#what if i learned german but Only for the fact that i could say 'i speak pennsylvanian dutch' and throw everyone off

[legerdomain]

Been wanting to learn a whole new language lately and my mind can't settle on one

[latenightdaydreams]

Please write about curvy reader with her 3 inches dick husband, Konig is reader's neighbor then helps her what's real sex feel like with his 10 inches cock😩

Can you imagine to difference😮‍💨 I'd want to cuck my husband🤭🤭🩷🩷

Let Me Love You Right (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, cheating

2.9k word count

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You’ve been married to Chris for eight years now, you both got married young and he’s your first and only. To say sex has been lack-luster… would be kind. You both waited for marriage, Chris’s idea. That meant you fell in love with him FOR him. You try to remind yourself that every day since finding out Chris only has a 3-inch cock.

Every time you have sex, you lie there looking at the ceiling while Chris moans loudly and gets off in six minutes. He doesn’t know where the clit is either and his finger game is weak. He just isn’t good in bed. The fact you catch him staring at a very slender woman online adds to it all, you’re a thick and curvy woman. He makes you feel rejected so it’s hard to enjoy anything with him. At some point you began to question if maybe you’re truly asexual because you became so turned off to sex and to him.

Then one day, your new neighbor moved in. You were sitting on your couch sipping coffee as you watched a moving truck pull in. You thought nothing of it and went on with your day. Your husband left for work so you decided to go outside and water your garden. You haven’t worked the last three years; you both have been trying for a baby, but nothing has happened yet. You’ve learned how to fill your time with small hobbies.

You got dressed in comfortable clothes and went outside. You turned the water on and began to pull the hose. As you pulled, it got stuck. Assuming you were outside alone, you began to curse the water hose, bending over to fix it and struggling. Just then you heard the sexiest Austrian accent from behind you.

König was about to go on a walk when he saw you leave your house, wearing tight black biker shorts and a tight white t-shirt. Your body was…perfection. He stood watching your breast bounce slightly with every step you take. Your hips sway so gracefully side to side. He picked the right house to move into. Hearing your struggle snapped him out of his lustful day dreams and began to approach you.

“Do you need help? Miss?”

He looked down at you, his eyes traveling over the curve of your plump ass. Imagining how soft it would feel to squeeze. When you turned to face him, his eyes dropped to your breast. Again, his mind went to imagining his hands squeezing them. He’s a man with big hands, and your breasts look like the perfect size to fill them.

As you turn your eyes meet the most beautiful sleepy pale blue eyes you’ve ever seen. The man towered over you as if you were a tiny ant. His body is massive and solid looking. His blonde hair was shining in the bright morning sun. His face is handsome, rugged, with some scarring. You felt yourself get turned on for the first time in years.

“N- no, I’ve got it. Thank you.” You caught his eyes wandering over your body.

“I’m König, I just moved in next door.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

“I’m y/n.” You put your hand in his, it looked so small. “The accent, are you German?”

“Austrian.” His thin lips pulled into a small smirk.

“Oh, sorry.” You chuckled from embracement.

“It’s okay, the accents sound similar.” He chuckled as well.

You both stood there for a while just letting your eyes drink the other in. You could cut the tension with a knife. His blue eyes returned to yours and he gave you a small smile. The rest was history. Everyday after your husband leaves for work, you’d see each other. Drink coffee together, he’d help you garden, just talking about your personal lives. Nothing sexual. That was until today.

Sitting at his kitchen table with him as you sip your coffee and chat just like you both always seemed to do. Today was different though, you both being more outwardly flirty with one another.

“Your husband is a lucky man Maus, I’d love a curvy housewife.” His eyes travel down to your cleavage before back up to your eyes.

His comment makes you blush, you playfully nudge his arm. “Yeah right.”

“No really, I bet he is all over you.”

“Not really,” you tap your nails on the mug in your hands.

