#they know they can't make you support them

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you saying you want to quit your job (prank)!

Jobs can be so annoying sometimes and you fantasize on quitting, but you won't actually quit because apparently you need to worry about financial responsibility and all that! But in this universe, you love your job and you just want to prank them!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb

Sylus

Gets so happy. What? You're quitting? That means you can spend more time with him, given his super flexible working hours!

Oh no.. now you're gonna steal the twins away from him even more than you usually do, huh... but he digress.

Quirks an eyebrow when you tell him it's a prank, he'd be lying if he hasn't fantasized about it.

Xavier

"But.. we won't be partners anymore.." "I mean, we'll still be partners but not partners, you know?!"

If you're quitting, then he's quitting too! He joins the Hunters Association only because he gets to work with you anyway! Even though he loves the job too but he can still do it without being tied to HA.

Relieved when you say it's a prank, since he knows how much you actually love your job no matter how tiring it is. Plus, you have him as your partner! He'll fill both your quotas!

Rafayel

GETS SUPPER GIDDY.

Really!? You're quitting your job? Then he's hiring you as his full time bodyguard and you can stay with him 24/7!!! Frowns when you say "No, I'm quitting my job AS your bodyguard!" "What do you mean by that!? Quitting as my bodyguard is not in your contract. 😤"

Feels happy and yet tricked when you say it's a prank... happy because you're staying with him tricked because what do you mean you can't be his 24/7 bodyguard and stay with him all the time!?

Zayne

Took it seriously.

"If that's what you want, then I support you. But can I ask why? Was the workload too much? I did tell you to quit many times because of your health but I always thought you loved it so much so I never really pushed-"

"Zayne, I'm just kidding." "Oh. Now that's the selfish brat I know." "HEY?" Somehow you become the subject of this prank...

Caleb

REALLY? REALLY? YOU CAN STAY IN SKYHAVEN FULL TIME NOW THEN!!!

"I make enough for the both of us so this is amazing! We can spend so much time together and you can finally move in with me! I can cook you breakfast and I can come home for lunch to see you!?"

You did not have the heart to tell him it was a prank.. but you had to.. but you suddenly can't remember why moving to Skyhaven and moving in with him are not the better choice...

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #13

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"It's time to move on."

"There's no going back."

"Why do you care?"

"This could change everything."

"I need to know the truth."

"We can't give up hope."

"I knew it would come to this."

"They won't stop until they get what they want."

"I won't let you down."

"What are you waiting for?"

"I can't do this without you."

"We need to take a risk."

"How can I ever trust you again?"

"It's not too late to turn back."

"We need to act fast."

"This isn't about winning."

"What did you expect?"

"We need to find another way."

"How can you be so calm?"

"I won't let them hurt you."

"Why didn't you believe me?"

"This is our moment."

"I didn't know who else to turn to."

"We need to stay together."

"How did it come to this?"

"You're the only one who understands."

"We have to be ready for anything."

"I wish things were different."

"It's not as simple as it looks."

"What are we waiting for?"

"You think you know me, but you don't."

"It's not about what we want; it's about what we need."

"I've made mistakes, but this isn't one of them."

"Every choice comes with a consequence."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"We have to find another way."

"You're stronger than you realize."

"I can't keep doing this forever."

"What if everything we've been told is a lie?"

"I won't let fear control me."

"Why do you always have to be right?"

"There's no place I'd rather be than here with you."

"This isn't the life I imagined."

"We have to keep moving forward."

"No one said it would be easy."

"We can't let them get away with this."

"It's time to make a stand."

"I never thought it would end like this."

"Do you really believe that?"

"We can't change the past, but we can shape the future."

"I'm not as perfect as you think."

"This is the moment we've been waiting for."

"You can't hide from the truth."

"Everything is falling apart."

"We need to stick to the plan."

"I refuse to give up."

"They don't understand what we're capable of."

"This is just the beginning."

"I never wanted to hurt you."

"We're running out of options."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"I can't believe you did that."

"We're all in this together."

"You have to see it from my perspective."

"It's not as simple as black and white."

"We're fighting for something greater than ourselves."

"I didn't choose this path; it chose me."

"We have to be brave."

"You're not alone in this."

"This isn't a game."

"I didn't come this far to fail now."

"We can't let fear hold us back."

"I'm not the same person I used to be."

"This isn't about revenge."

"I believe in you."

Drabble Masterlist

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[anonymousmarshmallow]

Also, this happens during the hiring games. Every one of them believes it. Only after asking around (and not just the big 3 either, everyone, the nurse staff, janitors, legal, long-term patients). Most of the hospital staff is like 'yeah that makes sense,' and 'they sure do act like it.' Also due to many convoluted reasons they somehow either just miss Wilson or something always comes up right before they mention it. The big 3 deny it cause they don't have to put up with as much House's shit now. But, the contestants all believe both of them were in the closet for reasons and were forced to come out to avoid jail or a lawsuit, which is horrible. Sooooo cut to part of the team trying to be kind and understanding, thinking 'maybe this is why he's such a dick unable to be yourself, and watching other openly express their love while he can't. Of course, he would be bitter. Maybe he's like this to avoid getting close to people because someone he trusted outed him or bullied or blackmailed him once, and he never fully healed. Their all doctors, and they want to help and show support.' This is completely wrong. The other part mainly decides to leverage this situation and "supports" House and Wilson to (hopefully) get cookie points. Chaos ensues.

The nice ones: looking up support groups for the LGBTQ+ and googling how to support someone who just came out, because coming out like this must be upsetting at the very least

House: Stop kissing my ass. That's Wilson's job

Also House: [milking it for all its worth especially during secret Santa] What you'll get your other STRAIGHT co-workers gifts but not me. Is this a hate crime must be?

House: Now that I'm out, it's so difficult with all the patients in the clinic so many homopophobes :(

The nice ones: Covers clinc duty to stop House being exposed to so much hate

The suck ups: mentions how they like Beyonce and RuPaul. Went to a musical once, definitely has a gay cousin or friend, and makes everything go back to being gay and overly defending House fellow people who are equal to them and deserve support. They always supported LGBLT people.

House: [Let's them talk and enjoying them making asses if themselves] Wow, you are so supportive

The suck ups: [says/does something really offensive]

House: [staring in surprise/and a little horror] Little impressed actually going to remember that for later. But I had reasons for medical reasons to what I said, and you don't. Also, you'll get me in trouble with Cuddy, and if you do that, you're fired. [Makes the couple who sued him give a lesson on the LGBTQ+]

The truth doesn't come out until someone catches Wilson on a date and confronts him, either because 'cheating isn't okay he needs to come clean' or 'I can use this and have him talk me up to House' and Wilson is like "What no! I only said that to keep House out of trouble. We never dated. I'M STRAIGHT! N-n-n-not that there's anything wrong wi... I didn't... Look, it was either a small white lie or House goes to jail, and you lose a job. Besides, it's not like I really lied. House is my friend, and he is a boy. He's a boy friend. Yeah, House, he was just messing with you.

The ruse comes to an end with House announcing he had fun and fires someone.

Also, House knows Wilson's dick size because both of them were drunk, and Wilson was shitting on House about not having a girlfriend or whatever making a joke about being bad in bed. Later, at one of their homes, Wilson passed out drunk. House is curious and takes a look and measures.

House would treat two gay patients like shit and get sued for being homophobic and cuddy would go "he's not homophobic, he treats everyone like that!" which does not hold up in court so instead he's like how can I be homophobic when I have a boyfriend? Wilson stand up. Everyone would turn to Wilson (who had ZERO warning about this) and he'd stutter before glaring at House and stand "yes, House is unfortunately my boyfriend"

Then they'd walk out of the courtroom and Wilson would chew him out which House ignores. Cue 3 days layer when Wilson says House needs to clear up they lied about being gay to get him off (ha) and they're not actually dating because he is NOT getting any dates like this. House would walk into the hospital cafeteria and yell "ATTENTION EVERYONE. Doctor Wilson is not my boyfriend." Wilson would nod for 2 seconds before House follows up with "because we're engaged!" and Wilson can't even be mad because why did he think for 2 seconds that House would make it easy for him

House would try to use this as an opportunity to demand less clinic hours (think of it as a wedding gift) which he does not get because Cuddy knows exactly what's going on and she thinks it's hilarious but she needs his ass working

Cuddy: yeah? You two are a thing? How big is he?

House: 5.3 inches

Wilson: how the FUCK do you know that

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, who starts gaslighting his family members by saying that All Blades were always a thing and that they just didn't take him seriously, once they found out about it.

Bruce, frustrated: If you yielded a magical sword in the past, I would know, Jaylad.

Jason: Jesus fucking Christ, I told you, I don't use it often, since it uses my soul. But I did mention that I have it!

Dick: You did not!

Jason: I said that Robin gives me magic! I said I *am* magic!

Bruce: That's—

Dick: But—

Bruce and Dick, turning to Damian helplessly: Your verdict?

Damian, who got already paid by Jason (price was two sneaked in rabbits): That's true. Mother said Todd had always had them. He only ever was sent to All Caste because he needed to be taught how to use it correctly. Didn't Dulcra say that you were the chosen one, Todd?

