#defending them til i die

[viccharine]

i will defend Snow White until I DIE 🍎

more commentary about my fav princess under the cut (including all the stuff about the live action):

(long post)

i dislike the girlboss-ification of Snow White as much as the next person but omg leave Rachel Zegler ALONE!!!!!!! ppl act like thinking Snow White was “boring and/or anti-feminist” was an unpopular opinion—literally EVERYONE and their mom HATED on Snow White but the MINUTE Rachel Zegler says the SAME THING everyone comes for her????? smells like misogyny. (not even mentioning the fact that maybe PR has something to do with what she’s saying??)

(also, people hating on Rachel Zegler for THE COLOR OF HER SKIN?????? blah blah blah “it’s snow WHITE!!! she has skin as white as SNOW!!”— i think we as a society can move on from the idea that a character’s defining characteristic is the color of her SKIN. it’s just as easy AND ACCURATE to interpret the “Snow White” thing as her being pure of heart/pure as SNOW in order to remove her skin color from being such an important part of her character. don’t act like everyone saying that Rachel Zegler can’t play Snow White because she’s “too tan” isn’t racist/colorist)

more about Snow White as a character: i think she is a wonderful character and not at all “anti-feminist” or boring!!! she’s just a girl!!! while her age isn’t mentioned in the movie, she’s referred to as “little princess” which obviously indicates that she’s pretty young—she’s a young girl who’s been abused for most of her life yet still manages to be kind and empathetic!!! sure, her primary dream is to meet her true love, but MOST YOUNG PEOPLE ALSO WANT THIS!!! there’s nothing wrong with wanting love or with being sweet and kind!! Snow White first and foremost survived abuse and several near-death experiences (INCLUDING TWO ASSASSINATIONS) and managed to come out kind-hearted! she’s silly and kind and a little naive but also optimistic and a romantic!!!!! leave her alone!!!!

and even saying that, sure she’s from 1937 and very stereotypical—so there’s nothing wrong with adding aspects to her character that make her more modern/three-dimensional! it’s ok guys, you can admit that the original Snow White is not necessarily the best representation of women while also acknowledging how game-changing her movie was AND how Snow White is a wonderful character!!

characters can be sweet, kind and gentle but still strong and independent!! they aren’t mutually exclusive!!

as one of the first feature length animated films, of course Snow White isn’t going to have a lot of dimension (NONE of the characters do), and that’s what remakes are for!! stop coming for Rachel Zegler for saying things that aren’t at all wrong. like omg, you guys are acting like she hates all women or something. i would love it if she became a leader and took control of her kingdom!! I would love it if she took more action against the evil queen!! that DOESN’T MEAN Snow White is no longer kind and gentle and pure. Rachel Zegler is NOT demonizing Snow White or changing her character!!! is it so hard to believe that a girl who is kind and gentle and a romantic ALSO wants to be a leader????

also, I think her and the prince are cute!!!! yes he is VERY one-dimensional, so i would love it if the live action Snow White expanded on the prince’s character like the live action “The Little Mermaid” did!! his age is NOT mentioned in the film, there’s no reason to claim that their relationship is predatory. he searched for MONTHS for her, and once he found her “dead” he cried and kissed her goodbye (which is how I personally interpret it!!!)

the kiss can just as easily be changed to a kiss on the cheek/forehead, or removed overall, and the story will still stay the same!! the prince’s love for Snow White is what saved her, and that can be conveyed in a way other than a kiss. for all intents and purposes, they are just two kids in love!!

the prince was not the one who saved her from her evil stepmother—snow white was the one who ran away and made a life for herself, the prince just woke her up and the VERY END of the movie, stop ignoring all of snow’s actions throughout the film for the one (1) thing the prince did at the end.

tldr; Snow White is dated but not necessarily anti-feminist, and Rachel Zegler is justified in how she talks about Snow White and doesn’t deserve all the hate she’s getting.

[ellipticalwing]

the worst thing about love is

i remember it

[analogboii]

my third manager HATES me bc i wont let him shift blame.

"why weren't tea urns done" "uh...the high schoolers didnt do it" "well its your job to double check it them."

like my brother in christ at the end of the day YOU are the manager. you have to tell the kids what to do and its your job to double check them. theyre kids, if they can get away w sitting around they will. which i dont blame them i would too if i could get away w it.

he also always tries to say how lazy they are. like no, they're kids. you have to tell them what to do 💀💀

like, on my shifts, they know what i expect. i dont even have to tell them what to do. hell, i have alarms to remind me to tell them to get started on stuff bc i lose track of time and they have it down. most of the time they even have things started before the alarm goes off. if you make a routine w them, theyll do it. theyre not lazy you just wont manage 🤷‍♀️

he also likes to pull the "well it was just me and x" and?? i saw the sales, shit was dead. plus, ive closed solo w more business and still got done but im also a monster so thats just me. i also know you take 4738942 smoke breaks so i have a feeling if you didnt go outside every two seconds, you could get more done 😣

[vernard]

fuck everything else reedsue is the only thing that matters

[tragically-but-finnally-yours]

do u barrack for collingwood?

broncos gal til i die 🫡

[dizzy-online]

noelle does not have an unhealthy obsession with susie. she has a normal crush. Please stop mischaracterizing her I will melt

[ropebunnykant]

ray’s evil smile please

[triggeringtommy]

big high watching tangled with my mom n dog thinking abt my dead best friend n my dead friends with benefits I miss them both so fucking much omg especially around the holidays bc we'd always see eachother :(

[jamespotterismommy]

why are you so fucking mad oh my god

No, Sirius Black would not call McGonagall "Minnie" or think of her as a mother figure, what is wrong with you all!!!

