 

“Did you see what it was? Dean asked worriedly. 

You coughed, hands flying to your mouth. “Khan worm.”

“Shit.” Dean cursed aloud, running his hands through his hair. 

“We have two options.” You said, trying to hide the grimace on your face as you felt the worm moving, ,crawling under your skin. Neither of the two options were very pleasant at all. You and your brothers had worked a case with Khan worms a few years ago and there were two ways that you discovered the worms could be killed. And while these worms seemed slightly different to the first ones you discovered, you figured that they were similar enough that the same rules would apply. The first option was probably the most forward one, but it also involved certain death; a headshot to the infected person that would cause the worm to flee the body where it would then be crushed by Sam or Dean. Option one was very clearly off the table. The second was far more painful, but it also harboured greater chances of survival. 

Dean began to protest immediately. “No. No no. there’s got to be another way.” 

“You know we dont-”

“Kid….” Sam started. 

“Just do it. We have no other choice.”

Dean sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright.”

~

Dean had managed to find two batteries hidden in the small cabin. He placed them grimly on the table with a thud before connecting two of the jump wires that Sam had gone and collected from Baby’s trunk. You were sitting in the armchair, fingers gripping the leather as you waited anxiously. Sam tried to give you some comforting words, but you weren’t sure who he was trying to comfort more; you or himself. 

“Alright.” Dean said, his voice laced thick with an anxiousness and guilt he was yet to shake. He brought the cables over to you as you took a deep breath, placing a wooden spoon between your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue. 

Settling back in the chair, you took a moment to collect yourself. To prepare for the agony you were about to put yourself through. And then, you gave him a brief nod 

The sudden pain when Dean pressed the jump cables to your skin was overwhelming. Unbearable. A million agonies all combined to one as the electricity raced through your veins. You screamed, crying out as your teeth bit down on the wood of the spoon, which helped to muffle the sound. Both of your brothers winced at the sound of your agony as you twisted and writhed. Sam had to look away and Dean had to force himself to keep the cables against your skin though he yearned to take away your pain. But nothing happened. As soon as your brother removed the cables, you were panting for breath, trying to recover quickly from the pain. You couldn’t help but notice the looks on your brother’s faces.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head dismally. The parasite was still in you. 

“Go again.”

Dean startled. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Go again.” You strained. 

Dean collected himself, and then; the same pain. But still as you writhed. Fists clenching and nails digging into your palms the worm remained inside you. And your brothers were growing increasingly concerned. Your movements began to slow as you grew quieter and your eyes fluttered, drooping with a sudden heaviness. Dean pulled the cables away immediately and you slumped back against the chair. Your head lolled forwards against your chest and your breathing was concerningly slow and laboured. 

“Okay….okay…” Sam said gently, slipping an arm behind your back to help support you.You whimpered slightly at the movement. “ Shh. You’re alright sweetheart.” he glanced up at Dean, fear and worry evident in the creases on his forehead. They would have to find a different way to get the worm out.

~

You were sweating. Gods….you’d never been hotter. Your body still ached as you sat in the armchair of the cabin. The old leather was flaking off and was practically covered in a sheen of your own sweat. Sam and Dean had pushed it towards the fire, leaving you to sweat against the heat. They had figured that as the parasite needed water, if they could make you sweat it all out…then the creature would leave. But now you were practically slumped in a chair, dark veins crawling up your neck as you tried to rid the worm from your body. You coughed a little, your throat dry, with no way to soothe it. Thirst…..that was the only thing that consumed your mind…you were so. damn. thirsty. Your body craved it. Anything you could get you would take….even your own brothers’ blood. The parasite yearned for something. You could feel it, squirming around inside you. Uncomfortable, you whined before coughing a little, doubling over on yourself. 

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. You have to sweat it out.”

“Can’t–” You coughed. 

“Yes you can.” Dean shut you down quickly. “You can’t give up. Winchesters don’t quit.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your head spun. You felt sick. But you knew you couldn’t give up. You were in for a long waiting game. 

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were on the verge of breaking down that you began to feel it slithering up your throat. You gagged, coughing as you tried to expel the creature from your body. 

Sam and Dean were by your side in seconds, both trying to coax you through it, ready to stomp on the worm as soon as it made an appearance. Sure enough you managed to cough it up uncomfortably. It splattered on the floor, squealing as it writhed and trying to slither off to infect someone else. It didn’t make it far before Dean slammed a heavy boot over it. And once more for good measure. It squelched under his shoe, peeling off from it as it stuck to the floor. He grimaced at the sight before moving to crouch beside you, checking on you.

You wiped the string of saliva from your mouth with a grimace before gratefully taking the water bottle Sam offered you and wasting no time before drinking it to quench your impossible thirst.

“That's it. Easy, Sweetheart.” Dean cooed. “It’s over now.”

“You did it, kiddo.” Sam said, guiding you to lean back in the chair more. “We knew you could do it. We’re proud of you.”

(A bit of a rubbish ending! I'm sorry i wasn't sure what to do)

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SPN TAGS:

@xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @rosecentury

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[justagalwhowrites]

The Campaign - A TSATS One Shot

You're doing your part to get out the vote and Joel is doing his part to protect you while you do. AKA Bodyguard!Joel beats the shit out of a Trump voter.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel Miller x Movie Star!Female Reader (from The Savage and the Sanctuary)

CW: Joel beating the shit out of a Trump supporter. That's it, that's the fic. Also mentions of the misery that's befallen us since Trump and all the general misogynistic bullshit of this Godforsaken timeline. No use of Y/N.

Length: 1.1k

A/N: Look. I desperately want to beat the shit out of everyone I see wearing a MAGA hat but, unlike (my version of) Joel, I'm not a 6'5" man with years of experience beating the shit out of people so I can't. Wishing exactly what they voted for on every Trump voter there is and then this too because they deserve it. OK ENJOY LOVE YOU!

Joel was about ready to strangle you. 

Why the fuck you’d volunteered to go out and try to get a bunch of fucking college kids to vote was beyond him. Sure, he knew the election was important, but did that really mean you needed to personally go try to talk to as many idiots as possible in an unsecured area? 

He ground his teeth. You were standing on campus, surrounded by a mob of 20-somethings, each with their fucking phone in hand so he couldn’t even tell if someone was holding a goddamn weapon. Anything was safer than this and yet, here you were, doing it anyway. 

“Can I get a selfie?” One girl asked, practically glowing at the sight of you. 

“Of course!” You said and you smiled and put your face next to hers so she could take a photo. “Can I convince you to vote in the upcoming election? We really need voices like yours to be heard loud and clear.” 

“Definitely,” she said. “I already have a plan for getting there!” 

“That’s what we like to hear!” You said. “Just go online, make sure you’re registered and that you know your polling place and the times. Sound good?” 

She didn’t get a chance to respond, a man in a red Trump hat shoving his way through the crowd, pushing a student into and making you stumble. 

“Hey!” Someone in the crowd protested the intrusion but the man ignored him. 

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” The man got in your face. “We don’t want your coastal elite bullshit getting mixed up in our government!” 

Joel went to intervene but you held a hand out, stopping him. He clenched his jaw but obeyed, standing at the ready in case things got out of hand. 

“I understand,” you said gently. “I’d probably be upset, too, if I were you. But it’s my government, too. I live in Austin, I love it here and part of showing that love is getting involved…” 

“I don’t give a shit,” he stepped closer. “Get the fuck out of here and leave our kids alone, you fucking bitch!” 

He went to shove you and Joel stepped in then, putting himself between you and the fucking Trump guy before he could lay a hand on you. The man’s hands ended up square in Joel’s stomach, bouncing off almost comically. 

The man was shorter than Joel and definitely weaker. He tilted his head back to look Joel in the eye, an unkempt beard growing in on his neck, his eyes narrowed.  

“That was a mistake,” Joel said, his voice dark and deep. 

“Joel,” your hand went to his shoulder but he shrugged you off. Yes, he was here to protect you but your almost callus disregard for your own safety made him want to pull his goddamn hair out and now, here you were, ready to just let this asshole off without any consequences. 

And fuck if this man didn’t deserve some fucking consequences.

“Need to you to apologize to the lady,” Joel said. “And take that fuckin’ hat off before I shove it up your ass.” 

“If you think I’m about to just let her indoctrinate a bunch of kids…” 

The man made the mistake of leaning around Joel, starting to reach in your direction, and Joel’s patience was nearing its end. 

He shoved the man back before he even really thought about it, making him stumble and sending college kids scrambling back. 

“Joel -“ your voice was sharper now, but he ignored you. 

“Step back,” Joel said, his hands clenching into fists. “Last warning.” 

“Fuck you,” the man said, stalking up to Joel again. “And fuck that bitch, too.” 

Joel’s fist caught the man off guard, not even getting the chance to flinch before it connected with his face. 

The man cried out, stumbling and disoriented, but Joel stalked after him, catching him on the chin and sending him sprawling to the ground. 

“Joel!” You yelled, but you seemed far away in that moment.

Instead, Sarah seemed close. He thought about the 2016 election, when Trump won and Sarah was all of 12 years old. She’d just started getting interested in shit like politics, she was excited about a woman running for president and Joel’d had to explain to her why someone would say something like “grab ‘em by the pussy” and have half the fucking country voting for him. 

Things had only gotten worse in the years since. He had to explain Brett fucking Kavanaugh to his daughter, had to watch as fucking Nazis burned torches and marched through the streets with her, had to just sit there as assholes like this man in his red goddamn hat tried to make life worse for her. 

Back when he had her, he had a reason to keep his nose clean and stay out of trouble, even when dealing with assholes like this. That reason was gone now and so Joel did what he’d been wishing he could for the last damn decade. 

The man tried to get up from his place on the ground but Joel didn’t let him, all but diving on him, grabbing him by the collar and holding him there so he could land blow after blow on his face. He clumsily tried to swing at Joel but he didn’t even feel it. When that failed, his hands scrabbled over Joel’s arms, trying to pull himself free. It didn’t work, either.

Hitting the man again and again hurt but it was a strangely satisfying kind of hurt, one that felt just and righteous, like Joel was finally doing something that was worthwhile. He was hurting someone who deserved it, he was protecting you, he was defending a world that would have been better for his daughter. 

“Joel!” You pulled hard enough on his shoulder that he was forced to pay attention. He was panting for breath, his knuckles bloody, the man’s face a mess. He looked back toward you, at your wide eyes in your unsettlingly perfect face. You looked afraid, but not of him. You were afraid for him. “You can’t do this, you can’t just… Joel, you have to stop.” 

He dropped the man to the ground where he lay, moaning, cradling his broken face. Joel ripped the hat off his head and he groaned in pain. 

“Should’ve listened,” he said, before holding up the hat. “I’m keepin’ this. Get fucked.” 

You looped your arm around Joel’s waist, pulling him against your side and he could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on your face as you led him away. 

