#so if that’s tagged and they have it blocked

[rejaytionships]

cannot believe i gotta say this but please don't follow me if you're comfortable selfshipping with canon racists. i don't care if you headcanon them as otherwise, because if their racism against a real group of people is a key facet of their character (much less incredibly important to the telling of the story that this character is a racist) then i do not wanna see it. this is not the safe space for you

[pawfulofwaffles]

As I always say: your feed is meant to cater towards you, and if that one person you disagree with keeps showing up, it does no harm to block them.

This applies to filtering tags too— I have so many ships censored because I’m petty

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 8

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum. Descriptions of sex (not graphic)

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 3.9k

Note : Loved the new Thunderbolts trailer. I am so excited to see Buck and Yelena interact in MCU canon! I will also be posting a thunderbolts! Bucky one shot soon so keep your eyes peeled! Also I know I uploaded yesterday but I have this locked and loaded and ready to go so this chapter’s early! 🫶

Series Masterlist

"Cursed By the Crown"

Friday.

You had already left the compound, exhausted from the day’s session. Bucky had stayed behind, as he often did, cleaning up the equipment and keeping to himself.

Yelena leaned on the doorway, watching him for a moment.

“Up for a spar?” Her tone was light, though her eyes had a stormy darkness to them.

Bucky exhaled, not even looking up. “It’s late.”

“Oh, come on.” She sauntered in, shrugging off her jacket and rolling her shoulders, settling into a loose stance. “Scared, Barnes?”

He shook his head, though his eyes never met hers. “Fine,” he said, almost to himself, moving into a ready position.

Bucky tightened his fists, his knuckles cracking under the pressure.

They began circling each other, slowly, like predators circling prey.

Yelena struck first, swift and precise. 

He blocked it, barely, the impact reverberating up his arm.

Yelena was relentless today. She pivoted, her leg sweeping out in a low arc, forcing him to jump back. She didn’t give him time to reset; she was on him again, fists flying in a controlled, practiced fury.

“You know, before she lost her memory,” Yelena’s voice emerged between punches, “she always thought you hated her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

She capitalized on it, her fist slamming into his ribs. He gasped, the pain sharp and immediate.

He forced himself to push back, retaliating with a swift punch aimed at her shoulder. 

She staggered back. 

“Now’s not the time,” he growled.

She threw another punch, this one grazing his jaw, just over the bruise you had given him when you punched him in your sleep. 

Yelena ignored his warning.

“You pushed her away. You were cold. Distant,” she said, words punctuated by each blow she landed, as if each strike was meant to drive home her accusation. 

Bucky could feel his temper rising, a familiar rage simmering beneath his touch skin.

Bucky caught her wrist with his metal arm mid-punch and twisting it, but careful not to break it. He shoved her back, but only for her to use the momentum to spring up again, her heel catching him across the jaw in a brutal arc. 

He could taste the metallic tang of blood from his lip, but he didn’t back down.

“Stop it,” he snapped. But she ignored him, her strikes coming harder. Faster.

“But you were always so protective of her,” she continued as she threw another punch, this one catching his shoulder. “Even when you pretended not to care, you watched over her. You noticed everything— the way she liked her coffee. Her favourite colour, the way she played with the ends of her hair when she was nervous.” She landed another blow, a quick jab to his gut that left him gasping. “Everyone noticed how much you cared. Everyone but her. But you pushed her away.”

Bucky swallowed, barely managing to hold back the waves of emotion threatening to break the surface. 

This time, he punched harder, knowing Yelena wasn’t going to hold back. 

He brought his knees up to her head. He didn’t put enough force to give her a concussion, but enough to draw blood from her forehead. 

Yelena blocked a hit from his human arm.

“Don’t tell her,” he said abruptly, his voice harsher than he intended.

“Why not?” She gripped his forearm.

He broke free, striking a punch that she couldn’t dodge, throwing her off balance. 

“I don’t want her to think of me like that,” Bucky replied.

Yelena’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“She’s not going to remember it on her own, Barnes.” Her knee shot up, catching him in the side. He staggered back, pain flaring through his ribs. “You’re the only one who can tell her how you were before and why.”

He blocked her next punch, gripping her arm tightly. He shoved her back.

Yelena stumbled, but she recovered quickly.

“What good is it going to do?” he bit out in frustration.

“If you don’t tell her, you’re going to carry that guilt forever,” she hissed. She aimed a punch at his jaw, but he ducked, countering with a brutal blow to her side. She gasped, wincing in pain. “N-not everybody—“ she spat a bit of blood on the mat— “It’s not everyday you get a second chance like this.”

“Second chances?” he echoed, throwing a punch that she narrowly avoided. “You want to talk to me about second chances, Belova?”

He watched as her usually flawless stance faltered.

“Sam told me,” he continued, his words venomous. “That you were too scared to see her. That you locked yourself up and whined and cried or whatever you did— when she was dying.”

Yelena’s face paled, her fists curling at her sides. Bucky saw the hurt behind her eyes, and maybe even a familiar guilt that followed him, too.

Yelena’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bucky cut her off, putting another jab at the sides.

“At least I was there,” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and pain as he dodged a side kick. “I sat by her bedside. I watched watched her fight just to breathe. I couldn’t— wouldn’t want her to be alone when she woke up. You think it was easy, watching her hooked up to all those machines just to stay alive?”

The words hit their mark; Yelena flinched as Bucky caught her in a headlock. Lucky for her, she knew how to outsmart a stronger opponent. She reached over in a desperate attempt to jab a finger close to his eyes as she could without blinding him.

When she broke free of his grip, she landed a vicious punch to his ribs, hard enough to make him double over.

“You think I didn’t want to be there?” she shouted, her voice cracked. She struck again, her fist connecting with his jaw, splitting the skin just below his cheekbone. Blood trickled down his face, mingling with the salty sting of sweat. “I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose another sister.”