[keepingitcalmer]

So we know that AI art is bad for artists, specifically those who work by commission. People already believe that a super specific idea being painted should only cost like $3. But you know who among my art friends hasn’t been hit as hard as others?

The furry artists, yes even the smutty kind. Some even have their clients dm’ing them asking if they need to order another commission because of lost work. These dudes are ride or die.

So next time you go to use an AI art tool just remember who is still supporting artists, and how you compare yourselves to them. Ask yourself are you doing less than the average furry.

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[heterophobicdyke]

While I’m at it with the hot takes, it’s always so wild to me when people don’t like cats because they “don’t show love.”

Unlike dogs, cats essentially can’t kill us with brute force and bite. When they do love us, they do so knowing they can’t defend themselves. How vulnerable! Cats usually take time to warm up to you, that’s why the cats at your friends houses when you were a kid seemed mean and aloof - you were a bounding untrained child they couldn’t predict. They prefer humans who they can trust… for obvious reasons? It feels amazing when you’ve earned a cat’s trust and therefore love because dogs (I love them too!) often give it to everyone.

Dogs love in a way we identify as human worship. They’re usually happy to see us, protect us, and sit at our feet. They’d do anything for us, often even through abuse. A cat is far less likely to tolerate abuse and, despite knowing they will be killed for not “playing nice,” would rather die than put up with unfair treatment. Humans, especially men who hate cats, love dogs because of the power we have over them. They view them as designed for humans, whereas cats expect to be respected equals and would rather you kill them than them submit to your dominance. Anyone else relate to that? I sure fucking do.

Do we even deserve cat’s love in the first place? People kill them for fun, they’re so devalued. It’s highly likely that the mass killings of cats during the witch panic caused the bubonic plague because, unlike dogs, cats weren’t domesticated to be dominated by us but entered into a mutual agreement with humans to keep mice and rats away from our food and health. Nek minnit!

Cats *do* show love. I have to push one of mine off me sometimes it’s too much. But I worked hard for it! She was a pregnant rescue when I got her and she hissed at me with fear. I could have got in my ego and felt she saw something wrong with me, like I wasn’t good enough to love. But that’s a lot of human-style baggage to put on a possibly feral animal! It took years til she stopped running off the bed if I made a particular movement and stopped hissing at boots she might have been kicked with before she met me. Humans are not dissimilar! We are animals, we are mammals! Cats feel and fear like we do!

Could you imagine trusting an oftentimes meat-eating animal 20 times the size of you? Meat you’re made up of? Could you imagine exposing your belly, with all your vital organs right there for that Thing to rip out, without the strength and teeth of a dog to protect yourself? Please! Humans have a hard enough time trusting and loving those the same size as them. It probably confuses cats why we don’t want to kill and eat them and yet they so often give us the love we ask for anyway.

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

AND YOU SHOULD SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!

it's very interesting to me when swifties rank taylor's albums and rank folklore higher and then evermore a bit lower or the other way around like how do you separate them? they're a package deal for me personally they're intertwined they must never be separated they're both my number ones how do you do it

[skylarsblue]

✦Slashers with a Male(“dominant”)S/O✦

✧AMAB!Reader, implied to be on the tall & broad side, also a lil southern cause I wrote this when I was tired and my southern accent took over. ✧Danny Johnson(He/They), Bubba Sawyer(He/She/They), Stu Macher(He/Him), Billy Loomis(He/Him), & Brahms Heelshire(He/Him)

NSFW Warning; some headcanons & implications

✦Danny Johnson ~ Ghostface✦

Danny is pansexual, I will defend that til the day I die. He doesn't give a single fuck, as long as he gets to fuck. He has a typical type when it comes to men but it's never concrete. That being said, his usual type is dudes who look like they could snap him in half. Because that's what they want.

He's usually the dominant type, but he's all for being a pillow princess if the dynamic is right. But! They have to really like you, they're not a cheap whore...most of the time. Point is, he has to be fascinated with you as much as he is attracted to you, which they are. Lucky you.

Let's assume you're a survivor for this. All the survivors are pretty unique, but you being new should help your case. But what will really get Danny interested is seeing you match his energy. Flirting with him when you evade an attack, blowing a kiss before you leave through the hatch, wolf-whistling if you catch them crouched behind something. It throws him off but he's a bit too flattered to stay annoyed. A surefire way to get them obsessed with you though is to struggle when he tries to mori you. And if you're successful, keeping your cool as you pin them back? You might feel something poking your thigh in record time.

Danny's the lovable kind of annoying. Which is confusing, given the fact he's a murderous psychopath and most likely a narcissist. Matching his flirty and energetic ADHD-ass nature will get their crush to develop further. It'll be unhealthy but you're not here for someone mentally stable.

Expect him to follow you everywhere, take a million pictures of you, he probably brags about you to other killers. They're honestly sick of him shoving pictures of you taking your shirt off, taken from a distance without your knowledge.

They're a cuddly bitch, and they're incredibly starved for human contact. You're gonna need to carry him. Complain all you want. He has mommy/daddy issues and he wants to be held like a baby, damnit.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Did I mention pillow princess? Yeah. When Danny's the dominant partner in a relationship, sexual or romantic, he puts in all the work without any complaint. He doesn't mind his partner just laying there and enjoying it. Makes him feel accomplished. But sometimes a bitch needs pampering. That's where you come in.

They're an extreme masochist as much as they are a sadist. You could put the hot metal of a lighter to his thigh and he'd probably cum in his pants. Pulling his hair is the easiest way to put him in his place if he's being a bit too mouthy. And they will beg you for marks if you don't put them there yourself. He wants to be sore after it all, damnit!

