#like wtf can we trade??

[kithtaehyung]

Out of curiosity, what are you leaning more towards? Do you wanna write 🍭 first or busted? It’s your story and we’re just crying as we go along with you lmao. Don’t get me wrong it’s a super fun rollercoaster but also the kind we cry on the whole time LOL also I heard you say window wasn’t as popular and I just want to side eye all of you people bc there are days I reread window like 2x a day bc damn🥵 I want yoonbi to sneak in MY window like fuck you for living my dream oc lmao 🤣 nEway ilybye

omfg wait.. thank you for even asking?? that’s so nice of you🥺 I’m having a great time writing busted so that would be my pick🫠 and it’s hard AF keeping all this info to myself LOL I wanna scream about it with y’all soon!

it’s totally okay, the window thing is just gonna be one of those instances where not everyone can be pleased😅 i’m relieved there are a lot of people that do enjoy it, at least! that does soften the blow a little💀 also YEAH SAME LIKE.. READER IS LIVING THE GD LIFE‼️

[couthbbg]

gonna be so serious….. I’ll be an am34 fan for life let’s get that out of the way but if the leafs tr*de mitchy…….. I’ll be a fan of whatever team he ends up on and like leafs who?? never heard of em

[demonio-fleurs]

tfw people bring you trades on a holiday but then get upset with you for “taking too long”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet.  Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs.  He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell.  Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property.  You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it.  You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you.  The man that came today, to trade with Paul.  He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat.  But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.  

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly.  “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that.  Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off.  You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power.  The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul.  “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away.  “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies.  Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade.  “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him.  “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together.  “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred.  “Sorry, pal— not for sale.  But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head.  “Her.  I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that.  “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance.  “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos.  He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others.  You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can.  We need to run.”

We.  He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you.  And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head.  “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.  

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering.  “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

~

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you.  Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.  

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind.  It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you.  It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building.  Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door.  You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that.  Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick.  It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you?  You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel.  But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that.  “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly.  “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright?  I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest.  Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it.  In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave.  And he still did.  Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard.  “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response.  You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.  

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of. 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said.  “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright?  I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here.  You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own.  No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that.  You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers.  That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most.  Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else.  Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously.  “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.  

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me?  I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men.  Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little.  “Of course.  Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well. 

“You seem tired,” he noticed.  “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed.  “You hungry?  We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously.  You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return.  It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said.  “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise.  You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe.  That sounded nice.  Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

~

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it.  He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice.  You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you.  Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t.  Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!  

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again.  “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head.  “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued.  Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet.  He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then.  You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either.  You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it.  This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said.  “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him.  “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted.  “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him.  On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it.  But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide.  Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating.  And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either.  We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable.  “My sons,” he said quietly.  “Those are my sons.  Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically.  “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged.  “Everyone lost someone.  Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together.  “Yeah,” you agreed.  “They kinda look like you, in the pictures.  You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle.  It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that.  “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed.  Not too long ago.  Well… I guess a few months is a while ago.  But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there.  Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him.  “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing.  “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds.  Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented.  “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth.  He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed.  “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing.  “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no.  I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange.  Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad.  He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned.  It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that.  Of owning somebody.  And, um… that only happened twice.  Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly.  “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again.  I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you.  “No, it’s fine.  I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else.  Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe.  You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again.  When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

~

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection.  “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head.  He sighed.  “Alright, well, you should learn.  Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied.  “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that.  “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them.  And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you.  You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out.  Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded.  Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling.  You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you.  But up there?  You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone.  You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance.  Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine.  “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.  

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned.  “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.  

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked.  “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back.  “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively.  “The rifle— you can’t shoot that.  That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it.  And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

~

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes.  But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was.  Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often.  And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold.  You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement.  That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away.  Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.  

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.  

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed.  “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes.  Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.  

It had been a long time since someone held you like this.  You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you.  But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection.  You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot.  “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted.  “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped.  "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.  

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you.  There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off.  Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much.  But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.  

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.  

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came.  And if he did, what had he been thinking of?  He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you.  If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you.  Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing.  You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him.  Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it.  Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate.  He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted.  Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.  

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down.  Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind.  But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

~

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too.  He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway.  It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him.  And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization.  There’s nothing wrong with it, right?  Just being here, helping how you can?  But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative.  It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all.  He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him.  You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond.  It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall.  It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual.  Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it.  You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually.  Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could.  You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.  

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been.  But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took.  You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals, 

Not everything was perfect then.  Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with.  Someone to trust.  You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right?  Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes.  Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain.  He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you.  It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it.  Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself.  And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk.  You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods.  You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.  

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes.  Align the sights.  Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.  

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar.  When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck!  Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm.  “Oh my god!  I’m so sorry— oh my god!  Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there.  Why didn’t you tell me it was you?  Why didn’t you say something?  But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already.  “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice.  “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods.  Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

~

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting.  But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this.  “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.  

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life.  “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped.  “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll.  “Of course,” you breathed.  “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again.  “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him.  You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it.  You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky.  “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little.  “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough.  Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back.  “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said.  “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage.  You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet.  “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged.  “It was— sometimes.  It was quiet, I’ll tell you that.  All I wanted was to escape, back then.  Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little.  “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that.  I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement.  “Yeah, I get that.  But then how’d you end up in the suburbs?  Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened.  I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed.  “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left.  As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself.  Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words.  “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody.  I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking.  Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly.  You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head. 

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways.  “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank.  “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid.  I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case?  A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head.  “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property.  That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch.  You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else.  “You treat me like a child!  Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me!  I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you?�� Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too.  “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed.  “How long were you there before I heard you?  Come on, Emmett— look at me.  Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him.  “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.  

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed.  “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots.  He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly.  “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd.  “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone.  I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile.  “I guess I still need someone.  I need you.  And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again.  You shivered, just like you thought you would.  “Say it again,” he requested flatly.  It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face.  “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled.  “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest.  Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to.  Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier.  Hungrier.  Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt.  He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud.  “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that.  “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you.  Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him.  Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin.  How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that?  “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.  

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up.  He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you.  “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt.  He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you.  Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once.  It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment.  “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that.  It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight.  “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all.  Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room.  “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep.  It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more.  Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits.  You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple.  “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted.  “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop.  He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was.  “Emmett!” you nearly screamed.  “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual.  “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this.  “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said.  Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it.  Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something.  You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.  

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it.  It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it.  He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you.  “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close.  "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name.  "Emmett, I love you.  I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.  

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly.  "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it.  You could feel it just in the way he held you. 

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you.  Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in.  You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.  

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound.  “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly.  “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way.  All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier.  You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out.  “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan.  “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl?  Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving.  But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper.  "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again.  You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you.  You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done.  “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted.  “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley.  You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss.  “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes.  “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be.  ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly.  “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage.  “And we have some time to make up for.  God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in.  “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

[luvleyaru]

Some interesting things I'm gonna manifest~

- a waiting room, exactly my type and desired, I'm gonna relax there hhehahah

- being a lie detector (yes, no one can lie to me now bahahhahaha)

- extremely powerful intuition and psychic gifts I guess

- being able to talk to ALL animals and ALL animals to love and protect me heh

- having "boy" glasses. Basically, if I wear these glasses I'll look like a guy, and no one will be able to suspect me of being a girl ahhahaha (just for fun)

- embodying the vibes of "looks like a cinnamon roll but can kill you" lmao

- having insane luck and everything always going my way

- extremely fast reflexes and reaction time

- being super persuasive, godly social and leadership skills etc

- brutal manga's new chapters 😭😭😭😭

- having a mysterious and supernatural library with ALOT of books... Who knows what those books contain?