“No?” König tilts his head, he’s aware that he’s prying but he can’t fathom a man having you and not being obsessed.

“Nope…” You look into his eyes. You debate on whether or not you want to disclose all of your marital issues to him or keep it light.

“May I ask why?” His eyes drop to your fingers tapping. He reaches his hand out and grabs your off the mug, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. “You can talk to me.”

“Promise you won’t judge or laugh?”

“Promise, Maus. You have my word.”

“So, when we dated, we never did anything sexual past kissing. Like traditional and all.”

König nods his head along, listening to your words as he sips on his own mug of coffee. His eyes follow your lips as you speak.

“When we actually… you know…fucked,” You and König chuckle, “He pulled it out and was incredibly small.”

König raises his eyebrow with curiosity, “Small?”

“Small,” you nod, “like three inches small.”

König sat with his jaw dropped looking at you in disbelief. Three inches? He’s bigger than that when soft. No way three inches can get past how thick you are…

“And how was that?” His hand squeezes yours slightly.

“Terrible. I didn’t feel anything. I’m pretty sure I’m still a virgin because it barely went in…” You chuckle slightly at how embarrassing this is. “We’ve been trying for a baby for YEARS now and nothing because I just have no sex drive. On top of all of this, I catch him gawking at skinny women constantly. Women that look nothing like me.”

You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve been ranting. König still caresses your hand with his thumb.

“I think you’re beautiful. Perfect just the way you are.” He says in a soft and tender voice. “I also think it’s a shame he doesn’t please you sexually.”

You give him a warm smile before your eyes move to your hand in his. You look at the drastic size difference between both of your hands before looking back up to him.

“Why don’t you leave? Find someone new? Someone compatible?” König means himself.

“He’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t you think you deserve romance? Passion?”

You can feel your face getting hot as he asks you this. You do want it. He is the reason the spark of desire was reignited in your life to begin with, but you can’t just tell him this. You can’t just have sex with your neighbor.

All the while you are inside your head, König looks at you. He takes in your features, the way you rest your head in your palm, how soft your lips look.

“Maus?”

“Hm?” You look up after being lost in thought. “Oh, I guess. I actually had a period of thinking I was asexual because I just didn’t have that desire or drive.”

“Do you still feel this way?”

“No,” you look back down at your hand in his.

A short period of time passes before König speaks up, “Do you find me attractive?”

Your eyes shot up to his shocked he was so forward. You hesitate for a while because you’re still married. Saying the truth might open up pandora's box, but you feel stuck, stagnant.

“I do…” you respond meekly.

“I think you’re attractive too.” König lets that linger in the air before continuing. “I desire you, and I think you feel the same.”

König tightened his hand around yours. He reached out with his other hand and caressed your face. You both look at each other for a while before you speak up.

“I do.” You lean into his hand that caresses your face.

“I don’t mean to cross lines, but I think I could love you better than your husband. I could appreciate your body better. I could fuck you better.”

His hand moves from your face to the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair and grasp firmly. He tilts your head back slightly as his eyes roam down the curves of your jawline and neck. You felt a heat rush over your body.

König stands and walks closer to you, leaning in and kissing your neck tenderly. The warm sensation of his lips sends a chill down your spine. You don’t stop him even though you know you should. This would break your husband, but you don’t care.

Kissing up your neck to your ear he whispers, “Let me worship you, bitte.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

You’re still worried that it’s a you problem. What if you just don’t like sexual encounters?

König chuckled, “I can make you cum. Don’t worry.”

Your cheeks go hot as you laugh nervously. He pulls away and gently pulls you by your hand, “Komm mit mir”

You stand and follow him through his house to his bedroom, his bed a massive king size bed. The bedsheets are a dark gray color with a black comforter. He gently guides you to the room and lays you on the bed. Leaning over you, his lips find yours as you share a deep passionate kiss. His lips made yours actually tingle; you’ve never felt that before. His hands begin to trace the curve of your waist to your hip before moving up to your breast and squeezing.