[intheholler]

what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

[ravenna-reid]

I SEE RED

[ Part 3 to Crimson Red ]

TW: swearing and violence and maybe like one suggestive line

I'm beyond glad so many of you like this series!! This one is a lil longer, so I hope ya'll don't mind. Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

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You began to pull your arms away from Jason's waist, but not before his gloved hand quickly enveloped one of yours.

"What are you doing?" His hold was eager, his voice drowning out from the rush of the cars around you.

Rain continued to belt down onto you both, the chill settling deep into your bones.

"I'm gonna need both hands for this! Trust me!" You shouted through the helmet. Jason held onto you a second, hesitant to let go until he focused back onto weaving through the cars with his motorbike.

You and Jason had found out who that sniper was that shot your shoulder and wrecked Jason's apartment. And you both decided to pay him a visit and give him a little gift. Just a mean threat, a few bruises and broken bones here and there. That's all. Actually, you had left half-way to look at the snipers impressive collection of CD's, so you didn't really know what Red Hood did to him. You figured it would have been pretty gruesome given what the man had done to the Hood's apartment, but you didn't realise that Jason was bent on rage due to the fact that the man had shot you.

Now you were both speeding down one of the back streets of Gotham on the back of Red's motorbike. Four cars followed close behind, given the sniper had about a hundred men working for him. Too bad you could only use your abilities on two people at once.

Grabbing onto the grab handle on the back of Jason's seat, you managed to quickly flip around so that your back was against his and you were facing your pursuers. Gripping on tightly with your legs, you prayed you wouldn't fall off the motorbike as you raised your hands.

You could feel every bone. Every vein, organ and muscle. With one hand outstretched, you slowly turned the other. Then, with the slight tilt of your head, you felt the men driving the two cars closest to you struggling for air. Both of the black cars swerved, taking out one another. Two down.

You actually felt that you and Jason had the upper hand. Until you remembered the other cars and saw a man hanging out of one of them, submachine gun in hand. And before you could even raise your hands to snap his fingers, bullets began to rush towards you.

Jason immediately swerved off the road, collecting trash cans and other bits and pieces as he tore down the alley way. Usually, after a while, he'd be able to regain control of his motorbike. But with his mind on you and his arm instinctively reaching to grab you, his motorbike soon began to slide on its side before crashing into a nearby warehouse.

You and Jason sat there a second on the dilapidated motorbike, limbs aching and hearts racing. "Thank the Lord." You let out in a deep breath as you threw your helmet to the ground.

The crash wasn't that bad and you'd both experienced worse. Getting to his feet, Jason looked down at the crushed metal and torn leather and let out a long sigh.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to crash you." Jason continued staring down at it, hands on hips, as you gave him a dramatic pat on the back.

Engines revving and tires screeching. You and Hood both immediately looked down the street as the two cars raced towards you.

"Quick, get in the building." He urged.

You raced in and quickly enveloped yourselves in the darkness and waited. All there was was sound. The click of Jason loading his guns. The sound of yelling and car doors slamming outside. The drip, drip, dripping of a leak in the warehouse. You raised your hands, prepared to fight.

"Do you even know how to fight?" He asked.

You deduced that he must have night vision in his helmet.

"Yes," You hissed. "I did Krav Maga for a few years."

Jason smirked. "Think you could best me?"

"I'd certainly like to try."

The men, with their torches, knives and guns, suddenly stormed the building and your first goal was to wreck the one with the submachine gun. You effortlessly did so and he now lied on the ground writhing in pain. After dealing with a few more men you glanced over at Hood, impressed with his strength and marksman skills. But then it suddenly felt like lead was seeping into your bones and weighing you down.

There were too many men. You desperately tried the best you could. Hiding amongst the shadows and harming two at a time. But they were catching on, some of them starting to realise that you needed both your hands to perform your ability.

You took a strike to the face and doubled over. Red Hood seemed to as well, judging by the sound of his pained yell. Blood stained the cement ground around him as he held onto his ribs, a ghastly gash sitting on his skin beneath his suit. He put up a good fight, but men were kicking at him. One of the men picked up a disregarded crow bar. More were closing in on you.

Fear coursed through your veins like electricity. No, it was more like an itch running through your body. Something you'd never felt before and you couldn't explain. But you weren't about to stop and question it. Instead you closed your eyes and begged that what you were about to do would work.

You elbowed the guy that had one of your arms pinned back before quickly raising them. Slowly, they stopped in their tracks. One by one. Wincing, aching, grunting in pain. Something thick got caught in your throat, and you realised it was too much, but in that moment you didn't care. Your hands trembled as you pushed forward, performing your usual poses. The hold you had over them seemed to have a hold on you too. Because as you forced them all to their knees, you began to sink down to your knees as well.

Jason watched in disbelief and awe. The men were struggling. They were absolutely helpless. Blood began to trickle from their noses and the corner of their mouths. Some were beginning to cry. But you didn't stop until you knew Jason would be safe. Until they were all out cold. And that's exactly what happened.

Pride racked your chest as a dozen men laid before you. Silent and still. You looked over at Jason, a silly smile on your face, before crashing to the floor and hitting it hard.

"Crimson!" Although in pain, Jason made it to you in no time. He quickly pushed the wet hair clinging to your face out of the way. "Hey, you're ok. You're ok." He said, noticing the blood beginning to trickle from your nose. Something wrung his heart like a wet cloth. Hood took the leather jacket from his shoulder and threw it over you. "It's ok, you're going to be fine Crimson."

He continued gripping at you, urging you to respond. But you couldn't talk, your throat burning, so instead you went with a nod. Slowly, his figure became a haze, then a sudden blur of red and grey before

everything

went

black.

You'd woken up the next day tucked into your bed. Silk doona pulled up to your chin. Two glasses of water, headache medication and chicken soup sat on your bedside table. Your fingers raised to brush against the mask that was still on your face. He didn't removed the mask. Your playful smirk soon ended up turning into a genuine smile.

"Thanks Red."

Days went by, and once you were well enough to be out and about again, Jason was ecstatic. He explained everything to you. How he ended up calling back up, how said back up helped him with the men and looking after you.

"Don't worry, afterwards I carried you home myself." He said, assuring you that your location was kept a secret, and a small flutter began in your stomach.

You asked who he had called, but he only replied with a smart ass comment about how your Krav Maga failed you. You rolled your eyes and went about your mission, and Jason smiled beneath his helmet. He couldn't believe what you had done. How you had pushed pass limits and achieved something you didn't know you could. How you had taken those men out simply with a few simple hand movements. You were a prodigy in his eyes. And he was just happy you were ok.

One particularly late night, you sat on your bed after patrol and stared out your bedroom window, letting the moon bathe you in its light before beginning your bed time routine. Neon lights were streaming on the building across from your apartment block. Cars raced on the road down below. The stars were trying hard to be seen, but that was impossible with all the light pollution in Gotham. Your mind continued wandering as you sat there, that was until you heard a squeak from one of the windows in the lounge.

"Hey Red." You said before he even entered your bedroom.

"Hey." He said, setting his helmet down onto your desk.

Jason stood awkwardly at your door, something he'd been doing a lot lately, as he watched you lean down to untie your shoes. Pausing what you were doing, you looked over at him with furrowed brows. He watched as your hair, and that red lace, fell over your shoulder.

"You can come sit down Red."

Jason nodded, cleared his throat, then hesitantly walked over to your bed. Then he sunk into your crimson bedding and took in the warmth of your room. The scent that enveloped it.

Once you finished untying your shoes, you moved closer to Jason and suddenly all the air had been snatched from his lungs. If he had no shame, or if he could actually function, he probably would have asked if you were using your abilities on him.

"Checking on me again?" You asked. It had been the third time this week.

"Maybe." He admitted looking down with a smirk.

"I'm fine now Red, I promise."

You placed your hand on top of his and immediately, he looked up at you. Did you realise what you were doing? Was this simply a friendly gesture? That glint in your eyes said otherwise, and it had him swallowing hard. Shit, could you ever really be his?

You were leaning closer, slowly, surely. Your hand running along his abdomen where the knife cut from that night probably left a scar. Chills ran down his spine, and although he didn't realise it, he was leaning in too. Admiration was evident in Jason's eyes as you stared back, a soft and loving smile adorning your face. Different from your usual smile. A smile he'd never seen before. A smile only he could earn.

"Jason..." You whispered, and shit how he loved how you whispered his name. It was like a whole drum set was now banging and bashing inside of Jason's chest. He raised his hand, warm fingers brushing your cheek before slightly slipping under your mask.

"May I?" He asked reluctantly.

You nodded. "Mmhm."

He pulled your mask off, and once he saw you he had to take a second. He took in every little feature and came to the conclusion he already knew. You were breathtaking. But maybe it was the trust you were showing him that was really making the brutal, sarcastic Red Hood so lovesick.

"Fuck, this is what you've been hiding from me?"

You gave a breathy laugh, your cheeks becoming tinted with pink. Jason leant closer, his breath fanning your skin. Hand tightening around your own, your leg now brushing against his. Until he paused.

"Can I kiss you?"

The fact that he asked made you melt.

You smiled again. "Mmhm."

And suddenly, his lips were on yours. Gentle and tender, almost as though he wasn't sure if this was what you really wanted. After a few seconds of bliss, his doubt got the better of him and he pulled back. But when you crept forward and your hand clutched at his collar to pull him deeper into the kiss, well, then he was all in. Hand gripping your waist whilst the other went to your hair. You felt giddy. Safe. Content.

And as the sounds around you drowned out and the kiss slowly progressed, his lips began to trace your skin....

[ghostlyforxst]

Could I request some fluff for the platonic yandere maga kiribaku au like if the reader was scared of storms and tu were being punished and left to sleep alone in the cold but then a storm starts and they start crying or the start to shake because the at scared .

I will understand if you can't do this but thank you anyway.

GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Astraphobia, Snake Creatures, and Fluff

CHARACTERS: Kirishima Eijirou and Katsuki Bakugo

WORD COUNT: 325

A/N- Thank you for requesting, hope this meets you expectations!

Your hair billowed in the sighs of the intensifying winds, discerning the skies rumbling with an imminent storm and the subtle lighting zipping throughout the night sky. You curl up into your quivering body in the cusp of the nest away from the snoozing serpents. You've been awake for the past hour, unable to receive a lick of sleep. Your eyes and ears were fooling you, hallucinating hair-raising creatures in the darkness and hearing odd noises derived from it—your deceiving organs and the nearing storm had you distressed undeniably.

Admittedly it was stupid of you, you wouldn’t be facing this situation if you hadn’t said those nasty words. The guilt you felt after shouting awfully about their deceased snakelings and how much you detested them, the guilty pressure worsening when you perceived Kirishima’s lips wobbling with tears and Bakugo’s face saddening. You felt your own tears bubble up, your trembling heightening as the wind whisked the downpour into the hollow tree and onto you.

Unknowingly the two nagas laid awake with you and listened to your tiny sniffles, wrestling with themselves to not yank you into them and coddle you—it was crushing them, they themselves couldn't sleep without you between them.