Jason, intentionally irritated: Exactly! Thank you.

The rest of the family: ●○●

Bruce, sitting in the Cave, in the middle of his 300th existential crisis: I— If Jason is the chosen one, was I technically wrong in our argument?

Dick: ...I can't believe that this is what takes you to accept that you were wrong, and not the fact that— Dunno, he is your son— And you kinda failed him—

Tim: On the more important note, should we call Jason Harry Potter now or something?

Stephanie, snickering: Jason... You are a wizard!

Bruce, sniffling: He did like these books as a child. Perhaps it was his way to try to tell us the truth.

Dick: Damn... Once we were arguing, and I told him that he had no magic... How foolish I was.

Jason, pressing phone to the shoulder, while cooking: ...And now they are staring at me, like I am about to do the whole Enchantix transformation, lol

Talia: I admit, that's amusing. Damian did a great job at supporting this circus.

Ra's voice on the background: Enchantix? What is it? Had that boy found ANOTHER magical device plot?!

Talia: ...Do you think I am too old to pull the same move you did on my father?

Jason: Nah, it is never too late to trick your dad. Get his ass.

Talia: You are absolutely correct.

Talia, screaming to Ra's: He did, father. It is related to the constant cycle of being brought back alive.

Jason, turning around to Damian, who is playing with rabbits on his couch: Prepare, little gremlin. You are about to testify falsely again, this time to your grandfather.

Damian, snorting: Two golden fish and one parrot.

Jason: I will warn your mother.

Tim, with Excel Chart open: Okay, so we figured out that he has All Blades, strange version of immortality, quick recovery thanks to Pit... What other magic Jason can have we don't know about it yet?

Cassandra: Cooking?

Stephanie: ...I think he is just a normal person, Cass.

Dick: NO, no, listen, it is one thing to cook normally, another to be trusted by Alfred.

Duke: ...You are reaching, guys. I think he is just a good chief.

Bruce: He always makes me laugh.

Tim: That's not— B, no one laughs, but you, so what kind of magic power is that?!

Duke: Listen, y'all, what if he sees ghosts?

Everyone: (pauses)

Stephanie, hitting Tim on the shoulder: WRITE IT DOWN, WRITE IT DOWN—

Tim: I am putting it in the "unclear" column, but good idea, dude.

Alfred, glancing at all of this sceptically: Dear Lord, this family is not your brightest soldiers...

[kawhh]

luke would lowkey be the opposite he’s asking you to hide ur stuffies to turn around the peanut jelly cat, he feels self conscious

Everything was going well for him until he looked up.

Please be gentle with me, I haven't written for him before.

He hasn't been in your room before. You've both been taking it slow with each other - little kisses here and there, cuddles in the dark together where he can feel safe with no pressure. Dragging his soft hands under your shirt, resting them on your stomach. Feeling him gulp, slowly testing both of your limits.

You broke his mind tonight, feeling him freeze as you take it further. Dragging his hands up your body, holding his hands over your bra, feeling his fingers twitch with the restraint he needs not to squeeze your pretty tits. He's physically and emotionally overwhelmed, whining as he buries his face against your shirt, nuzzling into you.

He's forcing your hands into his curls, needing you to ground him. To reassure him that you're fine with him taking this further. Needing your consent before he lets himself go.

The minute he gets the go ahead, he's scrambling to dig his fingers into your thighs, needing you to be wrapped around him, whimpering as he pulls them around his body, pushing them further around, needing you to squeeze him.

Using his strength to lift off the couch with you, wrapping his hands around your back to support you. He won't drop you. Even if he's already tit drunk. Moaning into you like your tits hold all the answers, like he needs them to breathe.

Clumsily carrying you up the stairs, accidentally hitting your side, whispering apologies into your skin. Sliding the hands on your back under your shirt on the way, clawing at your skin, dipping the pads of his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, hesitantly digging into the skin of your ass, too nervous to fully grab you.

As soon as he gets you in your room safe, falling on the bed with you, he can't resist getting more skin contact. Lifting your shirt, dragging his mouth up your stomach, following the revealed skin. Mouthing at you like he's whispering a prayer, compliments flowing from his mouth the minute he reaches your bra covered tits, before he makes his mistake.

He looks up. Stopping in his tracks, his face flooding with heat. You can feel the sudden warmth on your skin. He's just staring above your head, your calls of his name going unheard.

There's.. there's stuffies. There's stuffies all over your bed. They're just.. watching him. He feels like he's being judged. Burying his head back into your stomach, hiding under your shirt.

"Baby.. can't. I'm being watched, feel like they're gonna lock m' up in jail."

He's whining into you, embarrassed that it's such a problem for him. Embarrassed that he doesn't even feel like he can kiss you.

"Baby you gotta.. you gotta put them outside. I can't.."

Even as you lift off the bed to throw them outside the bedroom door, holding in your laughs, you can hear him speaking apologises into the bed covers, hiding his face. He can't look at you, can't believe that he ruined this for you.

You can feel him gulp, feel his breathing quicken when you come back to him, laying down over his back, burying your hands in his curls, reassuring him that it's okay. Not wanting to poke fun at this problem with him, wanting him comfortable. You can tell when he's in the mood for it and when he's not.

Kissing the back of his neck as you massage his scalp, murmuring praises into his skin, calling him your good boy, making sure he knows he did good. That you're proud of him.

@hughesinthebox I was gonna wait.. but.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 18

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17 18 19

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, emotional constipation, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: im tryna finish this fic fr | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

Thunder and lightning conversed in the halls as another Targaryen is born. Alicent had started her labors at the hour of the owl and a servant came to rouse you. Daemon, barely meeting a deep sleep since his return, nearly smothered the girl who had come to alert you of your sister's condition.

Helaena was born amidst a storm. It was rather poetic, thinks Daemon; the child inflicted the same weather over his heart.

You loved her dearly. You loved her as much as you loved your beloved Aegon. Alicent was grateful for your presence. You were more than a welcome reprise and a steadfast support during this time. Still, she was careful not to burden you with too much, as the image of you holding your own babes flash behind her eyes each time she sees you hold her hers.

It tears at Alicent to see you with Aegon, and now Helaena. As much as she knows being with them heals you, she can't help but worry it also chips away at you in equal fervor.

It goes without saying this worry is tenfold to Daemon. As greatly agitated he is with how frequent and prolonged your visits to your sister and her children were, he choked it down and allowed you your space, your sacred privacy. He could not bear to see you behold the babe anyway.

Helaena, to you, was as much as a storm, your eyes were nary dry when you held her. Daemon had watched you once, you examined her fingertips and ears, smelled her feet and cheeks, traced her nose and brows. You laughed only to cry. Once was enough.

Viserys, in all his gladness to see his third born, tried to comfort him, but the you-will-have-this-joy-soon was not a welcome sentiment, nor was it comforting.

He only had ill-thoughts.

The gods supplied you your lost children through your younger sibling.

"How fares he?" Daemon asks, mostly himself as he walks towards the blood wyrm— he finds he could not lately call Caraxes that, as his scales were uncharacteristically blanch.

Daemon did much to drown out his melancholy, and yet it seemed to follow him wherever he treads. Even now, his mount was just as ill as he, if not worse.

"Ñuha dārilaros," a dragon keeper walks over to him, "Caraxes ēza daor ipradārin." My prince, Caraxes has not eaten.

The prince frowns as he brushes his hands on his mount's face. Caraxes, at least, acknowledges Daemon's presence with a huff, but it does not ease his worry, "kostagon ao sylugon naejot mazverdagon zirȳla ipradagon arlī?" Can you try to make him eat again?

The dragon keeper nods, "hen rhinka." Of course.

Daemon watches as three live goats are offered up to Caraxes. They bleat in front of the beast's face, unaware of their doom, and yet it seems there was no doom, as the creature turns away in disinterest.

Daemon huffs and pats his mount's cheek, "ao qopsa run," he walks into Caraxes's direct line of sight, "gaomagon jaelā nyke naejot kisikagon ao nykēla?" He stares at the dragon, who seemingly grumbles. The prince draws Dark Sister. You difficult thing. Do you want me to feed you myself?

With swift strokes, Daemon slays one, two, and three goats, their blood sputters on the ground, pooling by his shoes; he cares little for it. He sheathes his sword and grunts as he lifts a severed head to his dragon's maw.

"Ipradagon," the prince commands. Eat.

Caraxes turns to his master, sniffing the air.

"Ipradagon, valītsos," Daemon speaks like a father to his petulant son. His sigh of relief and irritation is of the same fashion as he watches Caraxes stretches his tongue towards his arm. Eat, boy.

The sound of the goat skull crunching between dragon teeth is, in truth, disturbingly loud, but to Daemon, it was a noise most welcomed. He raises a brow as Caraxes lifts his head a little, parting his large jaws in a rather submissive manner.

Daemon is unable to withhold his eyeroll, but the quickly picks up the two other heads on the floor, "fussy thing."