König breaks the kiss and moves off of the bed. He gently takes your shoes off your feet and places them neatly by the bed. His eyes traveled over your body before pulling his shirt off to expose his physique to you. He can see the desire in your eyes, causing him to smile.

As he went to reach for the waistband of your leggings, you stopped him.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

“I’ll love it, trust me.” He reassures you in a low soft tone.

Nodding your head, you let go of his hands and let him take them off. His eyes glide over your juicy thighs and the light blue cotton panties you’re wearing. Your legs are a little stubbly, you weren’t expecting to do this. You feel slightly embarrassed by the hair, but König doesn’t seem to mind as he glides his hands up your legs once they’re bare. His lips kissing from your calf up to your soft thighs; once there he begins to nibble on the soft flesh.

“Mien Gott, you’re so soft.” He whispers as he rests his kisses on your thighs more.

“I’m sorry I didn’t shave-”

“It’s natural. I don’t mind hair Maus.” He smirks.

You relax back on the bed as his hands go up to the elastic band of your underwear and pull it off. His eyes falling on the small bush between your legs as he smiles. He can’t wait to bury his face in it.

“Are you okay?” König asks as his eyes meet yours.

“Yeah,” You look down at him as he begins to spread your legs apart. Your heart beat is pounding and, in this moment, you begin to think about the life you wanted to build with Chris but then, oh god. You drop your head back on the bed.

König sticks his tongue out and begins to lightly flick over your clit. Instantly your legs begin to tremble and you moan loudly. Your hands find his hair and comb your fingers through it. You can’t believe oral sex can be this good. König stops licking your clit to suck it.

“No, no, please lick it.” You look down again, begging in a pathetic voice.

König nods and goes back to flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit. You had a long morning of sweating so your natural musk is strong and König is savoring the smell. Listening to your loud moans he slowly moves his finger to your pussy and teases the entrance. Slowly slipping his finger in your gasp. He loves the reactions you’re giving. It’s insane to think you’ve gone your whole life without feeling this pleasure.

“König,” you moan out loudly as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you quickly, your back arching. A new sensation consumes you as you scream out, your body trembling. König closed his eyes, smirking, and enjoying hearing you orgasm.

He pulls back and moves his finger once you relax. You prop yourself on your elbows and look at him, wondering why he stopped.

“Take your shirt off, Liebling.” König’s voice dripping with lust.

You sit up and pull your shirt over your head before reaching behind you to take your bra off. König watches eagerly to see your breast for the first time. Watching them full and heavy, come out from your bra makes his mouth water even more. He can’t believe how perfect you are.

König begins to pull down his jeans and you watch, jaw dropping once you see the outline of his erection. He pulles his boxer briefs down completely and you see his hard cock full for the first time. Not only is it thick but it's long. You can’t help but to stare and König notices.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

“How…how big are you?”

“Uh, ten inches, I think. A little over. But don’t worry, I won’t push you.”

“Ten?”

König laughs and walks to the bed and lays beside you. He moves his body so that you’re resting close to him while he is on his side. He leans down and kisses your breast, slowly making his way to your nipple to suck on it while he is lifting your leg up with one hand, and moving his cock to rub your pussy with the other.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.” Your voice is weak with pleasure of him touching you.

Moving his mouth from your nipple he begins to kiss your lips. He rests your leg over his body to keep your legs spread as he wraps that arm underneath the back of your head. He breaks the kiss to look at you as the other hand still on his cock slowly pushes into your slick tight cunt. König’s breath goes shaky from the pleasure it’s giving him. He slides his hand up your leg and holds it up for a better angle.

You look back at him and your hands grasp whatever they can find, his pillow and his forearm. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan out his name. His cock pushing deep inside of you like you’ve never felt before. Your walls clench tightly around his fat cock as you feel stuffed for the first time ever.