Panting, Ghostface let out a little laugh from behind their mask as he settled over you, knife raised. "Finally caught you, sweetheart. Tell you what, you're a good runner. But I won.~" He hummed raising a gloved hand to your hair in order to pull your head back, slice your neck. Danny inhaled and went to jab his knife into your jugular, only to let out a rather unmanly yelp when you suddenly jostled them. Able to completely flip around, tossing them off as if they weighed nothing. The muderer's camera landed in the grass and his hands were trapped above him by yours. He blinked in awe behind his mask, watching your chest rise and fall. "If there's one thing I hate 'bout y'all killers, it's the goddamn ego." You smiled as you spoke. For once, the talkative killer didn't reply. "What? Cat got your tongue, Casper? You were talkin' a bunch of smack befo-" You paused and glanced down. Danny swallowed as you let out a quiet chuckle. "Well I'll be damned...shoulda known you'd be into this kinda thing. Gross lil' fucker." They cleared their throat awkwardly as you tapped their mask. Danny inhaled and pulled back some of their dignity. "Should expect everything from me, big guy." He retorted. "Suppose I should, huh?...well, Ghostie. Rest of the team's down and I ain't got a clue where that hatch is. Might as well make the most of it, eh?" Perhaps a terrible idea, but exciting nonetheless.

✦Bubba Sawyer ~ Leatherface✦

SHE DESERVES A STRONG HUSBAND TO HELP HER AROUND THE HOUSE.

That aside, Bubba's not necessarily in the most accepting time or house. His brothers still poke fun at him sometimes when he dresses femininely, but have mostly grown to accept it. And I can't see Chop-Top as not being the type to mess around with a guy occasionally, so while they probably say ignorant stuff every now and then, I don't think it's those three that'd be the problem. It's the forties. Everyone else is gonna have something to say. Assure Bubba it's not a problem for you, she'll be over the moon.

They've tended to be into women and feminity in the past, but don't let that fool you, they are very bisexual. It especially helps if you're the sweet-talking type. Bubba is very easily thrown off by flirting.(Looking at you, Stretch) That and gentleness. Be a gentleman and you got Bubba swooning, especially if you're like that even after they've shown you they're cannibals.

We all know Bubba's not super dominant, at all. She's rather submissive and it's usually taken advantage of, since she struggles saying no. And they rarely get thank you's. Proper praise will get you a long, long way.

Pick. Bubba. Up. Pick her up. Do it. Pick them up and carry them around like a precious husband wife because that's what they are. They deserve it, their legs probably hurt from working all day!

Helping out around the house in general will score you major points. Especially if you aid in the process of getting food, that'll get you points with the rest of the family too. The more good word you have in Bubba's family, the more they'll be willing to keep you, because Bubba's love for you is honestly the only thing keeping you alive.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Praise. Praise praise praise praise, praise and compliments all over the place. Bubba has been nothing but criticized their entire life, if there's anything they need both in and out of sexual experiences, it's words of affirmation. They're even more submissive when underneath you. Because(southern accent activated), lawd almighty what a big strong man you are!~ Oh also, call them good girl/good boy/good baby.

Bubba's got no fuckin' clue what to do. They've only occasionally seen a dirty magazine or the clip of a porn movie that Chop-Top left on the old TV. You're gonna need to teach them basically everything. Just make sure you're gentle, because Bubba is sensitive and they need patience when it come to new things. God forbid they have an overstimulated meltdown during something that's supposed to bring you two closer together.

The old floorboards whined under your weight as you looked around the old house. "Pardon me, but uh...is anyone here?!" You called. "I don't mean to intrude, I was just wonderin' if I could borrow some water..." You voice trailed off at the sight of an...oddly furnished room. A bench made of bones, a chicken in a cage, feathers everywhere. More and more bones that were no doubt human. Alarm bells rang in your skull, amplified when there was a heavy slam of a metal door being opened, and quick footsteps. You took a defensive stance when you saw a large figure appear, dressed a button up, cowboy boots, old pants and a stained yellow apron. They held a hammer in thick hands and looked around, letting out animalistic like squeals and distressed grunts, until they spotted you. Though typically the fight type, you couldn't seem to do that or resort to flight, stuck in place. Their hands waved a bit and they ran at you full force. For a moment, your gaze fell on a cracked floorboard, one you'd avoided coming in. "Whoa hey now, wait-!" Too late, they stepped on it and it gave way, sending their leg through the floor. They whined and kicked, getting more distressed by the moment. "Hey!" They snapped their gaze up to you. It took a lot of willpower not to cringe at the sight of their mask. Instead approaching slowly with your hands open and in front of you. "Easy, alright? Relax. You're just gonna get yourself hurt thrashin' 'round like that." The stranger let out more noises of distress. "Relax, sweetheart, I ain't gonna hurt'cha." They stopped moving as soon as the pet name left your mouth. Confused, likely. They let out a little concerned whimper as you knelt down and tugged the floorboard next to the broken one. It pulled up and their leg was freed. "Look, see? Nothin' to worry 'bout. Just gotta be careful with these old floors. They give way real easy." They twisted the hammer around in their hands, standing rather stiff as you rose to your full height. Not much different from theirs. You exhaled and introduced yourself by your name. "I apologize for just bargin' in, door was open and I kinda thought this place wasn't occupied. I was just lookin' for a drink if that's alright?" You asked. They shifted their weight from side to side, shyly. Were you insane for considering this cute? Probably, but that wasn't a concern at the moment. They eventually nodded. "Yeah? Well alright then, thank ya, sweetheart. I really appreciate it." They squeaked at the pet name again and flapped their hands, pushing their face into the palms. You chuckled softly. Nearly killed only to charm the attacker, only in Texas.

✦Stu Macher ~ Ghostface✦

Stu. Is. So. Fucking. Gay. Extremely gay. “Oh but Tatu-“ SHHHH, gay. He’s a switch with a casually dominant personality, but he’s not really a dominant person. He’s just intense. He’s actually pretty gullible, especially when looking for praise or approval. Man likes to be included.