After Caraxes swallowed the crisp goat heads, he opened his mouth again and made a soft screech at Daemon.

The dragon keepers watch the prince and his ride, feeling relieved the creature is finally feeding, and of course, wholeheartedly enamoured by their dynamic.

Daemon was not having it, "gaomagon nyke jurnegon hae aōha urnerys?" He places his hands on his hips, which only made Caraxes whine more. Do I look like your keeper?

Caraxes grits his teeth and huffs, nudging his rider with his snout.

He makes a face at the screech, especially because the exhale was laced with foul dragon breath. With a poing to the felled goats the dragon keepers move forward and pick up the bodies, ready to throw it into the dragon's mouth. Except, before they could get close, Caraxes screeches, causing Daemon to flinch and scold his mount for his loudness. The dragon keepers immediately heed the warning, and drop the goat body, stepping back.

Daemon topples and pushes his dragon back in annoyance. Regardless, he bends down with a huff and picks up the largish goat with a grunt. Caraxes gratefully feasts on his meal once he's fed it.

Daemon grumbles and repeatedly swats Caraxes on the neck, "iksā hen qogron." You are out of line.

Caraxes responds only by opening his mouth again.

"Bah," the prince makes a face, "ao iēdrosa emagon hubre isse aōha relgos!" You still have goat in your mouth!

The dragon remains still, mouth agape.

As true as he could say his vexation was, there was truer affection in Daemon as he watched his dragon eat. He was glad to be needed by Caraxes. In fact, it fed an emptiness in him that was left gaping by his wife.

Daemon groans sharply and struggles to feed him the other two carcasses, but does manage it in the end, much to the satisfaction of his prissy dragon.

Through all this vexation and affection, there remained a worry within Daemon that only blossomed when Caraxes rolled over after swallowing his meal. Part of him wishes that it was all a ploy, and the astute creature wanted only to receive more attention, but he knew if that was the case, the blood wyrm would act more volatile rather than torpid.

He sighs.

His wife.

He strokes Caraxes's scaly cheek.

You would undoubtedly still be in Halaena's nursery, though you should really be having lunch. Daemon frowns as Caraxes leans into him. He sighs and wonders if he could ever merit such affections from you. He would feed you like Caraxes, if need be, without a single complaint.

The sun shines through the halls of the Keep, and yet he grows icier the closer he gets to Helaena's room.

Daemon instructs that if anything happened or if Caraxes refuses to eat again, he be alerted immediately. With that, the prince bids his dragon goodbye and cleans the goats’ blood off himself.

"Uncle."

He slows when Laenor approaches. Daemon silently nods in regard.

The young prince asks him if he's off to see you then adds, "she is presently in the solar with the Queen and her children. I've just come from there."

"Ah," Daemon nods slowly, "I see."

"They are having biscuits," Laenor offers, "you ought to join them for a snack."

The prince clears his throat, not necessarily liking that he was being told what to do. Still, Daemon nods, "ēza ñuha ābrazȳrys ipradārin? Iksis ziry sȳrī?" Has my wife eaten? Is she well?

"Se sikagon hen dārilaros ēza maghatan zirȳla rōvēgrie kirimves se teptan zirȳla kustikāne, nyke pendagon," Laenor's face softens. The birth of the princess has brought her great joy and given her strength, I think.

"Yes, but..." Daemon shakes his head, "it is not so simple as joy and strength."

Laenor nods, "you should go to her."

"Does she want me?"

He huffs and shrugs, "I do not know, uncle."

Daemon nods, neither do I.

It is quiet in the solar, save for the sound of your voice. It's a wonder no one heard the creaking of the door as Daemon entered, but then again, he too would be so deeply engrossed in your singing if you ever humbled with a song.

Still, as Laenor and he part, Daemon heads to the solar, wanting nothing more than to see you.

He already knew Helaena would be in your arms with Aegon nearby, but he did not know a Cargyll would be by your side instead of your sister. The brazen knight was not only carrying the prince in his arms, as if he was his father, he gazed upon you with such apparent warmth, as if he was your husband.

"— so come rest ye all safe and sound," you sing, stroking Helaena's forehead gently.

Aegon sleepily sighs. His back was pressed against the Kingsguard's chest plate and was sat on his forearm like a chair. He reaches out to your cheek, "again."

"Again?" you chuckle at the boy, "but I've sung it mayhap one hundred times over, my love."

Aegon whines, "again."

You sigh and brush his cheek, "oh, my sweet darling."

The boy leans into your touch and makes your heart melt.

"I will sing if Ser Erryk sings with us."

Daemon grips the doorknob tightly.

Erryk makes a sound, "I will wake the poor princess with my voice, and you know it."

"Tis only true because you are weak with numbers."

"Nonsense," you hum, "you've sung me to sleep more times than I can count."

Daemon gulps uncomfortably.

You chuckle.

Daemon feels like he's being ground alive.

"Again!" Aegon whines rather loudly.

As Aegon fusses, you're left with little choice but to give in to him, lest his sister begin to fuss with him. You softly begin to sing, rocking your darling niece in your arms as you did so, "the fishes swim in seas of blue-"

You and Erryk are quick to hush the boy.

"And dragons breathe fire so red," Erryk harmonizes with you, "all the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

Your separate melodies blended incredibly together; the richness of your voice seemed to belong with the richness of his. It was fucking unbareable.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you—"

You, Erryk, and Aegon turn to Daemon when he shuts the door with rather excessive force. Daemon clenches his jaw and tries to control the trembling of his hand, "īlen ivestretan aōha hāedar iksin kesīr." I was told your (younger) sister was here.

You face him, still rocking Halaena, "īles... ziry sepār geptot naejot emagon iā kōdrion." She was... she just left to have a bath.

"Mmm," Daemon makes a noise as he slowly walks over to you, "emagon ēdā iā kōdrion tubī?" Have you had a bath today?

You slowly nod, "kessa." Yes.

Daemon grips his hand and nods, "emagon ao ipradārin?" Have you eaten?

"Kessa, lēda ñuha hāedar." Yes, with my younger sister.

"Se aōha mīsior?" he says, eyes trained on you. And your guard?

You take a moment to respond, "... kessa."

Daemon sucks a sharp breath, turning to the said man, "you may go, Cargyll. I will stand as ward for my wife."

"And what of later?"

You turn to Erryk. Daemon grinds his teeth, "what of later?"

"I understand that you do constant visits to the pit, my prince. If you are urgently needed to go there, then princess will be forced to go with you and-"

Aegon begins to wrangle out of Erryk's grasp. The knight promptly sets the boy down, "the only business I have as a knight is to safeguard your wife," he rises and nods, "your grace."

"My business is my own," the prince bristles, "do not speak to me of my dragon or my wife, as if it is your business."

The way he says your wife irks him to no end. Daemon draws in a deep breath in the hope it would calm him down.

"Anne!" a small voice calls. Horse.

Daemon looks down and finds Aegon raising a small wooden figurine of a horse, repeating in High Valyrian, "anne!"

Aegon seems to be handing the toy to Daemon. Daemon feels ill. He mutters softly, "iā sȳz anne, valītsos." A fine horse, boy.

Aegon beams and reaches out to his uncle, as if he wanted to be carried by him. Daemon feels sourness rise to his throat as he bends down to pick the boy up. His stomach rolls when he smells him; he smells faintly like you. Aegon pushes the toy gracelessly to Daemon's face, hitting his nose unintentionally on the way, "fast."

Daemon pulls his head back, "kessa. Anni issi adere." He bounces him slightly, "adere, hmm?" Yes. Horses are fast. Fast, hmm?

"Adere," Aegon mutters softly.

You watch your husband and nephew. Where Daemon once believed the boy to be his son and offered him warmth, he now offered him reluctant and half-hearted interactions.

Daemon nods, "sȳz." Good.

You could not blame him, in fact, your heart hurt for him. You oft wondered how Aegon was to him, perhaps a casual but flesh-grating reminder of what you've both lost, or maybe a physical manifeststion of the Lord Hand's schemes. You don't talk of such things, and you don't think you ever will. Helaena's birth has only wedged you further apart.

"We should bring them back to their nursery," you speak, making Daemon turn to you, but you turn to Erryk. His heart feels like it was being sawed in half. You shift Helaena in your arms, "Daemon and I can go by ourselves."

Erryk lifts his chin reluctantly before nodding, "shall I tell my brother to continue with his shift?"

You turn to Daemon, raising your brows.

Daemon turns from you to Erryk, "I will manage."

The walk to their nursery is filled with chatter, thanks to Aegon and his wooden horse. Daemon is amazed by how many words the child knew in both common tongue and High Valyrian. He evidently loved mixing both speeches together.

Erryk clenches his jaw and nods, "as you command."

"And princess with zaldrīzes—" Aegon babbles as his toy horse runs across Daemon's chest. Dragon.

"What did the princess do?" asks Daemon, eyes on the boy.

"Sōvegon!" Fly!

You chuckle and Aegon makes a roaring sound.

Daemon pulls a dubious expression, "se dārilaros kostagon sōvegon?" The princess can fly?

Aegon nods, "DRACARYS!"