König begins to thrust into you quickly, his eyes traveling to watch your breast bounce with the motion. Panting hard as his body begins to glisten with sweat. Your sweet moans and sopping wet cunt driving him to his breaking point.

“Y/n,” König moans as he leans down to kiss your lips.

You move your hand from his forearm to his jaw eagerly pressing his lips into yours harder. Moaning into his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to circle around every corner of your mouth.

You feel the same overwhelming feeling of pleasure, you know you’re about to cum. You try to turn your head to let out moans but König moves his hand from your leg to your face to keep you kissing him, his tongue dancing with yours as you begin to orgasm.

Without warning König pulls out and steps off the bed. Your body is still trying to calm down. You look at him as he grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed. He rests your legs over his shoulders as his hands grasp your hips. He slips his cock back into your needy pussy and begins to thrust as hard as he can.

Your back arches and you reach out grabbing the bed sheets as you loudly moan König’s name. König has sweat dripping from his forehead as he looks down at you not being able to handle his cock.

“You can take it, Maus, I’m going to cum.”

“Please, cum. Please fuck your cock is so- big.” You moan now looking up at him. Your face contorted from the pleasure.

“Beg for it more.”

“Please cum, please cum in my tight little pussy.”

“Oh, fuck ja, mehr!”

“Please cum in me.” You whimper out as his thrust picks up even more, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass fills the room.

König listens to you beg, watching your eyes glaze over with a lustful look. He nods his head as you beg him to fill your precious little pussy full of his cum. He does.

“Y/n! Fuck!” König moans out, dropping his head back as his cock throbs deep inside of you.

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“Hey sweetie, did you have a good day today?” Chris asks as he walks to you and kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, I did.” You sit still thinking about König, excited for tomorrow.

“Did you do something different with your skincare routine? You look like you’re glowing.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, whatever it is, you should keep doing it.”

“Oh, I will.” You smile, holding your secret.

[max1461]

another linguistics question, do you guys make distinctions between the accents of non-native speakers and accent from within the native speaker group? if so, how do you tell yhem apart, and what are some distinctions between them? I assume there's some kind of structural difference between the two

Yeah, so the first thing I should clarify here is that there is no technical difference between a "language" and a "dialect". Linguists often use the term "language variety" to be maximally clear on this point. French is a language variety, Bavarian (traditionally called a dialect of German) is a language variety, California English is a language variety. One language variety can be part of another: California English is a variety of English, "English" itself being a broader variety with many sub-varieties. We might further split California English, perhaps into Southern California English, Northern California English, and California Central Valley English, or some such. In the extreme, we can look only at the speech of an individual person; this is called an idiolect. Every human being who speaks a language speaks in their own unique idiolect, which differs from the speech of other humans in various ways. An idiolect is also a language variety.

Now, linguists do make a distinction, a very important distinction, between native and non-native speech. Roughly, a native speaker is someone who acquired a language by exposure during childhood. They were not explicitly taught the language, but picked it up by virtue of being surrounded by people who speak it. Human children seem to have various sorts of special cognitive mechanisms for acquiring language in this way, many of which we lose as we get older. This early period of life in which humans are primed for language acquisition is called the "critical period". There is a lot of debate about what exactly defines the critical period and when it ends (it's more of a gradual taper than a sharp cutoff), but there is basically no debate over the idea that children and adults have at least some fundamental differences when it comes to language learning. A non-native speaker, then, is someone who learned a given language in adulthood, after the critical period of language acquisition.

When linguists speak of a language variety, by fiat they take that variety to be defined by the speech of its native speakers. That is to say: the grammar of English is defined to be that set of rules which describes the speech of native English speakers. Where different varieties of English disagree, a thorough descriptive grammar will make note of that variation, and researchers will zoom in and study on its own terms the grammar of each relevant sub-variety. Every human is, by definition, a perfectly fluent speaker of their own idiolect in any language they acquired during childhood.

