#this isn't proof read

[lemondidurmom]

A young man drove into town and onto a street named Simulare, excited to move into his new home. The townsfolk looked on with concern when they realized where his house was located. "It's dangerous to live there," they warned. "There are things that come out at night, creatures that aren't of this world." The young man nodded and proceeded to move into his new home. As he settled in, evening came and went, and with it came the chilling sound of a shriek in the distance. Could it be true? The young man wondered as he sat quietly in his dark house. The young man crept up to the window, and his breath caught in his throat. To his horror, he saw a huge, hunched figure standing on two legs outside the woods behind his house. Its eyes glowed, and it let out a deep growl. The young man drew back from the window, terrified. He could feel his dogs' paws scratching at his door, whimpering and panting as they barked at the creature outside. The young man knew something lurked in the night. The young man took his dog inside and checked him for any injuries from his night in the woods. As he looked over the dog, he noticed something odd. The dog's ears were slightly more pointed than usual and its eyes seemed darker than normal. The young man shrugged off the changes and went about his day. As the days passed, he noticed that the dog became more and more protective of him. It would stare off into space often and bark at empty corners of the room. Suddenly, the young man realized a horrifying truth. The thing outside his window was his real dog. The one next to him on the couch was something else. Something else wearing his dog's face. The young man stepped back from the window, panic and fear clutching at his throat. He didn't know what to do. His real dog was still barking and whimpering outside, and the mimic inside the house just stared at him with its dark eyes. The young man darted out of the front door, away from the creature inside and towards his real dog outside. He was breathing hard and tears were streaming down his face. He ran to his dog, who was still barking and whining at him. He picked up the dog and turned back to look at the creature in the doorway. It stood over 8 feet tall, its bones protruding from its skin in a grotesque, emaciated form. It let out a low growl, and the young man knew he had to get away. With his dog in his arms, the young man hurried down the street away from his house. As he made his way through the dark, empty neighborhood, he felt a strange feeling of being watched. He looked back to see a shadow at the edge of the woods, watching him silently. The young man's heart pounded in his chest, and he broke into a run. He couldn't shake the feeling that something dangerous was stalking him in the darkness. He had to get away, had to find help. But as he ran, he remembered that he was on Simulare street... The young man looked about, panic and fear filling his heart. The empty street was filled with growls, howls, and screams that seemed to come from all directions. Every shadow, every noise, every bump in the night seemed to be a threat. He held his dog close to his chest and continued to look around, desperate to find safety. As he did, he spotted a figure in the distance, standing at the end of the street. He recognized the shape of his neighbor from before, the one who had returned his dog. The young man froze, wondering if he should approach him. The young man watched in horror as his neighbor began to change. The man's skin turned gray and its eyes turned a deep dark color. His ears elongated and his limbs twisted into the shape of a deer's. The creature turned to face him, and he stared at the rotting, festering corpse face that loomed before him. The creature began to charge towards him, its paws clattering against the pavement. The young man let out a yell of fear and ran as fast as he could to escape the nightmare that he was trapped in.

[kenobers]

magic hands

Jason Todd x fem!Sionis!Reader

Your regularly scheduled hook-up session with Jason Todd is rudely interrupted by the arrival of your period. As tragedy strikes, you have to ask Jason to buy you pads, perhaps throwing a curveball in your still emerging relationship. this installment comes before this one; you don't know jason is red hood in this one (not that it really matters to this particular story) Warnings: Periods, mentions of drugging, reader having issues with acts of service, afab reader Disclaimer: i'm writing additions to this story completely out of order because i can. don't worry - you're gonna be the one comforting jason soon, just stay tuned. and if you're following me for the obi-wan content, i promise you'll also be fed soon. the sionis!reader concept was inspired by this ask on gilverrwrites' blog! In hindsight, it might've been kinda weird of me, but i couldn't get the concept out of my head. thank you to gilverr and anon! please check out their blog!

Yo

You cringe a little at your choice of words, wishing you'd thought harder before sending the text. Well actually, you cringe at the entire situation. You despise having to ask for help, but you're a little desperate.

Would you-

Too entitled.

Would you mind-

Passive aggressive.

Will-

Your phone buzzes before you can finish typing.

yo.

That was fast.

You take a deep breath. Jason was coming over anyway and it wasn't like you were in any position to have sex like you were planning to. And this constitutes as a bit of an emergency, considering you're currently sitting on a wad of toilet paper.

Can you pick me up some pads?

You hit send and drop your phone on your bed. This is so embarrassing for no reason. Jason's a good guy, he isn't going to judge you for being on your period of all things. He's not going to hold it against you if you can't have sex either.

It was just that you weren't sure your relationship was...like that. Acts of service and all that. A month ago, you wouldn't have even considered asking him to do this. But you'd been a lot more personal with one another lately. Making dinner, staying the night, being physically affectionate while your clothes were still on.

Your phone vibrates and you frantically feel for the purple case in the grey and white sheets. You'll deal with that giddy feeling later.

i don't know, can i?

Fucker, you think, glaring at your screen. You start furiously forming a response about how you aren't in the fucking mood for this when your phone buzzes again.

yeah, of course i can. need anything else? painkillers? chocolate?

You eye the empty bottle on your nightstand. Your stomach cramps painfully.

I'm out of ibuprofen

Then you consider for a moment. With a sigh, you bite back your pride. Well, if he's offering.

...and maybe some ice cream.

you got it babe.

Babe. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the corners of your mouth twitch upwards.

Ten minutes later his name flashes on your screen again, along with a photo of a wall of pads.

which kind

Damn, he was kind of good at this. A flare of jealousy burns through you at the thought of Jason doing this for some other girl. Another feeling you'll deal with later. You circled your preferred brand and send it back.

check. headed your way shawty.

After another ten minutes, the rumbling of a motorcycle echoes through your street. Nine minutes and 45 seconds later, the sound of your living room window sliding open lures you from your bed.