He's got a bit of a type for soft-spoken alternative dudes. Like, quiet & brooding. Basically the opposite of himself. You could say anything and if it's said in the right tone, he'll go with it. Why do you think Billy had such an easy time manipulating him?

If you're taller than him, which means over 6'4", bonus points. Major bonus points. Because that's rare and he's a whore.

Proving that you can handle yourself in dangerous situations, or that you can completely whoop ass? Stu finds that super attractive. Especially if you don't even instigate it. The whole "I don't start fights but I finish them" thing is extremely sexy to him.

He's gonna stalk you, just so you know, but he's not very good at it. Stu's a bit too loud and obvious. But he's definitely gonna try and impede your schedule so you two can constantly bump into each other, he thinks he's being subtle but he's not. It's endearing if you don't look too hard at it.

He's not necessarily the ride-or-die type with Billy in the picture, no matter how hot you are. HOWEVER, if you somehow get in on the Ghostface plot? And you're cool with it? Oh now he HAS to suck your dick, it's just a requirement. Especially if you help out directly. Depending on how you treat him and if you're manipulative enough, you might even replace Billy in Stu's mental throne. But you'd have to put in the work, don't expect it to be easy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

With Stu, you don't really need a dominant or submissive relationship. It kinda just...exists, and that can be very refreshing! He's really not picky on whether or not he's top or bottom, he just likes feeling good. That being said, he has an affinity for oral. Giving or receiving. And he's unfairly good at it.

Pillow. Talk. Do it, all the time. If you want Stu to be your mushy-brained-bitch, use pillow talk. Saying the right things in a soft, breathy tone could be enough to make him jizz in his pants. Just expect him to be just as vulgar in return, and he has no shame, he'll do it in public. Match his energy.

Music flowed from a stereo in the kitchen, mixing with the voices of high school seniors and the clinking of alcohol bottles. Stu's house was known for great parties, especially around Halloween. He enjoyed the atmosphere of social gatherings and he made for a great, unconventional host. Ensuring everyone was as drunk as they wanted and everyone felt comfortable to let loose. He jumped out from behind a corner with a mask on, it smelt of booze and weed and he'd simply found it resting on his dining room table. Two girls, both dressed as angels, screamed. One smacked him in the chest after he took off the mask whilst laughing. Stu sipped some beer from a red solo cup as he meandered through his entryway. "Stu!" A junior girl that he sometimes asked to do his homework skipped up to him, smiling as she held a new model cellphone in her hand. "My cousin just called me cause he's new in town, can I invite him over? He's the same age as you and-" She squeaked when Stu hugged her into his side casually. "Shhhshhh your explanations, sweetheart! Call'em! But he better be cool!" He insisted. She grinned and quickly dialed back her cousin as Stu chugged back the rest of his alcohol.

It was hard hearing the heavy knock on the door about thirty minutes later, but Stu prided himself on how good his hearing was, despite all the music he tended to blast. He didn't get to the door before the same girl ran up with a smile. What was her name again? Stella? "That's probably him!" She exclaimed excitedly as Stu swung the front door open. It caught him off guard that he had to look up instead of down. His mouth grew dry as he was met face-to-face with a motorcycle helmet. "Oh, sorry." The stranger's voice was muffled and their gloved hands rose to hoist the helmet off, they quickly fixed their hair. "Thanks for the invite, I'm guessin' you're Stu?"

"The one and only! Nice to meet'cha cowboy. Got any booze?" Stu was excellent at quick recovery. You dug into your pocket for a moment and pulled out a small shot-bottle of vodka. "'Specially for the host." You said, Stu grinned and took it, stepping aside and dramatically motioning for you to enter. Stella began rambling off to you about how happy she was you were in town whilst Stu just...stared. It was noticeable at this point, which made you look over. "You want a picture, big guy?" Stu felt horniness sucker punch him in the ribs. "Nah, I'm good with staring!" He grinned. He swallowed as you snickered. "Alrighty then, feel free." Stu would be staring at you a lot. A whole lot.

✦Billy Loomis ~ Ghostface✦

Did someone say INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA?? It's so obvious. Now, I think Billy is bisexual, but he's hella hesitant to admit he's into dudes. For the sake of his dad, the idea of a dude having more power than him, and the time period? It's not easy for him to just be cool with it when it comes to himself.

That being said, Billy's more of a bottom than he'd like to admit. And it comes out with dudes that are bigger than him, and it's even worse if they're not easy to manipulate. Which you're not. That pisses him off so much.

Rule of thumb with a Ghostface? Energy matching. Be just as smooth-voiced and eerily calm and he's gonna have heart palpitations. It pisses him off so bad that he can't affect you.

To be completely honest, he's gonna try and stab you because he's an angsty teenage boy who can't handle his feelings so it's easier to get rid of the cause. Of course, it's not that easy. You don't make it easy, and that also makes him more into you. He likes the adrenaline of a struggle.

What'll really get him is if you somehow get him vulnerable, which will take a blue-moon and 1/10,000 type of luck odds. But not take advantage of it. Don't pity him and don't poke at him, just...being there. Even trying to lighten the mood, that kind of thing gets any angry boy with mommy issues to get at least a lil soft.

If you know he's Ghostface and ask to help, especially if he just tried to kill you? Bro how dare you...offer something so sexy, of course he's gonna say yes. But don't ask to be a Ghostface. He's comfortable with being in control of that aspect. But you can help with things like the gameplay or the information on victims, or being an alibi. If you can be an alibi put on the spot? Mm, so sexy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Look, I know Billy probably isn't a bottom at all, but this is fiction and I can do whatever I want. And I say Billy Loomis is a reluctant pillow princess. Reluctant because of internalized homophobia and a fear of being vulnerable, but we're gonna lie to ourselves and say that you somehow managed to get past that.