So, you asked about the difference between native and non-native "accents". In light of all the above, there are two differences:

First, there is the difference between native and non-native speech in general. Non-native speech is characterized by certain artifacts of the adult language learning process, including carry-over from one's native language(s), which broadly do not affect native speech. Thus, a non-native "accent" is different from a native "accent" in various empirical ways which are pinned down and studied in the field of second language acquisition.

By virtue of the way we have set our definitions up, above, native "accents" differ from non-native ones in that a native "accent" is in fact synonymous with a language variety; rather than being an imperfect specimen of some predefined standard language, it is a definitionally perfect exemplar of a particular linguistic system in its own right.

You could, of course, take up the linguistic system represented by the speech of some adult learner as an object of study in its own right, and some people do. But by and large, the standard which is taken up in linguistics is "language varieties are defined by the speech of their native speakers". I think this is a quite reasonable place to draw a line, especially in light of the empirical differences, as mentioned, between native and non-native speech.

[talks-with-the-void]

Fluid kintypes - identity doesn't need to be static

I used to be a wolf, once. Not in a past-life sense, but in a therian sense - I was a wolf therian and then I wasn't. Sounds weird to you? I'm not surprised!

Something that I have repeatedly been told by other therians and otherkin is "you are what you are and if you find out you are something else - well, then you never were the first thing at all." Especially when I joined the community several years ago, I saw this statement everywhere. But let me tell you: it's not true. I had several different kintypes over the years (side note: we are plural and for the sake of this post I am simplifying some internal structure things. if you want the complicated details, feel free to ask! /gen), started as a wolf therian, then I was a cryptid, a dinosaur, a dragon and some kind of monster. Now I am Khhanivore (from Love, Death and Robots) and Mewtu (from Pokemon, Mewtu is the German spelling) - and a raptor kintype is coming back. (I am also a werewolf, but that's not a kintype, that's just Purely Me And My Whole Essence)

"Okay Istasha, but isn't that just questioning or maybe flickertypes?", you might ask. Fair point, but no.

I honestly never really questioned my kintypes - if I truly question something, it turns out to either be a hearttype or Nothing at All. As for kintypes, I just know - all of us just know what we are, it's like chilling and one day, suddenly, one of us is like "oh, I am a horse. alright, carry on" and that's it. Our kintypes stay with us for several months at least, theoretically they could stay forever but tend to change along the way - which brings me to the next point. They aren't flickertypes either. We only really get fictionflickers and sometimes animalflickers and those are extremely short and always tied to media we are currently consuming - they feel, technically, like kintypes to me. For example, if I watch a lot of Supernatural, I sometimes get an intense feeling of belonging there, of being a non-canon character, of being part of the story, etc. I am this non-canon character in that moment, I might even get pseudo-memories or shifts, but as soon as I don't engage with that show too much again, it instantly fades.

Our kintypes don't work like that. Take my re-emerging dinosaur kintype as an example. I was walking somewhere a few days ago and suddenly had a pahntom sensation in my legs and feet and in the same moment I knew "ah shit, new kintype". I gave it a day because maaayyybe it's nothing? But deep down I already knew what was going on, so I have an Utahraptor kintype now. I am this. I identify as this through and through and it feels like I've always been this way. But it wasn't - a week ago I wasn't a dinosaur and now I am. I did not choose it, I did not engage with any dinosaur media at all, it just happened.

My kintypes have always been changing and trust me when I say I had a complete identity crisis when my wolf kintype first went away. But over the years Ive learned to accepot it - my identy is not static, it never was and it never will be and that's okay!

It doesn't make my kintypes less important or less real and it also doesn't mean I never was a wolf. I was. And then I wasn't.