You laugh a little louder. Daemon's breath hitches at the sound, his violet eyes immediately landing on you. You reach a hand to Aegon, brushing his chin, "Caraxes really left a mark on him."

Daemon watches you pull away. He longs to be touched similarly, "his soul nearly left his tiny body. His fearful screams nearly rendered us all deaf."

You snort, raising a brow, "he was overwhelmed, as would anyone be the first time they meet a dragon."

"I was not."

You huff and turn to Helaena, "rijes aōt." Congratulations.

Daemon smirks softly.

As you drew near to the nursery, you find that Alicent was on her way back to the solar. You smile at her and she smiles back at you, though her expression slightly dampens at the sight of Daemon.

"Sister," Alicent greets you, reaching out for Helaena. You gently hand over her daughter and she sighs, kissing her forehead. She gives you a look, "will you join me as I breastfeed?"

You shake your head, "I..." you motion to Daemon, turning to him as well. You don't know what to say though.

Daemon finally puts Aegon down and the boy gratefully goes up to his nursemaid by the door to his room, showing her his wooden horse. Your husband speaks, "I would like to have my turn with her."

You rub your hands together.

Alicent turns to him only to turn back to you to smile softly, "yes... I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course, my love," you rub Alicent's shoulder.

Daemon watches you pull away. He feels his own shoulder grow cold.

It remains silent until you break it, "where to?"

Alicent retreats into her children's nursery. You and Daemon walk off in silence.

Daemon turns to you, "hmm?"

"Where are we heading?"

He stares at you. He gulps at the sight of your skin, of the furrow of your brows, of the baby hairs framing your face. He knows that you smelled so good, that you were so warm, that you were so soft. What torment it was that he could not simply touch you.

Your brow raises, "Daemon?"

"Hmm?"

You stop in your tracks.

His heart stops. He begins to slightly panic, especially due to your expression.

"If you wish to visit Caraxes in the pit, I will not stop you."

He says nothing.

"It's just that if you must go there in haste, I will not be able to keep up," you rub your hands, "as Erryk menti-"

"Please," he raises a hand, "do not name him so cordially."

You press your lips together.

"Pray, do not mention him at all," he lowers his hand.

You raise your brows and slowly shrug, "as you wish..." you motion vaguely, "but are we to go to the pit?"

You turn to your hands as you think, "is he quite unwell?"

Daemon shakes his head, "if you wish it. I saw him just before coming to you."

He watches you fidget with your fingers.

"I do not know if my presence is welcome," you slowly look up at him, "perhaps I will make him more ill."

Daemon furrows his brows, "you would not."

"... what's more, perhaps I am the reason for his illness."

Daemon's brows tighten further. The sentiment gnaws at his rib. He tilts his head as he shakes it.

He crosses his arms instead and huffs, "you believe your tiny being is the cause of illness for a creature a hundred times your size?"

You watch him shuffle in his spot, and you realize rather quickly, he did not know whether or not to reach out for you. He doesn't.

"... one need only a few drops of poison to kill."

"You speak as though your blood is poison."

You look away, shrugging once more, "it might as well be."

"Yet it is not so," Daemon finds himself chuckling incredulously. The sound makes you turn back to him with a hardened expression; it softens his own. He gives into himself and takes your wrist, "I-"

The feeling of you flinching makes him tense.

He sighs and continues slowly, "I... highly doubt that if you were poisonous, your presence would cause people— Aegon, Helaena, Alicent... your damned wards, to bloom."

Daemon measures your reaction. He does so with such singlemindedness, he does not realize he was rubbing your pulse. It causes your skin to prick with gooseflesh.

"You've made even Laenor think so kindly of you," he slowly releases your hand, "why would he bother if you were so... perilous?"

He notices the way you rub the area he touched as though you had been burned. He tries not to take it to heart, but everything you do goes straight to it. You blink rapidly to avoid from tearing up, "pity."

"Pity?" Daemon repeats, jaw hardening at your rapidly increasing sorrow. He mutters softly, "you would paint the world so generously and believe so many souls sympathize with the sorrows of others than simply believe you are not poisonous?"

You chuckle dryly and turn away, rubbing your eyes, "I would-"

"You are lovely."

You turn back to him, wiping your face.

"I-" he starts, choking on his spit, "I love you."

Your lips wobble.

Daemon is winded when you reach for his cheek. A shiver runs down his spine as he immediately presses his hands atop yours. He leans into your touch, his eyes searching your own.

You frown and rub his chin, "apologies..." you sniffle, "I do not mean to cause you such misfortune."

Daemon stops your attempt to pull away, "a prince is nary misfortunate."

You pull away after a prolonged moment of staring.

You do not know why you both end up in dragon pit. You find it was a rather bad idea, as the sight of Caraxes sprawled on the floor like a soggy piece of parchment made your stomach curdle.

Daemon leads you towards him and Caraxes barely perks at the sight of you. He does huff though when Daemon presses your hand to his snout. You frown at him, "ñuha mijegindita valītsos." My poor boy.

Daemon turns to you and ponders if perhaps the gods made his mount this way so that he could have a reason to share such tender moments with you. The gods give as they take.

"Do the keepers know what is wrong with him?" you ask Daemon.

He merely shakes his head.

You sigh and rub Caraxes gently, "never mind it. I will keep you in my prayers."

All the prince wants to do in this moment is to embrace you, but all he does is wonder if he was in your prayers... and worry if you still prayed the same terrible one.

[stormclouds-chainmail]

[ID: an anonymous 4chan post by Anonymous titled Shrimp saved my life on 09/12/18(Wed) 18:48:30 No.2813016

>be depressed, suicidal xanax-addicted incel

>one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit

>he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before

>he offers to get me some

>throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock

>several shrimp die

>realize that I killed them with my apathy

>realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life

>do research, learn about water parameters and so on

>eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths

>notice a female shrimp carrying eggs

>haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade

>the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up

>a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp

>I suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ

>by this point I live and breathe shrimp

>all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos

>I spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products

>quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending

>start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp

>grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out

>relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself

>I see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp

>for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake

>it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs

>cry like a little bitch when I see it

>mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me

>college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp

>shit they're gonna think I'm autistic

>they actually think my shrimp are really cool

>they start inviting me to their social events

>start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart

>I think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew

We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

End ID]

does anyone have that 4chan post about the guy who got like. deradicalised from being an incel because he started taking care of shrimp?

[familyagrestefanblog]

Ladybug's Lucky Charms in Werepapas

Let's talk about another detail that people kinda REALLY wanna ignore about Marinette's decision in the Werepapas akuma battle. It's the fact that she hand-waves away FIVE Lucky Charms until she finally goes with the sixth:

No, that is NOT irrelevant. Marinette is not supposed to disregard her Lucky Charms left and right because they're trying to tell her what she's supposed to do. That's Lucky Charm 101 in an akuma battle.

I'm not gonna pretend like I know for 100% certainty what they all tried to tell her, but

1) a couple of them can be easily interpreted in very relevant ways.

And 2) I don't NEED to know what exactly they all mean because it doesn't need to be PROVEN that Marinette isn't supposed to cherry-pick her Lucky Charms. We've known since s1 how this works and it's still done like this in s6. Thanks to not being limited anymore to 1 Lucky Charm, she gained the luxury of sometimes just getting to summon one for the purpose of whooping ass instead of solving the actual situation - which is still a lucky charm's REAL purpose - but that doesn't change the fact that you're supposed to listen to the Lucky Charm, not the Lucky Charm to you!

Under special circumstances like a final battle, sure, use additional ones to whoop ass. But you can't just switch out the problem solving Charm with a purely ass whooping one which is what Marinette did here in "Werepapas". It's fine when you do that in an extremely dire situation, but a normal akuma battle is no dire situation. Especially not when the only real stakes there are is being reckless with Adrien's amoks!

She's supposed to use whatever she gets and that'll lead her to the right solution. Not going through a whole line of Lucky Charms until she gets one where she finally likes the first thought she gets from it because of how little it challenges her self-preservation (makes you wonder if having unlimited Lucky Charms now isnt the worst thing that ever happened to her. Now she can just ignore whole Lucky Charms until she finally gets one that tells her something closer to what she wants to hear instead of listening to the CHARM)

Let's take a look at her 6 Lucky Charms:

From my recollection (so correct me if I'm wrong), while the teapot sometimes shows up here and there as filler Charms it was firmly established and used several times as a visual cue for Marinette to go to Master Fu.

Obviously, she can't do that anymore, but she has Alya as co-guardian, Luka who was trained by Su-Han, and even Su-Han himself as Celestial Guardian who now does whatever she wants.

In a situation where Adrien's amoks are the akuma object, it's a pretty logical thing to happen that her first Lucky Charm tells her to get Guaridan-related help. She has the option, all the needed support, and all the resources, but doesn't use it because it wouldn't be nice having to face the baggage that could come with it.

And even if you wanna say "She didn't get help because she didn't wanted the new Butterfly to possibly find out that Adrien is a Sentibeing!" Then that excuse still falls flat because obviously Adrien's LIFE is supposed to be more important than preventing that secret from coming out. The secret has no value if Adrien is DEAD.