“Excuses,” Bucky stumbled before catching himself. “I might have been cold. I might have kept my distance. But when she ran out of the compound, I tracked her. I offered her a place to stay. I was there when it mattered.”

“It’s doesn’t matter if I hurt her now,” Yelena’s voice rose now, almost a scream. “I am nothing. A friend, at most. I’m no longer a sister to her because she doesn’t fucking remember!” She took a breath, shoving Bucky down to the mat. “But you? You should hear the way she talks about you, Bucky. It’s like you hung the stars for her.”

He got up and turned away, chest heaving. 

He was done. 

Done with Yelena’s accusations. Her demands. Her criticism.

Mostly because he knew she was right.

Before he could storm out, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her again, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of hurt and desperation.

“If she finds out that I wasn’t there, it wouldn’t fucking matter,” she spat, her voice trembling in her Russian accent, dripping thicker now that she was shaking. “But if she finds out about you? It would break her. Because right now, you mean more to her than I ever did. Or ever could.”

Bucky’s breath caught, the words hitting harder than any punch she’d thrown. 

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Yelena’s grip tightened.

“No, you don’t get it,” she snapped, “She deserves to know who she’s falling in love with. All of you. Not just the parts you think are good enough for her.”

She’s falling in love with me? 

His fists loosened, his shoulders slumped. He looked at her swollen lip, her cut forehead, and realised what he’d done.

Yelena took a shaky breath, stepping back, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Just… think about it,” she pleaded.

She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, alone. 

Bucky watched her, his face smeared with blood.

His blank stare flooded his mind back with memories—the moments where he had pushed you away, where he had convinced himself he wasn’t good enough for you, that you deserved someone better.

But now, he had a clean slate. He could be the person he always wanted to be for you. 

Maybe Yelena was right. Maybe he should tell you. But for now, he kept it to himself, wondering if he was making a mistake.

—

The door creaked open in your apartment.

Bucky tried to slip in quietly, but the minute you heard his footsteps, you emerged from the kitchen. You saw him standing near the small lamp, bruised and bloodied.

Your heart leapt into your throat, rushing over immediately.

“Bucky!” you gasped. You saw his split lip, the bruising above his cheekbone, the cuy along his jawline. He stood there, looking like he wanted the walls to swallow him whole.

You reached for him, guiding him toward the couch.

“What happened?” you asked, hands fluttering over his injuries as if you could somehow will them to disappear. The fear in your voice made him drop his gaze, his jaw clenching before he answered.

“Yelena,” he said, dismissively quick. “We were just sparring.” He tried to brush it off, but you knew Bucky’s little tells now— the way his eyebrows knitted when he had a lot on his mind. 

You eyed the bruises and the dried blood on his knuckles. “Just sparring?” you frowned. “You shouldn’t be training this… violently.”

He huffed, a weak smile tugging at his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. He started to say something, maybe to brush it off again, but the concern on your face made him go quiet.

You grabbed the first-aid kit Bruce had left— since he had been showing you teaching you basics over the last few days— you know, how to tend to a bullet wound. How to dislodge an arrow safely. 

He watched you open the box. His breath hitched as you rifled through it, muttering under your breath about “reckless idiots” and “grown ass spies who should know better.” Every so often, you glanced up, checking him with worried eyes.

He realized then just how much you truly cared. Just how deeply your concern ran. 

She looks at you like you hung the stars for her, Yelena had said. 

For the first time in a long time, he let himself be cared for—really cared for, not as a soldier, not as a mission.

“Maybe… I’ll have to talk to her about going easy on you,” you murmured with a small, gentle smile.

Never, he thought to himself, Yelena will never go easy on me. Not if I don’t tell you.

You pulled out antiseptic wipes and gauze, pulling him down on the cushions, letting him place his duffel bag on the floor. 

You kneeled down in front of him, taking his face in your hands with a tenderness that made his heart skip a beat. He felt the gentle kindness in your touch, the careful way you pressed against each wound.

“Hold still,” you whispered. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes. It was so unexpected that it sent your heart racing a thousand miles an hour.

Your fingers brushed the cut on his jaw, sending a dull ache through his skin, though he didn’t flinch. He just watched you, eyes tracing every line of your face. He studied the determination in your eyes, the way your lips parted in focus as you pressed the fabric against his swollen lip.

He felt his pulse race, fighting back the urge to reach for you.

You were so close, so painfully close.

You were so kind, partly because you didn’t know— didn’t know how he treated you then.

But now, you were looking at him with that delicate stare, with a warmth that felt like forgiveness for sins you didn’t even remember… it was too much. 

And fuck, he was so deeply, desperately in love with you. Every careful touch of your hands, every time your eyes met his— it made his chest ache.

He knew he had to have you now. Before Yelena could take you away from him.

Before Yelena could ruin this.

The words escaped him, hoarse, almost a whisper. 

“Kiss me.”

Your hands froze, your eyes widened. 

The words echoed in your mind. Time felt like it had slowed to a stop, your thoughts scrambled.

You had wanted this—wanted him—for so long, but had always held back. You did not want to cross that line.

But now… now, he was asking you to, almost pleading.

He swallowed, suddenly fearing he’d overstepped. 

But before he could apologize or take the words back, you leaned in, crashing your lips on to his, mindful of the bruise he had.

He was hesitant at first, waiting for you to pull back, to change your mind. When you didn’t, when you wrapped your arms around his neck, his restraint shattered.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

Your lips deepened into his, turning desperate, urgent, and he drank every part of you in. His metal hand roamed up your back, pressing against you as though he were trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat. He sounded rough, needy. His hands found your waist, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, inching closer. He felt your heartbeat against his chest, wild and frantic, just like his.

You grew hungrier, his mouth moving against yours with a fierce, aching desperation that left him dizzy. He found himself lost in you, his hands gripping you tighter, scared that you would slip away.

“I don’t know if I loved you then,” You broke away just long enough to gasp, “but I love you now.”

Bucky’s breath hitched as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

Yours. He thought. I am yours now. No matter what Yelena says.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a ragged whisper.

