#in my big emotions about them jesus christ....

[fiovske]

what do u MEAN chine is dead but he HAUNTS duvall...

[thesixthstar]

Man i understand being annoyed at Americans in a general sense, especially when there’s some choice hypocrisy to yell about on this bitch of a website but it is frustrating seeing some of the posts drift by that are “””calling out”””” Americans for just. Reacting badly to a bad situation.

The internet was always a mistake in the sense that it allowed us to capture in realtime any messy reactions we have to anything, before anything like sense or logic have a chance to kick in. And it was more of a mistake when we learned to Process Via Posting.

But that really doesn’t change the fact that humans. when big bad shit hits us that we weren’t expecting for some god damned reason, we might spend some time feeling fucked up contradictory things and lash out about it a little. It’s not good but it really just is.

There’s shame and there’s anger and there’s guilt and indignation and hope and hopelessness and spite and despair. And i fucking get it when people see that and want to say “oh poor fucking baby let me play you the works smallest violin” but you really can’t expect us to thank you for that.

I’m angry. I’m sad. I went to work today and I had dinner and waived TV and I laughed at some god damn posts and then I had some other emotions and I’m still angry and sad and confused and anxious in ways I don’t understand yet.

I try to delete posts that I reblog and then realize are kinda Fucked because I want to be someone who doesn’t lash out but if the worst thing I’m doing when badly processing my emotions is reblogging a post with angry judgmental words, then fucking sue me.

[ghouljams]

Ok nobody extrapolate anything about me from this...

The first time you cry in front of the 141:

The first time you cry in front of Ghost it's because you can't fucking take it anymore. All the little things, all the comments you know he didn't mean to hurt, all the conversations you ignored because you didn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, it all comes to a head. You don't even mean it to happen, and you feel like shooting yourself on the spot as soon as the tears start flowing. It feels manipulative. It feels disingenuous. You feel like a piece of shit having him awkwardly bundle you in his arms as you break down sobbing over a topic that normally would mean nothing to you. And it all comes out. All the worries and slights you ignored, all the fears and doubts, all the things that made you question if you could ever even start to bring up with him. Like throwing up, once it starts you can't stop it.

He looks like you've hit him when you finally escape his bear hug. You barely get the chance to take it in before you're thrust back into sobbing hysterics, blubbering out apologies, how you feel like you're manipulating him, how you're a bad partner, how you're sure he's going to realize he doesn't want you and leave. You barely hear the rough "Jesus Christ" over your own hiccuping.

Ghost shuffles the two of you over to grab you a t-shirt to blow your nose in while you're sniffling and wiping at your eyes. You feel pathetic having him hold the fabric to your face and telling you to blow.

"Didn't know ya made this much snot love," he jokes.

"You're dot funny," you whine, nose still clogged with wattery mucus as your tears finally start calming down.

"I know," he grumps.

"You're mad at me," you sniffle.

"I'm not," he sounds mad, "mad at myself. Shoulda seen ya keepin' things to yourself, I'm glad ya finally told me." His scarred mouth screws to one side. "Just gotta work on makin' sure we don't get to this point again."

-

The first time you cry in front of Soap it's because you're so fucking mad at him. He's arguing with you over nothing, the same way he always does when he's in a bad mood. Finding little things that dig at you and twisting just enough to make it not his fault when you snap. Back and forth with your barbs until you got to bed angry.

You can feel the tears burning at your waterline before they spill and you know your hot cheeks don't bode any better. You're not yelling but you almost wish you were, at least of you were yelling at each other it might make you feel better about the sudden waterworks. You hate when this happens. Too big an emotion in the body, it has to come out somewhere, you suppose this is just the quickest avenue. The way Soap's face drops from anger to concern pisses you off though.

"Hen, are ya-"

"I'm so fucking mad right now," you assure him, "don't look at me, don't even acknowledge them."

"Ah dinnae ken," His voice is getting softer, it only makes you more upset, "Oh my bonnie, ahm sorry ah didnae think this would hurt ya so bad."

"Fuck off," you try to push past him to lock yourself in the bathroom and he catches your arm to pull you against him. "Fuck off!" You shriek, pushing at him.

"No," he holds you a little tighter, "my mam would 'ave my heid hearin' ah let ya walk away from me like this, yer stayin' 'ere."

"I will fucking skin you Mactavish," you struggle harder.

"Aye anno, now shut up an' quit yer kickin'."

You do neither of those things.

-

The first time Gaz sees you cry it's because no one's ever seen you before. Even in your best relationships, your closest friendships, no one sees you like Gaz. No one picks you up from work with flowers and takes you by your favorite bakery just so you can have a slice of cake when you watch your comfort show. You're not even through the title music, Gaz sorting through your takeout options after he'd gotten you a "fancy plate" and a small fork to eat with, when you break down in sobs. He's on you immediately, hushing you as he gathers you into his arms. He's so attentive it hurts.

"It's OK baby," he hums, "don't have to talk about it, you just let it out."

God even that gets you crying. You don't have to get your words right or find a way to explain what you're feeling, you can just feel it. You try to think of a way to put it into words but it all lines up wrong, sounds too juvenile, doesn't make any sense even to you. There's no need to say anything though, Gaz just sits there with you, holds you through it as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

You don't even know why you're crying by the end of it, you just kept coming up with other reasons to cry. Jesus you don't think you ever got over your last grandparent dying, or losing that one friend, that's something to unpack later. You feel drained. Literally dehydrated drained. Gaz's shirt is soaked, but he doesn't day anything when you pull back.

He cups your cheek at wipes at the wet stains on your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching yours before he gives you a tight smile.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower, yeah?" He offers, you give him a watery nod, he smiles and pats your knee. "Alright, off you go. I'll be in, in a second."

The second time you cry in front of Gaz it's before he's got you pinned to the shower wall.

-

The first time Price sees you cry it's because you're tired. You're tired of giving everything to this relationship and seeing him leave right when things seem to be falling into place. His phone buzzes in the middle of the night and you don't stop the downpour when he grumbles out a swear and turns on the light. You glare at the ceiling and let the tears flow. It hurts. Tight in your chest. This feeling like you'll never be enough, like he'll always have something more important than you, it kills you. So why can't you leave him?

Are the good times really good enough to make up for the bad?

It makes him stop what he was doing when he sees the resolute grimace and the flow of tears over your cheeks. You shudder in a breath when he sits on the side of the bed. You refuse to look at him.

How could he do this to you?

"Sweetheart," he starts, his voice low, gentling, "I'm sorry."

"You're not." You correct him, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"You want me to choose between you and the world, you know what I'll say." He always sounds so sharp, ready to guilt you into giving up what he wants.

"I'm asking you to choose between me and paperwork," you bite back.

"You don't know-"

"You get phone calls when you're being deployed." You remind him, "You get reminders when papers are due." You turn to glare at him. The look on his face twists like a knife in your chest. You're dead on the money, and it's killing him. "So can this really not wait until the morning, are you really that eager to be rid of me?"

"I'm sorry," he tries again, toeing off his shoes, "you're right, I hadn't noticed." You turn over as he climbs under the duvet again. You fold your legs up as his arm drapes over you hip and he curls around you. His lips touch your shoulder, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Let me make it up to you, no more running into red tape I promise."

You don't bother agreeing to empty promises, but the next day he's had the paperwork sent from the base. The same the next day. Price always told you working from home didn't suit him. Waking you up with a cuppa on the other hand and walking you to the station does though.

He makes good on his promise, he doesn't run off until the next call comes in.

[lemonmaid]

A snip i need to get out of my head before bed. (Warnings pregnant reader, not proofed read, I'm so fucking tired)

Poly 141 x pregnant reader.

When you told the boys that you were pregnant, many many emotions but not one was negative towards you.

Johnny was excited, immediately thinking of names and happy that they almost have enough people for a football team (john thinks rugby would be a better sport but who is asking).

Simon who is immediately nervous due to his own family issues, he knows therapy can help with this but he'll be damn if he is ever like his father.

Kyle who is immediately thinking why it is important to know who the father is, even if he isn't the bio dad he is still gonna buy the proper hair products just in case.

John who is already crying, he is a big papa bear now and he couldn't be more happy.

Over the course of your pregnancy, the boys are literally waiting hand and foot for you.

Simon refuses to let you do anything on your own. You want to help with the nursery? No sit down and rest. You need to bend down and grab something you dropped? Nah call him even if he is at work.

John is up your ass about you doing exercises and taking your prenatal vitamins. He wakes you up at eight in the morning to do a light work out for your core muscle then makes you wind down for bed by 9 pm.

Johnny is always ready to make a snack run, even if John is against it, hell he even got back up emergency snacks in the car. Even though you all share an Alaskan king bed, reach over and shove him awake so he can do a quick errand.

Kyle is always with you when you are shopping, 100% he will agree with you on any clothing for the baby, you want the cutest expensive baby towel that is good for eczema? No problem. You think we should do cloth diapers? You're absolutely right, save nature.