You fight back a goofy grin at the sight of Jason's large-than-life frame slipping through the window, two plastic bags balanced in one gloved hand. Leaning against your kitchen island, you allow yourself a second to admire the curve of his ass in those joggers.

"Hey," you greet, shivering as a gust of wind followed the man. He gives you a toothy grin, sliding the window shut. With a dramatic flourish of his arm, he presents the drugstore bag to you.

"Your essentials, m'lady."

"Oh, my hero," you giggle, taking the bag gratefully. You eye the second bag suspiciously, although the telltale red thank you print and the smell of fried rice give the contents away. "Chinese?"

"Chinese," he confirms. "And before you say anything, I was already picking it up when you texted."

You purse your lips. He was starting to know you too well. You would've said something, would've lied about how you weren't hungry. The idea that he'd already thought to do something nice for you before he even knew about your situation makes your stomach twist.

Jason takes a step closer, trapping you between him and the island. He reaches behind you to set the food on the counter, green eyes trained on your face. It's hard not to shrink below his quizzical gaze. Goosebumps cover your bicep as the leather of his jacket rubs against your bare arm.

Bastard.

"That okay, pretty girl?"

Fuck, he's handsome. He knows it too, know to flick his dark hair just so. Knows how to look at you so that any "oh, you shouldn't have" argument you can conjure up falters before it can reach your tongue. It certainly doesn't help that he's flexing the arm reaching behind you just so.

"Perfect, even," you purr, uncrossing your arms to play with his jacket zipper. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it." You try not to roll your eyes at him, reminding yourself that you were opting to be nicer to him tonight. He is your hero after all. His hands fall to your hips, his thumbs running along the bone. "How you feeling?"

You shrug, suppressing another shiver as his pinkie pokes below the length of your shorts.

"Shitty. Like everything hurts," you answer honestly. Your lip twitches and you abandon his jacket zipper in favor of the strings of his sweatshirt.

"'m sorry we can't, y'know, do what we planned." The apology floods abruptly from your lips. "I would offer to do it anyways, but I just, I-I can't with these cramps." Your hips twinge with pain to emphasize your point. "But, I mean, I can blow you if you really want-"

"Hey."

Two fingers tilt your chin up, tough leather juxtaposing soft skin. You hadn't even realized you'd stopped looking at his face. He's smiling at you.

"Don't worry about it," he says for the second time. "Lemme make you feel better. It'll piss Roman off just as much."

You both look pointedly at the bookshelf you're fairly certain your father had hidden some sort of recording device.

"Besides," he continues with a wolfish smirk. "I've become accustomed to a certain level of performance from you and I'm not sure if I'd receive that if you're not at your peak."

"Fine, only because you insisted," you sigh. "And I'm gonna do you a favor and ignore that last part." You turn away from him, fishing the package of pads and the ibuprofen out of the drugstore bag. "I'm gonna go...yeah."

You wave the package in the air as you head for the bathroom. With your back turned, you don't catch Jason saluting you.

When you return, you notice one of the books on the shelf has been inconspicuously placed over a Wonder Woman knick knack. Part of you is relieved to know your father can't spy on you tonight. Another part of you feels a pang of anxiety knowing that means tonight is just for the two of you to enjoy each other's company. As people. Not fuckbuddies.

This is still casual. Professional, you tell yourself. It's not like he's my boyfriend.

You turn to the kitchen, where Jason is pulling plates out of a cupboard, and ignoring the smaller voice that wouldn't mind him being your boyfriend.

He hands the plates to you, letting you dish the both of you up.

Jason sidles up behind you, pressing his chest to your back. You lean into him, letting him support your weight.

"Chinese was a good call," you say. He hums in response, dipping his hands under your shirt to rub your sides. You yelp in alarm as something wet hits your skin.

"Dude! What the fuck!"

Jason backs up, holding two cream covered hands in the air. He looks apologetic enough, but still smirks at the way you glowered at him over your shoulder. It's an awful cute look when it isn't coming from behind an ugly ass skull mask.

"It's just CBD."

You spin around, pointing your spoon straight at his heart.

"CBD- what, are you trying to get me high?"

It's all Jason can do not to double over laughing. He'd take a picture if he wasn't certain you would find a way to lodge that spoon in a major artery.

His laughter has you fidgeting nervously, trying to maintain your hard stare.

"Don't laugh at me."

To his credit, he stops almost immediately. He straightens his posture and gestures to a small round container on the counter.

"It's just a lotion. Helps with joint pain, I use it all the time. I thought it might help with cramps."

You blink. That was...incredibly thoughtful of him.

"Oh."

You turn back to the food, continuing your task sheepishly. All you ever do in front of this man is embarrass yourself. And orgasm.

He creeps back to his spot cautiously. You glance over your shoulder, briefly meeting his eyes.

"You can...continue," you tell him, your tone much softer now. He presses a kiss to the exposed junction of your neck and slides his hands back under your shirt.

It does feel nice to have him massage the cool lotion into your aching body. His fingers seem to know exactly where to go, undoing the built up tension and leaving a light buzz in its place.

"I'm sorry I snapped like that," you whisper. "I overheard some of my dad's idiots talking about some kind of lube that's infused with LSD or something. Apparently it's becoming a popular method for people to get what they want so...little on edge."

After a moment, Jason speaks again, "I wouldn't drug you like that, you know."

"What, topically?" You scoff, dividing the orange chicken equally.

"Without your consent."

You pause. You suppose you hadn't given much thought to how much Jason respected you in that regard. To be fair, you'd never really been around men that respected you at all.

"Well, that's good to know." It's not the most sensitive response, but you're sudden determined to move on from the conversation before you start oversharing. "Let's eat, big guy."

After dinner, Jason applies the lotion again. This time, you're sat on the couch between his legs as he drives the stuff into a knot on your hip. The TV drones with some black comedy series the two of you have been watching at the recommendation of one of his brothers.

"Do you get a lot of joint pain?" You ask suddenly, looking back at him. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

"Huh?"