For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, the world slipping away as he kissed again.

It was rougher this time, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his human fingers. You arched into his touch, gasping, and he kissed the hollow of your throat, breathing in the scent of you, feeling the way you clung to him.

And then, through the haze, a thought crept in, sharp and unwelcome, cutting through the bliss.

She deserves to know who she’s falling in love with, Yelena had said.

His hands stilled, the words rattling in his mind. He couldn’t ignore the truth—he was selfishly keeping you in the dark, shielding you from his mistakes, his regrets. 

He knew, deep down, that Yelena was right. 

But as you looked at him, eyes half-lidded and love drunk, fingers tracing his jaw lovingly, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the moment. 

He cupped your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek, pulling you back into another kiss. It was soft this time, as if you were fragile. He thought could bury the guilt in the taste of you, and it did, if only for a while.

For now, he would keep this to himself, whatever the cost. He would let himself have this piece of you, even if it meant carrying the weight of the past alone.

Because, holding you like this, witnessing your love, he knew he’d sacrifice anything to keep you in his arms. 

Monday. 

The morning dawned in soft, golden light spilling through your curtains, and the warmth of it brought a gentle wakefulness that was better than any alarm. 

You were still tucked in Bucky’s arms. Even in sleep, he had held you close.

You stayed there for a few moments, enjoying the quiet before the day began, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady under your cheek.

You gently stirred, and Bucky’s arm tightened slightly.

His eyes slowly fluttered open to meet yours. Still hazy with sleep and a little unfocused, a small, sleepy smile pulled at his lips. 

For a while, he just looked at you. He had a tender quiet, tender awe in his expression that made your heart skip. His hand brushed lightly through your hair, his thumb tracing soft, absent-minded patterns against your shoulder as if he were memorizing the feel of you there beside him.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice still thick and warm from sleep.

You smiled. "Good morning."

"I hope last night was… okay." There was a slight pink to his cheeks, as if he hadn’t quite processed what happened.

Last night had begun slowly. 

It had started with soft, teasing kisses, and grew heated, electric. His hands began to explore, gliding down your back. The need was there—gentle yet unmistakable. 

Each touch had been a gentle question, asking if you wanted him to keep going, and each time, your answer had come in the way you tugged him closer, the way your hands wandered over his skin, over his metal arm as if it was flesh and bone.

As you moved to the bed, his lips found their way down your neck. He had pressed slow, tender kisses that left you trembling, soft gasps escaping your mouth. His hands had traveled down your sides. He had to let you feel how long he had wanted this for, yet never rushing.

The two of you had found a rhythm that felt like it was only yours and yours alone. You had laid there with him, moving together in a seamless, gentle flow. His gaze hadn’t left yours, even as his breaths grew heavier and his grip tightened. He had needed you to know how much he wanted you.

Your fingers had threaded through his hair, his name a soft whisper on your lips as you both grasped for each other’s high.

After cleaning and washing up, you had laid in your his and drifted off to sleep. The concrete had fallen on you in your dreams again, but this time you had been calm. This time, you had known it was going to pass. 

“It was more than okay,” you whispered, leaning closer, feeling his fingers tighten around you in response. 

Shyly, you gave a chaste kiss on his lips.

He returned it with a gentle smile.

Eventually, you both made your way to the kitchen, the usual morning routine feeling new and intimate now. 

He brewed coffee while you prepped breakfast, and though you both moved around in comfortable silence.

Every time you reached for something on the counter, his hand would brush against yours, and every time, he’d give you a playful grin.

After breakfast, he grabbed his jacket and raised an eyebrow. “Want to take a walk?”

The air outside was fresh with the early morning scent of dew on grass. The two of you walked side by side, his fingers brushing against yours with a sweet, hesitant touch, as if he were testing the waters. Finally, he slipped his hand into yours. 

You felt your cheeks warming, but you laced your fingers together without hesitation. 

Wednesday.

You woke up in Bucky’s arms again, and that night, the nightmares didn’t even come for you.

You did your morning routine, opting for a walk a little closer to lunch.

He pulled you into a tiny bookstore nestled into the corner of a quiet street, the cozy little shop bathed in soft, amber light and filled with the scent of dusty old pages. You wandered through the aisles, hands still entwined, occasionally stopping to point out interesting titles or laugh at the oddball covers on some of the paperbacks. 

He picked out a book that you loved, holding it out with an encouraging smile. “This one’s supposed to be great,” he said, the excitement in his voice contagious.

“Oh, really?” you replied, grinning as you took the book and added it to your stack. 

The walk back to your place was even better, both of you lost in soft laughter as he pointed out small things around the neighborhood you’d only noticed noticed now—a tiny coffee shop you’d walked by countless times, a mural tucked behind an old theater.

Back at your apartment, you settled on the couch, sipping water as you thumbed through the pages of your new book. Bucky leaned back beside you, stretching an arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into him without a second thought. 

His fingers traced gentle patterns on your shoulder as you read, and it took everything in you to keep your focus on the words in front of you, though you found yourself glancing over at him every few minutes, catching him watching you with that soft, steady gaze.

“Something on your mind?” you teased, nudging him slightly.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft, sincere. “Just… you.” His words were so earnest that you felt yourself melt, unable to keep from smiling as you leaned in closer, your head resting on his shoulder.

The evening drifted in, you’d both fallen into a comfortable routine of watching a movie after dinner, and tonight was no different. As the movie started, Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against him.

Halfway through, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You looked up as he brushed a strand of hair from your face before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, slow and filled with an unspoken promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You settled back against him, resting your head on his chest.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

“Me too,” you whispered.

Sunday.

Some nights, in the last couple of days, Bucky would find himself wide awake, sitting in silence on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep. The room was steeped in darkness, but there was just enough moonlight to illuminate the soft rise and fall of your chest.

The sight of you in gentle slumber, after all those weeks of struggling with the nightmares, should have reassured him, should have brought him comfort. But instead, it made his heart ache with a strange longing. 