You're gonna need to have the patience of a saint. No hard doms here, ironically. He likes a power struggle, but what really gets him is you being in control and calm. Like you don't have to try. Oddly enough that kind of thing is comforting. It feels like he's relinquishing control to someone who knows what they're doing, rather than someone flying blind.

Billy chucked the burner phone as hard as he could into the woods surrounding Stu's house before bending down and ensuring his knife was properly strapped down. Hidden under his jeans and boots. The music from inside was headache-inducing. Stu was far more sociable than Billy, he had never been much of a party person, aside from the booze. He was more of a homebody.

He walked around the house and went over his alibi story a few more times as he hopped onto the porch, ringing the doorbell. It swung open to Stu, who was very clearly buzzed, if not just straight drunk. "Billy! Baby, my man, c'mere. I gotta introduce you to this dude." Billy didn't get a chance to speak as Stu pulled him inside, rambling on. The teen sighed and rolled his eyes. "Aight, Bill, this is the new guy that's coming to our school next week." Stu motioned to you. Significantly taller than him and probably twice as broad, holding an air of natural intimidation and a stern expression. But it softened when you turned.

"Oh, you're Billy? Stu kept talkin' bout you. Nice to meet you." You held out a large gloved hand, mentioning your name. Billy held up his fist instead, which you quickly adjusted to make it a fist bump. "Bill, this dude is so cool. He's got like a ton of motorcycles and a fuck ton of knives-" Stu slurred. "I have two motorcycles, one of which isn't even technically mine. And I have a collection of pocket knives, he's exaggerating." You smiled. "Oh! You two wait here, I'm gonna get you both some booze." You didn't have a chance to deny the offer before Stu rushed off.

Billy stood with his arms crossed, tongue tucked into his cheek. "Introvert?" You asked. "Hm? Oh uh, yeah, more or less." He replied, to which you nodded. "Yeah, I'm not much for parties either. I'm just here for my cousin. Definitely wasn't my plan for tonight." Billy blew some of his hair out of his face, leaning on a wall. "Then what was your plan?" "Watching scary movies." You replied, and maybe it wasn't intentional, but you noticed how he perked up. "Yeah? You a big horror fan?" He inquired. You nodded with a growing smile. "Oh yeah, especially the gory ones. They're the most fun. Do you like scary movies?" You asked. Billy nodded. "Mhm." "What's your favorite scary movie?" He felt a shiver run down his spine as you tilted your head, probably unaware of just how significant the word choice was. Billy smiled and rested the back of his head against the wall. For a moment, slightly lowering his guard as he grinned slyly. "Guess."

✦Brahms Heelshire ~ The Boy✦

How the fuck did you manage to make that happen? We have no idea. Assuming you're a nanny, that is. There's always a chance you work for the Heelshire's for a different reason. (my boy @disc0dild0s has a fic like this on Wattpad, y'all should look at it)

But for my personal wants, we're gonna say you're the nanny, and you somehow meandered your way into a position. Maybe the Heelshire's were just extremely desperate for anyone at that point that they basically told Brahms to deal with it. He has no choice, really. He's gonna be the biggest brat because you're not the pretty woman he asked his parents for.

Yet, seeing how well you handle the job, all the patience you have and the kind demeanor you carry, it intrigues him. Until eventually he's attached. He doesn't know what exactly to do with the emotions, because it feels the same way as it did back when he had female nannies, but...you're a man. Isn't that weird? You can thank his old ass parents for that.

When he reveals himself, it's probably an accident. He's worried you'll run away of course, but part of him is also worried you'll whoop his ass. You're bigger than him and he's seen you hoist shit up no problem when cleaning the mansion. Which is very sexy as much as it is intimidating.

But there goes your gentle nature again, despite how you look. You don't run away even if you probably should, and you don't whoop his ass. Brahms is so hooked after that.

He's not going to make it easy for you. He's got it built in his head that he's the man of the house, that's what his father was trying to turn him into after all. But he is not, you are. You may follow his rules but you also keep him in line, you do all the work, and you could probably snap him in half. He can't just outright admit he enjoys it but he does. Especially when he's feeling sensitive and vulnerable. It's comforting to be carried around by a big strong man, probably more than it should be.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

B O T T O M . Holy shit he's a fuckin' bottom. And a pillow princess, for sure. He's there to feel good, what do you mean you want him to do some of the work?

Brahms is horny as hell but he's not really sure what to do. Teaching him what to do as a woman is difficult, but at least he's read some books to have a very hazy idea. Two men? There's like...two books in that library within it that he probably isn't aware are there. But he's willing to learn, as long as it feels good.

"Brahms? Brahms! Come on, Brahms, I'm not mad, you can come out! I wasn't trying to make fun of you!" You called. The only response you got was the echo of your own voice bouncing back from the walls. You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. It really was a misunderstanding. It had been a month and a half since Brahms had been caught outside the walls. It had been quite the experience. Freaky, but, the reality of his situation was heartwrenching, and his pleading for you not to leave really solidified it. It didn't feel right to leave. So you stayed, now properly caring for a grown man instead of a doll.

He was a man, even if he had these slips in mentality where he acted like a kid. But being an adult with barely any contact, affectionate or otherwise, could lead to some issues. One of which caused Brahms to grow extremely embarrassed recently, which was why he'd retreated into the walls. He'd gotten a pretty obvious boner from just a hug, something you had noticed and lightly teased him for. It was an attempt at lightening the mood but it backfired. You'd given him some time, hoping it would settle down and you could talk to him properly. Unfortunately, an hour had passed and he still wasn't out. Now dinner was nearly done and you didn't want him skipping a meal.