"You said you use it a lot on your joints. Do you get a lot of joint pain?" Now he looks at you, one slit eyebrow raised. For a moment you watch him try to remember when he told you that. Then he smirks, a silly view from upside down.

"I do whenever you get through with me," he says, his chest vibrating under you. You give him a look. "Sometimes after the gym, yeah."

You're not quite sure you believe him, but you let it slide, turning back to the TV in time to see your least favorite character earn a smack to the face.

"It was nice of you to bring it."

"'s helping?"

"Mmh," You sigh as he works a particularly tough spot. Your relief is short lived however as the small of your back cramps up. A small gasp escapes you and you squirm and swear in Jason's arms.

He pauses his work on your hips.

"Where's it hurt?"

"Back," you whimper, turning over so he can get to it. He obliges immediately, rubbing the butt of his palm into the sore spot. You groan into his chest, melting beneath his magic hands. "The fuck did I ever manage this shit before you."

He snorts, "very bravely, I'm sure."

You smile at his answer. Clever boy. You reward him with a kiss, pleased when he returns it in kind. His hand doesn't stop its work on your back as his soft lips move gently with your own.

"You sure you don't want a blowjob?" you murmur against his mouth.

Jason nods, giving you another chaste kiss before pulling away. "You're in pain, sweetheart. Let yourself rest."

He moves his lips to your ear, lowering his voice.

"Now, how about that ice cream, hm?"

Absolute professional.

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

y'all need to get a grip. you blab all day about how much you hate bigots and hateful people and how evil it is to dehumanize anyone and then you turn around and say "kys" and "i think [x] should all just kill themselves" and other disgusting, violent and childish trash

so many people on here are just full of hatred and vitriol and turn into frenzied sharks anytime the target 'deserves it' and they think they can get away with it and not be called bad people. then they whine about how sad it is that we can't all just get along and if only all the evil people in the world would stop doing evil things wouldn't that be nicer

you're just as vicious, hypocritical and fanatically puritanical as the caricature you have made in your minds of the people you think you have nothing in common with. if you've ever told someone, ANYONE to kill themselves you're not advocates of justice, you're not artisans of peace, and you certainly don't have any moral high ground that would allow you to pass judgment on others

[oozeandgoo-art]

Stubbornness.

[devildomditzy]

"Are we going to talk about this?"

You watch as 'your demon' strides across his room, sitting down roughly on his couch and staring straight ahead, unable to look in your direction.

'Your demon". Did you even have the right to call him that? After you've been away for so long?

It's been a week since you and Solomon returned unannounced from your journey to the past, much to the shock and surprise of everyone. That night was filled with joy and tears and laughter from everyone. Everyone, except the second born. The person you absolutely missed the most for months and months, the person you thought of during sleepless nights and difficult times. The person you cried over more than anyone else was standing right there, just a few feet away -

And absolutely giving you the cold shoulder.

He's silent for a moment, before his voice comes out like vitriol, scalding and snide, yet somehow so hollow, like his words had no real emphasis behind them. Like he felt almost nothing.

"What's there left to talk about?"

"Mammon-", you try to get a word in before he cuts you off with the same version of the monologue you've heard from him even since you made your way back to this timeline.

Your timeline.

"Ya left me here. Ya left us here. You didn't leave a note or a sign or even shoot me a text that you were goin'. Nothin'. Nada."

"You know I didn't exactly choose to get taken to the past against my will, Mammon."

He stands to face you now, tone filled with pain but his face looking so, so emotionless.

It could scare you, when he gets like this. The second born should never look that serious.

"And how would I know that? Huh? How would I know where you went? How the hell would I know what ya'd gotten up to, huh? How would I know if you were runnin' off with Solomon? How would I know that ya didn't just get sick of us?"

His voice raises his voice as he walks towards you.

"How would I know if ya were alive, or dead, or somewhere in between, huh!?"

You're jostled as the second born grabs your shoulders and shoves you, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to have you cornered between the surface and himself.

"I never stopped trying, okay? Not a day went by that Solomon and I didn't look for a way home, a way out, a way to you, anything!" you exclaim, defending yourself from his tirade.

"How would I know that you were gonna come back!? How would- H-how could ya, I couldn't...I-I-I- can't...."

His voice shakes as he balls up his fists into the fabric of your shirt, his true emotions finally shining through after a week of trying to get through to him.

How quickly his indifference turns to fear.

Tears begin silently falling from his lash line, streaking his cheeks.

"Oh, Mammon...", you wrap your arms around him, following his lead as his body begins to crumple, both of you sitting on the floor.

"I thought you were gone. I-I didn't know if ya were still breathin', or just vanished, but I thought-"

He gulps down a few tears and lets out a shaky breath before finishing.

"I thought you were never coming back."

You respond to him in kind, holding him tighter as he increases his grasp on you.

You can't help but let out a small giggle as you wipe away his tears (and a few of your own).

"Babe, it's me we're talking about. I came back to the Devildom how many times now?"

"Yeah," he sighs, looking off to the side, remembering all the times you somehow managed to extend your stays within the exchange program with Diavolo's blessing.

"I can't believe you gave up on me that fast", you tease, poking his cheek.

"Never did", he mumbles. "Looked for ya every day until I realized.. ya just weren't here. And not like here like in the Devildom, okay? I mean like here here."

He's quiet for a moment before he grumbles again, "Didn't stop lookin' until Lucifer made me, that bastard."

You bust out laughing, "I missed you, and your cute little complaints"

"Hey! My complaints ain't little! I'd burn down all three realms if it meant I coulda found you again!"

You place a quick kiss to his cheek, giggling at the way he goes rigid.

"Well, you don't have to worry. I'll always find my way back to you."

[acescorazon]

Title: Changes

Chapter: 13

Rating: M

Word count: 3614

Warnings: Crocodile and Mihawk are being dicks, ANOTHER damn flashback, language, minor violence.

Chapter Excerpt:

It's been blatantly obvious from the start that Mihawk and Crocodile want nothing to do with him. He doesn't know why he even tried fixing their relationship, they were never going to be three people who got along.