Regret.

He sat there, hunched forward. Often, his hands clasped tightly together. His mind would wander, as it usually did in these quiet hours.

It drifted to the way he’d been with you before. Cold. Guarded. Pushing you away, convincing himself that he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance. 

He’d been so convinced you’d be better off without him, that he was doing you a favor by holding back, by shutting you out whenever you got too close.

But now… now you were giving him a second chance without even knowing it.

He wondered, night after night, if he was good enough for you now.

He couldn’t quite shake the fear that he was still falling short. That, one day, you’d remember everything, and this fragile happiness he’d found would shatter.

Part of him wanted to tell you, to open up, to confess everything about the person he’d been. The part of him that wanted you to know the truth, even if it hurt, even if it meant risking what he had with you now. But every time he got close to imagining what that conversation might look like, he’d stop himself. He would imagine your face filled with hurt, with betrayal.

Could he be the person you thought he was without telling you the truth about who he’d been?

-to be continued...

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[fallstaticexit]

Ahhh it's been 65 years, and I feel kinda crazy that I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months. Assuming most readers of Missing Moments are also The Art of Being Seen readers- there's some hefty lore here that will come into play later.

prev/ next

Olive: Time to move on, right Kia?

[phone pings]

Nancy: Hello darling. Do you have a moment to talk?

Olive: Who’s this?

Olive: I don’t recall saying yes.

Nancy: [sighs] It feels so good to hear your voice again.

Olive: I only answered to tell you to block me.

Nancy: I would never.

Olive: Even though I asked?

Nancy: Well. I am incredibly selfish.

Olive: Why did you call me?

Nancy: I would like to see you, Olivia. Please.

Olive: I’m not for sale, sorry.

Nancy: I know. I wouldn’t want to meet on those terms again. If I could do it all over, I would have asked you to have dinner with me when I met you. I would have courted you properly, Olivia.

Olive: [scoffs] You would have gone to a strip club and asked a stripper to have dinner with you? Seriously? When would we have ever met under any other circumstance? It’s been made very clear to me how different we are. The only way this would have happened was if it were a fairy tale.

Nancy: What matters is, I have met you. I’ve experienced you and I can’t go back. My husband- my ex husband- he signed the petition for our divorce. I came out to him- officially. It’s over.

Olive: [stunned] That’s- that’s great. I am so happy for you-

Nancy: I’m leaving all of it. I’m starting over. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.

Olive: [sighs]

Nancy: Let’s just have one dinner and after we’ve talk, then you can decide. There’s so much I want to say, but I want to look you in the eyes as I say it.

Olive: One dinner?

Nancy: One dinner.

Nancy: May I see you tonight? I’ll send my driver and I’ll cook for you at my place. Anything you like.

Olive: Tonight is fine.. sure.

Nancy: [sighs happily] It’ll be hard not to kiss you the moment I see you-

Olive: Not too much, lover girl. It’s one dinner and I’m still very annoyed with you about all this, ok?

Nancy: Yes, my love. I’ll see you tonight.

Olive: And don’t look at me like that. It’s just dinner and a conversation, ok? I am not going to sleep with her ok?

Malcolm: Well. Now I see why my mother was so willing to ruin an entire empire over you. Those mugshots did you no justice.

Olive: What is this? Where’s Nancy?

Malcolm: I noticed our driver was heading this way, I figured I’d tag along. Sight see. Get in. Let’s chat.

Malcolm: I wonder if this feels like dejavu to my mother. She makes yet another thoughtless mistake and someone comes along to make it all go away. She has a nasty habit of that, you know.

Olive: Listen. I’m not feeling whatever family drama you all have going on. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Nancy.

Malcolm: I was raised by a narcissistic liar and a spineless coward. If I let this company fall apart, then wouldn’t it all had been for nothing?

Olive: [scoffs] So you want pity? I’m suppose to pity you? Give me a break.

Malcolm: Not pity, no. If anything, I pity you.

Olive: Is that right?

Malcolm: When it comes to success, you pale in comparison to your half siblings. You’ve financially crippled your parents in legal fees since your arrest and all you have to show for it is by shaking ass in a low end strip club in the Spice District. That’s right, I know alot about you Olivia Briar.

Malcolm: I know about that quaint little family of yours down in the country. I know about your niece’s struggling restaurant and her undocumented partner. Funny, he’s able to acquire loans under a fake name but there’s no records of a Noa Briar anywhere. I wonder what else your family is hiding.

Olive: [shaken] What is this about? Are you threatening me? What the fuck do you want?

Malcolm: I’m here to help you, not hurt you. One of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned was the power of the dollar. I can make a lot of your problems go away with one deposit if you do just one thing.

Olive: [softly] ....What?

Malcolm: We’re going to turn around and park in front of your building. You’re going to go upstairs, pack up your things and then, you’re going to go back home to sweet old Henford. You’ll pay your parents back with the money you’ll receive from this arrangement and you’ll help your niece and nephew. All your problems - poof- gone.

Malcolm: All you have to do is walk away, and stay away. You see, my mother has a nasty debt to this family she still needs to pay. Don’t make it your burden.

[filurig]

i never settle on a design for her but ive been thinking so much abt her lately and finally conjured something im a bit more happy with

[amazinglyspicy]

Hey! I see these kinds of tags a lot on my posts that mention piracy and I guess it has been a min since I explained why I don’t agree with the whole “loose lips sink ships” sentiment I see on a lot of piracy posts outside of the in groups. So let me make it clear again.

SHARING THESE RESOURCES WILL NOT GET THEM TAKEN DOWN. THESE ARE ALREADY UP ON THE CLEARNET WITH INTENTION TO GAIN USER TRAFFIC DUE TO AD REVENUE OR DONATION BASED SYSTEMS.

The links I post in *particular* are all wiki sources that collect safe and community curated resources and do not link to any specific page itself. FMHY’s wiki even encourages all users to contribute new sites to their SELF-HOSTED website so more people are actively involved in the discussion of free information.