- a mysterious and supernatural forest nearby

- time to go slowly (like wtf we are ALREADY halfway thru 2024 is crazy)

- a supernatural necklace with superpowers

- having healing powers, basically if I touch someone with my hands or pray for them, they'll instantly get well

- being able to resolve ANY problem easily

- I can see + breath underwater

- having "Doraemon's pocket" but in a cuter version and with instructions (hahahahha)

- HYPNOTIZING eyes that can make anyone do what I want

- if I clap my hands 3 times (or visualize it) I'll become literally unstoppable and invincible, superhuman intelligence, stamina, power etc (my superpower heehee)

- jack of all trades. Excelling at everything I do effortlessly

- getting EXTREMELY viral for my beauty/being cool or badass af/ a main character moment etc

And many more things, this is just a small list lmao

[long-death-dazai]

[The crowds one is a new one to dazai, since Dazai very much enjoys crowds, since they're easy to hide and disappear in. He can't help but wonder if this was something his own Chuuya didn't like either and this version of Dazai was just more perceptive than him. He begrudgingly thanks his other self for having written this notebook once again. He had already noticed the makeup thing though, wiping the blood off his face yesterday. His fairy should never have to look like that. But hiding felt even worse. He continues on]

[Chuuya hums a bit, still mostly focused on trying to breath. He nods though, absently agreeing. He tilted his head a bit, seeming to be silently wondering if dazai had gotten it all or not, before sighing a bit. His grip around Dazais wrist is iron strong, if a bit loose.]

[@long-death-dazai contining the other one here!]

[nicoscheer]

Milex quotes (ranging from unhinged to batshit crazy while taking a detour through wtf land)

-

- first impressions: “What is this puny spotty kid with his little brown bag ?” (Miles about Alex) “Who’s that jester who makes me laugh so hard as soon as he opens his mouth ?” (Alex about Miles). Via Les Inrocks arcticle

-

- “I tell him I love him all the time,” via NME (Miles)

-

- “I love you because you’ve got a very strong pain threshold.” Via NME (Miles)

-

- since when are you both that close ? “You want to know if we’re going to get married ? If we have sex like real men, between the buttocks ?” Via Les Inrocks article

-

- “For kids from the North, it's hard to say but we never stop telling each other that we love each other. Alex knows I'll always be there for him. (How do our girlfriends deal with that? Are they jealous? Maybe we should ask them).” (Miles) Via Les Inrocks article

-

- “To me, The Last Shadow Puppets is not even a band. It’s more like a way-out of the notion itself of ‘band’. It’s a space of freedom. There is no embarrassment, no taboo, no limits between us. It's a real trade, we reroute each other's ideas. In the end, it's impossible to quantify the contribution of the two of us. Our complementarity sometimes freaks me out.” (Alex) via Les Inrocks article

-

- MK: Totally, to me it’s even the best vocal take of his entire career! (He cuddles him.) AT: Thank you, my dear. (Note: here it says “mon lapin”, which can mean “my dear” but literally translates to “my bunny”) via MyRock Magazine

-

- AT: Ah yeah, that’s how it is with my Miles! I start a joke and he’ll finish it! (he pounces on Miles and catches him in an armlock on the settee, before giving his crotch a light slap and shouting “Here comes the nuts!”) You wanna see how close we are as friends, Miles and I? Here, look, a spectacle exclusively for you! (At this point, we move up another notch in this madness: Alex swoops for a bowl of cashew nuts and starts to frenetically toss them at Miles, who tries to catch them with his mouth… after a fashion. Via MyRock Magazine

-

- “Alex is so dedicated to song writing, it’s inspiring to be around. He’s a beautiful soul and I’m honoured to witness him and the band grow. His left ears going to be burning when he hears this…” (Miles) via GQ magazine October 2013

-

X

-

- “Alex Turner is a genius, isn’t he? He’s a genius fish.” (Miles) via Knack Focus

-

Via Kultura Onet

-

- “Sometimes we have Skype-sex, or we wank off on FaceTime!” (Miles) via Index

-

- “We've been through a lot together. It's like, he's one of those friends, those few best friends you have in life. As you grow older, your circle tends to shrink, but he's remained one of my closest pals. It's almost like a bit of yin and yang between us.” (Miles) via Numéro

-

- Alex turns to Miles and propositions him: “Your place or mine, then?” There’s no-one expect us and the road-crew there to see it, but it feels like a special moment nonetheless. Via NME

-

- “I think we can bring the best out in each other, you know? He certainly does that with me.” (Miles) Via Eska Rock

-

-

- “Why, yes, bromances are for sharing your dreams. What a wonderful sentiment.” (Miles) via Interview Magazine

-

- AT: Miles is, without a doubt, Wolverine. Wolverine is a style icon to him. I see similarities. Miles always follows his instinct. And he’s capable of fixing things that are broken, whether it’s material or emotional damage, in no time. MK: Alex often reminds me of Gambit. He can change something insignificant into something explosive. He’s very aware of everything that happens around him, something that balances him out. And he can read my mind. Via OOR Magazine 2016

-

- “We understand each other and keep each other going. We both have strange ideas and we need the presence of the other to make sense of them.” (Miles) Via OOR Magazine 2016

-

- “Sometimes it can be a pressure being the fella in the band who writes the songs. Getting together with Miles I've got someone to bounce ideas off and that is something new for me. Also, it gives me somewhere to hide because he's up there singing with me. In the Arctic Monkeys, there's nowhere for me to hide.” (Alex) via Culture

-

- “My best mate. I love him, man. I like the way he pushes himself and keeps that thing of, whatever's going on around you, you're just a lad who loves playing music and writing tunes. He's a prime example of someone who's big but doesn't take anything for granted.” (Miles)

-

- “I decipher his thoughts and organise them. When Miles bursts, the idea comes flying. Someone who knows him well enough might be able to filter out the good ideas. But usually, he only has good ideas and it’s up to me to catch everything. That’s my job within this duo. That process releases all kinds of stuff within me, causing me to go into certain directions I would never take my own.” (Alex)

-

- “I thought it were going to be like them finding a tape where you’d had an affair,” he grins. “Like your bird had found an affair tape and was watching you having sex with another bird… but it weren’t like… an affair tape… erm, not that I’ve ever made an affair tape.” Alex Turner about the Monkeys’ reaction to The Last Shadow Puppets’ album via NME

-

- “And also working with Miles, it comes very much from my heart. You know, with such a close friendship we have. Wanting to work together, it brings something else. I haven’t done too much with other people… he’s kind of the only one.” (Alex) via Hot Press

-

- MK: And he can read my mind. AT: But you can read mine, too. MK: I knew you were gonna say that. AT: And I knew you were gonna say that. via OOR Magazine 2016

-

- “Even if we aren't writing half a word is enough. We can finish each other's sentences sometimes and if we focus on it, we can take it to a much deeper level. That's pretty unique. My thinking process is pretty abstract and a lot of people don't know what to do with that. Alex understands me like no other.” (Miles) via OOR Magazine 2016

-

- you’re living in Los Angeles too now, miles? “…because Alex lives there…” (Miles) via Humo

-

- “He has written a lot of songs – a lyrical wonder, this boy!” (Miles) via Humo

-

- The pair live, Turner says, “seven minutes away from each other”. Ask them what a typical night out entails, and they look at each other, then proceed to not be very forthcoming, though Turner will eventually concede that “some of what happens in those situations is disclosed, through the veil of song, on the record. There’s references.” Via Shortlist

-

- “Starin’ out the balcony at the moon, wonderin’ where is he, what is he doin’ now, who’s he kissin’” (Alex) via Sidewalk Hustle

-

X

-

X

-

- “… but this thing we had together… I know that I was the new kid and he was a sort of superstar, but even from day one, it was amazing. To an outsider, it wouldn’t look equal, but it was always so equal. He made me feel like that, just because it was.” (Miles)

-

- “We take it in turns playing the straight man.” (Alex) via Shortlist

-

- “Quite cute ! Quite and quite camp, you mean ?” (Miles about their relationship) via NME

-

- On what it’s like to work with Kane again, Turner said: “It’s like John Lennon meets… Paul [McCartney].” Via NME

-

- Miles says their relationship was established “on laughter and general stupidness” via the Telegraph

-

- Interviewer: Alex, what does Miles bring out in you that…. Alex: A woman can’t bring out in me?