This isn't the Oro Jackson and he's not dealing with someone like Shanks, nor is he dealing with a random stranger or even a member of his own crew. He should have realized all his efforts would go in vain and that Crocodile and Mihawk came to the island with a deep-seated hatred and lack of respect for him embedded in them already. Whatever, it's fine. Buggy's not mad or upset or even disappointed. He's completely fine.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||

At this point, Buggy is unsure of what he can do to improve his relationship with Mihawk and Crocodile. He's tried throwing them a dinner, but that didn't work. He's also tried giving them gifts, but that was another failure and it turns out they're a lot more difficult to please than Buggy thought they'd be. He's at a loss and is unsure what to do at this point to make his two new 'subordinates' like him.

Perhaps his best option is to just be direct and try to talk to them, even though every time Buggy tries to speak to them or do something nice for them, they just push him away or reject him. He can't just leave his relationship with Crocodile and Mihawk as it is though, that'd never work and surely it'd grow tiresome sooner or later.

Buggy decides to make his move the next time Cross Guild has a meeting. He waits patiently for Crocodile to finish going over all his plans as well as announce any progress the newly formed group has already made, remaining silent the entire time so he doesn't annoy Crocodile any. After Crocodile wraps everything up, Buggy quickly clears his throat and speaks up before Mihawk or Crocodile can leave, "Uh," he mutters, his voice trembling slightly, "Can I talk to you guys about something?"

At the sound of his request, Mihawk and Crocodile turn towards Buggy and narrow their eyes at him, giving him a judgmental look. Neither of the two say anything but the look they have on their faces says it all: 'What now, clown?'

Buggy chuckles and finds himself growing uneasy by the other two's hardened glares. He shifts in his spot slightly before continuing,  "So, uh... look, guys. I'm just going to come out and say it. I know you're probably thinking I'm being so annoying by constantly trying to be you guy's friend but I want you to know I'm really trying my best here!" He states and afterwards he tries to read Mihawk and Crocodile’s expressions, but there's not much he can decipher about their mood.

They look as irritated as usual.

"I don't want to fight with you guys all the time or have you guys hate me or anything like that!" Buggy explains, "Look, everything has pretty much been out of my control. I don't know why everyone thinks I'm the boss or whatever, but I never wanted that spotlight and I still don't. What I really want is for us all to get along and for Cross Guild to be successful!"

Mihawk and Crocodile continue to stare Buggy down, but they're silent. No bitter insults, no rejections, no fighting. Just silence. The two don't even leave the room immediately or tell Buggy to go away. Perhaps this is them willing to finally give Buggy a chance?  "I'll just go ahead and say I'm sorry if I've made you two mad or offended you in the past. I promise I can change and that I can be someone useful to you, so... Uh, can we maybe give being friends a chance?" He asks, giving them both a sheepish grin.

There's a long pause after Buggy finishes speaking, and with every passing second, he can feel his anxiety growing in his body.  This is the first time that he's actually been listened to by either men, and this really feels like his one and only chance to make things right.

The three of them don't even have to be best friends, Buggy just doesn't want to be constantly threatened or beaten up, but if they could develop a close relationship that would be perfect because Buggy realizes with his newfound status as emperor of the sea he needs all the allies he can get. "Uh, what do you guys think?" Buggy asks when Mihawk and Crocodile fail to answer him.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Crocodile asks and then afterwards he begins to laugh. His loud, mocking laughter booms throughout the meeting room and Buggy's ears, "I already told you this, but I guess you forgot. I don't need no friends, especially useless ones like you." He tells Buggy, and it's like a stab to the chest. "How would being friends with you benefit me? You're penniless and weak, and you can't do even the simplest task. The only thing that you have going for you is your status as an emperor, but to tell you the truth, I don't care about that."  

Buggy's face begins to heat up and he wants to argue. He wants to tell Crocodile that he definitely isn't a useless clown like he's always saying he is. Buggy has done so much in his lifetime and yet everyone always underestimates and belittles him. Buggy isn't weak and useless, there are people out there who actually fear and or admire him. 

"Your title really is just for show," Crocodile chuckles, "You're nothing compared to Red-Haired Shanks or Blackbeard. Hell, you're not even on the same level as that brat with the straw hat."

Being compared to the other emperors of the sea makes Buggy want to scream. Okay, but... He's at a loss for words. His pride is telling him to fight back and not let Crocodile put him down like this, but another part of him is saying that Crocodile’s right.

No, no, that's not right. Buggy's accomplished too. He traveled the Grandline as a child, he studied under dark king Rayleigh... He took over Orange Town... he... he almost executed Monkey D. Luffy, the same Monkey D. Luffy Crocodile is comparing him to, in Loguetown... He.... He was in the war...(not that he fought in it.)... He started Buggy's delivery service... He...

Maybe he didn't defeat a previous emperor for their spot and maybe he's not always causing a stir like the other three are, but... Buggy’s done things too, and it's not fair to compare him to the other three...even if his status does seem more or less like a fluke sometimes.

Buggy bites his bottom lip, "You haven't given me a chance to prove myself," he says, but for some reason, he doesn't deny Crocodile’s previous statements...maybe he is right. "I've purposely been lying low and doing my own thing. I-"

Crocodile cuts him off, "Bullshit. You haven't been lying low, you just can't do anything. You're useless both as a leader and as a potential friend. In fact, the only reason why I haven't snapped your neck is because Hawkeye here thinks you're a good little distraction." He snorts, "But the government hasn't tried to attack us yet, so who knows? Maybe you can't even keep a few measly Marines distracted."

Buggy takes a deep breath and tries to remain calm. He should have realized trying to be Crocodile's friend was pointless. He’s such a cruel, foul mouthed man who cares about nobody but himself. He doesn't want a loving supportive friend, he wants someone he can boss around and use for his schemes. If you don't prove your worth to him, you're useless...