Truly do not believe in the lie of gate keeping this knowledge for fear it will be “taken down.” Even websites that get seized by the feds often have backups that are up and running again within weeks. Just take a look at Z-library. They will never win. It is a hydra like situation. I’ve seen countless good resources come and go while doing this for a few years and in a couple of months, some new players will get in the game and pick up where they left off no matter what kind of content gets targeted.

If even one person benefits from the free knowledge you share it is enough to keep sharing.

(note that this does not apply for the actually underground invite-only forums, trackers, or usenet groups. Chances are if you’re in those places already you don’t even need the wikis)

Respectfully do not reblog my posts anymore with this kind of commentary. I will block you.

PIRATE SAFELY!! But pirate ;)

Hello! I’ve gotten a flood of new followers thanks to an addition I made about NOT torrenting from the Pirate Bay, so I want to address it better.

If you’ve come to check my blog for more piracy resources, advice, guides, etc, then check out some of the links in this pinned!

First and Foremost, Do not do Anything without an adblocker. Ublock Origin is the best.

Resources/Wikis: 🌟Top recommendation is the Free Media Heck Yeah Wiki, frequently updated, maintained, and transparent, as well as has a welcoming community behind it if you have questions. The rest are for redundancy's sake and for anything not found in FMHY, though most Wikis on this topic tend to repeat the same info. 🌟

VPN Comparison Chart - General Rule of Thumb, DO NOT use any VPN recommended by Youtubers, influencers, or any other shill with a profit motive. Large marketing budget does not equal good privacy practices. Do your own research.

-Since both Mullvad VPN and IVPN are planned to now suspend port forwarding support, the next best choices for torrenting though a VPN seem to be AirVPN and ProtonVPN.

HOWEVER, AirVPN has no evidence of a no logging policy (aka there’s a chance they keep records of what you do on their service) and ProtonVPN has no method of anonymously signing up and use a subscription model instead of a preferable pay-as-you-go model. So take that as you will.

(NOTE: You do not need to pay for a VPN if you are only directly downloading from a server or streaming off of websites! But it’s probably a good idea for privacy reasons anyways.)

A very good Comprehensive Torrenting Guide! -eye strain warning

And another one!

-If you torrent you need a VPN depending on how strict your government is on copyright laws. This works on a case by case basis, so I recommend looking up your own country's laws on the matter. Generally speaking, use a VPN to torrent if your country falls under The 14 Eyes Surveillance Alliance. More info on what that is Here.

A Note about Antivirus: - If you're using trusted websites, and not clicking on any ad links/fake download ads (Should be blocked by ublock), then you don't necessarily need any antivirus. Common Sense and Windows Defender should be enough to get you by. If you would like to be certain on what you are downloading is legitimate, then run your file through a virus scanner like VirusTotal. Keep in mind that when scanning cracked software some scans may flag “false positives” as the injectors used to crack the software look like malware to these scanners. Once again, the best way to avoid malware is to use trusted sites listed here and use an adblocker at all times.

If you have any questions on anything posted, need help finding things, or just need some clarification on any terms used, shoot me an ask or message! I've got a few years experience with not paying for anything I want, and LOVE to help others with this kind of stuff. But if you don't trust me, since I am a random stranger on the internet, that's fine (I wont be offended promise)! Do your own research!

INFORMATION SHOULD BE FREE!

Last updated: February 16th 2024

[voidyyzz]

Just found out the robloxconfessions2 blog is a proshipper /vneg

fuck my stupid baka life!!!!! /ref

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home ▪ Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to makes something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

Want to be on the permanent tag-list or for specific characters/fandoms? Feel free to use my Ask-Box!

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Masterlist

[lemotmo]

911 fandom we need to talk…

Only a few months ago Buck kissed a man for the first time. It was the beginning of his bisexuality journey. Since he started this journey with T*mmy, we all naturally and logically called the ship BuckT*mmy and started calling the people who shipped them BuckT*mmies.

Throughout the months a lot of other shipnames came into use for the ship, but most of them stuck to the name BuckT*mmy.

For a few months now however, it has started to become increasingly obvious that most of these BuckT*mmy shippers aren’t really BuckT*mmies, but just Tommies. They aren’t part of the BuckT*mmy fandom, but the Tommy fandom. They don’t care about Buck. For them it's all about Tommy (and Lou). They have proven that time and time again.

Ever since Thursday we’ve gotten the ultimate proof of this. These people have, once again, resorted to threats, harassment and vile accusations. This time at the address of Oliver, Ryan and even Tim.

They are making vile racist comments about having Ryan deported even when the man is born and raised in Texas. They are accusing Oliver of biphobia and homophobia while Oliver has been nothing but kind and understanding towards the bi community while portraying Buck. They are also talking about deporting Oliver back to the UK and writing him off the show to bring in Lou again to play Tommy. Some of them have talked about figuring out where Oliver lives.

This has gone too far!

These people aren’t BuckT*mmies. They never were. They don't give a sh*t about Buck. So from now on I’ll be calling them Tommies. Instead of talking about the BuckT*mmy fandom, I’ll call them the Tommy fandom. Ali suggested using this name from now on when we talk about these people. These are her words on this:

“We need to stop calling them BuckT*mmy. This has never been about Buck so just call them Tommies because that's all they've even been. I'm going to make it into a new way to call someone racist.

I just don't want Buck associated with it in any way. It has never been about Buck for these people. They are Tommies and that has nothing to do with Buck or Oliver.”

Spread the word by reblogging this post and actively start using the term Tommies and Tommy fandom when you talk about the former BuckT*ommy shippers and their fandom. If you want to tag your posts, start using the tag Tommies and Tommy fandom when you talk about them. Or use the anti-tags if you prefer. They don’t have the right to use Buck’s name anymore after all that has happened.