-

- Miles and Alex and their endearments and nicknames for each other :

“We always talk about it, me and the boy, y'know?” (one of the cutest things Miles has called Alex is 'the boy' it's so beautiful bc someone asked him on Twitter what he was up to and he just said he was 'going out with the boy'. which boy? it didn't need saying. everyone knows who The Boy in Miles' life is.)

"He's got the face for it...the little diamond."Miles to Alex

"The Little Prince" Miles to Alex x

“Shavambacu” Miles to Alex at 4:01

“You naughty turtle” Alex to Miles- Tlsp @ Paradiso, Amsterdam 2016 during the element of surprise

“Baby” Miles to Alex multiple times

“You scampi fry” Miles to Alex via the guardian

“The Wirral squirrel/wirral riddler” Alex to Miles via absolute radio 2011 at around 10:50

“All aboard the Kane train” Alex to Miles at Lowlands 2016 at around 21:56

“My Miles” Alex to Miles, MyRock interview

“The next song is called ”My Fantasy”… I’d like to dedicate it to my Alex Turner!” Miles to Alex, live performance

“If I can speak for both Darling” Alex to Miles via El País

-

X

-

- “He (Alex) turned up one day in red jeans. That surprised me. I like it when he wears red jeans. When they’re tight.”

-

- “There's nothing innocent about Miles Kane,”Turner warns, in case anyone was planning to accuse him of luring his fresh-faced co-conspirator into a decadent world of rock star self-indulgence. “He is the antithesis of innocence.” “Ooh,” Kane retorts, archly, “you scampi fry.” Via the Guardian

-

-

- “We went for a bike ride. Tops off. Fred Perry shorts on.” (Alex about their time recording the age of the understatement in rural France Blackbox studio) via Q Magazine 2008

-

- You look like you're about to snog each other. AT: “It’s rare that we don’t look like that.” Tlsp at the Mercury music Prize 2008

-

- “As far as I’m concerned there are only two superstars: Beyoncé and Miles Kane. You can quote me on that.” (Alex)

[factcheckingmclennon]

john giving paul a bracelet: fact or fiction?

a lot of mclennon fics feature this silver ID bracelet of paul being given to him by john

so did john give paul a metal bracelet with his name on it?

this one is completely just a theory which lands it in

not too crazy much to get into source wise w this one because it's solidly theory/headcanon territory but i'll explain anyway for anyone that doesn't know The Bracelet Lore!

this one comes at me from @life-under-calico-skies :

Hello! First of all; THANK YOU for your blog! Omg! It was much needed! My question is; did John really give THE bracelet to Paul? It makes sense bc of the timing and when Paul wears it or not - so I WANT to believe it so bad. But I don't think I ever saw ONE reliable source saying that he once gave him a bracelet (or any other jewel, for that matter)

first of all thank YOU! i'm glad you enjoy the blog <3

but you're totally right- there's nothing other than the timing/when paul wears it and as near as i can tell, there's no source on it whatsoever, just people tinhatting. so we can't necessarily say it's Untrue, but it's a bit like speculating that they started a sexual relationship in hamburg or that x song was written about y... there's not much in the way of proving one way or another, unless paul comes out and says something different

with that SAID if someone says "john gave paul a bracelet" THAT'S definitely misinformation (intentional or not ofc). it's not fact. it's just a theory & i think somewhere that got a bit lost in translation? but anyway i'll break down what you mean by the timeline so others know wtf we're talking about here lmao

the theory

paul has/had a silver identity bracelet with his name on it. the theory goes that john gave it to him in paris or on paul's 21st bday & paul wore it on and off throughout his life

there's not much to back this up but there's also not much against it? so if you want to believe it that's fully your prerogative. me personally, i think it's a nice thought/headcanon and don't really Believe one way or the other, i just like the idea of it for like fics and shit

so the timeline...

this is the source for the Main pic people use to show the inscription. these pictures were presumably take in late 1963 and published in october of the same year

which also means this one could be earlier as it's also from '63 and the Only place i can find it is on a 1993 trading card saying it was from a "1963 publicity shoot" but i can't find any other photos from the shoot or which shoot it was to tell you what month that was lmao

there's also this photo from his 21st birthday party with it, which is Probably the earliest of these two:

which I honestly think is the Most likely time he would've received it, whether from jane or john or whoever else.

and as for the Rest of the timeline i'm pulling from a now deleted post by @ swaying-daisies who seems to have deactivated or changed urls but here's the post anyway. you can see him still wearing it in the 70s, although he stopped wearing it around 1967 for a while it seems

and then you can see it again in anthology:

as for where he got it all he's ever said was this:

"Dear Paul, I waited for three hours in line to see A Hard Day's Night and I thought it was just marv. What wrist do you wear your gold ID bracelet on and where did you get it?" Patricia Parrish BARSTOW, CALIF. "Dear Pat, Glad you enjoyed the film. We've almost finished work on our second movie now- and it's in color this time. Hope everyone enjoys it. I'm left-handed, so it is much easier to wear my watch on my right wrist. Therefore, the bracelet is on my left wrist. Where did I get it? Let's just say it has close sentimental value."

i've seen people say that there's pictures of him from Before 1963 with the bracelet on, but i can't find them.

so the options come down to: it was a gift from jane, it was a gift from john, it was a gift from his mother, or it was a gift from one of his other relatives

a couple of reasons people doubt the jane aspect is that he continued to wear it into the 70s & then ofc people claim that he had it before he met her. i can't find any evidence of him having the bracelet before jane, so i take that with a grain of salt. i'd think for me personally the only thing discounting it from being from jane is the fact the he still wore it during anthology. if it were just the 70s, that might be hand-waved away because it can still take a bit to get rid of everything an ex gave you. but by anthology, he definitely would've been over it.

people also point to him being cagey and saying "let's just say it has close sentimental value" as a reason it's Not from jane, but honestly i don't find that very compelling because at the time of this letter he was still like. out as being with jane, but it was peak beatlemania when they were supposed to be appearing single & approachable. so if it was from jane, i don't think he'd say that here either.

the oooonly other point against it being from jane is simply that i've seen people assert they "know for a fact" that it's from jane because people had matching sweetheart bracelets back then- but she's never seen wearing one. but that's just against them having matching ones, i really don't know if she gave it to him or not.

i don't see any reason that it wouldn't be from a family member that's not his mom, though. if it were his mom, there definitely would've been photos of him wearing it long before 1963. so For Me it comes down to john or another family member. jane is also still a strong possibility to me, although like i said the anthology bit throws a wrench in that for me, unless that's a different bracelet completely. or who knows, maybe he got attached to it outside of her- i've definitely kept things from exes long after i give a shit about them if i'm being honest.

another piece people like to throw in is that in both of the photos of him wearing it after his and john's split, he's wearing it on his right wrist rather than his left, like a widower would if it were a ring. not convincing to me honestly, but it's a part of The Whole Theory/Headcanon bit

others also speculate it could be from ringo! ringo had a similar one and I wouldn't be too surprised if paul liked his so he got him one for his 21st. definitely An option to consider!

also, if anyone knows the exact date on that teeth brushing photo that would be lovely. or if anyone happens to have a photo of him with the bracelet from Before he met jane.

but yeah tl;dr: it's theory, if anyone says it's for sure fact they are misinformed or just really want to believe it. no one knows who gave paul that bracelet and i doubt we'll ever know, so have fun.