Crocodile’s thought process goes against everything Gol D. Roger taught Buggy to believe in. Buggy’s former captain always told him that a friend is someone you should love, appreciate, and support unconditionally. Our friends may not be related to us by blood, but they’re just as important as family and should be cherished as such because life is so short. A friend is someone who you can depend on and won’t judge you or leave you behind during your toughest battles. It doesn’t matter how rich, smart, or powerful your friends are, what’s important is their heart and character.

Eh… Now that he thinks about it, his beloved former captain was always a bit cheesy and sentimental, but that’s besides the point. Buggy wouldn’t treat Crocodile as if he were just some pawn in a scheme or some glorified bodyguard. He doesn’t need Crocodile to prove his worth (but it certainly isn’t bad that he’s a well-known and very powerful pirate), and Crocodile shouldn’t need Buggy to prove his worth either, that’s not how a genuine friendship works. Whatever, though. Buggy’s over trying to be friends with that self centered prick.

Buggy forces himself to look away from Crocodile and turns to Mihawk. He swallows hard, "...Hawkeye," he calls out in a small voice, and, oh, how he hates how vulnerable he sounds right now. "You don't feel the same way, do you?" He asks, clinging onto hope that Mihawk really is the lesser of two evils.

Mihawk remains quiet for another painfully long moment before finally speaking up for the first time since their meeting ended, "More or less." He says in a cold, blunt voice. Oh, of course he feels the same way as Crocodile, Buggy thinks bitterly. "I won't waste my breath belittling you, but I don't need any friends either." Ah, that's Dracule Mihawk for you, he's always so cruel and direct.

"Okay, we don't have to be friends." Buggy states, looking between both of his fellow members of Cross Guild, "But could we at least treat each other with respect?!" He begs, more than willing to settle at this point.

The laugh that Crocodile lets out when Buggy asks him to do something as simple as give him a little respect is disheartening to say the least. "You actually think I'd respect a gutless coward like you?" He mocks.

"I..."

"Get fucking real!"

"I...I…" is all Buggy manages to stammer out because he feels more embarrassed than before. Crocodile treats him like he's nothing but a tacky, piece of gum here for him to chew up and spit out when he's ready. 

Somehow Mihawk's reaction is the same as Crocodile’s but different. He raises an eyebrow at Buggy, and if Buggy had to guess he'd say Mihawk's probably thinking something along the lines of: 'ME? Respect you? Respect is something you earn, and you definitely haven't earned my respect.'

"Forget it." Buggy mutters, "I'm just going to get back to work." He tells the other two men before lowering his head and rushing out of the meeting room. As he leaves he can hear Crocodile continue to mock him: "Did you hear that shit, Hawkeye?!"

Okay, Fuck them. Fuck Cross Guild. Fuck Buggy too for being so stupid and for even trying to be on good terms with Mihawk and Crocodile. It's been blatantly obvious from the start that Mihawk and Crocodile want nothing to do with him. He doesn't know why he even tried fixing their relationship, they were never going to be three people who got along.

This isn't the Oro Jackson and he's not dealing with someone like Shanks, nor is he dealing with a random stranger or even a member of his own crew. He should have realized all his efforts would go in vain and that Crocodile and Mihawk came to the island with a deep-seated hatred and lack of respect for Buggy embedded in them already. Whatever, it's fine. Buggy's not mad or upset or even disappointed. He's completely fine.

Why would the great and mighty Captain Buggy The Clown let two assholes like Mihawk and Crocodile determine his worth? Why would he let them get to him? He hasn't, he's fine. He's totally fine and he doesn't care what happens moving on. He'll just try his best to coexist with Mihawk and Crocodile and try not to get on their bad sides or whatever.

He says that he wants to live peacefully among Crocodile and Mihawk, and yet he does the one thing he probably shouldn't. He finds someone to angrily vent to, Cabaji and Mohji always listen to him without judging him and they always offer up the upmost support and advice, but Buggy doesn't need advice. He just needs to rant, and so maybe that's why as soon as he sees his two most trusted crew-mates, he disregards his current location and begins to air all of his grievances about both Mihawk and Crocodile.  

Buggy's mouth runs a mile a minute as insults, complaints, and anything you can think of come flying from between his painted lips. He tells the two other men how frustrated he is that Crocodile and Mihawk just can't play nice, and how they think they're the boss of him and can push him around. He tells them that they're both so stuck up and rude that it's unbelievable and that he's never met two people as insufferable as Mihawk and Crocodile. "I really tried!" He complains, throwing his hands up.

At this point his face is beet red and he's more furious than he'd like to be. "But nothing I do makes them happy!" He tells Mohji and Cabaji for what has to be the hundredth time. The two try and calm Buggy down but at this point he's a lost cause. "Can you believe they're acting this way? And for what reason? Because the world government made me an emperor and not them? Because they're stuck in some shitty organization with me? I didn't ask for any of this!" He tells them as his voice continues to steadily rise.

"But whatever. I don't care." Buggy laughs bitterly.

"Capt-"

"No, seriously I don't give a fuck anymore! I'm done trying to be nice to those two assholes. They said they don’t do friends, but is that the real truth? Do they not have friends because they don’t trust anyone and they’re too stuck up, or is it because they're both two insufferable assholes who no one wants to be friends with in the first place? I mean, really, who’d want to be their fucking friend? They’re two extremely bitter old men who can’t hold a conversation let al-"

"Captain Buggy..." Mohji calls out in a shaky voice, but Buggy continues to rant and rave about how much he hates the situation he's in. He hates that the world government takes him seriously and considers him to be a big enough threat to be an emperor of the sea, but that Mihawk and Crocodile think he's some weak, small time pirate. He was fine being just an errand boy before but now he's genuinely frustrated that Mihawk and Crocodile see him as beneath them and won’t treat him as an equal. "What gives those assholes the right?!"

"C..Captain..." Cabaji and Mohji stammer out at the same time. There's an intense look of fear on both of their faces that Buggy failed to realize before. He stops his rant long enough to give them both a confused look, "...What?" He asks, and when his two crew-mates gesture to something behind him with their heads, Buggy realizes just how badly he fucked up in an instant.