Afterwards she gets a fan and this obviously could VERY likely mean that she's supposed to get Felix involved because he's the Miraculous holder of the Peacock. And by "VERY likely" I mean "I doubt there is a likely chance that it ISNT a hint to get Felix".

I won't even elaborate on this further. Her second Lucky Charm tried telling her to get Felix when Adrien's amoks were on the line and she ignored it. It is what it is.

For the third and fifth ones, I personally don't know what they could mean because I already struggle recognizing what exactly they are supposed to be. Though, they do have recognizable shapes. I bet other people could look at them and know where they've seen these objects before in the show.

Then right between these two, the fourth Charm Marinette summons is an unicycle (that for some reason isn't polkadotted, but screw it)

An unicycle like she summoned back in season 2 "Sabotis", the episode in which Alya became Rena Rouge for the first time. Meaning this one pointed to getting Rena's help.

For me, this is one of the most interesting ones regarding Marinette's feelings of not wanting to face the Lucky Charm's solution to instead protect all her secrets. But if anything, I would want to give it its own post and not half-ass it here. Cause there are a lot of layers to this one.

And, of course, the last one: the scarf. It's alongside the fan the one for which the fandom does casually acknowledge the symbolism of it being a call back to 1x01 "The Bubbler" where Marinette now infamously made the decision to let Adrien believe that it was his father who made the scarf for him - and not her - because of how happy it made Adrien that his father finally "cared":

I don't think I need to explain why it makes sense that this is the one s6 Marinette cherry-picks to finally work with. The poor scarf has been made into the symbol of Marinette wanting to keep pretty much everything about Adrien's family a secret from him. Including him being a Sentibeing. I miss the good old days when we dreamed of the scarf being set-up to become the catalyst for Adrien to write off his father as a useless deadbeat who isnt worth his time and love.

So, unfortunately, of course this is the one she goes with now. Even if it means taking the risk to kill Adrien. Anything to keep the secrets save and lies unnoticed. How tf did we GET here?

[belu-4]

what about alpha alexia head canons? She’s so protective alpha to me both with her omega and the hoard of pups she cares for in the team

—💫

EXACTLY, Ale is so protective over her omega and her puppies.

Not only is the alpha to her omega, but she also feels responsible for all the omegas and young alphas on the team. She has an almost maternal instinct with the younger ones, making sure they are always safe, protected and guided.

If anyone even looks at her omega strangely, Alexia is already growling. She doesn't need words to make someone back off; a single look from her is enough to intimidate. Her body automatically positions itself between any threat and her omega or her "pups."

She may seem serious, but she is patient and attentive with the young members of the team. When one of the "pups" on the team (like Vicky Lopez or one of the younger ones) needs support, Alexia is there with a little chuffing noise and a gentle nudge with her head to comfort them.

Although alphas don't usually make nests, Alexia has made an "alpha nest" at home with her omega. It's filled with soft blankets, old t-shirts with her scent, and pillows scented with her partner's aroma. After long training sessions or intense matches, her omega always finds her resting there, waiting for her with open arms.

She can't control her Growling with her Omega, Even if she's half asleep, if her omega strays too far from her side in an unfamiliar place, she lets out an instinctive growl. If someone else gets too close to her omega when she's vulnerable, her growl becomes lower and more menacing.

She may be in a room full of people, but if her omega or a pup is uncomfortable, she knows it instantly. Her head turns in their direction and her brow furrows. A second later, she's standing beside them, offering support without words.

Although many omegas in the league have tried to get her attention, Alexia has never looked at anyone else. Her omega is the only one that exists for her.

She has sharp fangs, but when she plays with her omega, she uses them with extreme gentleness. She only bites her hard when she's really marking her.

Sometimes the girls on the team end up at her house, especially if they've had a bad day. She doesn't say much, she just makes room for them on the couch, gives them a blanket with her scent on it to calm them down, and gently strokes them until they relax.

If you want to read more perspectives of alpha!alexia, you can go read @insomniakisses blog, it has a lot of omegaverse stories too and I basically follow her omegaverse guide.

[xiepheer]

Hey I was wondering if you could do how candy apple cookie\ black sapphire cookie would be around shadow milk cookie significant other

sorry if this is to much to ask for I just really like your work:(

Hi! It's okay dww I love yall anyways >:3

How Shadow Milk cookie's apprentices be around with his s/o

S/o is also pronounced as they/them! You can change the gender of the s/o (you) any gender you want!

Candy Apple cookie and Black Sapphire cookie around his s/o?

First of, Candy Apple cookie vowed to herself to be the one with Shadow Milk cookie.

Shadow Milk cookie couldn't even trust her around his s/o and has to depend on Black Sapphire Cookie to watch over his s/o incase she does something to them.

But of course, she tried everyways possible to try and get rid of them.

She tried to trick her master but she was seen as a fool and a nobody by him.

S/o always knows that Candy Apple cookie hates them for being with Shadow Milk cookie.

Candy Apple cookie would cry and whine to her master but he would just scoot away.

Candy Apple cookie wanted to destroy S/o so bad that she lured them out of his spire and dimension.

When he found out, he of course got mad and ordered Black Sapphire Cookie to retrieve S/o.

He turned Candy Apple cookie into a tarot card as punishment for luring his love out.

Candy Apple cookie HATED being in a tarot card. Being all flat and can't even move.

Yet she didn't stop the chronicles of trying to get rid of s/o.

She tried so many ways.

Yet Black Sapphire Cookie made her think twice by telling her how their master would think towards them if she lures his love away.

Black Sapphire Cookie always watch over s/o.

Making sure Candy Apple cookie wouldn't do anything to them.

Black Sapphire Cookie knew what the consequences would be if they did something to his s/o.

Yet Candy Apple cookie just don't listen.

She doesn't care.

All she cares is her master being hers.

Even though Shadow Milk cookie made it clear that he doesn't even want her.

He only sees her as a apprentice. Nothing more.

Which made her fuming even more.

"SHADOW MILK COOKIE IS MINEEEEE!!!!" she would yell everytime she gets jealous of s/o.

"Oh quit it!! Give us a break!" Black Sapphire silenced her.

Even though Black Sapphire Cookie watch over them, he would sometimes agree that they also needed a spotlight of their master's attention but doesn't intend to do things Candy Apple cookie did.

After their Master gets sealed away, they were stuck in disguises. Apple Faerie cookie (Candy Apple cookie) leads s/o away from the spire.

When Black Sapphire found out, he was livid.

Shadow Milk cookie is gonna KILL them for sure.

When Candy Apple cookie realized the consequences of her actions, she joined Black Sapphire Cookie to find s/o and bring them back.

When they retrieved them, they sighed a breath of relief.

Alas, they're not gonna die.

And since then, Candy Apple cookie decided to keep her own jealousy and thoughts to herself.

Not exactly to herself, she tell Black Sapphire Cookie.

Anyways guys! Sorry if it was short! I've been busy lately!

Anyways I hope it is for your liking and I hope you enjoyed reading this! To people who support my work, I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!

[emptymanuscript]

I suspect the way to get things in front of right wing eyes is probably a violation of the tumblr terms of service. They need tags that those who support the right wing wants to look at. Like gun control or sleepy joe or christian faith. I'm sure there are a ton I simply don't know in the same way they probably don't know tags I watch for. But without something promising them that a post is something they are interested in - and again, I'm pretty sure it is against the tumblr tos to simply mistag things that aren't referenced in order to get clicks - you have to be mutuals with them to pass things along.

Tumblr is generally built to primarily connect with people you share interests with rather than any other organizing principle. The secondary organization is purely organic, someone follows someone for whatever reason and they're permanently linked but that's usually preceded by some shared interest to make the initial connection unless the people know each other from OFF tumblr. Like, I followed my friends (who have now left the site) from Live Journal but then picked up all my mutuals from posts that they posted that I was interested in.

But now everyone knows which tags likely to provoke a fight and go on to block them.

Like, I have Biden blocked as a tag. That has nothing to do with disliking Biden and everything to do with knowing that something tagged Biden will likely be divisive and make it a much less zen experience. Because I've blocked "Biden" chances are high I'll never even see the tag "Sleepy Joe" because it is probably accompanying Biden. Which means I'm simply not seeing the other side of the political spectrum there and don't know their keywords because of it. I expect it is much the same on their side. Anything that they expect will give them an unpleasant experience is likely hidden behind a block AND filtered by a lack of mutuals who are going to challenge them. Because wanting to ENJOY the social media experience is a general desire and having your beliefs challenged and belittled is rarely enjoyable. It's the essential problem of getting news from social media instead of sites devoted to news.

I'm on Fark. The Fark comment section is nowhere near as pleasant and sociable as Tumblr because we're all forced to deal with the same stories. They are as they are. And therefore it is on the commenters to argue for their point of view because they can't rely on it being the general trend of opinion like we can with our mutuals. So there is a lot more yelling and insults, exactly what we're avoiding. And when that wasn't enough, we generally flock toward different news sites. Think about how often you'll see Fox news linked to here. It's rare BECAUSE everyone along this thread of communication is unlikely to be right wing because of the negative take on the result of right wing action.