Your heart quickened and your cries became more noisily as the lighting flared more frequently, yelping as it struck a tree nearby. Bakugo and Kirishima raised abruptly, eyeing your soaking form concerningly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Kirishima asked, wincing as his fingers reached over and caressed your cold skin.

You peered up at him and whispered, "no, I hate storms."

"Awe baby…" Kirishima cooed, swooping you into his arms.

"I'm sorry." You spoke hushly, nestling into his chest with a pleased hum. "For earlier."

Kirishima and Bakugo smiled, nuzzling into you and swathing you with their tails. "It's alright, my snakeling."

[bitchy-peachy]

Holyshit, maga are dumb.

There's a rumor going around on tiktok that liberals are planning on poisoning maga males with Aqua Tofana and now they're being all weepy and talking about covering their drinks to "avoid" being poisoned.

First of all, you people ain't worth enough of a shit to go to jail for by using a now traceable poison.

It also takes multiple doses to kill someone with this poison. It was meant to make the death look "natural" rather than sudden, so nobody is gonna be doing a walk-by poisoning on you while chatting at a club.

If you see someone saying stuff about using Aqua Tofana on people they don't like... Do you know what a fucking joke is? I'm asking this as someone that loves dark humor. Even I've made jokes like this but in reality, you ain't worth committing crimes for.

Stupid ass people. Even all the articles popping up about it are dumb and show the lack of intelligence (although the 4b movement is real, the MATGA one is purely obvious satire).

I'm cackling. You fear monger yourselves so hard cos you know you're such unlikeable shits. Like go outside and make some friends, damn.

[e-dubbc11]

Ericca, my love. A huge congratulations on your follower celebration. You deserve every single one and a thousand more 🥳❤️

So... I wanna push you out of your comfort zone a little and request a little drabble made from a gif and I'm gonna choose our dear Rumlow 😉

But also... can I pair it with a kiss prompt? "If you win, I'll kiss you"

No pressure at all, since you haven't written for Rumlow before, but I hope this could inspire you 😁❤️

My lovely Lily,

Thank you for being such a good friend to me, you’re always so supportive and encouraging. And thank you for following me and being a part of my celebration. It means so much to me that you read my fics and our daily chats are some of the best parts of my day.

And thank you for this ask, I’m REALLY nervous about writing for Rumlow so I hope you like what I did here. Oh and it’s a little more than a drabble 🤣

Never Again

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of domestic abuse, injuries as a result of said abuse, lessons in boxing and Krav Maga, little violent.

Word Count: 3.9k-ish

Summary: You’re relatively new in town and you start working out at a nearby gym where you notice someone there that could help you with a problem from your past.

A/N: So yes this is my first time writing for Rumlow, I’m terrified but I had fun writing for someone new. And it’s a little longer than I intended but such is life! I hope you like it. And this has a very J Lo in Enough feel to it.

*********

You passed that building every day on your way to the gym. It was intimidating to look at even from across the water, wondering what was inside, wondering if anyone was looking down at you as you drove by the large complicated building with more windows than you could count but it was the building that he headed for every day after his workout.

Well, he did on the days that you and he finished your workouts at the same time.

Sometimes you would sneak into the part of the gym that had the boxing ring and watch him while you jumped rope, not well, but it was passable. He was amazing to watch, dominating his sparring partners with what looked like a combination of fighting styles.

Boxing, Krav Maga, Karate, and probably a few more but you didn’t know the difference. You had no idea how to fight, but you wanted to learn.

It might be helpful the next time your ex finds you because you knew there would be a next time.

The daily routine of trying to cover your bruises with makeup was exhausting and you didn’t want to do it anymore, you didn’t want to be scared anymore so you decided you were going to approach him.

He had a daunting look to him, wild brown hair, amber colored eyes, days old stubble, and his face always looked like he was filled with a dark rage but you had caught him smiling a couple of times when he wasn’t busy being cranky. So he did know how to smile but it was painfully obvious he didn’t do it very often.

After an aggressive run on the treadmill, you turned to step off and crashed right into him. He looked annoyed at first but when he looked into your eyes, his expression softened. You immediately apologized.

“Shit, I am so so sorry. Are you ok?” You asked, wiping the sweat off of your face.

Anger returned to his face when he looked at yours.

When you had wiped the sweat off of your face, you had taken some of your makeup with it, uncovering the greenish-yellow bruise around your eye that you had forgotten was there.

“Who did that to you?” He asked with a gruff tone to his voice.

Not remembering you had a bruise around your eye, you replied to his question. “Did what?”

He moved in closer and feeling his breath against your eyelashes, he gently turned your face toward the mirrors along the wall.

“That! Who did THAT to you?” He repeated again.

Quickly turning away from the mirrors and breaking away from his touch, you lied to him.

“Oh I’m just really clumsy, I walked into the corner of the door.” You said.

He seemed annoyed with your answer. “Right, if you say so, Miss. Have a good day.” And with that, he turned to leave.

But you didn’t want him to. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“WAIT!” You called out.

He stopped, turned and waited for you to catch up to him.

“Teach me…please.” You begged. “I’ve tried restraining orders, the police, they won’t help me. I feel like you might be the only one who can…I’ve seen you fight.”

He dropped his bag from his shoulder, placed his hands on his hips, and glanced at the ground before returning his gaze to you. The heat coming from his body hit your exposed skin and sent a shiver down your spine.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and returned his arms to rest at his sides. Bending at the waist, he picked up his gym bag and started to walk away.

Your stomach dropped as you watched him walk away before he turned to look at you once again.

“Be here tomorrow…noon. I’m Brock…Rumlow. Be ready to work. If you are thirty seconds late, I’m walking.” He said.

“Of course, yes I will be here Mr. Rumlow.” You said in a shaky tone. “I’m y/n.”

Brock cracked a slight smile. “Just Brock, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow. And do me a favor…”

He closed the distance between your bodies so he could whisper in your ear.

“Leave those bruises uncovered. I want you to take one more look at them because after I’m done with you, those will be the last set of bruises he’ll ever give you.” He growled and he walked away without turning back.

You had a feeling you were in for a long afternoon tomorrow.

**********

The clock said 11:45.

You made sure you weren’t just on time, you were early, changed and ready to work. You saw Brock walk in and head straight for the locker room, he was dressed in what looked like tactical clothing, all black from head to toe and black boots. He noticed you waiting for him and he held up one finger as if to tell you “one minute” or “be right out.”

You had done as he requested and left all of your visible bruises uncovered. The one around your eye was going away but you could still see the greenish-yellow mark on your face and also the hand and fingerprints on your arms and neck.

Feeling self-conscious, you tried to position yourself in a way where they weren’t so visible but it didn’t do any good. You felt like everyone was staring at you, even though they weren’t. They didn’t look as bad as they did before and they were also taking a long time to fade.

He emerged from the locker room dressed in black shorts, sneakers, and a white muscle shirt, plus his signature sour look to his face. But you had to admit, that look was rather sexy.

You watched carefully as Brock taped up your hands and then taped up his own. You were a fast learner so you should be able to tape up your own hands tomorrow, if you lasted through your first workout.

“Ya ever done any self-defense or boxing before, sweetheart?” He asked.

You shook your head before answering him. “No, never.”

“Ok…well, hope you’re ready to work.” He said.

“I am.” You replied.

And he did work you, he worked you harder than you’ve probably worked out ever before. He started with the basics…how to stand, loose knees, elbows tucked in, and the basic punches.

Brock showed you the jab, the cross, and the hook. Then taught you some of the basic combination punches: 1-2 (jab-right cross), 1-1-2 (jab-jab-cross), and the 1-2-hook-2.

Your time together went by quickly. And more than once you had caught Brock looking at the blue and purple marks on your upper arms as you threw punch after punch, encouraging you and praising you for when he thought you did a good job.

During one of your water breaks, he asked you, “When did you leave him?”

He caught you off guard, you weren’t expecting him to converse except when he was giving you lessons but it was nice to talk to someone that wasn’t yelling at you. Brock was surprisingly gentle.

He would always ask and make sure it was alright before he put his hands on you to show you something and his voice was stern but he never yelled at you which was comforting.

“Oh, awhile ago but he always manages to find me wherever I go, hence these bruises.” You pointed to the bruise around your eye.

“And he doesn’t know where you are now?” He asked.

“No, not yet but he has connections and money so I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before he does. This time I thought I’d try a bigger city, maybe he wouldn’t look for me here in D.C. but I’m just tired of running and being afraid, Brock.”

The man of few words had even less to say than he did before. He was silent, the look in his eyes was sad but not sorry. He didn’t seem the type to feel sorry for people but it was almost like he was proud of you for escaping, for leaving when a lot of people would just stay and take it.

You didn’t want to be one of them.

“Why does he keep chasing you then? What does he want?” He asked.

“I took something. Something that meant more to him than I ever did.” You said.

Brock looked like he was on the edge of his seat waiting to hear what you were going to say, before you cracked a sly smile and said,

“I took the cat.” Followed by a light giggle.

A smile stretched across his lips bigger than you had ever seen him smile before and he started shaking his head.

“The cat? You took the fuckin’ cat?” He asked in a surprised tone.

“Hey, Peanut is MY cat, not his!” You said, sass dripping from your voice.

Taking a sip of water, he inched closer to you while you were seated at the edge of the boxing ring and he was standing. Bending at the waist, he rested his hands on his knees so his eyes were level with yours.

You swallowed hard and heat rose to your cheeks as he continued to stare at you before he said in a low voice.

“I just don’t wanna see you get hurt anymore and especially not because of a cat, sweetheart.” He said.

His words didn’t faze you on the outside but on the inside you felt hot, and butterflies appeared from the depths of your stomach but you kept yourself calm and collected before responding to him.

“Well that’s why I have you, right? To teach me, I mean.” You said softly and trying to make it sound like you DIDN’T find him attractive, but you were pretty sure you were failing miserably.

He broke the awkward silence between you.

“Ya ready to do it again tomorrow?” He asked. “I gotta get to work.”

“Oh yes, absolutely but I’d really like to pay you for your time…please?” You asked.

Brock pressed his lips together in a straight line and shook his head furiously. “No, no I don’t want your money, doll. I honestly think you’re a natural fighter and I wanna teach you everything I know so you can be prepared, alright?” His voice was rough and stern.

You nodded and nervously bit down on your lower lip before changing the subject.

“Was that your work uniform you walked in wearing earlier? Can you tell me what you do or if you tell me, you’ll have to kill me?” You joked.

Brock smiled again. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow, same time.” He handed you a roll of tape. “Ya think you can tape up by yourself tomorrow?”

“I can do it.” You said, confidently.

He extended his index finger to point at you. “Ya know I’m gonna check it, right?”

“I know, I said I can do it, Brock.” You said with a slightly annoyed voice.

You hated being doubted.

“Ok, ok I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He said, throwing up his hands with a smug smile on his face.

**********

6 Months Later

“Come on, you can do better than that Princess!” He said condescendingly through gnashed teeth as you fought to free yourself from the tight grip he had you in, pinned against the wall. “Ya want his hands around ya pretty little neck like this again?! DO YOU?!!!” He yelled. “Come on, y/n!!