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[monstrousmuse]

*rubs hands together* Right. We're doing this.

or, My Very Serious Attempt At Analysing The Billentines.

"BILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?" - Gods, he's even worse than Stan. Jack of NO Trades, Master of PUN. (Not the actual intent here, but if you add a comma, it almost sounds like someone else is asking him out. In cute-sy speak. "Bill, you go out with me?!?! Pwease?")

"I'VE GOT MY ❤️EYE❤️ ON YOU" - Aww, his eye is so expressive. Also love the way he's just... sitting on the ground like that. His base is so thin, it's no wonder why he needs to prop himself up with his little noodle leg. Like a reverse kickstand.

"YOU'RE ACUTE-Y" - Bill torments his friends with terrible, nerdy geometry puns Confirmed. Stanford Filbrick Pines PhD x 12's dream partner amiright？

"I LIKE YOU FOR SOME REASON" - *apologetically glances towards Ford* What reason, Bill? You can confide in us. Or perhaps you don't know...

"LET'S GET ILLUMINAUGHTY" - HE REMOVED HIS BOWTIE WTF-I-I didn't even think that was possible. Welp, you learn something new every day. ...And, are those his cheeks? I’ve always assumed that his whole surface changes colour whenever he is feeling a particularly strong emotion. Huh.

"I'M BROKEN. WANNA FIX ME?" - ...now you're just mocking us. If this ends up spreading to the wider fandom- Oh. Oh dear. It already has. Well played, Hirsch. In all seriousness though, this one is surprisingly introspective of Bill. Has he been doing some postmortem soul-searching? Read a few self-help books? Perhaps Frills was the one who first suggested that he write his own book as a means of reaching a state of inner catharsis...Or maybe it’s just a reference to how Stan literally shattered his face before killing him.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" - See my previous post. Long story short, he stopped time for a reason. But. Also. He looks depressed. No offence, of course. (Is the floor comfortable? From data gathered during the period of my life that I spent as a Weird Human Child With Weird Human Quirks, I have come to the conclusion that the floor is not, in fact, the most comfortable of places to lie down and ponder one’s existence, but you do you I guess.)

"I SECRETLY COLLECTED YOUR SWEAT IN A JAR AND ACCORDING TO EXTENSIVE LAB TESTING. WE HAVE AN 88.3% PHEROMONE COMPATIBILITY MATCH" - Bill has pheromones. 88.3%...Is there a significance to this number? Does Bill Cipher even know, or care, about basic lab safety and scientific accuracy these days? The answer is a resounding “No. Definitely not. Absolutely not.”

"THEY CALL ME...THE LOVE TRIANGLE" - How To Become Besties With Mabel Pines In One (1) Quick & Easy Step. But you better watch out Bill, the Love God will probably be filing a lawsuit against you for Stealing His Look...and a minor case of Very Intentional And Blasphemous Blasphemy.

…

Whew. Done. Overanalysis is to me what Ichor is to the Greek Gods.

[kafka-ish]

part 1

Patrick asks Art if he got the stuff and how much to which Art replies: yea just an 8th tho and Patrick replies Dude wtf

No dude. You never told me your dealer was hot!!!

Don’t bother. Asked if she’d trade head for half. Wouldn’t budge. Strict business or whatever.

Two seconds later: Still. I’d tap that.

Art decides against telling him about the sample he got. Sticks the joint you rolled in his desk drawer. Does weed have an expiration date? he wonders. He drops by Patrick’s who asks how the deal went. If you gave him a discount for it being his first time and all.

“How much’d she charge?” Patrick wonders aloud, comparing prices in his head, secretly hoping his friend got ripped off.

It takes Art awhile to settle on a number. He still doesn’t know the price of weed. “Like fifty?”

“For an eighth?” Patrick laughs at this like okay this chick is insane and Art realizes he said the wrong thing.

“She said it was the good stuff.” Art shrugs, trying to play it off.

“Whatever man, but you need to learn how to negotiate… So we gonna smoke this shit or what?”

Art begins to make appearances more frequently. But he has to be calculated with how he goes about this. Doesn’t want to seem desperate, hooked on fucking weed. How pathetic. He has to pace himself. At first his visits are periodic. Comes by a few times a month for his regular pick up. But he can’t get enough. Sporadic turns into every other week and every other week turns into Friday nights after his games or if not a tournament, practice. He’s at your door with takeout in hand. Something different every time; he keeps you on your feet and you like the surprise. Tacos, Thai, Lo Mien. Indian when he wins his matches.

You don’t smoke with him at first when he asks, though; you have a rule about smoking up with clients.

“Oh,” he says, feeling defeated. Disappointed that’s how you think of him.

“You still want that eighth?” you ask.

“Um, no. Actually I think I’m gonna go.”

“Art,” you say and the sound of your voice calling his name has him frozen in place. His hand is still on the knob for a moment before it drops, falls by his side. He wipes it on his pants, a habit he has. "Don't do this."

"What? Change my mind?"

"No--"

"You're not trying to peer pressure me, are you?" You wonder if Art's being serious right now. If he's using your methodology of paying tuition and groceries against you. It's your turn to freeze.

"Fine then. Leave. But just so you know I wasn't the one hitting up strangers for weed." You're calm when you say this, only making it harder for Art to reach for the door once more.

Of course, he comes crawling back. Ends up blowing up your phone.

Art: Hey

Art: I'm sorry for what i said the other day. I wasn't thinking. Obviously. It just hurt when u called me a customer. Which i guess i technically am. I dont kno.

Art: I think ur really cool

Art: I guess i just wanted to smoke with someone other than patrick

Art: Did i mention i think ur really cool

You roll your eyes at the thread of messages, how they still come in and your phone can't stop vibrating; you're not finished reading but it keeps pinging. Still, you're smiling. Can't help but read his texts over and over again before responding and you feel a heat on your cheeks when you haven't even lit up.

You text him the same thing when he always texts you after one of his games: My place 9?

"You think I'm cool, huh?" You nudge Art, sitting next to you on the couch. His legs are crossed, facing yours.

Art blushes at the question, the pressure you put him under. Finally musters up the courage to say, “yeah. Really cool.” Then leans in, does that thing that guys do where they grab your jaw, almost caresses it, then brings you in to kiss your lips. It’s soft. Gentle. Thinks he might hurt you if he’s not careful. And he doesn’t linger long but you can taste his chapstick. Mint. You miss him already when his lips leave yours and your tongue sweeps over where flesh once was, itching for another taste.

He sees this. Locks his lips on yours again. Instinct. It's just as quick and sweet as the first one. You feel him grin when his mouth meshes with yours and the sensation of his smile pressing into your cheeks gets you all giddy-like.

“So does that mean you’ll smoke with me?” His smile doesn’t leave when you pull away. And you see his eyebrows are raised while his eyes are blue and bright. A dash of hope shimmers in them and you can see your reflection in them.

“Yeah,” you say, hushed, almost a whisper as if you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You’re breaking your rules for him, is what Art’s thinking. And you tell yourself it’s just a one time exception but when he comes over next Friday you find yourself rolling a joint and passing it to him in between kisses.