Though the dust would've made your allergies hell, you approached a mirror in one of the sitting rooms, setting it up on a wall before slipping through the cutout behind it. You'd never properly gone into the walls, but you'd heard and seen Brahms use the pathways. You rubbed your nose as you took an inhale, immediately burning from all the dust. "No wonder he coughs all the time...poor baby." You muttered as you began walking. It was confusing and you were far more lost than you'd anticipated, but eventually, you saw the glimpse of a bedside lamp.

You were quiet as you approached. Brahms' inner bedroom was...well, sad. Given he felt the need to live all hidden in the walls on an old bed without support, cobwebs everywhere. You could only imagine how bad his lungs would be if he'd been left in here any longer than he had. The man laid on the mattress in the corner, facing the wall, hugging something you could recognize. A sweater that had gone missing from your luggage a while ago. You sighed as you stood, crossing your arms. "Brahms." Your voice made him harshly flinch, scrambling to sit up and push himself more into the corner.

He let out a sad noise and shrank back, making you frown more. "Hey, hey, don't do that. I'm not here to chastise you." You said softly, walking closer. You tried not to think of the cleanliness of his bed as you sat down, keeping some distance so he didn't feel pressured. "Brahms, sweetheart, can you look at me please?" He did as asked, probably because of the pet name. "I'm not upset or anything, you know that, right? I was just trying to make light of it. I wasn't trying to embarrass you." You explained as Brahms picked at a string in the sweater.

"'s embarassing." He muttered. His voice teetered between states, but was overall soft and muffled. "I know, and I'm sorry for teasing you. But it's okay, it's not like you can help it." You reassured. "But, but...but you're a man..." Brahms replied. Oh. You sighed and glanced at the wall, thinking. "Yes, but, that doesn't have to mean anything. I'm sure you've been told that's weird but it's really not. I like men." You shrugged, a bit caught off guard by how shocked Brahms seemed. "Really?" "I- pfft, yeah? Do you think I go around flirting with just every guy friend I have? No." You smiled. Brahms' face grew warm and red under his mask. "I...I didn't know, I wasn't really sure."

"Well yes, I was flirting with you. You can take that how you will. And if something like that happens again, we can deal with it or we can not. But you don't have to run from me, okay?" You whispered, holding out a hand for him to take. He hesitated but did so, even though he didn't move closer either. "Regardless of the situation, you don't need to hide. I don't want you to feel that way with me. Okay?" Brahms swallowed and messed with a ring you wore. He sighed and nodded shyly. His first instinct was always to hide, even if it always made him feel worse after doing it. "Good boy, now come on, it's dinner time and I don't want it getting cold." You stood up and he did the same, messing with the sweater. "You can keep that if you want." Brahms glanced at the fabric. It had some cobwebs on it and a few flyaway strings from him picking at it, but he took off his cardigan and put it over his head. You chuckled and took the opportunity to kiss his temple, putting him more at ease. "We can talk more about it later. Let's get you some food first. Now, help me get out of here because I nearly got lost at least four times." Brahms snickered quietly and walked ahead of you.

[alexfromjersey]

A SCHOOL TAINTED WITH BULLET HOLES

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

Word Count: 2.0k

warnings: school shooting, mature language, gun violence

A/N: I’m trying to write as much as possible before I visit my dad for three weeks so pray that I can at least finish half this book and at least three chapters for my other book.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Poke. Poke. Poke.

You were being awoken by the feeling of someone poking you in your side, face, and thigh. You peel one eye open and are met with wide eyes and yellow rotten teeth. You jump fully awake, frightened, and scoot to your wall.

The sickly-looking man let out a laugh at your reaction, “Oops didn’t mean to scare ya.” The man was wearing nothing a dirty stained white t-shirt, no bottoms on.

“Rip! I told you, this room is off limits” The familiar voice of your mother enters your room. She was in a red silky robe that was loosely tied and her hair was disheveled. 

“My bad. I was just trying to look for the bathroom” Rip snorted and moved away from you.

“Last door on the right” Your mom answered. 

Rip nodded and turned back to you. “Sorry kid” He shrugged and left your room. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Your mother comes to stand in front of you. 

“I’m sorry baby but I told you to always make sure your door is locked every night so things like this can never happen” She spoke softly. She tries to push some hair out your face but you flinch away from her. A hurt look appears on her face. 

“Get ready for school or you’re going to be late” She sniffled and left your room. 

You sat on your bed for a good extra five minutes before getting yourself ready for the day. You got dressed in a black pullover hoodie, black t-shirt, faded blue jean shorts, and beat-up black and white Cortez. You grab your bag, skateboard, and essentials before leaving your room. You make sure to lock your room up before heading downstairs. Thankfully, Rip was still in the bathroom so you didn’t have to see him in the kitchen. You brushed your teeth and washed your face in the kitchen sink. 

After you finished, you leave your house without a goodbye from your mother. As usual, you’re met with the sight of your two friends, Quinton and Devyn Hasland. 

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken from her slumber” Devyn joked in a broken English accent. 

A smile appeared on your face and you dap the brothers up. The three of you start your journey to school.

“You know Principal Adams is coming for you for missing like a whole week of school. He’s been hounding me and Q for the last week about your whereabouts” Devyn said.

“I don’t care. School is a fucking joke” You shrugged.

“School helps you get a job” Quinton commented.

“No, school helps you become a dumbass corporate zombie. It doesn’t teach you any life skills. Not how to do taxes. Not how to save money to get a house or car. Or basic life shit that you need to survive. How is a2 + b2 = c2 gonna help me in life? When am I gonna need to know that shit? Fuck school til the day I die” You smiled and stuck your middle finger up.

The three of you continue your journey to school. As you approach the school, you see a rail that you always practice on.