Actively stop using the (anti) BuckT*mmy, (anti) BuckT*mmies, (anti) Tev*n tag when you do tag something. If people don’t want to read about that fandom, that’s fine. They can just block the tags/words: Tommies, Tommy fandom, anti Tommies and anti Tommy fandom. It takes less than a minute to block them all.

REMEMBER:

BuckT*mmies -> Tommies

BuckT*mmy -> Tommy fandom

anti BuckT*mmies -> anti Tommies

anti BuckT*mmy -> anti Tommy fandom

Personally I will start using the new anti tags from now on when I address or talk about these people.

I am not planning on spending too much energy and time anymore on talking about a part of fandom that has totally lost the plot. I'd much rather talk about the T*mmy-free future of the show.

I will keep addressing some asks about the Tommies topic, but mostly I'll be moving on to brighter and better things. Such as Madney being pregnant again, Eddie's self-discovery journey and where this might lead him (hopefully right into Buck's arms 😉) , Buck's journey to figure out what his bisexuality truly means for him, Henren's happiness with having Mara home where she belongs and last but not least, Bathena building their new house and home.

[slimate]

This is an insanely self-centered perspective to have, let alone to blaze. You paid Tumblr money to tell genocide victims to stop asking you for help? Because it's morally upsetting to think about their situation and the fact that you (claim to) lack the financial means to help? "Stop fucking begging for your life, you're killing my vibe" you PAID MONEY to make sure people being ethnically cleansed saw that????????? You even tagged it as "gaza genocide" to make extra sure?????

No one is holding you hostage, certainly not Gazan Palestinians who have literally nothing at the moment. If you don't want to help and you're so overwhelmed by the "influx of woe" just log off or even block tags. That's on you to handle your own emotions about the genocide. It certainly isn't the responsibility of an occupied people to take your entitled ass into account while trying to survive. The messages will stop if you make it clear you don't care, but the genocide is ongoing and it's frankly disgusting to demand people shut the fuck up while they're being systematically killed for the sake of your piece of mind. You should delete this post immediately and issue an apology to the Palestinian people. It reflects very negatively on your character.

Man am i getting tired of the endless scroll of misery.

These days i feel like tumblr is just a crab bucket of people forcing others to be miserable because somewhere out there has it worse.

Theres a war-theres a famine-the seas are rising and the land is burning-

None of that makes me happy. It makes me feel like there is barely any use in living. The world is so terrible. On the mental health website, do any of you think that maybe all of this doom on peoples social media will cause deaths?

Can you people stop sending me messages to beg me for money? Stop guilting me to send money that i need to be able to live myself?

I feel outright punished for giving the money that i have given! Giving $100 dollars that i got on a one time side hustle to fundraisers just caused DOZENS of people sending me messages full of woe! If this is whats gonna happen every time i give money, if i need to DOUBLE MY FUCKING ANTIDEPRESSANTS every time i give money from the influx of begging, why should i give anything?

I get that your life sucks.

I get that im facing first world problems.

FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS KILL TOO

[a-shade-of-blue]

I've recently moved to a new country due to the worsening political environment in my home country, and I've been struggling to adapt. Uprooting yourself from the place you've called home your entire life is not easy, and I've had to discard many items close to my heart because I cannot afford to bring them with me.

Therefore, I cannot imagine what Mahmoud's family (@mahmoudfamily1 ) must be feeling. They have had to evacuate 16 times in a year! Each time they evacuate, there are fewer things they can bring with them. They are a family of 17 people, 10 of whom are children! With limited space on the car they use to move, should they bring all the blankets they own so everyone can keep warm, even if it means discarding a young child's favourite toy?

Then there is the problem of food. With the scarcity of food, they are forced to eat spoiled food because the alternative would be to not eat anything at all and go hungry. As a result, the 10 children suffer from constant stomachaches and diarrhea from the contaminated food and water they consume. Imagine evacuating, walking for miles and miles, while in constant pain!

Most worryingly, Mahmoud's family also includes 3 infants. The youngest of them, baby Meryem, was only born a few months ago in this genocidal war. Mahmoud's sister almost lost her life in the birth process due to a lack of medical resources. She still suffers from severe infections caused by the difficult birth because she has not been able to get the medical supplies and the treatment she needs. And reminding everyone again that they have to deal with all that while bombs are falling all around them!

Mahmoud's campaign has barely been getting any donations. Even though he has been raising funds for almost 6 months now, he has only reached 6% of campaign goal and has only raised $4,763 CAD  out of his $80K target!

This campaign is #3 on @/gaza-evacuation-funds vetted list here, #117 on @/gazavetters vetted list, vetted by bilal-salah0, and vetted by association!

Donations have stopped for Mahmoud's campaign!! Last donation was more than 2 days ago!

tagging for reach

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[sapphicbuddies]

defending oliver stark on the internet isn't enough I need a g*n

[thedailydescent]

🚨🚨I just got the latest news from Yahya:

Yahya (@yahyabkheet-blog) has given me permission to share his messages and pictures that he showed me:

[Text ID:] -What is happening right now? -I am displaced in [the Nuseirat refugee camp]. Tonight there was a very violent bombing near me. A residential block was bombed. My kids and I went out in a C situation. (under picture #1) -I'm really stuck, I don't know what I can do to protect my family. I search for food for my children all day. I have been displaced 11 times since the beginning of the war. I'm really tired. No one feels what we are experiencing. I want everyone in the world to stay by my side I'm not asking for a large amount like $100,000; I am asking for $30,000 so that I can evacuate my children, wife and mother to a safe place where they can live in peace. This is what I want as quickly as possible. There are people in Gaza for whom very large sums of money have been collected. Why doesn't anyone stand by me? Don't my children deserve to live in peace? 😭😭 (under picture #2) -This is my children's food for two days, water with flour and a little spice, to satisfy their hunger and enable them to sleep. [end of Text ID]

Yahya is currently going through hell. He cannot feed his family, his children are starving to death, they haven't been able to make much of any progress with their fundraiser, there is food scarcity in every marketplace, aid is not coming into in their area, and any attempts to make the location they are living in actually livable are thwarted when they are bombed and forced to move to a different location.