And now it’s your routine.

He doesn’t need to text you asking for an eighth and you don’t need to tell him what time and place. He just shows up after practice. Of course, you expect him.

“I hope I didn’t get you addicted.”

“Nah.” Art’s lean frame is already hanging on the doorway and he doesn’t come inside immediately when you welcome him in. Instead, he takes you in his arms. They feel stronger each time. Plants a big wet kiss on your lips. And he is addicted. Just not what you think.

[pstelwitchcraft]

My personal takes for each of the Nevermore characters

Lenore Vandernacht

Gets bitches

Mad Dad Energy

So Gender she made you fluid

If adhd was a Poe themed lesbian

Would prob swindle people out of a LOT of money as a banker or smth with her charm alone

but her real vocation is as Annabel's trophy wife

Too much rizz for her own good

Number #1 the most loyal and protective ever, will murder and pillage and die for the ones she loves

Literally Died and still can't take a hint that her WIFE might like her back

Looks iron deficient, really isn't

Annabel Lee Whitlock

Actually has no idea wtf she's doing

Possessive Bitch to an extreme (would prob sow herself to the ends of Lenore's gay little victorian blazer if she could)

If anxiety/depression was a person AND a villain origin story

Untrustworthy but in a Sexy Way

Doesn't know how to Humanly Interact

Would make a BANGER of a politician or lawyer (still deciding if for good or evil 🤔)

Genuinely Absolutely needs professional help but fuck it we ball

Is taking this whole thing somehow more and less seriously than everybody else

Craves and Yearns and Aches to be cared for and loved but will admit it over her cold thrice-dead body

Doesn't look iron deficient, totally is

Duke

There's a 50/50 chance he's not actually French and just fucking with everybody

Can't grow a beard

The real reason he doesn't like Annabel is that he absolutely despises the British

Illusionist by trade, jackass by passion

Loves cheese to an ungodly degree

Ada

Worries everybody around her

Literally Died and still on her bullshit

Can't spot a red flag to save her life (ironic bc it's prob how she died)

Will Not Stop Talking

Pluto

Teddy Bear in spirit/cat in body/Tortoise at heart

Has either all the chill or never had a chill ever

Needs a booster seat to eat at restaurants

Hates dogs

Cannot survive without his friends

Really selective eater

Morella

Can be swiftly and effectively peer-pressured into anything

Got mad once. Still feels bad about it

Feels actual, physical pain at the idea of not being liked

Asks people if they have pets before asking for their name

Consumes a preposterous ammount of sugar

Eulalie

Will sage u if ur vibes aren't right

Got kicked out of a paranormal investigation team for asking the ghosts weird questions

Actually the only one who prob knows what's up

But has decided to just let it play out for funsies

Has correctly diagnosed everyone behind their backs

Berenice

#cuntsagainstthepatriarchy

Misses alcohol the most since her death

Will bite men for looking in her direction 😌

Always there to defend a fellow woman tho

Has the vibes of a pinball machine

Actually genuinely a caring and loving person

Prospero

Done with everybody's bullshit

Superiority complex to an EXTREME

His whole closet is organized by color, season and year of making

Just trying to get through one fucking book this whole time

Has incorrectly diagnosed everyone behind their backs

Held a puppy once. Didn't like it

[lees-chaotic-brain]

rating things my classmates said/did after my dad died! (feat. class 1-a)

cw: mentions of death obviously, you're a member of class 1-a, crack, hurt/comfort, reader is religiously ambiguous, implied depression ig, some angst but mostly crack

note: guys i swear it's okay to laugh at this! i did!! some may say it's too soon but humor is how i cope and i missed writing so when this little idea invaded my brain while i was rewatching bhna (it's my comfort show) i couldn't resist

blog navigation | bhna masterlist

ochako: “if you believe in heaven i would offer to use my quirk on you so you could float up to heaven and visit your dad but i doubt they'd let you in anyways”

9/10

low key made me giggle

iida overheard and was horrified.

izuku: “i'm so sorry for your loss. if you ever need to talk i’m here. i know it’s not the same at all but my dad wasn’t around while i was growing up so i can kinda understand. not that i’m saying you have to talk to me because of that or that i understand or that we should make a dead/missing dad club oh my god i need to stop talking i’m so sorry i’ll leave you alone now bye please tell me if you need anything!” *scurries away*

11/10

sweet cinnamon roll 🥹

we should fs make a dead/missing dads club

todoroki: “i’m so sorry for your loss. if i could make my father trade places with yours i would do it in a heartbeat. unrelated, i heard you and midoriya are starting a dead/missing dads club. may i join? mine is dead to me.”

8/10

right idea i guess 😭😭

it was going so well during the first sentence too…

ps ofc you can join our club

bakugou: stormed into my room and violently ripped me from my depression burrito and dragged me downstairs to force feed me a warm home cooked meal bc he knew i hadn’t left my bed or eaten in the last 24 hours

6/10

i always knew you cared abt me us blasty 🥹🥰

the food was delicious but plz be more gentle abt it next time king 🙏

mineta: “yo your mom is a total milf.”

numbers don’t go low enough to express my feelings towards this one

like at my father’s funeral?? the AUDACITY

jirou: spent hours searching for a very specific song my dad sang to me when i was little and actually found it bc she found m crying bc i couldn’t find it and i wanted to hear it again

♾️/10

i actually love you so much

you have no idea how much this meant to me ❤️

aoyama: stuffed cheese into my mouth while i was crying in my depression burrito

-3/10

wtf man that was actually more traumatizing

it wasn’t even parmesan or brie

tokoyami: went on a long spiel about how we are all destined for the Great Darkness then abruptly ended by saying he was sorry for my father’s early departure and disappearing back into his room

7/10

i think you were trying to make me feel better so i appreciate the effort. i am a little confused tho

kiri: ask me if i wanted a hug. when i started crying he started tearing up too then gave me one of the best bear hugs i’ve ever gotten

20/10

super manly dude. i really needed it at the moment and appreciated it ❤️

gonna end this here. i had a few more but i felt like these were the best ones. not tagging anyone since this is like a personal self comfort one lol

THAT DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T WANT YOU GUYS TO LAUGH OR TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. TRUST IT WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

[pinyeti]

EPISODE 6: RETURN OF THE JEDI

Is it just me or have they just not explained the Death Star properly?

I cant take Darthy seriously anymore, he’s just a bag of organs 

Whats quirrel doing here

OMG ELEPHANT SNAKE IS BACK

Isnt this that old caterpillar from Alice n wonfderlad

WOW LUKE REALLY SUITED UP FOR HIS MESSAGE- DID HE JUST SELL???? GOLDENFACE AN R2-oh right Hans in the carbon - way to go to the dark side Luke, triangular droid trade YOU ARE YOUR FATHERS SON LUKE 

So much of Star Wars is just running into the problem with a glowstick and hoping it dies

Wow hansolo has been imprisoned, thrown into garbage, tortured, thrown into carbon, imprisoned AGAIN all cuz he has can’t shut my mouth disease

What even is their relationship with Luke btw, are they his adopted fWOAH WOAH WOAH WHEN DID LUKE TURN INTO A MAN??? Last I saw he was a child who couldn’t get a plane out of a lake AND THEY LEFT THE LAST MOVIE WITH ALL OF THTEM BEING TOGETHER wow the text in the beginning is more important than I thought 

No seriously why is Luke dressed like a pastor whats going on

WOAH GOLD BIKINI LIEA - OKAY STORY TIME I USED TO WATCH PRINCESS RAP BATTLES AS A CHILD AND THE ONE I SAW WITH LEIA IN IT SHE SAID “I wore a gold bikini and the whole world lost its shit” ANF NOW I KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

Ok yoda we get it you’re 900 no ones talking about your wrinkles anyway with pastor Luke in the room, projecting much?