Buggy inhales a deep, shaky breath. Please tell me they aren't standing behind me. He thinks, about ten seconds away from pleading with the universe to just cut him some slack for once in his miserable life. Of course, though, Buggy has nothing but worst luck. In fact if he didn't have the most vile, atrocious luck imaginable, he probably wouldn't have any luck at all.

Buggy slowly looks over his shoulder and his stomach drops. He really has no luck at all, but perhaps this has nothing to do with luck and everything to do with the fact that Buggy foolishly trash talked Mihawk and Crocodile as soon as he got the chance to and in public.

Mihawk is the first to speak, "No, don't let us interrupt you. We want to hear more of what you have to say, Buggy The Clown." He tells him in an eerily calm voice, "By all means. Please elaborate why you think that we're insufferable and stuck up some more."

Buggy doesn't even know what he should say at this point. He laughs nervously, "Hawkeye....Crocodile...when did you two get here?" He asks, feeling like he's seconds away from hurling. Actually now that he thinks about it, maybe it's better if he doesn't know when Crocodile and Mihawk came and how much they heard.

Buggy realizes he's in deep shit, but he still takes a step back and raises his arms up in the air, "Oh, you know I didn't mean any of that stuff, you guys. I'm a clown, remember?" He laughs but no one laughs with him, "I like to joke around! I didn't really mean all those things, I was just joking..." he lies, feeling trapped.

"I for one didn't find your little joke amusing." Mihawk says and Buggy can notice the subtle shift in his expression and how irate he looks with him right now. "Did you, Crocodile?" He asks.

Crocodile's expression isn't any better, in fact it's ten times worse because Crocodile never hides his emotions, especially not ones like anger. "Of course i didn't." He replies with another mocking laugh, and it's at this point that Buggy realizes that he probably shouldn't try to talk to them anymore and that he should instead just run away.

So that's what he does, he takes off in a sprint, trying to put as much distance between him and Mihawk and Crocodile as possible even though he knows that it's pointless. He can't outrun Mihawk, the world’s strongest swordsman is too fast, but even if he could, he still has another man after him. Crocodile may not be as fast as Hawkeye, but he’s good at cornering Buggy and trapping him in a cloud of sand, and Buggy knows that he’s no match for either of them no matter how much he runs, ducks, and hides.

 

They catch Buggy with ease and once they do, they unleash all their anger, frustration, and pure hatred on Buggy. Their assault isn't just physical, it's verbal as well, of course it is. Crocodile and Mihawk’s cold, cruel words hurt a lot more than their fists do sometimes, depending on what’s being said, and Buggy finds himself quickly feeling overwhelmed as tears pour from his eyes.

"I knew you were just spouting a bunch of bullshit in the meeting room."  Crocodile hisses as he punches him for what has to be the tenth time, and Buggy wishes he were exaggerating when he says that. Crocodile’s wrong, though, Buggy was being one hundred percent genuine when he said he wanted them all to get along and treat each other with respect, it's just that he grew frustrated with Mihawk and Crocodile’s constant rejection and coldness towards him.

What else was he supposed to do? How else was he supposed to feel? He’s hurt and frustrated, can’t they see that? Buggy tries several times to explain himself, but it’s no use, Mihawk and Crocodile just continue to beat his face in and mock his every cry and scream until they finally get tired and storm away, leaving Buggy to lie on the ground a clobbered mess. 

Buggy’s entire soul feels shattered into pieces as he lie there, crying his eyes out. Mohji and Cabaji rush over to his side just as soon as Crocodile and Mihawk leave (He never expected them to intervene and if they did, it’d only cause more pain for him.) “Oh my god, captain, are you okay?” Cabaji asks.

No. 

Buggy doesn’t have the heart to respond to the question and the moment he realizes that Cabaji and Mohji are be his side, he tries to hold back all his pain and suffering. They sit him up gently and tell him that they’re going to get him all patched up and softly mutter how much they hate Crocodile and Mihawk just as much as Buggy does, and how Buggy is so brave and strong for putting up with them.

…Is he, though?

Buggy doesn’t feel very brave and strong, he feels like a loser who has no control over his life, but he doesn’t tell Cabaji and Mohji that, how the hell could he?

Things become more hostile between Buggy and Crocodile and Mihawk after that. It seems that his one little slip-up was enough to make Mihawk and Crocodile’s disdain for him grow ten times worse, but then again, maybe it doesn’t matter what Buggy said or did. Maybe things would have always ended up like this, after all Mihawk and Crocodile have absolutely no respect or sympathy for Buggy.

[claireclaymore]

"Katniss did so little for Peeta"

What the hell!!!

She wanted die for him! Kill for him! Accepted be the Mockingjay to save him!

When he came back brainwashed and hating her, the girl was literally suicidal! And when he got better, a single conversation with him made her get out of her depressive state and start living again!

How this is little?!!!

[slavhew]

Hello!

If you're not too busy, would you mind listing some of the things you think count as death flags for Mr. Spender?

There's the obvious fact that he's the "old" mentor to group of young protagonists, but what else do you think would count?

OHH BOY ok so I'd think I'm a crackpot for this but since we're talking about Zack "Foreshadowing" Morrison. I have some thoughts

No harm in leading with the (chronologically) first thing that jumped out at me:

This one IMMEDIATELY made me antsy whenever I came back to it after my initial read, and considering Zack has referred to it on twitter in the past as one of their favorite jokes it's definitely not been forgotten about.

Second, the sheer amounts of near-misses, jokey or not, of Spender narrowly avoiding specifically lightning

Again, not much, but it's weird that it happened thrice, latter two of which had real gravitas rather than an one-off joke.

And third, Spender himself. He's repeatedly shown himself to be kind of a self sacrificing idiot, as well as prideful to a fault. Granted, it's both him and Mina trying to take on all the responsibility of saving Mayview and its inhabitants from their fate.. But Spender is exactly that right measure of doesn't-value-himself-enough (chest footprint aftercare or lack thereof), having an obscene amount of power (enables his loner act + pride) and poor judgement that has the capacity to put him at great risk. And it has!