Which just makes it all come full circle. Social Media is based around information flowing across specific types of connections. This inevitably creates echo chambers because we will move toward the connections we favor and away from the connections we do not favor. While some people really do enjoy arguments and challenges to the point they seek them out, that is the statistical minority. Which means if you WANT to reach people you naturally don't connect with, you have to cheat against the reasons you don't connect.

Gun control, for instance, actually lead to my most commented on post. Because I talked about Gun Control in relation to a particular tragedy but one of the people who did like arguing and challenging follows the Gun Control tag specifically to look for people who want Gun Control in order to argue against it with them. He, being very right wing, then carried our interaction across his dash, interconnecting my fairly left wing opinions into his chain of connections where everyone piled on while my reply to him carried over to all of my connections. That's how to short circuit it.

BUT

The more we are dominated by the echo chamber and the more we can't find any common ground to agree on, the less people are sitting on tags that they know will cause controversy because even for them, it's often only fun in bursts. They don't want it all the time. So even that is becoming more transitory and less connective.

So, back again to cheating. We love saying Tumblr has no algorithm but it is bullshit. It has the same algorithm that "Reality TV" has. Human behavior is chaotic but it is fairly predictable in general trendlines. I can't predict what a specific unknown YOU will do next. But I can assign a statistical likelihood on a majority behavior. Give a mass population something to enjoy and they will shy away from the parts that hurt and favor engaging with the parts that feel good. Set up the right initial situation and you can't predict EXACTLY what will happen but you can reasonably expect that it will conform to the normal trends of human behavior.

That's what you have to break. If you want to get something that people are likely to NOT want to engage with, then you have to break the natural human algorithm of connection. You have to cloak it in something that they are likely to SEEK engagement with. Even neutral isn't enough. Because they are protected by the design decisions made by Tumblr which was meant to get people to connect over shared interests. Neutral means it isn't interesting. It just passes into the ether because it won't connect to anything but those who are already in connection with you. It has to be POSITIVELY interesting in the way that will get people to be interested before they fully engage with the content and realize that it is meant to be uncomfortable for them which they avoid.

Which does generally reduce the strategy to manipulation and lies. You have to engage more positive interest than their negative interest has already put up as a barrier and then enough additional positive interest that is going to get them to engage enough to get the message.

And you probably only get one chance. Maybe two if you get a partial success.

For the same reason that Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists really probably only get one chance to engage directly with the account of a Trans person. Because as soon the Trans person realizes that the TERF is posting in bad faith to make them uncomfortable and unwelcome, they simply block the TERF as an account, not merely blocking the posting identity but any other screen names attached to the same account. Which in turn makes it increasingly expensive in effort to cross the boundary.

So each tag you put a message across will result in increasing blocks. Until getting the attention of people who don't want to give you their attention becomes the majority of your activity.

At which point this becomes an evaluation. How important is the message to get across given that you will probably nerf your ability to get messages across in the future in reaction.

In an ideal world, this information would make everyone who sees it reconsider their support for DOGE.

But we don't live there.

Instead we're living in the world where Musk's interns, not even political appointees, jacking into the treasury department records of EVERYONE wasn't enough to turn the opinions of the people you're trying to reach.

So think of this as a nuclear option. You don't start with it. You escalate to it.

Research what tags seem to engage people who support DOGE. Get a list.

Wait for something that does MORE than incense you. Wait for something that is more than merely informative. Wait for the thing that goes COUNTER to what the people reading one of those tags believe to an outrageous amount. Wait for what will make them fly into a rage because it is an utter betrayal. :/ You probably won't have to wait that long, actually.

Then, when you have something that will incense THEM - not you, you're already on the other side, it's all about them - cheat against the algorithm and label it what will get in front of their eyes even though it shouldn't.

After that, cross out that tag because you've likely lost the use of it.

Wait for the next opportunity.

While you're waiting, share the tag you used and what responses you got so other people know what worked and what didn't. Essentially, you're recruiting for a Psyop. Because you are working an anti-psyop. And you will need allies to speak that message into the spaces you burn. Let allies give a different take and boost the signal of the alternate point of view. The more you can get the merrier. Because you want to flood it. You want to make it so that tag becomes a message, understanding that each individual post within the overarching message will burn an account as people in the tag will just block you until they finally stop following the tag. At which point everyone will have to move down the list.

It's also probably more effective if people rotate who sends messages.

Moderators and staff will probably ignore a single use of this trick. If you become a regular, you're going to get banned. So, get a LOT of allies and understand that this is going to be hard work. It's going to be HOW you and your allies are fighting this war and there will be attrition.

At least that's my guess.

I can't honestly claim to know anything about anything. Psyops isn't my field.

So, you know, your mileage may vary. And you'll notice I'm not doing it. I haven't tagged this with any of my suggestions. So also buyer beware and all that. I'm probably condescending, too, while I'm at it. Mostly think of this as something to noodle in order to prompt your own thinking.

I, myself, am giving up. This is the world they wanted. I don't buy that they were ignorant. So I have no interest in informing them because I don't see the use. I just can't resist an opportunity to write an essay. Don't know why. Probably the drugs I'm on.

Good luck.

This will never make it in front of right-wing eyes. The government is a mystery of spending that can not be understood!

And it’s all because of trans people!

Or immigrants!

Whatever the enemy of the week is… enemy of the weak? 🤔

[space-feminist]

we know why helena & mark chose to be severed and irving seems like a bit of a tortured soul which makes me think that dylan rounds out the cast by not having some big emotionally traumatic reason for choosing severance. innie!dylan is obsessed with prizes, and outie!dylan struggles to find work outside lumon and is mostly concerned about job benefits like healthcare. i think he's in it for the paycheck, to support his family. which isn't unemotional of course - he's doing it for his kids - but it's very normal. he's not trying to prove a point or run from personal demons. if you think about it, a severed job is kind of perfect for a working parent - there's literally no chance you'll ever take work home. to outie!dylan, he gets a paycheck for driving to and from one building every day, and he spends all his time with his family. it's kind of an ideal life.

but that's the insidiousness of it, right? this life comes at the expense of innie!dylan, obsessed with pointless little rewards because he doesn't have anything of real meaning to motivate him. it shatters his world to know he has a kid because he realizes he could actually have a meaningful reason for doing what he's doing and he'll never know. and i can't condemn dylan for choosing this omelas-type bargain because every day, people get up and go to work at places they don't care about just for a paycheck, give their time and effort and self to a company so they can have money for the things they actually care about. he's no different from them really. it's not him who's at fault but the very nature of work itself that makes something as self-mutilating as severance seem like a reasonable option

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 6

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

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What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98

Divider by @plum98

The way he has the audacity to sneer out the word Princess—as if you've been such a self-entitled to kidnap—despite them being the ones who abducted you, who took you against your will and forced you into this whole mess—it ignites something hot and simmering beneath your skin.

And it's like all the accumulated stress bursts out of you before you can even stop yourself.

"Well, at least I didn't make you wait around multiple fucking days in some shabby hotel with nothing but the McDonalds dollar meal menu as the closest thing to quality nutrition."

As soon as you seethe the words out, you snap your mouth shut. You realize, with daunting horror, that you've just challenged all three men by insulting them. One of which you know, for a fact, is a murderer, and the other two, of which, somehow scared you even more than said murderer.

The men, it seems, are just as surprised as you are.

But then the Hoodie guy snickers, like your retort amused him.

"I think I like her," he hums, and it's the first time he's openly spoken in front of you, but the low purr of his words is more than enough to confirm your previous theory; he's the one who was in your room last night. He's the one who touched you.

Masky clicks his tongue, and it thankfully distracts you from the memory. He nods in Toby's direction, who also seems to snap out of a train of thought. And at the white-masked man's wordless command, he riffles through a duffel bag you only now notice had been brought in with them.

When he pulls out cable ties and two familiar black strips of cloth, you back away.

"N-no, wait—"

There's a semblance of safety in the bathroom’s lockable doors. It's the only place you could feasibly escape to if things don't pan out in your favor. But it feels like how a child might hide under its blanket when scared; it's not a viable option—not really, anyway—because, sooner rather than later, you'd be forced to come out. But, at the moment, it's the only security you have. And you'll take what you can get.

The men seem to understand your intentions. And although they don't seem particularly worried, they also don't seem too keen on the idea of having to bash down the door to force you out, or to otherwise wait around for however long it'd take for you to leave.

"I'll come willingly," you promise. "As long as you don't tie me up and gag me."

Your gaze locks with Toby, whose reaction you can't gauge beneath his mask.

With the goggles and mouthguard firmly secured in place, any trace of his soft innocence from last night is gone. You don’t know if it’s because he’s standing among the other two imposing men, or if it’s just the lighting revealing the dried specs of blood still staining his clothes. Whatever it is, it’s suddenly hard to imagine he’s even the same person from last night.