When you have to get a body pillow/pregnancy pillow to support your stomach the boys are upset that they can't cuddle you without the pillow being in the way (or the little shit kicks them and it hurts you).

The boys love, LOVE it when you wear tight shirts, I mean look at that adorable bump and Jesus christ your breast have gotten so big.

Speaking of breast, Johnny is always looking at you like a kicked dog when you don't let him "help" you pump.

Please tell them when something hurts. Because these boys take everything too serious. When you started having braksion hicks, they were so paranoid. It got to a point where when you were in labor you didn't tell them untill they were 5 minutes apart. Which freaked them out, rushing you to the hospital.

The boys are 100% supportive of your birth plan, they really are.

But as soon as the contractions hit and they see your pained expression, they are immediately second guessing.

John is bluntly telling you to take the epidural.

Simon is rubbing your back telling you that there is no reward for having a natural birth.

But, you progress, practicing your breathing exercises, you've been training for this moment. You decided to bounce and roll on the yoga ball that was offered in the room, it help with the pressure.

Johnny is the one who has been trying to sneak you food, happy wife (or partner) happy life. But Kyle is nagging him how you cannot have food when you are close to labor (you're only 2 cm and it's been four hours).

Simon is encouraging you to sleep and rest, when you obviously can't Johnny is helping you recheck the diaper bag for the tenth time that night.

Kyle who is walking with you up and down the hall, purposely walking down the hall with the window where you can see the other newborns.

John who is now having panic attack, 'oh god I'm going to be a father'.

When it's finally time to start pushing, one of the nurses tries pushing out the others, thinking that John is the father. It wasn't untill your midwife told them to leave them be and that they can stay.

Simon and John who are holding your hands as you pushed, Johnny is playing with your hair to help distract you from the pain and Kyle is wiping your forehead.

When everyone hears the sharp cry that echoes in the room, the gasp is heard, when the newborn is placed on your chest, they can't help but shed a tear.

Simon and Johnny are telling you that you did an amazing job. Kyle is kissing your head, comforting your cries, John is watching the nurses every move with the newborn.

They all couldn't be more happier.

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (one shot)

Summary: Joel forgets date night and has guys night instead, which makes you act out. Joel isn’t too happy and has to punish you in the best way he knows how.

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI! Mean!joel, swearing, arguing, brat tamer! If you squint, drinking, teasing Joel, a slight comment about cheating but would never, rough!joel, spanking,choking,spitting, manhandling, sir!kink, unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, pet names (little girl, little one, baby doll, Joel calls you a crazy bitch oNCE, etc) power dynamic, big girthy age gap (not specified but enough to where you call him old man) slight bullying of peepaw for forgetting stuff, rough sex. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

Word Count: 3K

This is 1000% based on this gif @worhols sent me 🖤 love u Becca

Even though your Saturday morning was filled with a shift at work, you couldn’t wait to get home to see your man and take all afternoon to get ready for your date at 7. Date night was far and in between now for you two, so some fun outside the house was what you were needing. Your key entered the lock on the front door and turned, pushing the door open to music echoing from the basement. 

The kitchen counter was covered in beer boxes and bottles of liquor, chips, and Joel’s case of poker. What the fuck?

“Joel, honey?” You called out and you could hear the thumping on the basement stairs from his boots getting louder as he got closer to the main floor. 

“Hey baby doll, what’s up? How was work?” The back of his hand wipes his forehead slowly, gathering all the sweat off of him. The look on your face was so telling that something was bothering you. 

“Work was fine, uh I’m wondering why there’s shit all over the counter like you’re going to have guys night in the basement?” You crossed your arms across your chest and met his eyes, his jaw slowing the gum chewing down as he thought carefully of what to say next. 

“Beeecause we’re playing poker tonight in the basement…” It came out more as like a question and then it became apparent to you he completely forgot about your date night. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, “Joel…we were supposed to have a date tonight..did you not remember?”

For such a tan man, you didn’t think he could turn so pale with shock. His hands met his hips and he sighed, looking down at his boots. 

“Darlin’ listen I- I’m sorry I forgot we had plans. Tommy asked if we could do it here and it slipped my mind about date night tonight.” Those beautiful brown eyes found yours once more and made your body shiver with sadness and anger. “How did you forget when I’ve been reminding you all week? Jesus Christ, you don’t listen to me, old man.” You turned and started to take off your jacket, not wanting to say anymore than what you already have. 

“Watch your fuckin’ tone with me little girl. I already told you I was sorry, what more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing, Joel. I don’t want you to do anything except go down there and have a fun time with your friends and play your stupid fucking game. I should ask one of them to take me out because if you can’t remember a simple date, maybe they can show me a better time.” The smartass tone was dripping off your words and it only heated the situation more.

“What the hell did you just say?” His head cocked to the side to make sure he heard you correctly. The smirk on your face only made him more irritated and he was just about to ask you to repeat yourself when he was cut off by the doorbell ringing.

“Saved by the bell, go figure.” You muttered at him and went to open the door leaving Joel standing there in a mix of emotions. You’d never in a million years date his friends but you just wanted to get a rise from him. It was only fair he was in a shitty mood after putting you in one.

You greeted them all with small ‘hellos’ and smiles, Tommy engulfing you in a hug. 

“Are you playin’ poker with us tonight sweetheart?” He asks as he releases you from his arms, walking to Joel and hits his arm lightly. Joel is still clearly caught off guard from your snappy digs and doesn’t say anything to anyone. 

“Oh, no. No poker for me. Joel forgot to mention it to me, guess that age is starting to catch up to him, huh?” You joke, putting the clean dishes away that were still in the strainer. All the guys laugh and Tommy nudges Joel right in his side with a stupid grin on his face. 

“You just gonna take that from her? Man you’re soft now.” He says to Joel and laughs again. Joel looks up at you and burns imaginary holes into your back from staring so hard. “S’alright, she’s jus’ being a brat right now. Why don’t you guys grab the shit from the counter and we’ll start soon?” Joel asks and nods to the countertop in front of you as you stand against the cabinets and squint at him. They grab the stuff and start to head down, a few of them and Tommy hanging back to wait for Joel. 

He walks to you and grabs your wrist by your hip and squeezes it, whispering in your ear, “Knock it off. Now.” 

You snatch your wrist from him and he places a rough kiss on your cheek, barely pressing his lips to your skin. He was pissed off at you for even entertaining that stupid idea of you and his friends to him. 

“Yes, sir.” He clocked your sarcasm instantly and glared at you. Your eyes met his only for a moment as he turned around on his heel and headed to the basement. With a short moment he disappears down the stairs and you’re left sulking in your emotions. This wasn’t the first time he forgot date night, this was actually the fourth. If Joel thought he could start to get comfortable and not put in so much effort for taking you out anymore, boy did he have another thing coming. 

“Fuckin’ asshole.” you mumble to yourself and clean up the mess he left of grocery bags and receipts. 

After about an hour cleaning up the main floor and having to listen to Joel's laugh carry up the stairs and into your ears, you had enough. If he wanted to play, you could play too.

Going to your shared bedroom, you start going through his closet and grab one of his old white t-shirts he had made up for work years ago. Their logo on the back left more room in the front to see everything under it. Slipping on your shortest pajama shorts and hiking them up just under your ass, you giggled at yourself in the mirror and almost changed your mind when you noticed your dress hanging in your closet that you planned to wear tonight. With the sunset slowly turning blue for the night, that burning fire in you started to reignite. 

You make your way slowly down the steps with the laundry basket tucked into your side, clearly your excuse to even go down there. The men were circled around the table, music still blaring and the string lights glittering the ceiling. “No no no, so then I told her to stop usin’ her teeth, it-” You cleared your throat and Tommy shut up quickly, turning around to face you. Joel didn’t even bother to look up until they greeted you, much different than earlier now that you were half dressed. His eyes were zeroed on on your body, his nostrils flared and the cards being held in his hands slowly started to bend. 

“Don’t mind me, just here to do some laundry before I go to bed.” That was a bold face lie. Joel knew you weren’t going to sleep. He also knew you weren’t down here to do laundry, you hated doing laundry. 

“All good, girl. You’re no bother to us.” James said, the one who had been eyeing you since you tiptoed down here. 

You opened the dryer to empty it in the laundry basket, bending over more and more with each scoop inside to get clothes out. Joel coughed loudly when he noticed what you were doing and it made you jump, not expecting him to be so obnoxious with it. “You doin’ alright baby? Need another beer?” You ask a little too sweetly and he doesn’t blink once when you meet his gaze after standing up straight, a stupid smirk forming on your lips.

“Sure, f’you wanna get me one.” He grumbled. 

You wandered over to the small fridge in the corner with a piece of clothing tucked under your arm and grabbed a beer, walking over to him and cracking it open for him. He leaned to one side to really look at you, noticing that shitty grin plastered all over your face. 

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t do nice things for you, baby?” You rhetorically asked and folded the pair of panties you shoved under your arm just a second ago. Everyone's eyes fell onto what little fabric there was of the bejeweled thong that said ‘Angel’ on the front.