Six months ago, he never would have dared to grab you like that or yell in your face but you were much stronger now than you were then.

His hot breath hit against your face, and you managed to turn to the side, your elbow hit his forearm and his hand bent up at the wrist and you were able to quickly elbow him three times in the face.

In the six months Brock had been training you, you’ve managed to graduate from the basic boxing moves to Krav Maga where he really taught you how to protect yourself and how to inflict pain on your enemy.

You were making quick work of the sparring partners he had brought in for you to practice against. They were becoming less and less challenging and there was only one person you wanted to spar against to make you feel like if your ex attacked you, you would have the confidence to fight him off and that was Brock.

He had awakened something inside of you that you wouldn’t have known was there if it wasn’t for him. When he first started training you and said you were a natural fighter, you wanted to prove him right, that you could fight and you had the strength to not be pushed around anymore.

And the only way you were going feel good enough about your new fighting skills is if you could defeat him one on one.

“You’re gettin’ good, sweetheart…real good. Those guys are a little too easy for you, aren’t they. What do ya wanna do about it?” He asked.

“I wanna spar with you, Rumlow.” You said, breathing heavily.

Brock scratched his chin and playfully chuckled at you while shaking his head. “No, you ain’t ready for me yet, doll…you’re just not. You’re good but you’re not THAT good.” He said smugly.

You narrowed your eyes at him and suddenly became very agitated. The man was so sure that you couldn’t beat him, that he wasn’t even willing to give you a chance to prove him wrong.

Working out very close to Brock for the past six months caused you to develop some deeper feelings toward him too. Yes, you were friends but also you felt maybe he had an attraction to you like you had toward him.

There were subtle hints like you’d catch him staring at you while you were taping up your hands or getting a drink of water. Sometimes he’d wink at you when you performed well on a lesson he was teaching you. And he was smiling just a little bit more than you were used to seeing.

Anytime he put his hands on you during a lesson, he would always ask if it was ok or if he hurt you in any way to just tell him.

He never wanted to push too hard in case you weren’t ready for that yet. Sometimes after your lessons, you would take him out for a beer and he’d ask you questions about you ex.

“You can always tell me to fuck off if I’m askin’ too much, ya know. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you to talk about. Please don’t feel like you have answer me if you don’t want to. I don’t even know him but I wanna kill him for hurting ya.” He had said.

You gave him a warm smile. “I don’t really know anyone else in this city except a couple of co-workers. I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, Brock. No other friends so thank you for listening.” You had said.

You had a feeling that he wanted to kiss you but he didn’t. Did he stop himself because he thought of you as damaged? Did he think he was taking advantage of your teacher/student relationship?

Sometimes it was all you could think about after you went home for the day. You had dreams about his lips colliding with yours, teeth nipping at your chin and jawline, and his calloused hands exploring your body, touching you in a way that you’ve wanted him to from the first second you saw him.

But maybe he was a betting man.

“You don’t think I can win, do you.” You said.

He thought he could catch you off guard by trying to punch you in the face but you were fast and blocked him.

“I ain’t gonna take it easy on ya, Princess. You know he won’t either.” And he threw another punch at you with the other fist, which you also blocked.

“I wasn’t asking you to.” You said with a coy smile before elbowing him in the stomach. “How about a little wager?”

“What do ya have in mind, y/n?” He asked.

You pondered for a brief moment. “If I win, you have to tell me what you do for work that requires you to wear all that tactical clothing.”

“Ok. And if I win?” He asked.

You moved in close so the two of you were sharing the same air, you were both breathing heavily and as your breath hit the skin on his throat, goosebumps skirted across his skin and he gazed down at you with a primal look in his eyes.

Looking up at him through your long dark lashes, you answered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you, since you’re apparently too chicken to do it.”

Brock wasn’t afraid of anything so now he was determined to win. The devilish smile that stretched across his lips told you he definitely wasn’t going to hold back and he would do whatever he had to make sure he wins the bet.

He had taught you to be very aware of your surroundings, aware of things that could be problematic like tables and other furniture that could get in the way if you had to fight off your ex in your own home but right now you were surrounded by gym equipment, the boxing ring, and the walls.

“You got yourself a bet, sweetheart.” He said.

“Well ring the bell and let’s go, Rumlow.” You replied.

As soon as that bell rang, he came after you and throwing different combination punches and kicks at you. Since Brock was bigger than you, you thought it would be best to try and wear him down so he’d make a mistake. You would use his size and strength to your advantage, ducking and weaving as he threw punch after punch at you.

Throwing all of his weight behind those punches was making him tired as you danced around him, punching him in between the shoulder blades and kicking him behind the knees but he didn’t stay down.

The rage in his eyes that you were so used to seeing everyday had returned as he got his second wind. Keeping his punches close to his body this time, he tried to get you to bring your hands down by attacking your body but you pulled him close to knee him in the stomach. Using all of your strength to throw him to the mat, only to watch him roll and get right back up again.

He was fast, really fast, but you took notice of his fighting patterns so you could counter with combination moves of your own.

You had to get him to the mat, it was the only way you were going to beat him. Suddenly you felt a hand around your throat like he had done earlier but this time being in the corner of the ring.

There wasn’t as much leverage you could use against the ropes as you could against the wall to try and free yourself but he left himself open, his legs were too far apart so you were able to take a swipe at his front leg causing him to fall to the mat.

Kneeing him in the chin, he fell flat on his back and you saw your opportunity to wrap your legs around his neck, in the hopes that he would yield…which he did.

“Fuck, your legs are strong!” He exclaimed, breathing deeply and trying his best to catch his breath after you climbed off of him.

You were trying to catch your breath also as you wiped the sweat from your brow. “S-so I’ve b-been told.” You said panting and trying to smile at the same time.

Brock stood up carefully so he wouldn’t lose his balance. Maybe in that brief moment in between your legs, you cut off his air supply which made you chuckle a little.

You removed your sparring helmet and started to take the fingerless fighting gloves and tape off of your hands. He did the same before he spoke again.

“Well y/n…looks like you beat me, fair and square. I supposed I gotta tell you what I do for a living now, don’t I.” He said, looking defeated.

You threw the helmet and the tape onto the mat and slowly walked over to him, still trying to catch your breath. You stopped inches away from him, the heat radiating through his t-shirt as you rested your hand against his chest and the other touched his cheek.

“Maybe another time.” You said, pushing yourself up onto your toes and gently pressing your lips to his.

Feeling how tense his body was, you pulled away and apologized only to have him pull you flush to his chest and his lips mash against yours as if he was trying to flatten and destroy your mouth.

His stubble scratched your cheeks but his lips felt so good against yours, his tongue slipped into your mouth causing you to softly moan and gasp into his mouth.

Winding strands of your hair in his fingers, he gently bit down on your bottom lip and gripped your head firmly as if to keep you from escaping.

But you let your guard down and he knew it so he swept your feet out from under you causing you to fall backwards onto the mat.

“Hey! You yielded, Rumlow!” You yelled, looking up at him. A rare genuine smile stretched across his lips. “Careful, you pull shit like that and you’re gonna end up with your head between my legs again.”

He helped you to your feet, pulling you in close and his voice sounded like a hiss from a dying fire as he whispered in your ear.

“The next time my head is between your legs, sweetheart, it will be because you want me there, trust me.” He said with a wicked smile.

His words, the gruff tone of his voice, the look he gave you…all sent delightful sparks down your spine and a guttural moan escaped your lips as he attacked your lips once again.

Caught in his firm embrace, his lips traced up and down the side of your neck before his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Brock was just about to pull it over your head when you both heard knocking on the boxing ring doors and voices.

“Time’s up, Rumlow!!!” They said.

You broke apart quickly and laughed a little with each other before he yelled to the people outside the doors.

“Alright!! Just gimme a second!” He bellowed.

It’s a good thing your face was already flushed from the workout so the people that walked into the room couldn’t tell that you were blushing. Biting down on your thumb, you waited for him to come back into the ring.

“I, uh, guess we’re done for the day.” You said with a warm smile.

He replied. “Let’s go, doll. I’ll take ya home.”

After many long kisses outside your apartment door, and even though you didn’t want to, you finally said goodbye to Brock. Your heavy make out session at the gym made you realize that before having him in between your legs again, maybe a date first would be a better decision.

Smiling from ear to ear as you closed the door, you placed your keys on the table and put down your gym bag.

And that’s when he made his presence known. There was a touch of acid in that cold, hard voice of his when he spoke.

“Hello sweetheart. You’re getting better and better at covering your tracks. I’m impressed. Miss me?”

He had found you…again. And by the tone of his voice, he sounded like he wasn’t letting you get away this time.

Others that may enjoy: @fluffyprettykitty @qu1etwolf @redstarsandnightmares @gijos

[evita-shelby]

12 Days of Smuff:

Day 12: Candlelight and Collaring

Luca Changretta x Eva Smith

cw: smut, dom/sub dynamic(m dom/ f sub), collaring kink, master/slave dynamic, blowjob, cum eating, slight degradtion kink, breeding kink

The ring on the choker twinkles in the candlelight making him think up of ways to remind the witch he was her master and she, his slave. The Italian Capo had not expected the Maga to be into that, but God did it feel great to have a cultured lady in the streets and a filthy whore in his bed.

“You’re playing with fire, pussycat.” Luca toys with the heart shaped ring hanging at the center of the black choker.

Eva is not fond of playing by the rules.

He should’ve known she’d made this dinner a game for just the two of them.

But the witch looks good in the collar masked as a simple choker.

“Maybe you should remind me what my place is.” She's in a mood to be the submissive one tonight. The witch can switch things up and have him on his knees for her, but tonight she wants her husband to put her in her fucking place. “Besides, they won’t know what it means, and if they do, well, you get to punish me all night long, Luca.”

This kink of theirs was reprieve for her. A reprieve of being the most powerful woman in the world and the deity the Black Hand owes all its successes to. Spinetta has been running her ragged to ensure this next fight with the gangs encroaching on their territories goes as it should, it is no wonder why the witch decided to wear the collar to show she is the submissive wife of Spinetta’s biggest threat.

To be relegated to chattel and be used like the whores his younger brother likes too much.

“Behave for me and I might be a good master to you.” Luca smirked before taking them back to the candlelight dining room.

And she does, she is the perfect wife and hostess who has their guests completely unaware of how easily she gives her husband the leash that came with the collar. They think she is the one in charge even in their marriage, and yet the collar winking at them in the candlelight tells a different story.

“Have I been good, master?” Eva asked in the now empty dining room, the candlelight giving her beauty a mystical feel to her. Like a creature created solely by God for Luca’s pleasure.

He sits at the host’s chair and beckons his wife closer until she is kneeling between his spread knees.

“Yes, you behaved so good for me I might get you a better collar for more nights like these.” The older man put on the leash they hide on their bedside drawer along with all the naughty things their Leonardo isn’t allowed to know about.

There had been close calls, but the boy luckily remained unaware of the sordid fucking that produced him and would give him a sister.