This is Yahya's eleventh time being displaced. He hasn't been able to feed his children anything apart from flour and water for two days!

Yahya has lately been telling me what his children have been eating. On good days, they are able to cook a chard plant for lunch. On bad days, it's a mixture of flour and water, or worse, nothing at all.

Fundraising has been made extremely difficult for Palestinians. Because there are no open banks in Gaza, withdrawals are made through commission, which can be up to 30%. So for every $100 Yahya withdraws from his fundraiser, commissions get $30 while he gets $70.

This is not even getting into how g*fundme constantly freezes Gazan's accounts at anytime, or makes transfers unnecessarily difficult.

This fundraiser is quite literally Yahya's lifeline. He cannot live without it, and cannot afford to go without donations. Please continue to help feeding this family.

This fundraiser has been vetted by @/nabulsi and is listed at #110 on the GazaVetters List.

(tagging for further reach- please message me for removal):

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[coriander-candlesticks]

Yes!! Please please be aware that you don't know the context behind those "jumping flame" candle videos especially. Pyromancy (in my opinion at least) can be heavily affected by mundane factors like airflow and wick length so, if you're using a candle, especially indoors, you should be aware of how that candle/candles generally act in that space outside of a divinatory context. You don't know what the person posting that video has by way of methodology or constraints/guardrails for pyromancy, if they have any at all. You just have their word set to intense music.

As far as personal experience goes, the most I've received re: anger over the election results was a reversed Justice card during a tarot pull asking for clarity about next steps the morning the results were finalized (Apollo w/ Hermes aiding communication) and spikes of anger when working on a drawing of Hestia Bulaea that I took as commiserating anger/anger at injustice but that could very well have just been my own. None of this was directed at me. It was coming in the context of a personal tarot pull and an aspect of a deity I specifically reached out to the night of the election. I have heard people share similar experiences that, again, had nothing to do with the deity(ies) in question being angry at them.

In my experience, the times so far that I've felt that gods were angry with me were actually anxiety spikes, panic attacks, meltdowns, or dud divination sessions. If you're worried that a god/gods are angry with you, step back. Take a breath. Take some time to do what you need in order to ground yourself, whether that's not engaging in religious practice for a few days or blocking certain tags on Tumblr or deleting Tiktok or any other option that helps you re-regulate. And then, once you've calmed down as much as you're able, ask the god(s) in question if you're still concerned. Like the others have said, no one can speak for the gods. They aren't going to strike you down for others' terrible decisions because someone you don't know on an app designed to keep you in it as long as possible said they're angry at us. Please try to process whatever it is you're feeling and do what you can to keep yourself upright, even if that's just making sure to drink water and eat food. Stay safe and be well.

I'm going to put a stop to this shit right now.

The gods are not going to punish you for the way the election turned out.

There's already a trend I'm seeing where people are claiming the gods are mad, and mad at us specifically, and I NEED you to please, please try and listen to me when I say that this is a part of grief. We are scared and looking for someone to punish us, to tell us that we're bad, to validate how scared we feel.

This is even MORE prevalent if you've grown up with abusive parents.

Listen, I cannot speak on behalf of the gods, nobody can, especially random people on tiktok.

Try to see that this is a part of doom-scrolling, it's also a part of the grieving process, it's also a part of fear.

You are not in trouble.

[lividjungle]

JEALOUS!

[maysileeewrites]

distracted

Robb Stark x fem! Reader || 18+, MDNI! 

Synopsis: „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

c.w.: smut!! (seriously, this is really just smut with barely any plot) - piv, unprotected sex, hints of praise kink, breeding kink (never thought I’d ever tag one of my fics like that, but here we are, the things Robb Stark gets me to write …); established relationship, wife!reader 

w.c.: 1.7k || masterlist

AN: more plot-heavier Robb fics are coming soon, but I just had to write this purely self-indulgent smut fic first ... Hope you enjoy!

Usually, you’d describe yourself as a fairly patient person. 

Usually. 

However, there are certain situations in which you tend to be the complete opposite of patient - like tonight, for example. 

In your defense, you’ve been waiting for Robb to join you in bed for quite some time now. And you know that he’s not keeping you waiting to spite you - by the seven, you know that he’s got a war to plan, and thinking about that gets you frustrated even more with your own impatience tonight -, you know what’s keeping him so preoccupied, know how important that is, but somehow, you can’t help it.

Not when Robb is right there, sitting at the table in your tent, several maps spread out on the table around him, tousled curls falling into his face, wearing nothing but a thin robe that’s already started to slip off his shoulders, revealing the planes of his broad, muscular chest. 

You can’t help the soft sigh, full of yearning that escapes you then - finally earning you Robb’s attention. 

When he looks over at you, his eyes visibly widen. Suddenly, you feel your cheeks burning up and fight the urge to grab the thick fur covers lying next to you to cover up your naked body. 

You’ve been lying here in bed, waiting, for what feels like an eternity now, and with the thick furs covering you and the warm fire crackling a few feet away from you, you’d started feeling incredibly hot under the thick covers, so you’d thrown them aside. Purely for the sake of not feeling like you’re being roasted alive anymore, of course. 

Though you can’t deny that Robb’s reaction to seeing you like this is even better than the sensation of relief that washed over you after you’d thrown the blankets aside. 

He bites down on his lips, and you can see him clenching his fists. It’s too bad that the table is blocking the lower half of his body from your view - 

Just then, Robb groans, the sound low and intense. 

Suddenly, you feel even hotter than when you’d still been under the covers. 

Robb shakes his head at you, his eyes hungrily taking in your naked form. „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

At Robb’s words, you bite down hard on your lip, feeling your cheeks burn up. You can’t help it. 

Sometimes, when you’re together with Robb, you still feel like a maiden, young and innocent, as if you and Robb haven’t been married for some time now. 

As if he didn’t already touch you in ways that have desire pooling between your legs, just thinking about them. 