Is yoda suidicdal???

WDYM LUKE IS REaDY???? HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING TO BE READY EXCEPT FLY FACEFIRST INTO A MILITARY BASE HIS TRAINING ARC IS SO SHIT

 Whos the other Skywalker?? lukes not even a Skywalker isnt his name Luke vader where’s skywalkers real son OH darthy’s deadname is skywalker

BABY WONKENOBIII IS BACKCKCKC-OMGWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WDYM LEIAS LUKES SISTER WDYM HE SUSPECTED THIS AFTER MAKING OUT WITH HER FIFTY BILLION TIMES??? WHAT THE HELL

??? HELLO>>??? WHAT TH EHELL??? WHAT IN THE GAME OF THRONES IS GOING ON??????? How is Leia a princess then?? HahahahaHAHAHA SO YODA KNEW …… ABOUT THEIR LITTLE TRIANGLE

Nice the gang is back together, waiting for chewbakka to be revealed as darthy’s next offspring

YES YES GOLDENFACE GETTING THE RESPECT HE DESEREVEVVES I LOVE GOLDENFACEEE

I cant believe these are the idiots the emperors trying to kill

"yes I could sense you were my brother when my tongue was down your throat"

Oh yes Luke hands himself over- haha darthy sensitive over dead name 

Luke youre so stupid- but since jedis cant die is he gonna go to wherever yoda and obi wan is 

Lando is growing on me, also squid guy

This movie is gonna end with emperor and Luke dead isnt it

Is the emperor a jedi too how else does he have power or something something Sith

Id make a horrible jedi- im made of hatred

Hansolo my pathetic little idiot

I JUST REALIZED WHO LUKE EP6 REMINDS ME OF - TROY BOLTON

IS HE BEGGING DARTHY TO KILL HIM WTF

You’re telling me this big of an empire cant take down 6 idiots lead by a happy go lucky guy, never heard of this before

OHMYGOSSDDHD. LYKE YOU IDIOT NOW HE KNOWS ABOUT LEIA

Hahahah a hand for a HAND- wait what…. Why does he have a robo hand too whats going on 

Luke stop acting like you didnt hear about jedis 5 secs ago

Aw does darthy have a heart among his organs

OHMYGOD DARTHY IS A GOOD GUY????? ????? What A VILLAIN TTURNS GOOD ITS BEEN AGES SINCE I SAW A VILLAIN COME OVER TO THE GOOD SIDE

OMG DARHTY FACE REVEAL

Oh damn hes not as ugly as I thought he’d be

Kinda cute even - bro how did he even get this weak why’s he dying rn 

He has such kind eyes

Yeah ok I am so lost I NEED DARTH VADER BACKSTORY RIGH FUCKIN NOW

Is the empire this easy to penetrate? No but they did it with the power of lOVE and FRIENDSHIP 

Love lando 

YES HAN THATS THE REACTION I HAD AN HOUR AGO ACTUALLY WTF

Yes Luke its so sad your daddy that blew up an entire planet in ONE second without a single thought died IM NOT FORGIVING HIM THIS EASY

No way thats it??? They took down the empire just like that???? What??

Damn no one in this world can dance

OHMYGOD ANAKIN???? HOW CAN HE SEE THEM NOW??? IS IT CUZ HES BETTER AT WEILDING THE FORCE

ok fine anakin is cute

(3/9)

[luvhughes43]

baby #2 | dad!jamie drysdale x reader

au masterlist💐

yndrysdale posted two weeks ago!

liked by jamie.drysdale, trevorzegras, cam.york, and others

yndrysdale surprise🌷

tagged: jamie.drysdale

view all comments

jamie.drysdale I love you guys!❤️

yndrysdale we love you so much💗💗

trevorzegras my favourite family is having another baby... im in tears

trevorzegras can we go 2 for 2 and make me the godfather for the 2nd baby ?

masonmctavish23 Congrats guys!

anaheimducks Can't wait for our newest duck to arrive!🧡🦆

user01 the first pic is sooo cute!! i love you guys sm!!

yndrysdale thank you!! the first pic is from a photoshoot we did but i couldn't wait to post lol!

newest comments

user02 THEY TRADED JAMIE???

user03 ok but i feel so bad for yn like shes pregnant and has a young daughter, plus has a job... like this is a lot

user04 NO MORE JAMIE AND TREVOR?? YN DO SOMETHING

user05 tf is she supposed to do? bffr

user06 I CANT BELIEVE THEY TRADED JAMIE. WHATS LILA GONNA DO WITHOUT HER FAV UNCLE TREV??

user07 y'all are weird as hell in the comments... like leave yn alone this was obviously not her decision and im sure she doesnt appreciate your guys comments about the trade when its uprooting her and her familys life.

user08 omg shes pregnant and now jamie has to move away... this is so sad wtf im even more upset now.

user09 no more lila and trevor content :((( we lost.

user10 these are real ppl with real lives... theyre not content for u to enjoy lol.

user11 congrats you guys!! i wish you all the best in philly💗

[seraphica]

A Walkthrough of Project 2025

By Emily Galvin-Almanza, originally on Twitter.

You may have heard the term “Project 2025” floating around, and you may even have cracked open the 900+ page document yourself, only to see a lot of kind of bland, policy-wonk text. So let me crack through the policy-speak and tell you WTF is in this document.

This is, um, a long thread. But if you want a lot of info about Project 2025, all in one place, you've come to the right place.

This document is what Trump and his team will do if elected. It’s their document, their plan, their platform. So like…it’s not *me* saying what they’ll do, this is *them* saying so. documentcloud.org/documents/2408…

Shall we dig in? I’ll organize and give you page numbers. I’m going to start with criminal justice stuff (of course) and then we’ll wander through other topics like repro rights (none), discrimination (fine, unless it’s against nuclear power), environmental protection (gone), etc

Predictably, this is a document full of states-rights claims, but (true to form) there is very little left to the states when it comes to a Trump criminal legal system.

Generally, the Constitution reserves criminal law to the states, allowing localities to create criminal accountability as they see fit. But under a Trump regime, “small government” just means “no EPA or medicare and HUGE expansions of DOJ’s criminal division power.”

A primary target? The discretion and decision-making of local prosecutors.

Prosecutorial discretion is part of the foundation of our legal system—the idea that the people elect their prosecutor, and can elect (or not elect) a person whose judgment they agree with when it comes to what to focus on when it comes to criminal prosecution.

The Trump DOJ will basically override local voters and prosecutors, bringing federal charges where they deem states not punitive enough. (553)

I should note that this is a ridiculous, massively difficult thing to do—our criminal court system is spread across 3,143 counties.

So what it really means is that the Trump DOJ will troll for cases they find politically meaningful, and use the full weight of the federal government to prosecute specific individuals who stand for stuff they don’t like.

They’re not just going to take on targeted prosecutions, they’re also going to legally come after prosecutors who they feel aren’t prosecuting enough. (553) It’s like this, but EVERYWHERE politico.com/news/2024/04/1…

And somehow they’re also going to do everything they can to make sentences harsher, and increase utilization of the death penalty (553-554).

They’re going to double down on the war on drugs, prosecuting interstate drug cases much more harshly (and by “interstate drug trade” they also mean “mailing abortion pills”) (555, 562).