Joel was shooting daggers at you and you knew how much you were getting under his skin at this point. You took a seat on his lap and looked at his cards, not once looking at him. “All in” James says as he pushes his chips to the middle and his eyes wander up your chest. James was older than Joel and not that good looking. It wasn’t surprising he took a liking to you since he’s cheated on his wife three times now. The other guys were out and it was just between Joel and James. Ironic. 

“You’re bluffin’ you sorry bastard.” Joel chuckles and lays down his cards, straight flush. 

James groaned and tossed his cards in the middle and you looked to see a full house. You jump off Joel's lap and bounce up and down cheering for him, genuinely happy he won. What you forgot about was your boobs were also bouncing up and down. “Alright, that’s it. Guys, I’ll be back in a second. Start over without me and don’t you fuckin’ steal any chips from me.” He states and grabs the laundry basket off the ground, your arm in his other hand and drags you up the stairs. Fuck. Too far.

He marches up all the way to your room and tosses you facedown on the bed, panting from anger. “What the fuck was that, little one? Hm?” You don’t move as he rips off your shorts to expose the white panties covering your ass. 

“What? I was just having fun, Joel.” You snap back and brush your hair from your face to look at him. His jaw clenched together as he nodded once, rubbing the stubble on his chin. 

“Ya know baby, somethin’ just tells me that isn’t the complete truth.“You wanted male attention so bad you were whorin’ yourself around down there in front of anyone who’d look at you for 5 fuckin’ seconds.” His belt was beginning to come undone and you knew what was going to happen. “Joel..baby, please I’m sorry I-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. Stay still. Since I’m such an old man and can’t remember jack shit, count for me baby. If you fuck up, I’ll start over.” He straddles the back of your thighs and moves your panties up out of the way, smacking your ass hard. 

“O-one.” A grunt leaves his mouth after you start counting. His big hand comes down again, smacking the same spot, already red. You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering at the pain.

“Two-o.” Your voice shutters. 

Joel’s hand collides with your ass cheek once more. “You’ll learn one of these times not to be a smart ass to me, baby doll.”

“Fuck, Joel- three.” You can feel the welt starting to form. 

You can hear him laughing behind you as he anchors you to the bed more, the pain making your ears ring. Joel spanks you again, the roughest he’s done it yet. 

Your mouth drops in agony and tears start to fall down your face. 

“F-fou-r.” The silent sobs slowly start to leave your lips. 

His other hand comes by your face and ever so gently wipes the tears spilling from your pretty eyes and down your cheeks.

“Cryin’ won’t get you out of this baby girl. You wanted to act like a badass, take the punishment that follows. Got it?”

You couldn’t muster up anything other than, “Y-yes.” 

“Yes, what? Say it.” 

You swallowed harshly and took a deep breath before answering.

“Yes, sir.” 

The hot sensation on your ass cheek was spreading all over your body, the sting from his hand cracking your flesh again made you wince, begging for him to stop. 

“Ahh-five.” You seemed to have been losing your voice, only able to squeak out the number rattling in your brain. 

Instead of cracking you again, Joel rubs where he’s been spanking you and groans. 

“Have you learned your lesson you fuckin’ brat? Gonna be a good girl for me now?” He leans down and whispers in your ear.

You lay there still and unable to speak, a small nod was the only way you could answer. Joel reaches in front of your face and clears your vision of your hair and kisses your cheek roughly. “I dunno princess, think I might have to punish you some more.” His evil chuckle vibrated against your cheek as he kissed it again. 

Without a single word more, Joel laid over the top of you with your arms pinned against your back and you began to wiggle. 

“Take this fuckin’ cock baby. You want attention so bad, so stupid for cock, well here it is. Stay still.” He yanks down your panties and spits on his fingers before shoving his hand between your thighs as you squirm, his fingers starting at your soaking wet cunt all the way back to your asshole. 

The pre-cum leaking from the slightly swollen red tip was spread around the head before Joel rammed his cock so far inside your aching entrance. You mule out and he covers your mouth roughly, yanking you against his chest. 

“Shut the fuck up, they don’t need to know how good I fuck you. Shut that pretty mouth up before I put it to use.” He growls and starts to thrust inside you, ramming into your cervix in no time. The rough hold on your mouth makes your cries and moans so muffled but just audible enough for Joel to hear. 

“So damn wet for me princess, knew you like when I spank ya like that. Such a nasty little thing f’me. Think those assholes downstairs could fuck you like I do?” A rough kiss against your neck makes your eyes roll back and whine out, needing him to split you open from the inside. His calloused hand still covers your mouth and you shake your head in disagreement. 

“Use your big girl words baby.” Joel grunts and uncovers your mouth, grabbing your waist roughly and thrusts into you harder. 

You whimper and bite your lip and tilt your head back, looking deep into his dark brown eyes that were hungry for you. “No, sir. I don’t think they could ever fuck me the way you do. Your big fucking dick ramming into me and making me scream while you try to fit the whole thing inside me.” You could see your words were getting him somewhere, a small smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. 

He digs his fingers into the skin on your hip more and pounds into you, his skin smacking against yours. Joel was a grunter and wow did it turn you on. His teeth clenched, he moans your name and cusses at the end of it, tossing his head back to keep himself together. 

“I would’ve taken you right on that damn poker table and made you suck my cock in front of them if you woulda kept it up baby. You wanna act like a whore in front of ‘em, I’ll treat you like one. Would you’ve wanted to suck my cock with them watchin’?” He asks, pinching your nipple under his work shirt that was stuck to your body. 

“I would’ve done whatever you wanted, sir. I promise, sir I will do anything for you.”

He growls and bites your earlobe teasingly before licking it and the shell of your ear.

“You’re a crazy little bitch for me aren’t ya?”

“I-I’m so close sir, fuck don’t stop.” You whine and he shoves your head down into the bed, groaning loudly. 

“No baby, bad girls don’t get to cum. You better not or I’ll spank you harder than before. D’you want me to spank you much harder than the last time, angel?” Your body was aching to cum, the mascara you applied hours ago now smeared and running down your cheeks. 

“No, sir.” The tears pricking your eyes as you could feel your orgasm just sitting in your stomach wanting to be released all over Joel’s cock. 

He groans louder and pushes your head down to keep still while he drives his cock balls deep in you, slowing up as he’s bracing himself for the end of his fun. 

Joel gives your ass a few more good smacks and you have to squeeze your legs shut to keep yourself from cumming. He wasn’t fair for making you hold it, he liked seeing you helpless. 

“Gonna fill this little pussy full so you don’t forget who you belong to, you got that?” His hand wraps around your throat as he engulfs you in his arms, fucking you sloppy until he’s panting like a dog in your ear. “Fuck baby doll-fuck- I’m gonna-a cum-ah-fuc-” Joel’s hot stream shoots inside you as he grunts loudly, grabbing a handful of your hair in the midst of fucking his load deep in your hole. 

Your pussy squelches and you can feel your clit just screaming to get some attention, some relief. Joel's breaths regulate once more and he lays there behind you kissing your shoulder and back softly. “Maybe next time you won’t be a brat huh?” He chuckles and gets up to go to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth for you. He cleans you up and your eyes get heavy, sleep creeping up on you. Joel kisses your forehead, whispering in your ear, “Get some rest baby. I’ll be back up soon. Maybe I’ll let you cum then.” 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Mutual masturbation with virgin!Ethan. Maybe reader teaches him how to touch a girl? He’d be so shy and cute and ugh I want him

The face Jack does in the gif represents many situations in this one

Warning: smut, virgin!Ethan, mutual touching, 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

''It's weird. Do you think it's weird?''

''Should we be doing this? I really don't want to ruin our friendship.''

''Are you sure about this? We don't have to if you don't want—''

''Ethan.'' You felt like screaming. Consent is good, but he really needed to stop asking if it was okay every three seconds. It was starting to get on your nerves. You breathed out your emotions, then curled your lips into a soft smile. ''I would not be here with my pants off if I didn't want to.''

He bit his bottom lip and nodded. ''I'm just...I'm nervous. In case you cannot tell,'' Ethan explained, a light flush coating his cheeks. ''I've never seen a woman naked before — other than in porn. That's not how people look though.'' He drew his eyebrows, getting flashes of the porn he watched last night. Your body looked very different than the woman with the massive fake tits.

''Well, how do I look?'' You did a little twirl, giving him a three-sixty view and Ethan's breathing changed.

''Really nice.,'' he croaked, honest and innocent, feeling his cock stiffen beneath his pants.

That's not how you compliment a person's body, but you let it slide.

''I've also never touched a girl...like that before. Sorry in advance if I suck or can't find the clit,'' he added with deeper flushed cheeks.

Giggles bubbled from your mouth. ''It's okay. Like I said, I'll show you.'' You reached out and pulled him by his belt buckle. ''Now, lose some clothes. I'm starting to feel unfairly exposed being the only one undressed.''