As if he didn’t already say things to you that turned your entire body to jelly in his arms. 

Thinking about that night a few days ago, when he was moving inside you, one arm slung across your stomach, pressing your back to his broad chest, while he took you from behind, his other hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, causes an all too-familiar, bittersweet ache to settle between your legs. Especially when you recall the words he whispered into your ear right after you’d reached your peak. 

That’s it, don’t hold back. Come for me. Going to fill you up- 

„What, already speechless?“ 

Robb’s teasing words draw you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you see how his eyes have darkened with desire. He’s still sitting at the table, still clenching his fists, and suddenly, an idea enters your lust-filled mind. 

Oh, you’ll show him speechless. 

Smirking, you get up from your bed and slowly walk over towards Robb, taking your sweet time with every step you take, enjoying the way Robb seems completely transfixed by you. 

You come to stand in front of him, just looking at him for a moment - his pupils have widened and his breathing has grown quite shallow -, before reaching out towards him and teasingly running a hand across his bare chest. 

Robb’s breath actually hitches. 

You smirk. „What, speechless already?“, you taunt, throwing his earlier words back at you. 

Robb’s eyes widen, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Still smirking, you sit down on his lap, laying your free hand on Robb’s shoulder to steady yourself. 

Robb groans and you have to close your eyes for a moment. Not just because you love eliciting these kinds of sounds from Robb, but also because the friction is almost too much to bear for you as well. There’s nothing more than Robb’s thin robe between your aching core and Robb’s stiff, erect member and if you grind yourself against Robb-

Just then, Robb’s hands settle on your waist, mercilessly keeping you in place. You want to protest, you really do, but when you feel Robb’s lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, forming any coherent thought suddenly feels impossible. 

Robb seems to sense this as well, because he chuckles quietly, before his lips start trailing lower, down from your neck to your collarbone, to your breasts. 

Your breath hitches, and even though you can’t see it, you’re pretty sure that there’s a triumphant spark in Robb’s eyes right now. He loves to tease you. In fact, you think that he enjoys it just a little too much. 

Not that you particularly mind, though. How could you, when Robb’s teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your bosom feels so heavenly? His hands are still keeping you in place, but his grip on you has loosened. 

When you try to shift forward this time, there’s no protesting from Robb. Instead, the only reaction he shows is a low, deep groan, before his lips close around one of your nipples. 

A sigh escapes you, morphing into a groan, when Robb starts flicking his tongue over your nipple, while suddenly tightening his grip on you again, only this time it’s to re-position you in his lap. Now, he has you even closer to him and when you feel his stiff cock at your entrance, a breathless, desperate whine escapes you. 

„Robb“, you breathe out, one of your hands moving up from his shoulders to tangle in his auburn curls, tugging at them the way you know always drives him crazy. 

Finally, he looks up at you. 

And by the seven, the image of him with his head between your breasts, his lips still wrapped around one of your nipples, looking up at you with a deep, dark yearning in his eyes is enough to get you clenching around nothing. 

„Robb, please“, you whine, trying to desperately to grind yourself against him, but his grip on your waist has tightened once again. 

Another whine escapes you and you bite down hard on your lips. Somehow, you feel as if you could almost cry from frustration. You need Robb, and you need him now. 

So, you tell him. „Robb, I need you, please-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by the hungry, bruising kiss Robb gives you. You’re so dizzy, so distracted, that you almost don’t notice Robb’s hands moving to lift you up - until you feel him lowering you down onto his cock. 

A surprised hiss escapes you, and your grip on Robb’s curls tightens at the sudden contact. 

Robb, however doesn’t give you any time to adjust to him like he usually does - usually, he’d also make sure to prepare you for him with his fingers or preferably his tongue, but tonight, the same hungry, desperate frenzy you’ve been feeling seems to have taken over him as well -, he slams right up into you, filling you up completely. 

Pain and pleasure mix together, and you cry out. Your grip on Robb’s shoulder is so desperate that you’re convinced your fingernails are going to leave marks, but right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Not with Robb mercilessly bucking his hips up again, one hand still on your waist, keeping you in place, the other tangled in between your hair. 

„Gods, I love it when you’re so desperate“, Robb whispers, looking right at you as he enters you again in a merciless, powerful thrust. 

You whine again, meeting Robb’s gaze. Coming up with any kind of coherent sentence in reply seems impossible, and so all you can do is look at Robb and take his powerful thrusts inside you. 

„You’re so beautiful like this“, Robb continues, just as his hand suddenly leaves your hair, trailing down from your neck to your breast and over your stomach until his fingers start to draw teasing circles over your clit. 

„Robb.“ 

„Looking all fucked out and cock-drunk, with that hazy look in your eyes and your lips swollen - makes me want to fill you right up, because you’d look even more beautiful with your belly swollen with my child-“

And somehow, that does it. You come - harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Crying out your husband’s name, you come, shaking, burying your head in the crook of Robb’s neck as white-hot waves of pleasure wash over you and you clench around him. 

Robb thrusts into you once, twice and once again, the friction nearly too much for your aching, sensitive core, before he comes as well, spilling his hot seed inside you. 

„Robb“, is all you can manage to whisper. 

You’re still shaking, and when Robb closes his arms around you, drawing you into his chest, you nearly collapse onto him. 

For a moment, you stay like that, with you in his arms and him still inside you. Robb’s hands draw gentle patterns on your skin and he starts to whisper sweet nothing into your ear, a stark contrast to the rough, dominant husband you’d witnessed just moments before. 

Eventually, you find the strength to lift your head from his shoulder again. Robb slips out of you, but his hand immediately moves between your legs again. 

„Robb, please, it’s too much“, you whimper, completely overwhelmed as he pushes his fingers inside of you. 

„Sh, love“, Robb whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop.“ 

When your eyes meet his again, he’s smirking.

„Who’s speechless now, love?“ 

Robb tag list: @justmymindandstuff @rheanyraaaa @prettydeeryess @inkandarsenic @strrvnge