They will also take election integrity out of the hands of the Civil Rights Division and put it in to DOJ’s criminal division (563), which means you see a lot more cases like Crystal Mason’s, but at a federal level: nytimes.com/2024/03/28/us/…

The long and short of it is, we often think of “prosecution of political enemies” as, like, Donald Trump sending DOJ after Liz Cheney or Rachel Maddow or something. And we forget that this can also mean persecution of ordinary people like Crystal Mason.

People who are not high profile themselves, but whose conduct (or even mistake!) is in a subject matter area that makes them the political target. Under this regime, being in a state that would not choose to prosecute them may be no help.

It’s also important to remember the ramifications of highly punitive policies. A DOJ that seeks the max on every case, seeks the death penalty, increases immigration detention (below), is a federal government expanding (& lining the pockets of) the prison industrial complex.

We already live in a country where basically all social ills are funneled into our criminal court system. SCOTUS just increased that trend by allowing people who are living on the street with nowhere else to go to be prosecuted for…existing…outdoors.

But in this administration, we can see an expansion of what is criminal. You’ll see a lot of Torquemada-esque interrogatory stuff in the doc (especially at Treasury?!) but the most obvious expansion of the criminal system is into the zone of women’s health.

In other words, reproductive rights? Never heard of her. The document is pretty fixated on abortion, unsurprisingly, with plans to end all forms of abortion access (including pills) throughout the document (6, 104, 284, 450, 455 - 459, 503 - 529, 562)

There’s one point I’d like to hit on in particular: this week SCOTUS punted a case back to Idaho which was covered as a case allowing emergency abortions to save a woman's life.

But in fact, that's not what really happened here---the Court punted the issue back to the Circuit court, leaving the question of whether women need to be actively dying to receive an abortion open.

Reminder: long as there is legal uncertainty, there are doctors doing nothing while wondering what they're supposed to do as a woman lies bleeding and septic on their table. msmagazine.com/2024/06/28/emt…

The fact of the matter is, under a Trump administration, they could (and would) simply choose to stop fighting to make hospitals to offer abortion in cases where it is necessary to save a woman's life.

They could simply stop fighting for EMTALA, the statute that says hospitals that get federal dollars have to offer emergency care.

And also, in Project 2025, they want to go even farther than that, farther than banning abortion. They want to MAKE SURE DOCTORS DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DO IT.

Specifically, this doc makes the Dept of Health and Human Services responsible for ensuring that training for doctors, nurses, and doulas doesn’t include anything about abortion (485-486).

Oh also DOJ is going to be the Abortion Police and go after anyone mailing abortion pills (562).

Side note: I don’t actually disagree with ensuring more coverage for things relating to women’s preventative healthcare but Project 2025 weirdly endorsing the rhythm method is hilarious

So they're gonna make you have all these babies. Who is going to take care of these babies? Were you thinking maybe you could get access to daycare? Oh no, mama, we want YOU to take care of the babies. What’s that? You had a job? Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.

HHS now, under Trump, thinks the gay agenda is destroying families, but the presence of a biological father can prevent all manner of bad things up to and including teen pregnancy (presumably because dad is going to meet your date at the door with a shotgun)

But also….having an adult male father figure who is NOT your bio dad is apparently the worst and most evil thing in the world. BAN BOYFRIENDS.

The Trump administration would like to make the federal government close its eyes, put its fingers in its ears, and hum loudly when anyone says “gender." Specifically...

...they will scrub out any mention of the existence of trans/nonbinary/LGBTQIA+ Americans in federal agencies, policies, regulations, and legislation (4-5, 62, 259, 333, 475).

To quote, “the terms sexual orientation and gender identity (“SOGI”), diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”), gender, gender equality, gender equity, gender awareness, gender-sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights”

These terms are getting cut “out of every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists.” (p 4-5)

Damn, who's the language police now?

This document—in a quest to be really, really fundamentalist about gender identity—also completely abandons the idea of supporting gender equality as a whole. Efforts to protect women and girls internationally? Hell no.

Like, USAID should “remove all references, examples, definitions, photos, and language on USAID websites, in agency publications and policies, and in all agency contracts and grants that include the following terms"

And the terms are “gender,” “gender equality,” “gender equity,” “gender diverse individu- als,” “gender aware,” “gender sensitive” (259)

They would very much like to kick trans people—and anyone gender nonconforming!---out of the military (103-104). Remember Demi Moore in GI Jane? Yeah the second she gets that buzz cut she’s OUT.

What about race discrimination, you say? Well, we will have no idea, because the Trump administration plans to stop collecting any data about that. The EEOC will stop collecting data about race entirely (583).

BTW when I say this is a tricky document, this is what I mean...

The document justifies ditching any data collection by saying that “Crudely categorizing employees by race or ethnicity fails to recognize the diversity of the American workforce and forces individuals into categories that do not fully reflect their racial and ethnic heritage.”

Which at first glance, a person could be like, yes! Racial identity is complex! Let’s not put people in boxes!

But then you step back and realize that NO LONGER HAVING DATA ABOUT WHETHER BLACK AND BROWN PEOPLE ARE OR ARE NOT GETTING HIRED does exactly ZERO GOOD THINGS it just makes us UNABLE TO TELL IF BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING.

The document is full of this—really normal-sounding pablum that actually means “we are choosing to have no idea whether Black and Brown people are being shut out of the workforce, why would the government want to know that?”

The government doesn’t need to know! Because they don’t think disparate impact—when a particular group is disadvantaged in the workplace—matters anyway!

They would “eliminate disparate impact as a valid theory of discrimination for race and other bases under Title VII and other laws. Disparities do not (and should not legally) imply discrimination per se.” (583).

BTW on this point they get hella hella weird about the idea of racial equity at the Treasury Dept…where they would essentially like to have an Inquisition:

Essentially, under this administration, any agency that wants to think about whether race is playing a role in the fairness of their sector can GTFO.

If you go into the original doc and search for “DEI” you basically enter a forest of grandpas yelling I DON’T SEE COLOR YOU CAN BE BLACK WHITE GREEN PURPLE OR POLKA DOT FOR ALL I CARE

BTW you were hoping that a Democratic Senate could be an effective check of some kind, first thing in this doc is that they want to kind of tell the Senate to F off

Specifically, the plan is to get Trump-loyalist appointees into position, scrap the Senate confirmation process for a lot of these appointees and let the rest start working even before Senate confirmation. (p136-137, 173)

All of the agency heads are clearly designated as political in this doc, not expert/neutral. So EPA (428), DOJ (560), FBI (552), HUD (508), DOL (615)...basically the doc calls for the insertion of as many loyalists as possible

And yes, the job of these loyalists is, in many cases, to dismantle the agency they head.

I don’t really know where to categorize this, so I’ll put it here: they think the Department of Homeland Security suffers from “wokeness.” I’m not making that up, they said in black-and-white serif font. I can’t make this stuff up. Page 135.

So like, to be clear, in the same breath as they’re talking about the wokeness of DHS, they would also like to reinstate the Border Patrol officers (who work under DHS mind you) who were accused of galloping up on migrant families and whipping them from horseback.

“CBP should restart & expand use of the horseback-mounted Border Patrol. As part of this announcement, the Secretary should clear the records & personnel files of those who were falsely accused by Sec. Alejandro Mayorkas of whipping migrants and issue a formal apology” (139).

FWIW what they’re referring to is some CBP agents who nearly trampled a kid and used their reins in a way that was, er, whip-like (and before you accuse ME of being overly sensitive, I have ridden exactly this way in my life BUT I WAS MOVING CATTLE NOT HUMAN BEINGS.) politico.com/news/2022/07/0…

Anyway, because DHS is too woke, they need to shrink it down until it mostly just detains and deports immigrants.