Ethan nodded and quickly pulled his polo off, showing off his surprisingly nicely toned chest, getting it stuck under his chin at the collar in his haste. You wanted to tell him to slow down, but it was amusing to watch. He undid his belt and popped open the buttons on his jeans, then pushed them down his thighs.

''Eh...one other thing. I've never been fully naked in front of someone before. Other than a doctor or my mom during bath-time when I was a kid. I probably shouldn't be talking about my mom right now...''

You stepped over and kissed him softly. ''You talk too much.'' Your hand fell down his bare chest, your fingers brushing over his clothed erection, and he jumped a little. ''Shall we get to business?'' you asked against Ethan's lips.

He let out a sigh at your touch. ''Fuck. I don't think I'm gonna last long. I'm about to fucking burst just from that one touch.''

''Do you?'' Mischief washed over your features as you reached back to your bra clasp. ''And if I do this?'' You pushed the clasp and unhooked it, the straps slowly falling off your shoulders as you let your bra fall.

You saw Ethan's eyes wandering down from your face to your breasts, his breath catching in his throat. He had peeked at your chest before, through tight shirts or on days where you didn't wear a bra, but he had never seen much skin displayed. They were round and perky and tipped with perfectly peaked nipples that Ethan was dying to wrap his mouth around.

''Give me your hand.'' You grabbed Ethan's hand and raised it to your right breast to cup it.

He squeezed the flesh gently, passing his thumb over your nipple to rub it. He swallowed the whine that left his throat, unable to tear his eyes away as you moved his other hand to cup your other breast. ''Jesus Christ.''

You let him have his moment, living his teenage fantasy of touching a woman's breasts, then brought him back to business.

You shimmed your panties off as Ethan did with his boxers, his cheeks turning a deep crimson. Nerdy virgins like Ethan were rumored to have a small shrimp between their legs, but his cock was fairly big — bigger than what you thought it would be.

Feeling observed, Ethan shifted on his feet.

You moved to the bed, sitting facing each other, and Ethan's cock twitched in his lap when he felt your knee brushing against his. Cute.

You spread your legs and Ethan's breath spiraled out of his lungs. ''Fuck, you're so pretty,'' he breathed out, his eyes, blown wide with lust stared shamelessly at your glistening pussy, his mouth almost salivating by how wet you were.

''Eh, thanks. I guess...'' Awkwardness was starting to plant its foot, so you cleared your throat. ''Ready to learn how to touch a woman?''

He nodded, nervous but eager to learn.

''First, you gotta work her up. You can caress or kiss her breasts and thighs, gently run your fingers over her skin until you dive lower.'' You grabbed your own breasts, then slowly slid your hands down to your mound.

Before you, Ethan's cheeks were a lovely shade of red as he took mental notes.

You reached down and spread yourself out with two fingers, showing and teaching Ethan the basics. He had learned the female genitalia system during the anatomy lessons in high school, but he didn't remember anything, too focussed on not getting hard in class.

''O-okay. I think I got it.''

Swallowing thickly, Ethan dipped his fingers between your legs, marveling and almost moaning when a wet substance coated his fingers. He gathered up some of the wetness like you had done and dragged it back up to your clit. ''Is this good?'' he asked, needing reassurance.

You nodded. ''Now go a little higher — you know where the clit is, right?''

He didn't look too confident, but ended up finding it, a soft whine slipping from your lips as he gently and slowly circled your clit.

''That's it, E, you're doing so well. Keep doing that.''

Your encouraging words were a tap on the back for Ethan. They made him feel a little less like the virgin loser he did an hour ago.

You shifted your gaze to Ethan's cock, the tip so red it was practically drooling precum at this point. A hard shudder racked his body as you wrapped your hand around it. ''Big and hard for me. Right, E?''

He whimpered at that, his soft sounds filling the room as he bucked his hips towards you. You slowly — teasingly — moved your hand up and down, making Ethan shut his eyes, his head rolling back. His lips were parted, just slightly, but wide enough that if you pressed your mouth to his, you could slide your tongue between the pouty seam and taste him.

''I'm going to cum way too fast,'' Ethan said as a fact, absentmindedly pausing his movements.

You applied pressure at the tip of his cock to get his attention, eliciting a whimper. ''Keep your hand on me,'' you scolded, feeling him slip away as you were pleasuring him.

''Sorry...''

Snapping back into action, Ethan started rubbing your clit again and pressed harder against the bud but kept his pace, making you whine as an intense shock of pleasure shot through your body. Only your pink vibrator had ever made you feel this good.

You sped up your strokes, swiping your thumb over the head every upstroke to drive Ethan insane. He looked so cute struggling to keep it together and not cum right there.

''Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,'' he cursed under his breath, rubbed you even faster to busy his mind and concentrate on something else.

Unfortunately, it wasn't very efficient. Each sounds leaving your mouth were making the situation worse.

He needed a distraction.

Ethan looked up through his sweaty fringe, catching sight of your full chest. With a glint in his eyes, his other hand skimmed up your body to cup one firm breast. He toyed with your nipple between his fingers and you bit back a growl. He wanted to suck on that puckered bud more than he wanted his next breath.

''Are you close, E?'' you asked although you already knew the answer.

''Shut up.''

You giggled softly. ''You can put a finger in, you know,'' you said, your voice was honeyed and sweet. ''No. Scratch that. Please put a finger in.''

That one little word almost sent Ethan over the edge.

His hand left your breast and traveled over your belly, down the edge of your hips. Your skin was so soft underneath his fingers. He made eye contact with you, then sank two of them into your pussy, while his other hand continued to tend to your clit.

The fullness of his fingers made you moan, a part of you wishing something other than his fingers was inside you. It would feel so fucking good.

''Fuck, you feel so good,'' you told him, pushing yourself against his fingers every time he withdrew them.

Your eyes had gone hazy with pleasure, and you were rocking restlessly on Ethan's fingers and crying out whenever he would curl them. Before you, Ethan's moans had become more whiny and his cock was so red and leaking more precum than you had ever seen a guy produce.

This wasn't going to last much longer.

Your body was on fire, but you stroked Ethan faster as you cried out, feeling the knot inside your lower stomach snap as you climaxed. A guttural moan echoed in the room and mixed with your cry, pleasure hurtling through Ethan and coating with spurts of white your hand and his stomach.

Several seconds later, your bodies relaxed and a sated sigh rumbled from Ethan's mouth, blowing a few curls of his fringe. Feeling a rush of tiredness, he fell back on his bed, his chest flushed from the heat of your activities. 

It was amusing seeing him like this, limp and spent and still having trouble breathing.

''Fuck, that was hot,'' he asserted, looking at the off-white colored ceiling. 

You chuckled and grabbed some tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped your hand clean. ''Now you know how to get a girl off.'' 

Ethan hummed, his mouth curling into a beaming grin. He did.

—

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[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

[guiltyasdave]

say you'll remember me

chapter 5 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: The aftermath. (Because I am dramatic)

word count: 1.9k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, slut shaming, pure angst I'M SORRY

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, i love you <3

i'm sorry that this took so long and also about the... contents of this. it's the last official chapter, but there will be an epilogue. if this is stressing you out and you'd feel more comfortable knowing if there will be a happy ending, please feel free to shoot me a dm <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

“Where’s my what?”

David steps through the open bedroom door, pulling a washed out t-shirt over his head, tousling his hair even further than it was before. He’s not wearing pants, only the briefs that he so eagerly got out of less than an hour ago. He freezes at the scene in front of him. 

You’re painfully aware of your own appearance, painfully aware of how obvious it is what you’re doing here. There’s zero chance of talking your way out of this one. 

Your father is still standing in the doorway, jaw clenched impossibly tight, his gaze flickering between the two of you. You steal a glance at David, finding his eyes already on you. Regret is swimming in them, threatening to drown you both, and you know that he’s come to the same conclusion. You’re done for. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

It’s clipped, the quiet and cold tone that you’ve had a lifetime to get used to, but it’s tinged in anger, with an intensity that you’ve never heard before. The step you take back comes instinctively, following the desperate urge to get closer to the man behind you, the man who makes you feel safe, even now. A scowl forms on your father’s face as he clocks the movement. 

“Jim–” David tries, arm halfway raised like he’s reaching out. To you or to your father, you’re not sure. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d drop by, even though you weren’t answering your phone.” His chuckle is devoid of humor, his eyes flashing darkly. “Guess you were busy.” 

“Dad, please…” You’re not sure what you even want to ask for. For him to hear you out, to understand? 

He shakes his head, looking you up and down, disdain written clear over his face. 

“Put some clothes on, Jesus Christ. I’m taking you home.” 

You look at David again, desperate for just a hint of comfort, no matter how small. The promise that, somehow, everything will be fine. He gives you a curt nod towards the bedroom, no discernible emotion in his expression. 

You’re uncomfortably aware of the expanse of your bare legs under his shirt as you walk back into the room, the place that has become your sanctuary over the past weeks. 