If it weren’t for what he told you about the notebook, it’d be easy to dismiss what happened as a dream. And, even then, you’re not entirely certain you can trust your sleep-deprived, stress-fuelled memory.

But you cling to the idea that there’s still some good within him—because it’s the only hope you have, and you need something to hold onto for the sake of your own well-being.

And it’s like your hopes are confirmed when, even despite the other two waiting expectantly for him to cooperate, he seems to hesitate.

You find yourself thinking, again, about unlikely partnerships, and shaking hands with devils.

When Toby looks towards Masky, you flinch.

You shouldn’t have snapped at him.

Something twists at your insides, and the door behind you feels just as promising as ever.

You watch as Masky returns Toby’s look. And the two almost seem to have some kind of unspoken conversation. You eye them both warily, all while Hoodie’s stare never once breaks away from your expression. And the whole thing is suddenly uncomfortably familiar.

Masky eventually shifts his gaze from Toby to you, and it takes everything in your power to stop yourself from shrinking back.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into palms as he steps towards you.

And to find your courage, you recall Toby’s eyes beneath his goggles.

You try to imagine what this Masky guy might look like—if he might have some semblance of warmth, or kindness, or humanity left within him. And it’s meant to strip him from his power and authority, to bring him down to your level and humanize him, but you can’t get past the porcelain mask.

It’s like you can’t imagine anything but some faceless monster of a man.

A slick lurch of intimidation fills your system as he circles around you, predator sizing prey.

You’re torn between looking at the floor, or looking toward Toby for some kind of comfort or pity—anything that could help you stomach the panic seizing your muscles.

You don’t know what Masky’s intention is—if he’s just trying to scare you, successfully so, or if he’s trying to decide how much of a threat you’d be without the blindfold and bindings.

When he finally stops, he plants himself inches before you, and carefully scrutinizes your face. The seconds are painfully slow, painfully long as the black pits of his mask look right through you.

He reaches out, and you flinch again, your heart skipping a beat as his thick fingers dig into your cheeks. Something small and pathetic escapes your throat, and you swear the other two men lean in curiously at the sound, their interests piqued.

You want to run away.

You want to push him back and run away to the illusory safety of the bathroom. The adrenaline screams at you to do so.

But the whole thing feels like some kind of test. And something tells you that, if you do try to run away, they’ll never let you have another inch of freedom.

So you stay neatly paralyzed before him, and let him do whatever he pleases to prove that you won’t try anything stupid.

And finally, after what feels like way too long, Masky snorts.

"Blindfold her once we're out."

It's all he says before moving past you, like you suddenly aren’t worth his time, and walking through the door that connects your rooms together.

You’re left with Hoodie and Toby. And it, admittedly, takes you a second to recover from the fear-induced paralysis before you realize you’re meant to follow Masky.

You follow willingly.

Their room reeks of cigarettes and alcohol.

It's bigger than yours, with an extra bed and a whole couch, but it's otherwise just as plain and simple as your own room. You aren't surprised that none of them bothered to make their beds, but you are surprised that it isn’t as messy as you’d expected.

There aren't any clothes scattered about, nor are there empty bottles of booze or food wrappers all over the place. In fact, if it weren't for the unmade bed, it'd almost look like there was no trace of them at all.

Leaving no evidence behind.

You follow Masky out of their front door, and you’re immediately assaulted by the smell of sweat and humidity from the cramped corridor. It's disgusting.

Your room had a similar unpleasant scent to it, but it'd been faint enough to ignore. Out in this hallway, with the greyish beige carpet absorbing every vile odour, there’s absolutely no ignoring the stench.

You hide your disgust as Masky makes his way through the dingy corridor, and Hoodie and Toby trail closely behind you to keep an eye on your every movement.

One of the first things you notice about this hotel is that there aren’t many rooms. The hallway is thin and relatively short, and you spot a few fire exits and staircases, but no elevators. Which means you were likely right about this being some cheap, rarely-used hotel. And which, in turn, explains why none of your notes were ever found.

Your heart sinks in your chest when you finally reach the lobby, where the front desk isn’t even attended by a staff member. And it gives you this eerie feeling that there’s a chance this hotel might be abandoned.

Something about the thought makes you feel gross.

When you take your first step outside, it hits you harder than you would've thought it would. Fresh air. Even though it's not a particularly nice day out, with overcast clouds casting a dull grey light on everything, it feels the nicest day you’ve ever experienced.

You hadn't realized how badly you’d missed this. Getting locked up for a few days had started to feel like months. And you hadn’t realized, until this very moment, that part of you had been utterly terrified of never seeing the light of day outside again.

It almost has your eyes watering with a rush of unexpected emotions.

But then you're ushered into the car, and that feeling of dread replaces the bitter-sweet lure of fleeting freedom.

Masky sits in the driver's seat and Hoodie takes shotgun, leaving Toby in the back with you, just like last time.

It’s the last thing you’re allowed to see before the blindfold is secured around your eyes. And you’re about to complain, about to argue that they don’t need to do this, but your better judgement has you staying silent.

As long as they don’t tie your wrists together—you’ll take whatever meager ounce of kindness you can get.

You’re left, once more, with nothing but darkness and the thrum of the engine to keep your thoughts company. Your mind wanders, and next thing you know, you’re processing what you think about your kidnappers.

Masky, without a shred of doubt, seems like the cruelest of the three. The others always look to him for direction. They clearly respect his orders, and you dread thinking about what he might’ve done to get to that position. The image of him cracking Toby’s skull against the brick wall comes to mind, and you cringe.

If there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Masky definitely isn’t the one you want to go up against.

Then, there’s Hoodie. He's mostly quiet, but every time you look at him, you can still feel the warmth of his hand pressing through the sheets and stroking along your thigh. He gives you the creeps.

He seems like the type to always be watching—even when you might think you're alone. You’ll have to remember that.

And then finally, there’s Toby.

From the very beginning, Toby had been off-putting and unpredictable. You could never tell if he was on the verge of offering his help, or if he was seconds away from embedding one of his axes into you.

He killed your neighbour. He kidnapped you and forced you into this whole mess in the first place. And yet, he seems to be the only one who cares about your comfort. He seems to be the only one who wants to help you.

You don't know if it’s just some kind of ploy, some good-cop-bad-cop kind of bullshit. And maybe you’re making a mistake by flirting with the idea that he might not be as bad as he seems. Because, despite the innocence in his eyes, his clothes reek of blood the most out of the three.

And you just can’t figure him out.

Throughout the entire drive, you keep expecting to hear that liquid like last time, and to have that damp cloth pressed to your nose and mouth to knock you unconscious. But as the minutes trickle into hours, it never comes.

You keep getting tempted to pull the blindfold down—just for a slight peak at your surroundings—but you don’t dare. You stay nice and compliant because you don’t want to risk upsetting them, and you certainly don’t want to risk those fucking cable ties.

The only time you’re allowed to remove the blindfold is when they stop to refuel. You’re allowed to go for a bathroom break, and your immediate thought is that you’ll be able to signal for someone to help, but Hoodie sticks to you like a guard dog.

Even if he wasn’t closely following behind, the few truckers milling around barely even throw a cursory glance in your direction. They’d be no help to you regardless.

Hoodie stays posted at the door when you use the bathroom, and then you’re quickly ushered in and out of the stop. Hell, you barely even have time to try to decipher where you are.

You know there’s a possibility that they, once again, lied to you and aren’t bringing you back. But where else would they even bring you? You almost don’t know what to think, and at this point, your best option seems to be just going along with it.

Bide your time until the right moment.

You eat the stale sandwich they offer you from the gas station, and then you’re blindfolded once more, and then it’s back to enduring the long, endless drive.

The men, you notice, don’t seem to speak much to one another. You wonder if it’s because you’re around and they don’t want to reveal too much—about their plan and about themselves—or if they’re maybe always like this. If they maybe just don’t like one another. If they maybe don’t even trust themselves.

You wonder, most of all, why they’re doing this. What’s forcing them to this lifestyle—what they have to lose and what they have to gain. You wonder what gets beneath their skin. You wonder what kind of advantage you could ever pray to have over them.

When the car slows, you know you’re finally off the highway. You come to the occasional stop, and every time you do, you can’t help but wonder if it’s just a red light or if you’ve finally arrived at your destination.

Home.

You’re almost back home, you hope.

It has you getting antsy. You keep shifting in place, and the urge to pull your blindfold off gets stronger and stronger.

You try not to let your eagerness show through, but you don't think you're successful.

And then finally, finally, the car rolls to a stop and you hear Masky put the parking break on.

Home, you pray again, please let it be home.

You almost can’t sit in place. When your blindfold’s finally removed, you’re ushered out of the car, and there, right in front of you, you see it.

You’re back at your apartment.

[dipperscavern]

Hi I genuinely love your work can you pls so some drabbles about Robb and a reader who's super touch averse in public but very cuddly in public

I love u pls don't die

-🥻

i live to serve!! thank you very much for the ask (i love u more) (was gonna die but i guess i wont just for u.....)

robb stark x fem!reader

theon’s voice rings through the hall, hands on his hips as he watches the chandelier be lowered. "Careful, Jon…. careful."

jon, lowering it, finds his ‘direction’ anything but helpful. "I'm bein' careful."

the chandeliers candles have been burnt down almost completely, and you had been assigned to the task of replacing them. you had only sought out jon to help lower it, but boredom is a contagious disease, making theon and robb jump at the opportunity to pass the time.