They’re gonna bust its union and remove most of its programs and privatize both the TSA and also FEMA’s flood insurance program so you can get bilked if you live in a region prone to flooding (shhhh don’t say the floods are due to climate change).

SPEAKING OF CLIMATE, we’re definitely going back to the same “if you don’t have any information about the problem, the problem cannot exist” strategy they use on race.

To that end, they would like to get rid of Offices of: Domestic Climate Policy (61) Interagency Working Group on the Social Cost of Carbon (SCC) (61) Clean Energy Demonstration (381) The Clean Energy Corps (386) Environmental Justice & External Civil Rights (442)

This means getting rid of climate efforts in foreign aid programs (257), stopping the USDA’s efforts to focus on sustainable food production (293—who will need to eat in 20 years anyway? Certainly not our children, they will have evolved to photosynthesize and graze on plastic)

Anyway they’re getting rid of energy efficiency standards for appliances (378) as well as cutting down all EPA activity related to climate change, including repealing the Inflation Reduction Act programs providing grants for environmental science activities (440)

BTW, I think it’s worth noting that there are a lot of things stated as binaries that aren’t binary. Ending energy efficiency requirements for appliances, for example, to focus on cycle time and reparability.

I also want a right to repair! I also hate it that my car’s internal computer makes it really hard to work on my own car! I just think that we, as consumers, have the right to demand BOTH and this doc incorrectly insists that we have to CHOOSE.

I don’t have to choose between repairing an appliance that massively pollutes the planet or having an energy efficient one that will lower my bills but break every two years. WE CAN DEMAND BOTH. False binaries are a sneaky, crappy constant in this document.

I’m highlighting them in particular because false binaries are also a way of dividing us. There are things I can agree with conservative friends on…literally Monday I was having a fun, productive, common-ground convo w/a conservative friend. False binaries are toxic bullshit.

Toxic ideas abound in here. You know how TX created an abortion regulation scheme that incentivized members of the public to effectively be abortion bounty hunters? Project 2025 would do the same for *science.*

Project 2025 would incentivize citizens to come after scientists under the False Claims Act for research misconduct. This is p 438. Fun times!

This is all part of diluting expertise so that the scientists who are trying to warn us about massive danger ahead can get drowned out by “citizen scientists” whose research the EPA will…equally prioritize??? 438.

Housing and Urban Development also gets their climate programs cut (508) because, much like food, who will need housing in the future? We will return to caves, as we should.

Oh, if how much oil drilling the US is doing matters to you as a voter, Project 2025 basically says maximum drilling, all the drilling, all the time (523-524).

Just a quick note in case you were thinking this was a serious policy document: note the contrast between the doc’s desire to let states drill as much as they want bc “States are better resource managers than the federal government because they must live with the results” (524)

And revoking CA’s ability to set its own air quality standards (627)…because…states…shouldn’t be allowed to self-regulate, I guess, if their regulations make things harder for the oil industry?

Oh also they’re gonna freeze all EPA activity which wasn’t Congressionally authorized on Day One (436). How often does stuff get through Congress anymore? This one echoes the recent SCOTUS decision which also strips regulatory authority.

Basically more drilling, no windmills, don’t even think about encouraging electric cars (286).

Also open season on wolves and bears (534) and let’s just mass execute America’s wild horses (529)

To break it down, if you, like me, are a mom who is concerned about the quality of water your kids are drinking at school, and wants the gov’t to be quickly responsive to new discoveries and problems (like PFAS!) that might give your kids cancer, well, you’re fucked.

If there’s a new thing that is discovered that we should regulate/know about, too bad, because of things like this: “Remove the Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program (GHGRP) for any source category that is not currently being regulated.” (425).

Climate, of course, impacts migration. The more the US contributes to climate catastrophe, the more the consequences will be felt by the developing world, particularly in regions close to the equator and low-lying regions.

What will we do about immigration? Build more prisons for immigrants (142), send unaccompanied children away (148) increase the fees to apply for asylum + generally make immigration more expensive (146) & make it so gang violence & domestic violence no longer justify asylum (148)

Cut funding for NGOs that help immigrants find safety, and instead spend that on walls and jails (149).

Eliminate prosecutorial discretion on immigration cases (150). Oh and we’re doing the head-in-sand thing again by eliminating the office that tracks immigration jailing. 165. They don’t want an “impediment to detention.”

For Americans who rely on government programs to do things like feed their children, keep a roof over their heads, or get healthcare, things will also get worse.

They really hate healthcare: “In essence, our deficit problem is a Medicare and Medicaid problem.” (283).

Even though they want people to have a lot of babies, they’re putting in new requirements on SNAP (299), reducing eligibility for Medicaid (467), cutting school lunch programs (302-303), and eliminating Head Start (482).

Oh and also fuck Sesame Street (247) (and public broadcasting generally).

Safe baby formula? Not a priority. “As for baby formula regulations generally, labeling regulations and regulations that unnecessarily delay the manufacture and sale of baby formula should be re-evaluated.” (302).

Speaking of schools, they’re going to get rid of the Dept of Education, which they say is “a convenient one-stop shop for the woke education cartel,“ (285, 319).

Instead of schools, let’s give teens more dangerous jobs. “Some young adults show an interest in inherently dangerous jobs...DOL should amend its hazard-order regulations to permit teenage workers access to work in regulated jobs with proper training and parental consent.” (595).

There’s kind of a sharp contrast here between high trust of parents in some contexts (to let their kids work dangerous jobs) and low trust of parents in others (if a father isn’t father-y enough terminate parental rights as fast as you can (481-482)).

Obviously, the Biden efforts to forgive student loans are toast (354) but also public service loan forgiveness is toast! “End time-based and occupation-based student loan forgiveness.” (361).

Having a job may be overrated anyway, and so the Trump Admin will tell the Fed to only think about price stability, eliminating full employment as an economic goal (661). Actually WTH maybe abolish the federal reserve completely (also 661).

Oh also if you were looking forward to lower drug costs, they want to end the program where the gov’t can negotiate lower prescription drug costs. 465.

As a matter of fact, no one will protect consumers against fraud and dangerous products under this admin…they are going to eliminate the CFPB completely and return consumer protection to banking regulators who are SO GOOD AT CONSUMER PROTECTION OF COURSE (/s/) 839.

Education, of course, is critical to the ability to distinguish misinformation. Under Trump, we better get ready for a lot more disinfo, because they’re going to yank federal efforts to combat misinfo/disinfo online. Facebook free for all, now with AI generated videos! (155, 550)

Speaking of misinfo, there will be no more independent Federal Election Commission.

Headed by a Trump official (with or without Senate confirmation!) the FEC will only investigate claims the Trump administration wants investigated, and remove its authority to decide what to litigate by handing that over to DOJ. (803, 865)

Oh also the new president will have to have a way to quickly deal with any ongoing, er, litigation, like, uh, criminal cases (but also ongoing litigation that conflicts with his agenda, like, say, civil rights consent decrees or environmental enforcement litigation. (28)

In the name of EXPEDIENCY, they say, the President’s lawyer (the White House Counsel) should give high-level super fast advice without wasting time on, like, researched legal memos or anything.

In other words, what Trump does will be on the advice of a counsel who doesn’t write stuff down. Not great!

Oh also the person chosen need not have fancy credentials (oh okay I'm all for that) as long as they’re LOYAL (oh wait no). Also p 28.

I’m sorry to tell you guys this, but this is like…scratching the surface. This is the beginning. This is the stuff you should know now.

If there is something you care about in this world, I think you should dip into this document and search for it, because you might find something hideous. documentcloud.org/documents/2408…

[original thread]