“Jim, listen,” you hear David’s voice through the open door. “We just– we were talking if maybe I could get her an internship at the DIA, and it– it just happened. It was a one time thing, I swear. And a mistake. I–I’m so sorry.”

Lies. They seem to fall from his lips so easily, like a story that he had prepared for a long time. Maybe he did. 

“I really don’t give a shit, Dave.” 

You hear David sigh, can see his accompanying expression in your mind. The pursed lips, the firm jaw. 

“I guess that’s fair.” 

You don’t want to leave, don’t want the tense car ride, don’t want to be alone in your room and replay this over and over. You’re already circling through scenarios how this could have gone differently. 

Why did you have to go open the door? Why didn’t you let David get it? Why did none of you notice his phone ringing? Why hadn’t you been more careful? 

When you re-emerge from the room, neither of them has moved. Your father’s expression is unreadable, a stoic kind of coldness that doesn’t betray any feelings he might have. 

You can’t help looking at David’s face when you pass him, searching for comfort, reassurance, anything. Some sign that he didn’t mean it when he said you and him had been a mistake. But he’s staring at the floor, his face like a mask. 

You bite your lip, avoiding your father’s gaze when you step past him and down the stairwell. He’s gonna have more to say about this, you know it. 

He’s fulfilling your expectation after a few minutes of silence, the tension in the car so thick that it feels like you’re getting crushed by the sheer weight of it.

“Always taking the easy route, aren’t you?! Rather just spread your legs than to put in some actual work, fucking hell…” 

Your lips fall open at his words, a disbelieving huff escaping you. 

“Dad, that’s not–” 

“That’s exactly what it is,” he cuts you off, his grip tight on the steering wheel, venom spitting from his mouth. “I didn’t think I raised you to be a whore.” 

You snap your mouth shut, staring straight ahead, tears brimming in your eyes. It had never even crossed your mind, the thought that you’d get anything like a job out of your… situation with David. It was never your motivation. You just– wanted him. Wanted him to like you. 

It hurts, hurts more than you want to admit to yourself, to have your own father jump to that conclusion so quickly. To know that he has no issues seeing you like that, thinking of you like that. 

“You embarrassed me,” he continues, even angrier than before. “Throwing yourself at the first man you see.”

Heat is rising in your cheeks. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s a whispered sound, shame ringing with the words. You don’t want to apologize, but it comes like an instinct, the only acceptable option that you have. 

“You’re gonna stay home for the next two weeks, until your break is over. You’re gonna study and maybe, if you show me that it’s not a complete waste of money, I’ll keep paying for that goddamn school.”

Your head whips around to stare at his stony profile beside you. He’s grounding you?!

“Dad, I’m not a child!” 

He shrugs, pulling up to the house. 

“Well, since you’re acting as irresponsible as a child, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

He doesn’t stop you when you throw open the car door, fumbling with the house keys before you get the door open and stomp up to your room. Angry tears are blurring your vision, blood pounding loudly in your ears. 

You’re not thinking straight, thumbs flying over your phone screen, a message about how this doesn’t mean anything, how you’ll figure this out, how much you still want him, flowing from your fingertips. David doesn’t respond. 

You cry yourself to sleep that night, tossing and turning in your sheets, your dreams full of vague shapes and scenarios, replaying the day’s events over and over. 

Your father checks on you the next morning, pointedly asking about your plans for the day, seemingly content with your mumbled, spiritless responses about revising coursework and working on applications for an internship. 

“You can do better than the DIA, you realize that, right? Hardly any money to make there.” 

You nod silently, forcing down the ragefit about how you don’t give a shit about the DIA, or about any job for that matter, that it never fucking was about that. 

You’ve never had a particularly strong intention to actually follow your father’s orders and not leave the house, but it’s out of the window when your phone finally vibrates with a message from David, asking if it’s possible for you to meet him. 

You’re out the door in a heartbeat, paying no mind to the security cameras recording you, to the consequences of this. It’s like you’re on autopilot, the stress of the past 24 hours erasing all rational thoughts from your mind. 

David meets you at the door, a sight so painfully familiar and yet entirely new, because of the look on his face. Devoid of emotion, a mask of the man that you know, but not this version of him. He pulls you into an embrace, one that you desperately want to melt into, but his arms are stiff around you, coldness seeping into your bones despite the warmth of his body. You suppress a shiver when he doesn’t even lead you further into the apartment. You’re standing in the hallway, the short distance between you suddenly unbridgeable. From the corner of your eye, you notice his bedroom door. Firmly closed, once more. 

“Sweetheart–” he begins, rubbing his neck with one hand. A nervous gesture, so vastly different from the self-assured, always in control David that you’re so intimately familiar with. 

The rational part of you knows what this means, can almost predict the words that he’s gonna say next. It gives you a strange sense of déjà vu, reminds you of another time when you were in this apartment, so sure that he didn’t want you, that he was going to end this thing with you. 

You were mistaken back then. You know that you’re not mistaken now, because the David in front of you is nothing like the one from back then. It’s glaringly obvious, the difference between them, the cold determination that you see in his eyes only right now. 

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? F–for real this time?” 

Your voice barely wavers, your eyes don’t stray from his face. It’s like you’re walking through a dream, through a living nightmare, eerily aware of what’s gonna happen next but with no way to do anything about it. 

Hurt flashes in his eyes, gritting his teeth, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He only manages a silent nod.

You feel your face crumbling, hot tears finally springing to your eyes. Your throat grows tight. 

“Please… please don’t. Please.” You have to beg, have to at least try.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “I never should have– it was a mistake. You know that, right?” 

You shake your head, eyes wide and silently pleading with him, unable to form words. He sighs, pain clear on his features as he cups your cheek. 

“Baby, I– I wish things were different, but– you’re so young. You’ve still got your whole life– you don’t need me. I never should have allowed this. I’m sorry that I did.” 

You choke out his name, the one that, unbeknownst to you, no one else uses. That he’ll never let anyone else use again. 

“But I want you,” you whisper, stepping closer, pressing your face into the familiar crook of his neck, breathing in the comfort that the scent of him brings. He chuckles weakly, a humorless sound, gently moving out of your embrace, his large hands finding your shoulders instead, prompting you to look at him.

“You shouldn’t. I’m not– I’m not worth it. I won’t let you fuck up your life over this.” 

Acceptance and denial are battling in your heart, the knowledge that you kind of always had but buried away deep down finally resurfacing. He isn’t yours to lose and he never was. 

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, tears silently streaming down your face. You need to ask, need to know if this ever meant as much to him as it did to you. “Will you miss me at all?” Will you even remember me?

His lips tilt up in a sad smile, and you could swear that his eyes are glassy as he gently presses his mouth against your forehead one last time. 

“Always, sweetheart.”

.........................................please remember that i love you

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

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[queerprayers]

Hi! This advent I really want to honour my faith rather than just celebrating christmas in a secular sense. I found your post about advent and the liturgical new year inspiring, and I was wondering if you could point me towards some ideas or resources for advent practices or ways to go about worship specifically for this period - everywhere I've looked just talks about lighting candles, which I'm not able to do in my current housing. Do you have any suggestions?

Thank you for your blog and everything you write here, and I hope you have a wonderful new year <3

Happy Advent, beloved! Candles are great (including fake ones or felt/crafted ones)—or you could recreate a similar weekly/daily thing, like hanging another star in the window. But that's not your only option. Here are some thoughts! (I also said some similar things last year you might find interesting.)

One of the most meaningful things about my Advents growing up was the fact that it was visibly not-quite-Christmas. We put up our tree maybe a few days before but we didn't decorate it until Christmas Eve. We didn't listen to Christmas music till Christmas—we listened to Advent music. We put our nativity set in the window, but gradually—we would set up Mary and Joseph traveling to it, and I remember waiting to unpack the baby Jesus until Christmas Eve. (The wise men were on the bookshelf until Epiphany.) I've put a painting of the Annunciation on my altar, but Christmas stuff will wait. 

It's very important to me to make each season distinct materially. The things around me, the music I listen to, the books I read, the prayers I say, change tangibly—in Advent and Lent especially. My emotions come and go, what I'm thinking about is different every day, but it's Advent because I am doing Advent—and not yet doing Christmas, no matter what the music in the grocery store or the parties I'm invited to tell me. (I don't refuse to find joy in them, I'm just conscious about the fact that I'm in a different season. It's not as big a deal to me as the Lent/Easter divide, though, which I will defend with every part of me.)

I love liturgical colors for this reason, too—my church isn't very extravagant and mostly looks the same throughout the year, but the altar cloth is a different color. I know exactly what season it is just from that. (Our Advent is blue to honor Mary, but most people's is purple like Lent with maybe a pink Gaudete Sunday.) My home altar also changes color, so I have that visual in my room as well.

So do it on purpose, candles or no. Maybe wait on a few Christmas-y things, like ornaments or music (don't worry, Christmas has twelve days and then you can keep doing it all through the Epiphany season if you want). Make it Advent, whenever you start! 