"Watch this" You smirked and throw your board down.

"Nice" The brothers compliment as you skate back towards them. You felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned around and they lock on to dark brown ones.

Vada Cavell.

You knew her from your Chemistry class with Mrs. Victor. The two of you never spoke but always catch each other staring. Quinton and Devyn follow your eyeline.

“Oh my god, I wish you would just let your balls drop and go talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight” Devyn groaned. 

You pull your eyes away from her, “You watched Twilight?”

“I only watched it with Jazmine” Devyn defended. 

“Lie. Mom and Pops caught you last week, without Jazmine, watching it in the basement. According to Mom, you look very engrossed in it” Quinton laughed. 

“There was nothing else on TV” Devyn sighed. 

You and Quinton let out a laugh as the three of you walk inside the school. The brothers make their way to their lockers while you head to breakfast. You were starving and didn’t realize it until you got inside the building. By the grace of God, you managed to get to the café before they closed. 

You grab your food and head to pay for it. But when you pulled your wallet out, you realized a $5 bill you had was missing. You sighed out in frustration.

“Fucking dickhead” You mumbled. You put the food back and turned around but you ran into someone. 

“Miss Vaughn, nice to know you’re alive and well. Follow me” Principal Adams demanded. 

You sigh and begin to follow the principal to his office. But another body runs into you. 

I can’t catch a break today. 

“Sorry,” A sweet voice apologized. You looked down and saw Vada. You open your mouth to respond but Adams interrupts you. 

“Ms. Cavell the bell is about to ring. Head to class now” Adams ordered. 

“Sir yes sir” Vada mocked and saluted him before turning on her heels, and walking to class. You chuckled lightly and continued following Adams. 

The two of you made it to his office which smelled like straight black coffee and boiled eggs. You already knew what the talk was going to be about so you just relaxed in the chair. 

“Jordan Vaughn…failing every single one of your classes and racking up a whopping 37 days absent. It’s not even spring break yet” Adams read from your file. 

You grab a red and black sharpie off his desk. 

“What is your goal Jordan? What is it that you wanna do with your life?” Adams asked. 

You continue to draw all over the underside of your board, not even paying attention to the man in front of you. 

Principal Adams sighed, “Miss Vaughn.”

At the call of your name, you look up at him, "Hm?”

“Listen I get it, school sucks and you don’t have a care in the world about your diploma. But you know who does... the world out there. Jobs won't even give you a second thought if you don't graduate. You need to start taking this seriously or you will be left behind while everyone around you is making it" Adams lectured.

"My goal is to become a pro skateboarder, last time I checked you don't need a diploma for it"' You shrugged.

"But you need money. You need money for the fees. You need money for sponsors. What if your board breaks? A diploma leads to jobs that lead to money which can help you become a pro skater.” Adams explained.

He had a point but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right. Adams grabbed a pamphlet labeled, Summer School. 

“You complete this program for one month this summer, you’ll be graduating with your friends next year,” Adams said and slid it toward you. 

You reluctantly take it and leave the office before he could say another word. 

The hallways were now empty due to everyone being in class now. You walk to your locker and open it. You are stunned to see an apple juice, strawberry Pop Tart, and an orange inside. 

“What the fuck?” You questioned. You remembered putting this stuff back. You looked down the halls and saw you were alone. You shrugged and started chowing down on the food. After you finished you placed your board and the pamphlet inside. 

SMACK! 

You jumped at the noise beside you. It was then followed by laughter. 

“I hate the both of you” You mumbled, mouth full of food as you looked at Quinton and Devyn. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in class?”

“Yeah, but Q saw you with Principal Adams so he texted me to come and wait for you in the hall. Why are you inhaling your food in front of your locker?” Devyn questioned. 

“I was hungry. But I didn’t buy this though. It was in my locker when I opened it” You answered. 

“Oh, food from Mother Theresa. I need one of those. Tell her to bring me some Burger King” Devyn joked. You rolled your eyes at the boy. 

“Boys and Miss Vaughn, the three of you need to get to class before I-”

A loud bang is suddenly heard. Everything starts to go in slow motion for you as you see blood splatter against the school walls. Two more bangs are heard and a girl lets out a blood-curdling scream. 

More bangs are heard, now in rapid succession. You barely process the fact Devyn is now on the ground in a pool of his own blood. You look up to see a kid from one of your classes standing there emotionless with an automatic rifle pointed toward Quinton. 

“DEVYN!” You hear Quinton scream. It brought you back to reality as you looked down and saw Quinton holding his brother’s body getting blood on himself. 

“Quinton! We have to go! Come on Quinton!” You shout as you pull him away from Devyn’s lifeless body. You push him to run down the hall. Another gunshot rings through the hall and you feel a searing pain in your hip area. You push through the pain, you quickly open the door to the girl’s bathroom and push Quinton inside before locking the door behind you. The two of you cram into a stall out of breath. Sweat was dripping down your face and tears were falling freely down Quinton’s. 

Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting the floor made the both of you freeze. 

“Who’s in there?” Quinton questioned. 

No response. 

“We’re not the shooter. It’s Matt Corgan, we saw him” Quinton added. As your adrenaline begins to fade, the pain comes back in full force. 

More rapid gunfire outside the door makes everyone clench in fear. 

“Do you know where he is now?” A fragile voice asked. You can hear another girl’s quiet cries in the stall next to you. But you were too focused on the pain. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know, my brother” Quinton cried. Tears start to gather in your eyes from the pain and the current predicament. 

“Come, come under” The girl ushered. You let Quinton crawl under first. You bend down to follow but a torturous pain shoots through your body.

“Ahh” You cried out. You lift up your hoodie and shirt to see a gaping wound pouring out blood. 