Spender has not only shown low enough self-esteem to view himself as the de-facto scapegoat for the safety of the town, but also prideful enough to make very bad calls that end up in people, often himself, hurt (COUGH FORGE INCIDENT COUGH)

This is all conjecture, but it's definitely enough to make me worried about him :') Even if all this doesn't mean he'll necessarily die he's definitely getting (even more) seriously injured at some point. I love the guy but he's so far doing a horrible job of convincing me he wants to live bad enough to circumvent at least that

[chirpsythismorning]

I'm not going to say we should take every single thing official Netflix accounts post as gospel, because obviously they are not run by the Duffer Brothers themselves.

But to be clear, these people are hired by Netflix and there's more to it than just random interns scheduling posts. The people running these accounts are not the same people designing the posts made there, just like the people designing those posts have higher ups telling them what to do/not do in terms of the content they are creating. And there are plenty more levels that go beyond that, which eventually does lead to the Duffers and producers of the show, who do have a stake in how the show is promoted on a basic level to best align with their intentions and all the revelations still to come.

It is common knowledge that the Duffers work with Netflix marketing directly on a consistent basis to get their vision across, and that carries out in promotion with posters, merchandise, social media, etc., because it's really important in ST case (with it being a show made by nerds that love easter eggs), that they foreshadow what is still to come outside of the show itself.

When it comes to social media, the core purpose of those accounts is to encourage engagement for Netflix's user base, ideally ensuring they tune in to whatever is being promoted (and more), but it’s also more than that, in that it’s even more based on data and other factors.

What this leads to is the people in those less major decision-making roles, like graphic designers, simply being advised what to create, based on the information and content they are given to work with.

And so these accounts going from promoting byler subtly for years, to blatantly posting about it post-s5, is actually very, very intentional, going beyond a simple Netflix intern. It’s orchestrated by those in management positions, being advised by those in the ST production to do things a certain way, so that when all is said and done, we are able to look back and find tiny little things that point to it.

Byler can't be something they NEVER talked about even once on social media, only to have them end up being endgame with them posting about it forever afterwards when it's all said and done. It doesn't work like that, at least not in ST case. We're talking about a production that costs hundreds of millions to make, as well as being the most talked about mainstream series of our generation.

They have an obligation to make their story feel not only satisfying on its own, but to also promote the show in a way that makes the viewer feel this whole well-rounded experience, outside of the show itself as well.

And so when ST came out in summer 2022 and Netflix Geeked was making posts about it non-stop, that wasn't a rogue, low-paid Netflix intern doing whatever they wanted. That was multiple people with a job given a task and following through with it at their advisers discretion. Regardless of where it ended up, it started at the top with the Duffers informing higher ups in marketing that Byler is something that will happen, along with other revelations that they want to inform marketing about, so they can take the steps to plan ahead and create content that matches the Duffer's vision, most often to act as a foreshadowing device for the story still unraveling.

Remember when Netflix Geeked made a post acknowledging that Will the Wise drawing in El's room back in s3?? A very well known byler easter egg that only we know about??? That wasn't some ga intern watching the show once and them spontaneously coming up with content to create related to that drawing and posting about it themselves. That was very likely someone associated with the show giving suggestions to marketing, with a few of them being very incriminating in relation to byler, but with most being casual in relation to the show overall.

Just like I said in this post about how Noah didn't tweet about byler or mention it multiple times at cons unprompted bc he was feeling quirky. He was being advised to...

And look what Netflix did to that tweet Noah posted that was clearly a stunt in an of itself.? They broadcasted it and made a cheesy ass edit out of it... And it's bc several people behind the scenes were advised to make content like that specifically.

I mean, if you actually look at how social media promotes byler (if and when it does), it's arguably in the exact way that the Duffers want it to be promoted?. Just enough. Not too little. Not too much. I would argue if the Duffers had no say whatsoever in how the show was promoted, then we'd either be seeing byler constantly or we wouldn't see them at all, instead we see social media sort of dance around it, which tells me they are following the exact approach the Duffers themselves follow... because they were obviously given the instruction to.

And so seeing an account like UK Netflix, an account that as of recent has really went all out with posting Queer content since Heartstopper released, has also notably made really incriminating posts about byler over the years, but especially as of recent. And that's in large part because of what I've stated, but also based on data.

If higher ups in marketing at Netflix know about byler, then they are very likely pushing people lower on the payroll, doing more simple tasks like graphic design and social media management, to make connections to ST with other shows like Heartstopper, Sex Education, Young Royals, etc. And this is because if byler IS going to end up being this huge Queer love story, data is telling them to make these connections sooner than later, so that the eventual revelation will be a smooth transition amongst other content just like it. This works in Netflix's favor at the end of the day, which is the whole point of all of this.

Not saying you should take the most casual of Netflix posts as byler endgame proof if that's what you're asking. But to say that these accounts have NO association with the Duffer's and ST directly, therefore we shouldn’t even appreciate anything they post if it points to byler, is sort of over-simplifying things.

It's not like s5 is gonna drop and all of these interns are going to be like OHHH okay now i'm a byler so i'll post about it... Going into s5 they're going to be making some very side eye posts and it isn't going to have anything to do with them being an intern without any say in things, its gonna be about them getting a task list and following through with it bc it's their job.

[chaos-has-theories]

If you liked The Locked Tomb because it has

Girls raised on strange planets where colors don't exist and the people paint their faces monochrome

Our Solar System but not quite

Gothic vibes

Unusual modes of narration

Reading like you're solving a puzzle

The final act putting everything together

Mystery

Impossible Space Beasts that transcend human understanding

And worldbuildibg that was grown on the carcass of mythological references

Then I recommend reading Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente.