Historically, Advent traditions have been very similar (or identical) to Lenten ones. The Orthodox church calls Advent the Nativity Fast. It's been a penitent preparation. Things we may associate with Lent, like going without things or structured prayer, can find a home in Advent as well.

Secular celebrations and consumerism have affected Advent as well as Christmas, with countless calendars and just in general by filling our lives with Christmas themes that might make us forget Advent has its own themes. (To be clear, I support anyone celebrating Christmas—once a religion evangelizes/colonizes/rules, it has no right to accuse people of appropriating its holidays. I am simply talking about how the cultural practice differs.) Advent has themes of peace and love and hope, but it's got more specific themes than that, scarier stuff than that. It's about Christ's coming in the Incarnation, but it's also about Christ coming all around us every day, and Christ's promised future coming.

Spend some time with Isaiah, spend some time with meditations on Mary (I just read some of Catherine of Siena's words which are here as a reading for March 25.). From the poem I posted, you can tell I spent some time with Joel last year. Here's the Revised Common Lectionary daily readings for these seasons—you could start a habit or do it for a season or explore some passages every once in a while. You can find the Book of Common Prayer's traditional Advent prayers here (The Collects >> choose Traditional or Contemporary language >> Seasons of the Year). The ancient "O Antiphons" accompany the Magnificat starting Dec. 17 (here's a booklet with commentary & Latin chant). Forward Movement has several podcasts, if you want to pray daily while commuting or taking a walk or right before bed.

There are a million Advent devotionals out there—you can find one from an author you like, or search your/a denomination + "advent devotional" or "advent prayers" and you'll probably find something. For some social justice oriented ones, I've found Red Letter Christianity's Reflections from Bethlehem (by Palestinian authors), Justice Unbound's Boundless: An Anti-Colonial Advent Devotional, and the UCC's Abolition Advent Calendar. Cole Arthur Riley (Black Liturgies) is doing an Advent series on her Patreon. Jan Richardson posts art and poetic blessings throughout the year.

In terms of books, I recommend:

Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

Preparing for Christmas (Richard Rohr)

Celtic Advent (David Cole)

WinterSong (Madeleine L'engle & Luci Shaw)

Advent for Exiles (Caroline Cobb)

If you want poetry: Accompanied by Angels (Luci Shaw). 

I'll tell you a secret—most devotionals are meant to be read every day, but no one will know if you don't do that. You can start them at any time and read as much as you like whenever you like. Don't not start one because you don't think you'll be regular about it. 

And of course, you don't need a book to say "Advent" on the front for it to be an Advent book—or music or anything else. I'm about to start God Hunger: Discovering the Mystic in All of Us (John J. Kirvan) which I picked up at a book sale but it's on the Internet Archive! I'm drawn to poetry and Marian hymns in this season, and things that talk about the end of the world and prophecy. Whatever Advent is to you, surround yourself with it—and anything you're just starting to think about, you can explore.

The beautiful news is? The years spiral on, and Advent returns. Every year we're confronted with it, and every year I never do exactly what I wanted. But I've found some stuff to bring with me, some books to reread, things I know further my practice and things that don't. And when the spiral returns to this distinctive place of waiting for something already in our hearts, of hoping for something we don't understand, of inviting in someone who has already snuck in like a thief in the night, we can try again.

So happy Advent, and may yours be visibly, tangibly, purposefully Advent. May you be the impractical kind of hopeful and the holy kind of scared. Christmas is a miracle slowly being tended (rather than Easter's miracle erupting from the ground)—not that there's no blood, no surprise, but that for nine months Life itself grew quietly. So keep watch. Make your life a womb, make your Advent a narrowing toward the humanity God enters. Tend the darkness and bring in some light—a candle is just a way to do that, but there's so much light in the world. Here's to finding it.

<3 Johanna

[cowgurrrl]

More domestic Joel Miller headcanons because I can’t stop thinking about him

When Tommy and Maria have their daughter, Joel absolutely falls in love with her. You two take turns helping the new parents out so they can get some sleep which means you get to watch Joel hold the tiny baby

He will bounce her around the dimly lit room, humming whatever song is stuck in his head, and his curls are a mess on top of his head and he looks so tired but he’s so happy

As she gets older, she clings to him and cannot get enough of him

One time you were walking through town together and you heard a very loud “UNCA JOE” coming from behind you

Joel lit up like a Christmas tree when he turned around and saw the little girl abandoning Maria to rush across the town square and into his arms

She and Ellie become fast friends and the two become little trouble makers despite their 14 year age gap

Speaking of trouble, Ellie constantly makes fun of how affectionate you and Joel are at home. On patrol, you keep it professional and barely even kiss each other goodbye. But, once you’re in the comfort of your own home, all bets are off

This man was so touch-starved for so many years but now that he has you, he is the clingiest man alive

Joel will come up behind you when you’re doing something and wrap his arms around you, kiss your neck, tickle you, whatever he needs to do to distract you

He LOOOVVVEEESSS laying his head in your lap and letting you run your fingers through his hair while you ramble about your day

Can’t fall asleep unless he’s touching some part of you

He has a horrible habit of smacking your ass any chance he gets (poor Ellie)

“You guys are gross,” she’s yelled across the room so many times you’ve lost count. Joel thinks it’s hilarious each time

“You’re gross,” he’ll accuse before letting go of you and turning to face her. “You don’t have to be so jealous. There’s enough Joel Miller to go around.” He teases before wrapping her in a big hug and spinning her around the room

Her squeals of laughter could power a whole city as she screams at him to put her down

Loves cooking even if it took him a long time to learn

You and Ellie grinned your way through some truly awful meals but he got better and now you actually look forward to when he cooks

Teaches Ellie how to cook even though she’s more impatient than he is

You manage to snap a Polaroid of the two of them at the stove with their backs to you and under it you wrote “Chefs Miller + Williams”

Oh my god the nicknames they would come up with for each other

Ellie Bellie was the first one and then it quickly divulged into Elle Belle, Bellie, Smellie, Smell, Elle, and so many more

At one point, you were each calling her Beleanor Roosevelt

Joel’s nicknames get cycled through pretty quickly: Joey, Jo Bro, Joel Bowl, Bowl, Grumpy McGrumps (curtesy of Ellie), Goel (Joel’s drunk alter-ego) and whatever else ends up sticking

Joel is one of the most intelligent men you have ever met and you would (and have) trusted him with your life but Jesus Christ is he oblivious when Ellie starts dating

Sarah wasn’t really interested in dating so Joel never had to talk to her about anything but with Ellie EVERYTHING is different

Ellie never really came out in the sense that she never sat you two down to have an emotional conversation. She just kinda came home with Cat and told you she was her girlfriend

You were being a typical protective figure for Ellie and asked Cat lots of questions but even then you weren’t sure if you thought Cat was right for Ellie. Joel, however, was surprisingly quick to welcome Cat and didn’t have any qualms about Ellie dating

When you asked him about it later, he shrugged and said, “I think it’s nice that Ellie has good girlfriends like her”

“No, Joel. Cat is Ellie’s girlfriend not a girlfriend”

“I’m lost”

Once you explain it to him, he goes into Ellie’s room and they talk for a long time about God knows what

Joel Miller may be from Texas but that man supports his daughter, no matter what

Neither of you ended up being a huge fan of Cat but once Ellie and Dina start dating, it’s over

Joel invites Dina over for dinner every chance he gets and embarrasses Ellie each time but Dina loves it

Subtly tries to teach Ellie love songs on the guitar

Ellie subtly lets him

You subtly fall deeper in love and the life you have built with them

In conclusion, Joel Miller would be the sweetest little domestic guy if given the chance.

Give me my last paragraph back or give me death 🍓🍓🍓

[yours-etc]

12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 1:

I’ll Have A Blue Christmas

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The fresh snow crunches under his boots. Flakes fall from the sky, sticking to his hat and shoulders and eyelashes. A cloudy of mist fans out from Steve’s mouth when he gasps as he slips on a patch of ice. He grips the flowers tight in his hand as he regains his balance, the box of cookies he had falls from his grip and onto the ground. Luckily it stayed closed and the cookies mostly intact when he peaked in.

“God damn this fucking snow!” Steve exclaimed, kicking the white fluff in frustration. He loved Indiana, but Jesus Christ, he was so sick of Midwestern winters.

The cemetery is empty besides Steve, the headstones, and whatever ghosts of Christmas were lingering around.

Steve finds his was to the plot he was looking for. He lays out a blanket so he doesn’t have to sit directly on the cold ground. He takes the now dead and frozen old flowers from the small vase and replaces them with the poinsettias he brought.

“Hey Mom,” he breathes out, tracing the words Roasanne Harrington Loving Wife, Mother, Sister, and Friend.

“Sorry it's been a while, you know how I hate the cold,” Steve laughs out the second half, “But you always loved Christmas, so I had to come celebrate.”

There’s no response from the stone, but Steve doesn’t mind the silence.