“Jordan? What happened, you okay?” Quinton questioned. 

You start to feel lightheaded and the world starts to spin and before you know it, you fall onto the tile floor with a loud thud. Quinton quickly unlocks the stall door to see you trying to keep your eyes open. 

“No, no, no, no Jordan” Quinton cried and bent down to the floor. He lifted your tops and saw the wound. 

“Shit, help me please” Quinton called out to the two girls. His voice was quiet enough for only the people in the bathroom to hear. He puts pressure on your wound which makes you groan and squirm. The two girls exit the stall but retreat when they see you on the ground. 

“Please help me,” Quinton sobbed. The blonde-haired girl runs and grabs as many paper towels as she could. She hands some to Quinton and they put pressure on your wound to stop the bleeding. 

“Hang on, Jordan” Quinton cried. 

Meanwhile, your eyes start to flutter close but a warm soft hand brings you back. 

“Hey, you have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them. Don’t close your eyes” Vada’s voice echoes throughout your head. 

Her eyes were bloodshot red and puffy with more tears falling freely down her face. She squeezes your hand tight to keep you from closing your eyes. The sound of police sirens and heavy footsteps can be heard. 

“Oh thank God,” Quinton said. 

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open but they were getting extremely difficult. They were getting heavier and heavier until your eyes closed and your hand went limp in Vada’s.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for how i played DnD?

I will try to keep this short but give enough info. At the time of the incident this past year, I was 19. I had made a few friends at uni. Someone brought up Dungeons and Dragons and as a group we decided to try it. There were 5 people playing as characters, including me, and one Dungeon Master (DM). The DM is 24, and the other people ranged 19-22.

Maybe it is just who I played with before, but it had always been stressed to me to do actions my character would do. Follow the actions the character would follow. For example, I played in a campaign with someone who in real life is the sweetest, kindest person, but their character was very mean and vengeful. It was fun! They would want to heal someone, but knew it was out of character so decided to NOT do that, and it was realistic for the campaign.

THAT is how I was taught. That is how I've always played. So it comes time for the first session with the uni group. It was a one-shot to learn how to play for the two people who hadn't played before. It was stated that this was solely to learn mechanics, the characters we were would not be used for the actual campaign. Cool!

Well, in this one-shot I had a character who was very self centered. The type to put themselves over the health of the rest of the group. I had never played that before and wanted to try it. It came to a fight and I was wounded and so was another player. This player hadn't played before and chose to run away and abandon the group. I chose to do the same thing because it was in Character. However, I happened to have the one item that could have stopped the cult from taking over and essentially starting the apocalypse. Thus, because I ran, it doomed everyone else.

It didn't seem anyone minded at the time, it was to learn after all. The DM mentioned then that it is a shitty move to choose to run, and you should fight regardless of if you die. I thought that was a stupid thought, why fight a losing battle, but whatever.

We ran through our first campaign that was over a month long. We all died but had a lot of fun. I then turned 20 and had a flare up (I have a chronic illness), I told them they could do a campaign and I would join in once better. The DM didn't want that because I would be joining partway and ruin the integrity. So they decided to postpone.

I got better, all good. I was sick and hospitalized for a week, then a week after I recovered. So it was 2 weeks. We met weekly, so it was only 2 weeks that we were out. Prior to this time we all met on Mondays, but after this i would have to go to therapy on Mondays so DM decided to switch the days to Thursdays which everyone could also do.

We started a new campaign and me and another player decided our characters would be intertwined. They played a character who had been royal and after the usurpation of their throne, they were on the run. I played the loyal knight who would defend them til my death. We made it VERY evident that I would protect them til my death, with no hesitation, and would defend them from any action that could cause them harm.

A fight broke out in our party and the hothead started coming after the exroyal. In character, I put myself in between the two and verbally told them to stop or else I would make them stop. Hothead character escalated and pushed mine and then threw something at the exroyal. Of course, irl we all were laughing and having fun, except the DM. The DM was trying to get everyone back on course.

Now, I could have decided to ignore this and go towards the obvious direction the DM was trying to steer us. But my character would NEVER have let a slight like that occur. So I didnt. My goal was to simply slash at the hothead, but got a nat 20. The DM CHOSE that I killed the hothead. That isnt what I wanted but I went with it and had the great one line of "take this as a warning for the rest of you".

The person who played the hothead was dying of laughter and didn't seem upset, they had a second character ready. Well, at the end of the session the DM asked me to stay behind. They told me that I was a terrible player and that every session thus far, I played the character instead of doing things that would help the newbies. I was also apparently annoying and "you shouldn't turn against those in your party". I told the DM I'm sorry they felt that way, but in my mind it wasn't intentional to kill the dude I simply wanted to like give him a warning. The DM said I was teaching the others bad morale and cooperation, and brought up me running during the oneshot and how I doomed everyone else and it was shitty. I felt bad apologized and said I would think about what they said and then thanked them (that's the customer service representative in me lol).

Well the next week was the week prior to our break. I asked what time we were meeting and was told we weren't meeting this week by the DM. Okay that works. Well, turns out they DID meet. I found out after exroyal messaged me and asked if I felt better and what they can do for me. Apparently, DM told everyone I was having a flare up, when I wasnt. I am not a confrontational person, but I texted DM saying I didn't appreciate that they lied and DM replied saying that it was my fault for playing DND the way I did.

As a few of them messaged me individually, so I texted all the members individually and told them I was not sick and stated that DM had told me there wasn't a session.

Well, we decided to meet at my place and not tell DM. We didn't play DND but a board game. DM found out and started calling me an asshole and how they've been accommodating for me with my illness and the sessions, which they have. DM says they made one mistake and am punishing them for it. I have a lot of anxiety and do feel bad now... AITA?

What are these acronyms?