Okay fine I just recommend it in general because reading it was such an Experience and in some ways it was a similar one to TLT. It really is like a puzzle and it's gorgeous and strange and even if it isn't about lesbians all of Valente's writing is somehow queer at the core and I want to TALK about it

[silverzoomies]

refined my quickie playlist !! took some time, but i think i finally have one that feels right for him💗💗💗you can listen to it here !!

[softguarnere]

Hi! not sure if this is cool but I'm so soft today 😭one shot where winters meets a girl who dreams of becoming a teacher and living in a little farm?

Guardian Angel

Dick Winters x reader

A/N: Dear Anon, it's definitely cool, don't sweat it 😉 If you've been around for a while, you know that I have a special love for soft!Easy men. Thank you for the request, and I hope you like this! (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: mentions of blood and war, talk of religion

"Is this seat taken?"

Dick hadn't realized how fast his mind had been running until the gentle voice interrupts his thoughts, causing them to come to a screeching halt as he tries to puzzle through what's just been said to him.

"I'm sorry?"

The pretty woman gestures to the church pew beside him. "Is this seat taken?"

He's seen countless Red Cross nurses throughout the war - bravely running to and froe as they rush to men's aid. Their uniforms and smart looking caps have become blurs in his memory, punctuated by the brilliant red crosses on their arms. They're everywhere. Yet this is the first time that he's ever spoken to one directly.

He gestures at the vacant spot next to him. "Be my guest."

The young woman offers him a smile, and something in his chest stirs at the sight. She's got a pretty smile - one of those genuine ones that reaches her (Y/E/C) eyes and lights them up with the action. Her smile would be a sight on it's own. But in this moment, it's a stark juxtaposition to her state.

Her hair is only half held out of her face, which is streaked with sweat that she wipes at with chapped hands. When she takes a seat, those same hands clutch fist-fulls of her uniform skirt like she's hanging onto the blood and dirt soaked fabric for dear life.

Yet despite all of that, there's a gentleness about her. She stares at the cross on the altar in front of them with reverence. In the candlelight, with the soft voices of the nuns singing, he can't help but wonder if she's some sort of angel that's been sent to watch over them all.

It's really none of his business, and he stops himself from asking several times.

"Have you come to pray, too?" His voice feels like barely a whisper. She continues to stare straight ahead, but she must hear him, because she replies just as softly.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes." No restraint, he shifts down the pew so that he's a little closer to her. "I've spent this whole war praying. Usually in the foxholes. It's easy to find God there. But it's nice to be in a church."

She hums, sparing a glance at him. "What do you pray for?"

"For my men. For all the men. That I get home safely." He bites his lip in hesitation, then admits what he's been thinking since D-Day, but has never said aloud to another person. "That I never have to fight again after this."

That same smile appears again, her eyes dazzling in the candlelight. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? To know nothing but peace after this." She let's out a shaky breath and leans forward, elbows on her knees. She buries her face in her hands for a moment and takes a deep breath before clasping her hands in front of her, so hard that her knuckles turn white.

"Back in the States, I heard about the war and wanted to do something," she admits, biting her lip. "I wanted to help people. And now . . . Being a nurse is heartbreaking. There must be other ways to help people without holding their life in your hands and having to worry about dropping it."

She sits up straight now. She swipes a finger under her eye before she continues. "Every time, I pray that God will get me out of here and let me go somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I never have to hear the rumble of trucks and wonder if they're tanks coming for us."

He knows the feeling. He's travelled on that exact same train of thought before. Often, really - but he's been so busy looking out the window that he never took note of the other passengers.

"A little farm."

Her eyes snap to him, her expression softening as she takes in his words. "Yeah. A little farm. Somewhere close to the middle of nowhere. And I'll teach."

"Teach?"

"Yes." She nods. "That sounds like helping people. I'll teach children and I won't have to worry about cradling their lives in my hands - only their futures."

"That sounds nice."

"It's peaceful." She smooths her skirt. This time she looks at him head-on. "Is that what you want, too?"

"Yes."'

"Well - " She stands, offers him one last smile. "Then I hope and pray that we both get what we want."

And just like that, she leaves him, like a guardian angel that he didn't even know he had disappearing into the candlelight as she shows herself out the door of the church, leaving their brief moment of peace to head back into the chaos and horrors of the war.

He doesn't even know her name. Yet he feels like he's seen a reflection of his own soul.

He bows his head, and this time, he prays that she will find her own peaceful place after the war, and that her little farm is the same one as his.

[r0semultiverse]

Before we start not reading, not researching, & jumping to conclusions via reblogs & things with the speed per capital society we live in, where is it sourced specifically (that isn't a tumblr post or a tiktok without citations) that the Trevor Project is in support of KOSA?

We have sources for GLAAD, GLSEN, and PFLAG (August 24, 2023), but I wanna know where the rest of this info comes from. Pretty convenient to say that an organization known for helping trans youth is in support of a shitty bill amidst all the ongoing chaos, especially when we live in an age of misinformation.

If anyone could link it to me, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Update: Okay so yeah this is kinda suspect, The Trevor Project in July 25, 2022 is all for KOSA here.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

How old are you? (if that is okay to ask)

I don't give out numbers but if it's going to impact what you interact with... I'm at least the age to vote, drive, and be drafted

[thebusylilbee]

"zionism is for jewish people to discuss, goyim have no place in this conversation !!!"

what in the holy ethno-brainwashing... are yall... are yall zionist pieces of shit forgetting that the primary victims of the zionist ideology are goyim palestinians and arabs as a whole ??! never fucking seen oppressors be this confident to try to erase their own fucking victims from the conversation holy shit. this is like saying "white supremacy is for white people to discuss, people of color have no place in this conversation" like im sorry but THE JEWISH SUPREMACIST COLONIALIST IDEOLOGY THAT DEHUMANIZED PALESTINIANS AND ARABS AS A WHOLE FROM DAY FUCKING ONE IS VERY MUCH AN OKAY TOPIC TO DISCUSS AMONG ARABS YOU BRAINDEAD ZIONIST CUNTS