“This isn’t the first Christmas without you, but it’s definitely the one that hurts the most,” he starts, “because I can almost pretend to be happy. There are moments where I forget you’re gone. And then there will just be a second, usually when I’m lost in thought, or when I’m watching everyone laugh, I just think about how much you’d love them all. I’m sorry you never got to meet them, my new family I guess you could call them. You would love Robin, she reminds me of you. Her love of the holidays, her sense of humor, the way she looks at the world,” Steve sucks in a deep breath trying to stop himself from crying, tears pricking at his eyes, “Oh mom, you would have adored her.” He loses his battle with his emotions. Tears flood from his eyes and sob shudders through his body.

“I’m sorry we never got to patch things up before you left. It- it felt like there— there for a moment, at the end— we were getting close to being able to. I think after the wedding we both realized how much we missed each other. And I want you to know I don’t blame you for sticking by Dad,” Steve didn’t acknowledge the headstone to his left that had his father’s name on it.

“You loved him, and I’m sure, at some point, he was good. It’s hard to let go of things sometimes.” Steve swipes away his tears with the back of his coat sleeve. He didn’t need them freezing on his lashes.

He opened the box of cookies and took a bite of one, “I never can get them to taste the same as how you made them, I’m convinced you purposefully left out an ingredient on the written recipe.”

Steve giggles as he remembered how protective his mother was of her recipes. He quite literally could not get his hands on them till she died. And like hell was he going to let Aunt Katie take them. They were more valuable than anything left to him in the will. After the accident Steve was left with a big empty house and a stack of note card recipes.

He sold the house and laminated the cards.

With the money from the old place, he was able to but his own quaint little home. With three bedrooms and two and a half baths, Steve had finally found a home. It was a fixer upper on the outside of town, but he needed a project to keep his mind busy.

He threw his heart and soul into painting the walls a soft cream color and tearing out the drab carpet to be replaced with ward hardwood floors and redoing the front porch to fit some chairs and a swing.

He had help from Dustin, Robin, and of course Eddie— Steve played with the ring on his finger at the thought of him— but the brunt of the work was done by him.

He wanted to make his dream home. And so he did.

On the day him and Eddie moved out of their shared apartment with Robin, lots of loving tears and hugs were shared and promises of a dinner party as soon as the house was properly set up were made.

The house was a bit empty at first. They only had enough to fill half an apartment, and now they had much more space to grow. Wayne had made them a kitchen table with four chairs as a house warming gift. More tears were shed that day when he dropped it off.

Slowly but surely they filled their home with cozy couches and pillows, music, and photos of their life.

Steve didn’t need to turn around to know the footsteps approaching behind him belonged to his husband.

Eddie leaned down to give him a warm kiss on the cheek. Steve leaned into his warmth, not realizing how cold he had gotten.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asks softly, “We have to pick up little Robbie from Chrissy and Robin’s before heading to Wayne’s for dinner.”

Steve nods and grabs Eddie’s outstretched hand to help him up off the ground.

Eddie gathers up the blanket and shakes it out before bundling up under his arms. He makes a swift dramatic bow to Rosanna’s stone, “Mrs. Rose, looking as gorgeous as ever,” He doesn’t look to the left, but throws up a middle finger to Robert’s grave, “Mr. Harrington, hope hell is awful as always.”

Steve laughs at his ridiculousness before giving his mom’s stone a small kiss. Leaning his forehead against the cold rock he wishers, “You really would have loved little Robin, she reminds me of you more and more everyday. Maybe I’ll bring her next time.”

He stands to his full height and walks over to Eddie lacing their fingers together and give their hands a squeeze. Eddie squeezes back. The two of them walk back to Eddie’s new mini van, which is “totally just as metal as the old one, Stevie.”

The radio plays Christmas music as they drive off to pick up their daughter from her first ever annual Auntie Christmas Eve Eve sleepover. And in the moment Steve feels content and maybe a bit lighter.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

HAPPY DECEMBER 1st!!

Throughout the month I will be posting 12 different Steddie Christmas/Winter themed ficlets!! Just short little things to bring on the Holiday fun. Now I know this one was a bit sad… I promise there will be Happy ones too!! Anyway I hope you all enjoy <3

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[sunsetsover]

i saw something that had me thinking about the different relationships fadel and kant both have with their baby brothers and i genuinely can't stop thinking about it. especially when you look at how similar their experiences really are. like they're not just big brothers, but they're care givers too. guardians. obviously we don't know anything about anyone's upbringing rn, but given the little we know about lilly i doubt she was a hands on mother figure to those boys. i'm willing to bet they were housed and fed, but other than that they were just kind of left to fend for themselves, and it's likely that fadel, seeing bison - who is younger than him, smaller than him, more overtly emotional and in an environment that was so volatile and likely violent- immediately took responsibility of him and his well being. there's no doubt he took care of bison - he's bison's big brother. bison obviously loves and respects him. but one of the first things we learn about their relationship is that fadel also took on the role of a pseudo-parent when the role of actual parent was absent - are you my brother or my father, fadel?

it's an honourable thing to do, something that comes from a place of love and care. but in the process fadel has sacrificed having a brotherly relationship with bison. i mean jesus christ, bison doesn't even know what fadel's likes and hobbies are. he literally locks his bedroom door when he's not inside. and i've seen multiple blaming bison for that, like he doesn't even care about fadel and who he is deep down, but at the end of the day how is bison supposed to know what fadel doesn't tell him? bison is so open and honest with fadel - he tells him what he wants to do, who he wants to be, how he wants to live. as far as he's concerned there are no secrets between them. he's open about his budding relationship with kant and the fact that he doesn't want to have to lie to him. i'm sure he thinks, maybe naively, that fadel would just offer him the same kind of openness if he wanted to, but that he just doesn't want to. bison clearly doesn't like the fact that fadel is so cold and clinical, esp with him. i bet he doesn't even really understand why fadel is the way he is. but that was the point. that openness and that hope is something i bet fadel has worked so fucking hard to keep alive in bison even to his own detriment. but at the same time he's closed himself off so tightly from bison - the only person he seems to have in his life rn - that bison barely knows who he is. like how the fuck is bison supposed to know that fadel has a heart when bison is never allowed to see it?

like you know how for a lot of people there comes a point as you get older where you stop seeing your parents as parents and start seeing them as people with with wants and desires and lives outside of being a Parent? well bison hasn't reached that point yet. he still sees fadel as Big Brother, who doesn't let him go out or have friends or date people. who walks in when he's in the middle of hooking up with a guy and doesn't even have decency to turn away and let them make themselves decent. who makes bison do chores in order to be allowed out, like he's a teenager and not a grown man in his 20s. like tbh can you blame bison for being a little harsh on fadel sometimes, really? fadel treats him like a child. and so bison acts like one. that's their dynamic: like father and son, not brothers. and that means there are walls between them that are in many ways one sided. a son should be able to tell a father anything, but a father will always have parts of himself hidden away from his son.

compare that to kant and babe's relationship. we don't know exactly when kant and babe's parents passed and how long kant has been acting as babe's guardian, but i'm willing to bet it hasn't been very long. why? because kant still treats babe as his brother first, guardian second. kant obviously still takes the role of babe's guardian seriously - he is literally putting his life on the line in order not only to keep babe safe, but to make sure he has a good life. i'm sure the car thieving had something to with babe as well. in that way he's very much like fadel. but at the same time he hasn't put the walls up between himself and his brother that fadel has. even from the little we've seen of their relationship they feel like brothers - they bicker and they tease and they both laugh about it. fadel and bison bicker and it often feels like a parent chastising a child. kant expresses concern and sets some boundaries - don't be home too late - but he's not on babe's ass the way fadel is on bison's. there are open lines of communication between babe and kant - babe tells kant about his books and his desire to see a shakespeare play in the uk, kant seeks babe's advice when he's not sure how to move his relationship with bison along. and sure kant still holds things back and there is a little bit of distance there because he is still babe's guardian and babe's still a kid. but even with all that, the walls that exist between fadel and bison just don't really exist babe and kant.

of course there's nuance to all of this. bison and fadel's upbringing and lifestyle necessitates a caution that kant and babe's just doesn't. fadel has likely been acting as guardian for longer than kant has, and so has grown into - and probably grown up with - the role in ways kant hasn't. fadel very well may have been looking after bison since he was a child, even as a child himself, and that of course requires something different and changes the dynamics of a relationship in ways that taking in your teenage brother as a 20-something year old man just doesn't. babe seems pretty well behaved, where bison is a bit of a loose canon and trusts a little too easily and their mother is fucking scary - to a certain degree bison probably needs a leash on him, and fadel needs to keep him safe. but at the same time, how is bison to realise all of that when fadel has clearly gone above and beyond to shield bison from harm and from the realities of their lifestyle and maybe even who their mother is and what she's capable of? again, bison can't know what no one tells him.

and the thing is i think bison knows he's being kept in the dark and held at arms length, even if it's just subconscious. fadel locks him out. he's cold and harsh and we the audience know (or can assume) why, but bison doesn't. all he knows is that his brother has him practically under house arrest and doesn't trust him in his bedroom and is trying to ruin his new relationship. as i've said before, it's probably why he's so desperate for the affection and attention kant's giving him - where else is he getting it? and then it goes back to control: fadel has so much, bison has none. of course he's going to fight for whatever little scrap of it he can get, even if he has to behave brattish in the process.

this just turned into me rambling about fadel and bison's relationship at some point but i just think it's interesting how similar kant and fadel are in their motives - to protect their baby brothers - and yet how different their behavior and therefore their relationships with their brothers are in contrast.