“A gold one with emeralds to go with the earrings you got me for my birthday.” The witch suggests revealing she knows what one of his gifts to her this year will be.

“Ask your master nicely, pussycat.” The Italian tugged at the leash and his witch of a wife obediently undid his trousers with great care and waiting for his command even if her eyes are dark with anticipation of what happens next.

Luca would fuck her face here in the dining room with the expensive candles and wipe his seed off her pretty with the linens even his boss cannot afford. Then he intends to bend her over the table and be as rough as the witch can handle him being.

“Please, master, may I get a new collar, so everyone knows I belong only to you?” the witch asks desperate to take his cock into her wicked mouth and be his ever-obedient wife.

The suffragettes would be scandalized by her behavior, to see such an indomitable creature reduced to a far too willing sex slave because nothing makes her cum harder than having her husband be rough with her.

A shame she didn’t misbehave tonight, nothing better than punishing her until she’s a filthy mess on the tablecloth. It would be a sight to see, the witch fucked dumb on the table and filled with his cum and begging him for more.

“Please your master well, and I’ll give you the best money can afford.” The capo allows her to suck his cock, and the witch takes it greedily as if she didn’t give him head this morning.

She is good with her tongue, licking the precum beading at the head and then running it along the shaft before taking it all inside her mouth as he trained her to do during their long honeymoon in Rome. A perfect whore for the Italian Capo who intends to rule the world with her.

But he is not in the mood for letting her please him at her own pace, Luca grabs her by the silky dark hair carefully arranged in the latest styles and pulls on it until it falls out of place as he sets a harsh pace.

“Did you think your master would go easy on you, pussycat?” he groans as he fucks her pretty face only to pull out and cum all over her tan neck and the low-cut velvet gown. The cum looks as good as her best jewels on her in the candlelight, the ruined velvet making sure the next time she wears it the witch will be fucked until they’ve given their sweet little boy a sister.

Perhaps he’ll tie her leash to the bed and not let her leave it until she’s pregnant, he thinks to himself as he takes one of his fingers and gives her a taste of his seed.

“You should.” The witch said as she licked his fingers clean believing their scene had come to an end.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to read my mind.” He smirked as he tugged at her leash enough to make her wince. Not enough to truly hurt her, but enough to remind her he is her master until he says it’s over.

[darkmaga-returns]

Turn your boop on

Just turned it on

Not exactly sure what it's about though

[tobiasdrake]

Do you think that optimistic stories are gonna be needed more than ever in these incoming dark times?

Probably. Art tends to reflect culture and also, to some degree, shape it.

It will be interesting to see what sort of media this new political landscape produces. I'm expecting a lot of "Fascism bad" that gets derided as preachy. "Do we really need to be told for the eleven billionth time that Nazis are evil?" people will ask aggravatedly while literal Nazis march in the streets behind them.

There are a lot of people who are shocked, scared, and horrified about what the right has become. Who were maybe willing to give it a pass when Americans elected Trump the first time, that maybe they just didn't know better, but saw the writing on the wall when Americans eagerly rushed back to Trump for a second serving of racism, violence, and misogyny.

And I'd expect to see that shock and fear reflected in the art that the evolving culture produces moving forward.

But I'm also expecting a lot of "Jack and Jill have different political beliefs, but it's important that they be able to come together as family and community." Because Americans think politics are as inconsequential as which set of jerseys wins the Super Bowl. A lot of people really are just out there to win it for the Home Team and don't think policy actually shapes our lives in any meaningful way.

To many Americans, being upset about the election is worse than electing the wrong guy. The problem is you for taking it so seriously, for actually caring about the consequences. They see themselves as enlightened for thinking that the government does nothing, all politicians are the same, and who you support says nothing about you personally. Why let something so trivial as voting MAGA break up a friendship? Or a family? Or a marriage?

And I'd expect to see that centrist condescension and "Why So Serious" trivialization reflected in the art that the evolving culture produces as well.

What I don't expect to see is a lot of pro-fascism stuff. The Right's cornered the market on news punditry but have never been very successful at mainstreaming their fiction. Because.

Well.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Alt-Right fiction sucks. They've written books and produced movies and TV shows, and it all sucks. Because it isn't made creatively. It's created in anger. The Alt-Right is just angry. Fascists are just angry. They don't want to participate in culture. They're mad at culture and want to shoot it with verbal guns.

And that gets reflected in their media, which is too often more focused on trying to dunk on somebody than on telling the story that they're ostensibly here to tell.

There is good conservative media out there. Hell, live-action Sonic the Hedgehog is surprisingly conservative. It's a story about a cop learning to appreciate small-town rural living and stop yearning for the glamour of the big city, while being harassed by Big Government Overreach. There's a lot of conservative values in their interpretation of the video game.

But there isn't any good Alt-Right media out there, because they're too angry to write. Lady Ballers is an offensive piece of shit, but it's also a bad movie. Its story is flat and self-defeating, its characters are uninteresting and fail to grow or change in any meaningful way, and its comedy wildly misses the mark.

Because that's what happens when the only thing you're interested in as a creator is, "How many people can I offend with this?" You end up writing a protest sign stretched out to the length of a novel. The audience for Ben Shapiro's "teen girl goes Die Hard against a school shooter and proves the merits of gun ownership" action movie is very niche.

So the Alt-Right will be encouraged to keep producing furious dogshit, and it will continue failing to gain any real ground among the mainstream entertainment market. But we can probably look forward to a lot of antifascism and a lot of condescending centrist finger-wagging in media to come.

That's my prediction, anyway.

[americas1suiteheart]

Gundham Tanaka dating headcannons

Notes; I'm writing this when I have 6 other drafts of other fics goin' on, let's completely discard that, though. The reader's ultimate is the ultimate artist, and this isn't a killing game type thing, just the island life type deal. This is also like, a headcannon/oneshot kinda deal I think.

Extra notes; This is a friends to lovers deal, slow burn style😘 (also, fem reader, sorry :(

Warnings; Foul language (though I don't think there'll be a lot)

╔⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊷⊷╗

-Just like he was with everyone else when meeting them, you should expect him to be a little "weird" at first. Regardless of that, you continue to talk to him, you found him interesting, almost like there was some sort of "aura" that pulled you in.

-And when he shows his Devas, you go absolutely feral. Well.. maybe not feral, but definitely a mix of happy, and surprised, exactly how most of the other characters reacted, but either more than that or less, depending on you of course.

~ "Do you have anything that kinda, I don't know, like, 'helps you' in using your ultimate? Books and stuff I guess?" You ask, putting your sketchbook back into your messenger bag.

"Kehehe, that would be useless! Behold! The four dark devas of destruction! Fuahahahaha!" Gundham says as his devas pop out from his scarf.

"Oh my gosh they're hamsters! They're so cute! Do they have names?"

"Cute? How dare you! And hamsters are only their temporary forms! This is Maga-z, San-D, Chum-P, and Jum-P! Keep your distance, for they are dangerous to mere mortals." Gundham says dramatically.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing that I'm not just some "mere mortal" huh? Oh, wait hold on. I think I have something in my bag." You say as you search through your bag. Finally fishing out a pack of sunflower seeds, you place a few in your hand. "There! Do you want these for them? I'll be honest I don't really think I'll end up eating these. You could have them as it'll definitely go to much better use." You motion for him to open his hand, then putting the loose sunflower seeds into his palm.

"T-thank you.."

-After that interaction I feel like you wouldn't leave him alone. Clingy, yes. But to have the opportunity to sketch his "Dark devas of destruction" as he said, you'd do anything.

-Creepily enough, being the ultimate artist, you'd probably try to seek him out due to him always having the devas.

-Yes, yes. It's not exactly a good thing to do, but you were so desperate. But maybe if you just asked him, it might've been a little easier.

-So that's exactly what you did.

~ You took out your e-book and flipped through the different areas, finally finding Gundham's little character pinned at the front of the hotel entrance.

You make your way there and spot him, finding him with his devas in his hands as he looks at them.

"Hey, Gundham." You say softly as to not startle him.

Gundham looks up from his devas to turn his head in your direction.

"Ah, Y/n!" Gundham says, putting the devas on his shoulder.

"Hey, I was wondering, and of course if you don't want to it's fine, but do you think I could sketch your devas? I'll give the drawings to you, I just.. need something else to draw other than the scenery of this place. It's all the exact same, there's no difference in my art no matter what and it's making me go insane!" You clear your throat and apologize for the change in volume.

"You want to draw my Dark Devas of Destruction? Do you think you'll have the power to be in such close proximity with them, mere mortal?" Gundham says dramatically.

"I believe I do, Gundham. And if I don't, then you shall watch me perish."

You had began talking to him in the same eccentric way he does. Thinking maybe he might understand more? Or maybe even go from calling you just a 'mere mortal' to something less.. hurtful?

"Hmm, I see. Very well then. And where do you wish to do this?"

-You just spend most of your free time with him and his Devas sitting in your room together. Maybe you have a little pile of sunflower or pumpkin seeds in a small bowl to keep them from going hungry.

-He's like, looking at you in this absolute awe at you wanting to draw *HIS* dark devas.

-He's a little anxious at what "dark magic" you might be putting on them when sketching them, almost like a voodoo doll.

-Is relieved when you hand the sketches to him and tell him to keep them.

-He probably hangs them up somewhere in his room. Kinda like how a proud parent would with a kids drawing on their fridge.

-You try to gather small picnics or even just hangouts with him, and while it definitely takes a while for him to finally let you, you start drawing him, too.

-It could just be some quick sketches you do while he's telling one of his stories about some great overlord he defeated or another one of his great tales without him knowing, or with him posing knowingly.

-He's just.. so much fun to draw.

-"...the thing was foolish to believe it could defeat me; Gundham Tanaka! Fuahahaha!" Gundham says dramatically.

Gundham and you were sitting in his cottage just hanging out as he told you one of his many entertaining tales.

He sat on his rocking chair, holding Maga-z in his hands as he fed him an assortment of seeds carefully, a soft smile on his face.

When he was telling these stories he was typically so into them that he wouldn't pay any attention to anything else, with the exception of any of the Devas he might have with him too, of course. So it was very easy to draw him without him knowing.

The nice thing about him not knowing was that he looked a lot less anxious, a lot more natural, and didn't have the same serious look that painted his face every time you asked him to pose for you. Right now he looked so happy.

"What are you doing?"

You look up from your sketchpad at Gundham who had now gotten up from his chair, crossing his arms with Maga-z now on his shoulder.

"Aw, you moved.." You say with a pout on your face. "I was drawing you, until you moved. I think I could still finish it, though." You sigh.

"Hmm.."

You could see a pink blush dust his pale, grey complexion. More obvious then he might think.

-You obviously show him all of the drawings you did of him and the devas in your sketchbook.

-He absolutely adores when you do this, it makes him feel special and.. warm..?

-You'll show him some of the other stuff you have in your book, too.

-Some of it is scenery. Maybe flowers or some random stuff you find on the island, but most of it is other people on the island.