“You’re lowering it too fast.”

jon is patient, but theon is regal in his talent to annoy anybody, and peace is best found when his mouth is closed. you’re about to tell him so when robb beats you to it. “Shut up, Theon.”

he turns to robb, but a sharp noise cuts him off before he can retort. he jolts, and you stifle a laugh at his jumpiness.

he turns, finding the source to be the chandelier hitting the limit on its ability to be lowered. the glares he shoots at jon - whom is tying the chains into place - are not enough to wipe the smirk from his face while he does so.

jon abandons your construction crew at the first available opportunity - a wise choice. even while on a ladder replacing candles, you can't escape theon's nagging he likes to call "supervision".

"The shortest ones should be in the center. "

"Have you done this before?"

"That's not where it goes."

"I'll show you where it goes, Greyjoy." you call down, losing your sanity after a meager five minutes. theon raises his hands in surrender, looking to robb for support, but is only met with a shake of his head. “Fine then, do it wrong.” he mutters under his breath. “No skin off my back.”

minutes of sweet, sweet silence pass, and eventually, you sigh much louder than intended. it betrays your frustrations.

you start to move down the ladder, and robb calls from below. "What is it?"

"Ran out of candles. I think we-" the ladders instability is proven when you're about to touch the ground, and it moves under your weight. you would've fallen, if not for robb's reflexes. his grip is bruising, but welcomed in face of the alternative of hitting the floor.

"You alright?" he aks. you nod. "Thanks, Robb."

you're quick to slip out of his hold, feeling white hot embarrassment crawl up your spine. its only theon, you tell yourself. somehow, it doesn't help. robb doesn't hold it against you, letting you go without protest. he's nothing if not understanding.

theon notices, brows furrowing as you retreat to resupply in candles. once you turn the corner, he pipes up. "What's all that?"

robb fights with the ladder, trying to bring some stability to it. "All what?"

"You know what. She's your lady and you can't touch her?"

robb turns slightly as he glances at theon. luckily for him, you're not around, meaning he doesn't have to keep his language proper.

"Just because the whores you accompany like to be groped in public," he says. "doesn't mean my lady feels the same."

the greyjoy is apt at recognizing defeat. "Fair enough."

eventually, the ladder starts behaving, not nearly as shaky as it was minutes ago. robb sends a quick thanks to the gods, and when he turns back around, your pretty face pops around the corner. you wave him over, and he shoos theon off before making his way over to you. 

“Get lost on the way?” he says, approaching. “Big castle, s’ alright.” your eye roll in response is nothing short of the greatest reward. you turn and start walking; he follows with a lovesick smile on his face.

“I’m in need of a tall person, as someone... quite intelligent has decided to place candles on the very top shelf.” 

robbs glad he's walking behind you, so not to give away how he fights a massive grin. someone intelligent must have done that, of course. “Tall,” he repeats. “Yes,” you confirm. 

“And handsome, surely,” he adds. “They’ll hide if you aren't. Theon can never find them.”  

he catches a glimpse of your smile as you open the door to one of winterfells (many) storage rooms. not huge areas, but comfortable enough for their intended purpose. you weren’t lying – they really are high up. he forgets to pretend to not know where they were moved.  

if you notice, you don't bring attention to it, only moving to stand on a small stool next to the space robb fills while reaching for what you need. these specific kinds of candles are tricky, stood on a tray & quite easy to knock over. he hands you the tray in front, reaching to get the one farther back.  

“Robb?” he hums, holding a tray of his own. “Thanks for catching me. Really.” he murmurs something in agreeance, brows lightly furrowed - you already thanked him minutes ago. not that he’s complaining, of course.

still on your stool, it makes it easier for you to reach out, caressing his curls. “I don’t mean to be difficult, I just get...” your hand drops as your sentence trails off - he wishes it wouldn’t. “You make me nervous.” you manage, stepping off your stool. 

“Hey,” he temporarily blocks the door. your eyes meet his. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

you shrug like you don’t believe him. he scoffs. “I should lock you in here... talking to yourself like that.” he opens the door for you with a shake of his head, catching another lucky glimpse of the smile you try and fight off. he allows himself a final mutter of, “Blasphemous, really,” 

[curiousorigins]

I want to throw out there that during the Nuremberg trials, (which the U.S. had a degree of participation in) from my memory, a common argument was they were just following orders... it was determined that is not an excusable defense.

I'm not saying that Cops are super educated about things. But a good chunk of them are obsessed with U.S. Military/War history and potentially about the history of 'Policing'. I do think that there is actually a pretty high chance of some of these Cops knowing this.

But also, Texas has an incredibly high Latino population. If you're vaguely working class (as someone who lives in an area with similar immigrant population) then you know (if you're trusted) that some of your best co-workers, neighbors etc... Pillars of the Community are Undocumented Immigrants. They're going to In-Laws, Co-Workers, that awesome teacher of your kid... They work cleaning your house, your work, fixing your cars. And friends. Every one in an area with a high enough population of undocumented workers, have lost someone important to them. (at least if they've bothered getting to know their local community at all) and sometimes they've found out after the fact that they're undocumented and were deported.

One of my favorite co-workers was a former University Professor (in Mexico) and had to escape the Cartel. She hasn't seen her extended family for 40 years because it's unsafe there for her. She's sure that if she returned, she wouldn't live. (Last I knew she's still safe. But I haven't worked with her in 5 years and she was over retirement age, her son didn't want her working at all because she was almost 80.)

They're people we love. And most cops have a degree of belief that they're good people. And how can you believe that about yourself if you're not willing to stand up for someone you love? For people who actually know these communities, this is the straw, that's going to make them realize how harmful and hateful their views have been.

I don't fault anyone for not sharing their undocumented status as it may put them and their entire family at risk. But not being able to be honest with loved ones... it makes Jose the scary immigrant taking jobs stereotype, more real then Hector who works with you every day and is hard working, willing to do anything at work to get the job done and roots for the same football team... and is one of those so-called scary illegal immigrants.

It just sucks because disclosing their status to the wrong person puts them at risk. (So their loved ones assume that they're one of the 'good mexicans' who came here legally.) So they can't say it to anyone who hasn't overwhelmingly been outspoken about their support for illegal immigrants.

My workplace only had maybe 5-10 white people working there at a time, with a staff of around 50-90 people. Because of the inherent risk, when we would get more Latino people in, none of them would risk talking to me until unknown stranger (only similar cultural background and shared native language etc) who they had met same time as me, okayed me. Because too much of an accent could risk being found out. And they didn't know if I was a 'safe' white person. We had issues keeping employees there for a lot of reasons I won't go into... so during the 8 years I worked there... I probably saw this interaction happen 1,000-3,000 times. I got it. They had to prioritize their safety over being polite. (Not that talking to me was required to be polite.) They were right to do it. I'd advise anyone to do the same, wait until you know that person is safe before telling them. Safety matters then making nice with your co-workers.

I went to school with undocumented kids, some of my favorite people didn't have legal status of any kind. (As part of this story happened before DACA.) Can you imagine being absolutely scared everywhere you go in public, especially when a white person speaks loudly how they "need to speak English" that someone is going to call ICE on you and your family. (And that might cause anyone associated with your family to come under investigation for their legal status) and then they're just going to drop you in a country probably 1,000s of miles away from anyone you knew from before (if you were old enough to have known anyone from before) with none of the resources that you worked hard to establish in that other country.

I had friends that had been here since they were 2, or 4 years old... kids who didn't speak Spanish. Getting dropped in Mexico ('their home' to bigots) would have been incredibly scary and they wouldn't be able to navigate the situation by themselves.

Immigration is a complicated issue for some. But standing up for those people who you love, shouldn't be. It's pretty simple. Loved ones at risk, makes you at risk for losing love ones. Why the hell would you cooperate with that? Why would you help them?

This is going to be a big wake-up call for those people who think they don't know any undocumented immigrants. If they're successful in what they say their goals are.

[centrally-unplanned]

I generally do not do any "pure emotion" posts, has to be emotion with an analytical point or an interesting take. I used to work in the international aid industry, "EA style", I know many of the people who would do the hard work of that role. Medical care, food aid, agricultural support, the works. It is ludicrously impactful work by almost-universally amazingly kind-hearted people. Sometimes those programs close down. That doesn't make the funders making those decisions evil - you can't do everything, politics is real, budget constraints are important. Even if apathy is driving your decision we are not all heroes, you don't owe someone fiscal aid in the deep way you owe someone peace and honor. Tragedy is organic to a world of complexity, it does not require malice to be manifested.

Anyway the top of the current admin are monsters through and through whose sins are unforgiveable by God and will rot in the hell that doesn't exist but I would will into existence if I could just for them.

Back to the regular posting now that that is out of my system.