[menlove]

Wait can we talk about No More Lonely Nights as a mclennon song for a second? Like the context is that it was written for give my regards to broad street, which all of us mclennon scholars know is pauls movie he made about his grief for john instead of going to therapy. And like specifically in the movie it begins playing while paul is walking around the titular broad street station looking for his john stand-in and not finding him and almost immediately after it ends (there's a really short moment of paul thinking about being a busker) paul realizes john stand-in is there and rescues him/reunites with him. Which leads me to THIS crazy ass paragraph:

which I mean, you could take that on its own to be about john but SPECIFICALLY regarding the film it's: a love song, about a lonely person/about the heartache of being apart from your loved one (paul sadly trying to find his john stand-in) and getting back together and wishing to not be apart from them again (paul finding/rescuing/reconciling with john stand-in). Like I know some mclennony songs might be a stretch but this is like not even an interpretation this is literally directly what happens in the film like the other thing you could debate is if harry is REALLY supposed to be john but like come on his death scene is so obviously meant to evoke johns death it's literally not even funny (and obviously there's other elements of the movie that make it obvious).

Also:

I'd like to direct attention to paul apparently changing the lyrics from 'until I SEE you' to 'until I CALL you' given how many songs paul and john wrote were about calling each other and calling each other was a Big part of their relationship in the last few years (see: paul always fucking talking about how their last phone call was nice etc.)

Sorry I made this connection when I watched broad street but like, reading the entry in The Lyrics almost made me have a stroke just now. Anyway 'you're my guiding light/day or night you're always there' is about paul still feeling a connection to john/seeking his guidance for his music and 'I know what I feel to be right' is about accepting his gay feelings for john thank you for coming to my tedtalk ❤️

hi penny!! this ask is a hatecrime and I'm suing you for emotional damages 💖🫶

this is sooooo fucking. god. fuck me. I still need to watch give my regards but from everything I've heard it's...... like you're literally fucking right. jesus christ 😭

I don't have Much to add but can I just say....

made me want to crawl under a bridge and cry bc. well. john was the one to ask for a divorce + in all paul's songs you get the feeling john was the one shying away from shit + john telling him to leave when he showed up to the dakota w his guitar........ I'm fragile as fuck right now no one talk to me

[dykephy]

So I made this post on Tiktok the other day, and I wanted to elaborate on the story behind it.

To begin, I see Alan’s facial expression as a sort of bittersweet sentiment. The first episode shows that he and Charlie have some sort of bond, and are able to interact with each other closely because of it.

As the show progresses, we see less and less of this relationship, which could likely be the product of a lack of connection between them, one replaced by Charpim. I feel that up until the show began, they were a closeknit pair, separating themselves from Charlie’s similarly close bond with Pim.

A replaced relationship could explain why Alan rarely ever interferes with Charlie and Pim’s daily interactions, save when he’s making sure they don’t hurt themselves or die (i.e. when he stopped Pim from eating more of his compost worms).

However, in the Brazil episode, we get another albeit thin slice of their relationship when Alan jokes about calling Christ the Redeemer the “Big Jesus”. Alas, as most interactions between them go, this quickly fades and fails to be mirrored later on, as they don’t seem to speak directly for the rest of the episode.

Likewise, through Alan’s remark of “I just see it as the Big Jesus”, distress and an air of awkwardness related to interacting with Charlie bleeds through. He’s grappling on for dear life at any chance of reconciling that closeness he once had, and doesn’t know how to handle an unexpected chance at that happening.

On to my main point.

I’ve established that Charlie and Alan had some kind of relationship near the beginning of the series that gradually thinned out, hence a lack of interaction between them throughout the rest of the show, and that this bond was displaced by Charpim.

Though Alan seems to be a non-emotional type—until it comes to his favorite food and getting a job done—this could easily be a facade he wears to push others away, or the result of a knot of hurt in his heart after the dissipating of he and Charlie’s relationship. This can unveil the reason he hooks up with random women and why he feels so uncomfortable acknowledging it after the fact: he does it to briefly get Charlie, and what could have been of them, off his mind.

This is a scant piece of evidence for Alan’s yearning, but who knows what he’s doing and what he’s feeling when he’s off screen, not put off by an exceedingly heavy task?

Back to the point of his pining for Charlie, he does have a bit of time to recover from the loss of their bonding; the show goes through Halloween, Christmas, and Mardi Gras, with the latter two being less than two months apart. This excludes the time before the holiday specials. For the sake of the argument, let’s consider that the passage of time, distractions, and facade allow Alan to heal somewhat.

Due to his time spent at Smiling Friends Inc. during the Charpim boom, he must be used to seeing Charlie and Pim’s relations ceaselessly, from the tightest of conversations to the standard friendly interactions. It’s never anything new.

The kiss, however, is out of the ordinary for them—especially in the presence of others. This is the first time we’ve seen them interact in such a way, and it happened to occur when Alan was watching.

It’s not difficult to infer that, because of that and the romantic connotation that comes with kissing, the interaction clearly struck a cord for our rosy friend. As mentioned previously, because of Alan’s adaption to Charpim interplay, it’s not a strong enough relation to strike one hard.

Regardless, he holds on to that retired bond he had with Charlie just enough to show visible bitterness after the fact. It’s a glance of jealousy and reminiscence rather than disgust or hate.

[firecrackerhh]

Jesus CHRIST you’re so fucking retarded YOU DO FUCKING REALIZE THE WORD GROOMING HAS AN ACTUAL FUCKING DEFINITION RIGHT?????

You bitch that republicans call the LGBT+ community groomers when you CLEARLY have no problem with misusing the word the same way THEY DO by using the word where it isn’t fucking applicable to try and paint someone in the LGBTQ+ community as a dangerous person all because they can tell basic fact from reality while your clearly unmedicated schizo ass can’t? Stop making your obvious mental illness other people’s problem, Jesus fucking Christ.

You aren’t any better than the people you despise.

“Waaaaah you don’t have to be so meeeeaaaaannn to them they can’t heeeeelllppp iiiiitttt!!” I’m sure some of you particularly whiny bitches are thinking of typing into your keyboards. So what? They aren’t special. Spread dangerous bullshit around and I don’t care WHAT the fuck is wrong with you. They shouldn’t be exempt from consequences, however minor, just cus their brain is fucked.

Like Jesus fucking Christ forgive me but when you start accusing LGBTQ+ people of GROOMING over something this objectively fucking retarded I think your internet privileges should be fucking revoked. It’s so fucking obvious some people don’t understand the responsibility having a platform gives them, however small.

Like Jesus Christ. I know I say a lot of shit, but god, even I understand that accusations of grooming are actually a big fucking deal and if I ever for a MOMENT thought someone was actually doing that I would have actual sources to back up my claims!

Not this retarded fucking horseshit where some retard claims that Vivziepop is actively fucking grooming people because she’s not a fucking retard and actually understands the difference between fiction and reality!

But then again, considering this stupid cunt probably believes every proshipper is a pedophile, I guess I can’t be surprised.

If this shit is the only “evidence” you have of Viv “grooming” people…you don’t have a fucking clue what grooming actually fucking looks like.

Frankly, given the little info they’ve shared about their personal life that I’ve seen them talk about on their current (and past) blog, they should know better.

I will leave it at that. I’m a bitch, not a complete asshole. Some shit isn’t my place to speak on.

Not even to mention what I’ve seen them say to other victims of abuse, but you can go through my archive for THAT can of worms. Might take a while to find tho, I bitch a lot lmao.

Jesus Christ man, Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m no SW aficionado but I have a feeling this point is retarded anyway.

Honestly I imagine DV is only more kid friendly or whatever in like…kid friendly media specifically so…I dunno dude, I dunno what point you’re trying to make here but something isn’t connecting. It’s fine to have merch of a shitty character if said merch is from a kid friendly spin off I guess? Or something? So would you object if LEGO made toys based on the first trilogy for kids? Since yknow, he’s a killer in those movies?

And frankly, this is gonna be a shock to you, but some people LIKE Vader cuz he’s a terrible fucking person. Same thing can be said for the joker or any other fucking villain. Contrary to what you fucking believe, that doesn’t mean fans of them are terrible people who actually want to do any of the shit he does, or endorses it. Why the fuck are you so stupid?

Clearly it’s only children’s cartoons this bitch can handle on an emotional level. It’s actually so fucking embarrassing they’re STILL acting like this, not even grass can help this bitch. Tragic.