-When I say most of it is other people, I mean like, literally only 4 others. Your drawings of Gundham and the devas take up most of it.

-Not gonna lie, he got a little upset when he saw a sketch of Kazuichi working on something on one of the pages.

-I dunno, they like, got a small mutual dislike for eachother. Unnecessary beef.

-He didn't say anything about it, but you could tell he was *very* obviously grumpy the rest of the day.

-Maybe particularly snappy with Kazuichi when he came across him, too?

-He has absolutely no clue why either. Brushes it off as Kazuichi just being an annoying individual.

-He's just a little right about that in general, but that's to be left unsaid. Also, emphasis on "little bit".

-At this point, the both of you are practically with each other constantly. You'll eat lunch together sometimes, walk around the islands together, and obviously just hang out inside of each other's rooms, just enjoying each other's company.

-Maybe if you're lucky or if you try hard enough, you'll get him to hang out with you and others.

-Maybe at one of the beaches, another one of the parties/gatherings, or even the amusement park!

-Though he'll be a big baby about the coaster, no matter how much he says "It's nothing compared to the many brawls I've had", so please hold his hand..

-"Aww yeah! I'm getting pumped up now! C'mon, c'mon, get on faster guys!" Akane says excitedly.

Everyone had gone to the 3rd island to go to the amusement park, and then after we could go to the beach. All Sonia's idea, and of course Kazuichi couldn't say no, then neither could Nagito, then Mahiru, then Himiko, and the rest of it was all just a domino effect. Though, a good amount of it was because of Byakuya being bossy and demanding that everyone else be part of it.

And there everyone was. Nothing else in the park was any good other than the roller coaster, so that was the first thing everyone went to. We'd probably only go on a few rides until a few people began to get sick.

"NO WAY! I'M NOT GOING ON THAT THING, I'M STAYING HERE!" Kazuichi screams.

Man, you'd think for a guy that presents himself as such a "manly" guy, he would at least be good to go on amusement rides.. how.. sad..?

"Quit being a big baby! Get on the damn thing already. It's not like it's going to kill you." You tell Kazuichi.

"Yeah! Your holding everything up, you're a man, by the way, remember? You're supposed to be able to handle these things, you know?"

"NO WAY, MAN!"

You pinch the bridge of your nose and rub your face.

Some shouts and pleas from Kazuichi and laughs from Nekomaru grab your interest and you look up, only to see Kazuichi being picked up and forced onto the ride by Nekomaru.

You laugh to yourself at the scene as other people do the same.

Others had begun to take up some of the carts, Nekomaru standing aside, waiting. Assumingly because of his stature, that he didn't want to block or cause any problems for anyone who would be behind him.

You look up to your right at Gundham, who seemed more pale than usual (which was surprisingly possible), a look of worry or possible fear apparent on his face.

"Hey, are you okay, Gundham?" You ask, placing a hand on his arm.

He flinches slightly at your touch. "Ha! What makes you think I am not?" Gundham replies, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

"I don't know, you look a little pale. Are you scared to go on?"

"I think he's always that pale, Y/n.." Mahiru says.

Gundham pauses for a second.

"Fuahahahaha! I am Gundham Tanaka! To think I fear anything makes you a fool. This mere machine is nothing compared to the many hounds and demons I have fought and defeated."

You look at him and let go of his arm, turning away to walk into one of the carts.

"Alright then, come on in if you're so tough." You pat the seat next to yours.

"Is that a challenge?" Gundham asks, getting on and sitting next to you.

Before you could respond, the ride immediately takes off.

It was definitely faster than any of the other rides you'd ever been on, but hell was it fun.

"Yaaaaaaahoooooo!" Akane shouts in joy.

Screams from Kazuichi made it more then obvious that he wasn't having fun.

"I'm gonna die...I'm gonna diiiiiiiiiiie!"

"Tch...! What overwhelming g-force!"

You smile widely and lift your hands up, making it give that thrill that you feel you'd fly out.

"Be still...my heart!"

You look over to Gundham, his face even more pale then when we were originally first getting onto the ride. He was gripping onto the railings as hard as he could and looked like he was going to pass out.

"But.. this is fun!" Sonia exclaims.

You giggle to yourself and pull your arms down, placing one of them on top of Gundham's hand.

You felt a little bad for laughing, but to see him scared was definitely a rare sight you'd never let go of. You made sure to take a mental picture of it.

The rest of the ride was filled with Kazuichi's screams and pleas to "kill him", shouts of joy from Akane, and some other shouts from others, including yourself.

Gundham remained and kept that same look of fear on his face.

Man, you're really hoping that this thing takes photos. Maybe Mahiru can make copies, or Monomi, maybe that rabbit could prove to be useful.

After the ride was over and came to a stop everyone got out of their carts.

"Hey, hey! Let's go on one more time!" Akane says excitedly.

"I agree! Once more!"

"I vouch for that, too! Let's go again!" You say, agreeing with Akane and Sonia.

"No! No friggin' way!!!" Kazuichi screams.

Teruteru looks around and agrees with Kazuichi, as well as Hajime.

Gundham grips your hand and looks at Hajime. "I..I agree. My Devas tell me it was intense and far from enjoyable.."

"You took the hamsters with you!?" Fuyuhiko says in shock.

"Devas!" Both you and Gundham say in unison, correcting Fuyuhiko.

Everyone looked at eachother and began to whisper, which was quickly interrupted by Sonia.

"Alright then! Shall we go to the beach, now?" Sonia says clasping her hands, a large smile on her face.

-Honest, Gundham doesn't even realise he's holding your hand up until you arrive at your cottage so that you can retrieve and change into your bathing suit.

-Doesn't let go until you're going to change and you have to tell him to let go so you could change.

-Poor guy is so flustered and embarrassed when you tell him.

-You and Gundham walked to the main island so that you can both go to your cottages to get your bathing suits, still hand and hand the whole time.

-You didn't dare let go, it was..enjoyable.

-You arrive at your cottage and retrieve your keys from your pocket. Unlocking and opening your door with one hand was just a bit harder then you'd think. Like trying to turn the door handle without dropping your key directly onto the floor where it could've fallen through the crack of the dock.

Walking into your room you go into your top drawer and grab your bathing suit, which had just conveniently been the drawer where all of your undergarments were held.

Your cheeks quickly flushed in embarrassment.

You walk to your bathroom, hands still interlocked with Gundham. Now this was just a little over the top.

"Uh, Gundham. You're still holding my hand and I gotta change, man.." You say, looking down at your hands and then back up at him with an awkward smile on your face.

"Hmm...?" Gundham makes a hum in confusion before looking down and realizing that he was in fact, holding your hand.

He quickly lets go and profusely apologizes more times than would be necessary, stumbling over his own words and trying to explain he hadn't known, EVERYTHING.

He was clearly flustered, and you felt bad but man did he look cute like that and with such an obvious blush on his pale face.

"Gundham, it's okay, don't worry. I don't mind, I just think it would've been a bit bold for you to walk into the bathroom with me when I needed to change, don't 'cha think?" You joke, trying to calm him down.

It only made it worse.

More apologies, and then he left your cottage in a rush, tripping over the end of your rug on the way out.

He's so awkward sometimes, but that's what makes him all the more interesting to be around or to be friends with in general.

Silly.

-It took him a while to show up at the beach.

-I feel like he'd be embarrassed/flustered for a while and it takes him time to get decently calmed down from it.

-He's real upset when he walks to your cottage to find that you've already left for the beach.

-He's like a sad puppy.

-Tries to walk as quickly as he can to see if he could catch up to you. Couldn't. You'd already made it long before so now he's even more upset.

-I feel that because he sorta isolates himself, once he finds someone he actually enjoys being around he gets like, real clingy.

-I'm totally not making that a headcannon because I do that..

-"Where's Gundham? That guy's constantly attached to you, it's kinda weird not seeing you two together." Kazuichi asks you, taking the volleyball from your hands.

"He was getting changed when I left. I'm pretty sure that he'll be here anytime soon."

You felt pretty bad for just leaving him, and you did wait by his door for a while, you really did! But after 15 minutes of not even hearing any sort of movement in his cottage other than the wheel that was in the Devas' cage making noise.

You talked to Sonia and Mahiru while you waited for him. It was mostly you and Mahiru doing the talking due to your similarities in ultimates, just as you always did.

"You'll have to take some pictures for me so I can draw them! I love drawing scenery with birds and bugs and such, but they don't stay still so it's never how it originally looked. Not as beautiful." You exclaim, presenting an idea to Mahiru.

"That actually sounds like a great idea, Y/n! We should do trades! I can take the picture, you draw it, and we'll trade some of them!" Mahiru seemed just as excited about the idea as you did.

You suddenly hear a gasp of what seemed to be excitment from Sonia from next to you.

"What? Are you alright Sonia?" You place a hand on her shoulder.

"There's your boyfriend, Y/n." Hiyoko says from behind you, snickering.

You look back at her then ahead to see a grumpy looking Gundham.

You now blush at the comment. Realizing what she was implying.

"He's not my boyfriend." You grumble at her.

You take your hand off of Sonia's shoulder and walk to Gundham.

He was in swimming trunks and still wearing his purple scarf. Some of the others found it odd, but where else would he keep the Devas?

"You okay, Gundham? You look upset, did something happen?" You say with a worried look on your face.

Gundham's face softens upon seeing you and he sits down on the sand.

"No, everything is great!" Gundham exclaims.

"Well, if everything is great with you, then I'm great too!" You smile.

-You literally spend 20 minutes just to build a small "castle" (a sorry excuse for one at that)

-Gundham has already made a big ass castle, stong and large enough to allow the Devas to run around on.

-You are BAFFLED because how the fuck did he do that so quick.

-One of his many talents.

-You give up and go back with Sonia.

-He just kinda does his own thing and makes his sandcastles while you go back to playing volleyball. He doesn't mind, he likes seeing you happy, but sometimes he can't help but feel a little jealous.

-Mahiru is definitely the first to know about your "little" crush. She knows before you do somehow. I feel like she could read people really well, especially when she knows them real well.

-Now, if you think any of Mahiru's small teases are embarrassingly bad, wait until Hiyoko gets an idea of it...

-She's relentless regardless, and making fun of someone is real EXTREMELY easy for her. So expect *loud* teases so everyone else around can hear.

-Anyone that hangs around with Gundham, or even just comes across him with the small chance that he's not with you, will 100% RELENTLESSLY tease him.

-"Why aren't you with your girlfriend?", "How's the relationship with Y/n going?", "Have you guys, y'know.. done anything?" <-*cough* that is definitely a Teruteru thing to say.

-I feel like one of them would try and play matchmaker, though miserably failing.

-Now, while some of the people on the island might kinda think Gundham is.. odd.. they'll still try to talk him into saying SOMETHING just so they can get rid of yours and Gundham's whining, though I'd feel Gundham would somehow be better at hiding it?

-Skipping to the *good part*, you're definitely the one to confess.

-This guy thinks he's hot shit but in reality he's TERRIFIED of saying anything about his feelings. In his head he's terrified that you'll never talk to him again. He just doesn't want to lose his one friend that cares so much for him like no one else has.

-If you thought Gundham was blushing like a madman when you two were holding hands, he's blushing even *harder* once you tell him. Same stammering mess, of course.

-You stare at Gundham, far longer than you would like to admit, completely disregarding the drawing you were originally doing of him reading one of his books 10 minutes ago.

Though he had a hardened look on his face, he still had some sort of softness due to him remembering that he was in your presence when no one else would.

He looks away from his book for a moment, just having finished the chapter he was on to glance at you, only to be met with you looking at him as well.

He looks away quickly, telling himself that you were just looking at him to get some sort of reference for your drawing, now suddenly turning red.

He buried his face into his scarf and busied himself with Jum-p, who had just come out onto his shoulder.

You smile to yourself, "Gundham..?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell you something? And you can't tell anyone else this either," You adjust your position, placing your sketchbook and pencil onto the floor of his room.

"Of course, Y/n,"

That's one thing you loved most about being this close with Gundham. He only ever talked so softly like that to you, and you only.

"I'm in love with you."

You knew that you'd grown more than fond of him for a while, but you didn't know what the funny feeling he gave you was until just two weeks ago, and after realising, it was all you thought about and it drove you insane to the point where you knew you had to say something.

Gundham's brain short circuited and he stared at you for what felt like ages to you, and it was making you nervous for his response, but his heart was practically beating out of his chest and if you were close enough you swear you could hear it loud and clear.

Of course he didn't mean to do this, but he couldn't believe that someone like you would let alone be his friend, but also fall in love him.

"Please say something," you say nervously.

Gundham could only nod, not too sure if that could be considered a response for something, as he was still unable to talk purely out of shock.

You were unsure if that single nod was a good thing, though the devas made it clear that it was.

They all crawled up your arms to sit on your shoulders and began to give you small "pecks" on your cheek. This only caused Gundham to become more red, which was surprisingly possible.

"I– I too, feel the same way," Gundham says, clearing his throat as if he were playing off his previous shortout.

You smile before walking up to Gundham, the four devas still on your shoulders, and give him a hug.

He tenses for a second, then remembers how fondly you feel of him, and he quickly relaxes, returning to embrace.

"I love you," You whisper.

"I love you too.." he replies, an awkward yet soft tone appearant in the way he says it.

You place a small peck on his cheek.

-It takes the two of you a while to show any PDA, but hand holding is as far as you'll go.

-He's a pretty shy guy. Like I said before, he thinks he's hot shit but in reality he's really terrified to show any PDA or relationship-y stuff like that.

-Honestly, being that, the relationship was more secret and whoever found out, found out purely out of a guess or by someone else saying something.

-Being that most of everyone kind of teased the both of you about the whole "relationship" thing before you guys became a thing, it takes them a while to figure it out that the two of you are together.

-"Pfft, who are you waiting for, your boyfriend," Hiyoko teases.

You were waiting outside of the Rocketpunch Market for Gundham to get some seeds before going to the beach with everyone else, and Hiyoko happened to get some of her gummy bears. She caught you waiting outside for some time and figured that you were waiting for Gundham after she saw him in there.

You stayed quiet and looked down at her for a moment before going back to your sketchpad.

"You're weird. No wonder you two weirdos get along with eachother,"

"Be nice, Hiyoko! Hi, Y/n! How are you today? Are you going down to the beach, too?" Mahiru asks after scolding Hiyoko.

"Hello, Mahiru! I'm doing well, just waiting for Gundham. He's picking up some sunflower seeds. I think I might go down but I was planning on hanging out with him instead," You respond as you wave at her.

Mahiru smiles and gives you a look.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mahiru says, walking away with Hiyoko, "I'll see you later, Y/n! Have fun and tell Gundham I said hi."

-As I said, the two of you just wait it out and if people find out, they find out. No use denying it with how close you'd been before, and how much closer you are now.

-Once Gundham and you get more comfortable than before, and after everybody has already found out (or most), you might get more comfy with slight PDA.

-It's much nicer now that you two are together because either of you have no suppressed feelings.

-I've got nothing else other than he's real sweet. I dunno man.

╔⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊷⊷╗

This shit was so much fun to write, honest. I have no clue how many words this is but it is LONG. Hope you enjoyed😋

[ever-growing-system]

Hello!!!

We stream every Saturday at 8PM CST!!!

WE FUCKING LOVE DRAMA!!!!!!! DON'T BOTHER OUR FRIENDS, COWARDS!!!! SEND US THE HATE!!!

DNI: PROSHIPPERS, ANTI-ENDOS, PEDOS, MAGA BASTARDS, TERFS, AND ANTI-ALTER/NONHUMANS

Some of them are under the cut, the rest of them are here!!!

Our friend @maryland-officially (or one of the other 100 Maryland blogs lol) is very good at explaining systems and has a bunch of resources! (like this one for how endogenic systems form!) So if you have any questions, POLITELY ask them!

This blog is gonna be for everyone running around in my head! this post will update a lot lmao

@fnaf-answers has most of the fnaf dudes in the intro post #mike, #william, #jeremyF, #vanessa, #Lizzy, #Cass, #henry, #Charlie, #gregory (some have not talked yet, more of them on the fnaf blog)

@theposttaster has some non-fnaf dudes on the intro post there #ash, #kai, #jeremy2, #sam, #violet (They RARELY talk on here, more of them on their blog)

Jinx (host w/Mike): They/it #jinx

I lost count of how old I was when I hit 200

Shapeshifter.

Can be anything but it always has a shifting galaxy print! (mostly just a blob)

can be a frog, a dragon, or a humanoid!

My parents were the highest-ranked Euclidans on the planet.

I was basically royalty.

The kids I thought I had were just my younger siblings that I had to take care of.

Used to be friends with Bill but the bill in the system is not the same one.

Bill erased my memories of my younger siblings after the fire so we got into a bad fight.

I still don't remember what I looked like back then because I haven't been in that form since the fire.

Constantly tired as the host with Mike.

#Jinx

Mike (Host w/Jinx) He/him #Mike

I was one of the first (and am more connected with Jinx for some odd reason

I'm 56

I'm married to Jeremy Fitzgerald (from the FNaF blog)

Gregory is my son

I have a weird relationship with William

I take care of most of the kids while Jinx makes sure the Adults don't fight.

Shift triggers:

Positive:

Jinx and Mike front to be obsessed w/fnaf

Bill and Jinx front when there is chaos to be created

Dipper or Violet front when there are codes to be cracked

Ford fronts when science Stolas fronts to go apeshit about stars

Negative:

Mike is affected by the sad and more gruesome parts of FNaF lore (It's 50/50 on whether we receive it as positive or negative)

Chara fronts when we need to get away from a dangerous situation or when we are nauseous.

Jax or Blitz front when we need to be an asshole.

Flowey or Kris show up when we need to be detached.

Anyone could be fronting for drama. Even the "nice ones" (there are no nice ones lol)

Zaerrug: An interdimensional Plague Doctor. Jinx's first friend after the argument with Bill. They/them.

#Zaerrug

Chara: Mischievous. NOT EVIL. They have neater hair than Frisk because they were taken care of by Toriel and were royalty. They/them #chara

Kris: Quiet. They are very deadpan when talking to or about anyone or anything other than their friends. Friends with Chara, Frisk, and Susie. Close with Spamton. They/them #kris

Cyn: Creepy... She Has the same voice. It is far too active and keeps trying to physically hurt us. She/it #cyn

Uzi: WON'T STOP FUCKING SCREAMING AND SWEARING. She misses N. HATES CYN. Sarcastic. She/they #uzi

Kinger: A little kooky but bc most of our time is spent in the dark in our room, he has sense sometimes. He misses his wife, tails /ref. He/him. #kinger

Lolbit: Constantly laughing. Very comedic. think the fanmade ucn voicelines. They/them #lolbit

Frisk: Only knows the pacifist route. Friends with Chara and Kris. The soul is separate, like with Kris, but they didn't want it removed because it helped in their route. Genderfluid. Any pronouns #frisk

Azzy: Asriel. small child. Loves Chara so so so so much. He/him #Azzy

Flowey: Same as in the game. not asriel. We don't know where he came from. #Flowey

Sans: So tired he didn't add an intro. Jinx had to. Knows what you did. Has the coolest bro. Has a... complicated relationship with Gaster. He/him (tried to find art he liked of himself but OH GOD) #sans or #UTsans/#UT sans

Deltarune Sans is a different person. He doesn't know nearly as much but is in contact with UT Sans. #sans or #DRsans/#DR sans

Susie: Same as in the game mostly, just a bit less aggressive to most. Has a soft spot for Kris and Lancer. She/they #susie

Jevil: Same as in the game. CHAOS CHAOS! Hates spamton. they/it. #jevil

Spamton: Doesn't have a typing quirk. Acts pretty canon. Knows about snowgrave. Hates Jevil. Close with Kris. He/it #spamton

Hunter: Obsessed with Willow. Mostly the same as the show. He/him #hunter

Amity: LOVES COSPLAYERS and anyone who looks like her because it's so cool! Obsessed with Luz. considers Alador and Darius her parents. She/her #amity

Bill: Same as the show. Aroace (platonic billford but flirty). It/its #bill

Ford: MONSTERFUCKER. Ace (platonic billford but flirty) He/him #Ford

Stan: Exactly like he is in the show lmao. Dating fiddleford, Pansexual. He/him #Stan

Current Fiddleford: A little kooky, VERY VERY GAY, dating Stan, hates Bill, hated his marriage, He/him #Fiddleford

Past fiddleford: Simps so hard for stan (and Ford before that), is jealous of Bill, Ford just went missing, was working with stan to get him back but gave up. Closeted. He/him #fiddleford P

Pomni: Very panicky, has no idea what's going on, Imminently started touching my face when she appeared. dating Ragatha and sees Kinger as her father figure. She has a plushie from Ragatha (not pictured) She/her #Pomni

Ragatha: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY (pansexual). dating pomni. Will kill a hoe for the ppl she cares about. Has been so aggressive sometimes that Jax better be grateful he can't die. Necklace is from ponmi. She/her #ragatha

Jax: Asshole. He/him (secretly liked kaufmo and the bracelets are from him) #jax

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Things They Carried: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Cole is back in Dean's life, not to kill him but to ask for his help. A worm is making its way through people and eventually through Cole, giving you the perfect opportunity to get the chaos you're craving.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

The room you've been trapped in is a bit lighter instead of being pitch-black darkness. There is enough light shining in to see that this room doesn't have any windows. How is the light getting in?

"Hello? Anyone there? Someone please help me," you yell.

In a fit of frustration, you send a ball of blue magic at the wall and it bounces off several before exploding at your feet. You turn and see a door with a small window on it that wasn't there a second ago. You've stared at this wall for several days and there hasn't been a door there. Now there is. Where the hell are you? What is going on? You walk over to the door and peer through the window. The window is small enough that you can't see much but then someone walks by and your heart soars in happiness.

"Dean! Dean! I'm in here! Hey!" You bang on the door to get his attention but all he does is walk back and forth in front of the door like he's on patrol. "Dean, please help me. I want to go home!" You keep banging on the door in hopes it'll get him to come over. "Please! Dean!"

Dean winces in pain and presses his fingers to his temples. His headaches are getting worse and if he thinks hard enough, he can hear you begging and crying out for him. No, he must be imagining things. He wants to imagine you near him. Your voice isn't real. It's all in his head. Through the pain of his headache, he gets dressed for the day and heads to the library where Sam is. The Bunker door opens and he pops his head into the war room to see you come down the metal stairs in last night's clothes.

"Where have you been all night?"

"You're not my mother. I don't have to tell you everything I do," you scoff.

"Hey, come check this out. I think I got something," Sam says from the library.

"A case? What case?"

"I thought you weren't interested in hunting anymore?" Dean asks as you two walk into the library.

"Well, I've got nothing better to do at the moment. Plus, I'm not interested in saving people. Hunting is a different story. I'll be in the car."

"You didn't hear what the case was about."

"I don't care," you say as you walk out of the library.

Sam shakes his head and hands over a tablet with an article about a soldier who has died.

"The vic was trained in Krav Maga and jiu-jitsu, and she still ended up with her organs drained, and the marrow was sucked completely out of the bones."

"Cannibalism? Are you thinking it's a rugaru?"

"Or a God, maybe."

"Give me ten and I'll meet you by the car."

After the long drive to North Carolina, you walk into the Fayetteville police station and are greeted by a group of police officers enjoying pieces of cake. The bell on top of the door rings and they all look at you. One of them sets his cake down and breaks apart from the group to greet you.

"Agents, l gather?"

Uh, was it the suits, or do we give off some sort of a Fed stench?" Dean asks.

"It's the suits," the sheriff stutters. "What can l do for you folks?"

"We are here investigating the death of Private Jackie Prescott."

"Sorry to waste your time, agents, but you wasted a trip. We wrapped that one up hours ago. We know the man who did it--Rick Willis."

"What makes you so sure it was him?"

The sheriff grabs the murder file and flips through the pages.

"His fingerprints were all over the storage room out on the base where he did it. He even left his dog tags by the body."

"Is he in custody?"

"No, the bastard drank a boatload of gasoline and then lit himself on fire. Helluva way to go, if I'm honest. He left behind a wife and baby. He's the third suicide we've seen in six months. Would you like some cake?"

"Yeah," Dean immediately says.

Sam stops him from grabbing it and Dean pouts slightly.

"No, uh, you know what? Uh, we're okay," Sam stutters.

"No, it's really good. My partner made it."

"It looks great, but we're alright. We do have one more question. Were there any bite marks found on the body?"

"No. The vic was killed with a Bowie."

"Thanks for your time."

You three leave and you let your hair down in soft waves. It hurts when you have your hair in a ponytail.

"Well, that's a waste of our time. I say we head to the beach," you grin.

"We're not leaving," Sam rolls his eyes. "No bite marks means a rugaru didn't do it. What are you thinking? A God?"

"I don't think so. The guy Molotov-cocktailed himself. That's bonkers. That's like demon-possession bonkers. We should talk to Rick's wife if she's up for it."

That's where you head next. You're waiting for them to royally screw this up. You're not interested in saving people. You're not interested in their lives. You're only interested in the chaos all this death is going to bring you. That's why you tagged along. If something tragic doesn't start soon, you're going to have to make your own.

Beth, Rick's wife, let you into her house to talk to her even though she doesn't seem in the right mind to answer questions. Sam and Dean handle all the questioning while you're off to the side looking at the many pictures she has of her and her husband. You're so glad you're not plagued by pictures of your past.

"Rick did it." You pull your eyes from the pictures and look at her. "I'm not trying to say that he didn't. I mean, he just got back from deployment and we've all seen what it can do to a soldier's mind. My Rick . . . when he's home and good . . . I have to kill the spiders, you know? Rick was a kind soul. He never took more life than he had to."

Did you notice anything strange or weird like violent mood swings? Or weird smells?" Sam asks.

"No, but Rick was so... He was thirsty."

"Thirsty for what?"

"Water. He'd spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. Then, one night, I caught him in the tub drinking the bathwater. When l told him to stop, it was like he couldn't even hear me. His skin got so dry it bled."

"Did he see a doctor?"

"I took him to the VA but he just got on a list to get on a list. Then, he stopped talking and just wasn't himself. I thought maybe it was PTSD," she cries.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. This is not the kind of tragedy you're hoping for.

"We're very sorry," Sam sighs.

"You said that Rick was recently deployed. Do you have any idea where?"

"No, that stuff is classified. They don't even let the wives in on it."

"Okay, we'll leave you alone now but if something comes up, anything at all, please give us a call."

Sam hands her his business card. You're the first one to the door, eager to get the hell out of here, but she stops you.

"There's one other thing. I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She's married to Kit Verson, a guy from Rick's team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing."

"Thank you."

You three leave and you turn to the brothers.

"I don't remember hunting being this irritating."

"You're the one who wanted to come with us. This is part of hunting. Either shut the hell up or leave."

You glare at your husband but don't say another word about it. Jemma, once she knows you just came from Rick's house, eagerly lets you in to tell you her story. Much like before, you let the brothers handle the questioning while you're off to the side looking at pictures of her and Kit.

"Can you tell us more about Kit?" Sam asks.

"Kit's been going through some stuff for sure. It takes him a while to get back to normal, but he always does."

"What about you? How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay, for the most part. With what happened to Rick and Beth... it's been hard."

"May we speak to your husband?" Dean asks.

"He went out last night but he should be back any minute. You know, he comes back from these deployments and he needs his space."

"He's been out all night?" you ask.

"Yeah." Both brothers look at each other with knowing looks. "God. I can't even convince myself. I'm worried. This isn't like him."

"Has he been thirsty? Like 'drink out of the dog bowl' thirsty?"

"How did you know?" she gasps.

You look out the window and see Cole Trenton, the man who has been obsessed with Dean even when he was a demon. You lock eyes with Dean and gesture to him with your eyes, and he stands up quickly. You don't bother saying anything to Jemma as you leave her house, but Sam and Dean wrap up the conversation quickly. Cole is leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed.

"I recognized your wheels."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks.

"Jemma called me in. I've known Kit since we were military brats raisin' hell on the same base. He's a good man."

"No one's saying he's not."

"Oh, really, now? So, what are you three here for, Jemma's sweet tea? You want to tell me why you're really here?"

"You got a lot of nerve coming in and demanding answers," you glare and step up to him. "Watch yourself."

"Hey, stop," Dean whispers and pulls you away from Cole. "We're working a case."

"Kit's case?"

"Honestly, we're not sure just yet but it's looking like it."

"Says you."

"You really want to dial it back, hot shot," you smirk. You raise your hand and show off your powerful magic. It's only a wisp or two but it's enough to send a message. "Or you might not like what happens next."

"There's a murder-suicide in town. Your buddy Kit is in the same unit as the killer with the same whacked-out antics. Like it or not, we're not going anywhere. If you care about your friend, you'll let us handle this."

"Nah, I think I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are," you scoff.

"I got contacts. I can help. For example, a friend of mine works in military intelligence who owes me a favor."

"Would he know what Rick and Kit's mission was?" Sam asks.

"Sure, and he'd tell me all about it."

Sam and Dean look at each other before sighing.

"Fine," Dean rolls his eyes.

"No, it ain't. I'm going to make sure my friend comes home in one piece, okay? l know what you three are thinking, but we are not gonna hunt my best friend who happens to be a fucking war hero, by the way. We are gonna find him, and that's the difference."

"No, I was thinking how pretty your head would look like on a stick," you shake your head.

"Stop it. I mean it," Dean hisses in your ear.

"Listen, we're right there with you. Kit's a hero, but you have to prepare yourself. Kit might not be Kit anymore," Sam says.

Dean decides this is a good time to get some food so he takes everyone to the nearest joint that serves a good burger. Everyone gets something but you. You're not hungry for food. With Cole being here, it might raise the exact trouble you're looking for.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[rvllybllply2014]

Hello to anyone who comes to my blog from the us elections tag and the post about voting I made. I am here for you, I too am grieving, I love and care about you all. It’s scary right now, take all the time that you to grieve. But also remember that the government can change in two years when it’s time to vote for representatives again. Also remember to vote at all local elections for the changes you want to see. The next four years are going to be rough and scary, but lean on your community or form one with people you can trust.

Also democrats and liberals we need to do better about getting votes from rural areas/voters. We need to organize and show them that democrats/liberals are the ones who will actually help them. Major cities are important but it’s the rural voters that can swing an election.

Remember it’s always darkest before dawn. The world did not stop spinning, the sun still shines and the birds still chirped. We have a lot of work to do to keep Trump and his MAGA cronies in check, our government is made up of three branches.

I’m leaving this as my closing statements. If you need to vent dm me or send an ask anonymous or not. We have work to do but as MLK Jr once said darkness cannot drive out darkness only light can and hate cannot drive out hate only love can do that.

[oneandonlyweirdme]

I don't post on any social media, but for this, I want to get my thoughts out there without starting a political fight in the work place (red state customer service).

First and foremost, find your safe space. It might not be near physically, but we have safe spaces out on the internet. We will continue to form and grow these spaces. I know it can be hard reaching out (heck, I haven't really reach out), but I've seen communities out there. Even if you don't make a presence for yourself, for me, seeing them helps me mentally. You're not alone with these dark thoughts, and if you need, reach out. I'm sure someone would listen in these spaces.

Now:

We knew people who support Trump exist. He has ran for president 3 times, and each time it was 'a close call'.

We know that even if he didn't get elected, those supporters would still be spouting bull and would be wearing MAGA merch. I can picture it now, 'TRUMP FOR 2028' out and about in 2025 before the presidency even switched over.

We will show them that we are different. We will take the results at face value. If we get a recount and it still is the same? We, again, will take it at face value. We will contemplate those around us. We may cry. We may cut some people in our lives because why have them in our lives if they don't hold our lives/rights equally. We may keep our believes to ourselves to protect us from those around us. We will stick with our believes and fight for them in the next election.

More than likely, most of us will stop talking politics at all if we feel unsafe. 'Why would you feel unsafe? It's not like I'm going to punch you for your opinions?' Verbal abuse is still abuse.

What we WON'T DO, is start riots because our candidate lost. We won't be shouting, 'IT WAS ALL RIGGED. PEOPLE ARE USING MAIL IN BALLOTS FROM DEAD PEOPLE TO INFLATE THE VOTE.'

Will we bend and say 'you're right, we're wrong'? No. But we won't attack the Capitol Building in an attempt self-coup d'etat. We will not declare that the 'voting machines were built to flip the votes against Kamala'. We will not claim that the poll watchers were asked to leave before others pulled out suitcases with more ballots to count. We will not cause property damage for a bumper sticker or a sign in the yard.

Thank you for reading this rant.