I honestly think it is so, so damaging to still have this "kintypes are static"-sentient floating around in the community, because that's simply not true for all of us. For me, it honestly even makes more sense this way. Our brain has always been unstable, I lacked a true identity for so long. We grew up with untreated BPD andf although the symptoms are 95% under my control now (read: it's in remission), our brain still has a ton of habits from that time, like clinging onto different things to try and form an identity, to try and fill the void where a person should be. And the fact that the void is filled now, that I finally am enough of a person to fill it, this habit never changed. Our brain still randomly grabs things and makes them one of us, leading to fluid kintypes.

Let me end this with saying: being wrong about a kintype is fine. Figuring out you are X instaed of Y and never were Y is fine. But it is also fine to be X today and Y tomorrow.

I think I've said this before but I'll say it again: we, as a community, need to take our identities less and more serious at the same time. Let's stop the gatekeeping and policing others, let's stop overanalyzing ourselves so much. Let's stop looking for rules and asking "is it possible to be this?" over and over again - because the answer is yes. There are literally no rules as to how, why and what you can be. In order to be otherkin you need to do exactly one thing: identify as The Thing in question. Nothing else. On the other hand, we need to kindly educate those who confuse identify as and identify with, we need to kindly educate young therians who "choose their theriotypes", we need to make sure we are not watered down to being "a fun thing you can do".

I sometimes feel like the focus and effort of this community is in good faith but in the wrong place - static kintypes is one of them.

There are no limits. Be who you are today and if you are something else tomorrow, be that then. <3

[immediatebreakfast]

I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German.

The reaction, and following actions of the old romanian couple after learning that the Count placed the responsability of securing Jonathan's travel to the castle on them is a true testament on the horror limbo that these people have been living for god knows how long.

An inmortal, and monstruos man lives inside the countryside in luxury untouched by time itself orders you to secure transportation for this young man, barely an adult in what matters who has traveled so far, to meet what you know will be his death. A being that should be a myth is forcing your hand to guide the son of another mother to an early grave, an end that is waiting for him outside of the walls of your inn.

He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way... When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. 

How many times has this happened? How many young people have dissapeared one day without leaving a single trace while everyone has to force ignorance within their brains less the terror makes them unable to keep going. Worse, even if the young english man, all bright eyed and full of life, says That Name out loud you can't chastice him for such mistake because he simply doesn't know what he is calling, and the only thing that you can do is close your eyes to pray for his soul.

However, sometimes the horror is so overwhelming that another answer comes out, a last ray of hope that could change the course of what seems to be written in stone. A simple hand extending in frightened kindness for a fellow human being.

"Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?"

This old woman, this old lady who has and still lives under the terror of the Count decides to try. She tries, and tries to convince Jonathan to not go, to not leave to walk to the jaws of the beast, or to at least wait for a day or two because everything is pointing to what seems to be the inevitable. Moreover, when her pleads are futile at the end, she still dares to gift Jonathan a rosary, a small protection against that cursed being who laughs at the face of everything that makes her human.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.

This old lady not only sees Jonathan the young man who is just starting his life, she sees a mother waiting for any news of her son coming home. She sees a poor woman trying to find anything that could tell her an answer of whenever her son is alive or dead, while being unable to both live and grieve.

The old lady doesn't know if Jonathan will survive his duty. In fact I could pressume how her guilt of knowing that the rosary on itself is still not enough to ward off the Count made her leave the room, but she still tried to hold on the hope that this time, maybe this time, there won't be another young soul buried in the soil.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Never felt so...

John Egan X Reader

Summary: John's letter to his girlfriend...

Warning: Sad/ talk about death/ kissing./ crying/

Word count: 800 words.

Dear Y/n,

My darling I miss you so much, I’ve been in this camp for so long now, I’ve lost track of time. Recently, I’ve been thinking about my life a lot. That German officer said something that got stuck in my mind. He said that you’re going to remember the last time you’ve never felt so, and he got cut off by a gun shot. I’ve been thinking about the time I never felt so loved in my life. A moment comes to my mind, it was the night before I got shipped away. We danced together all night and the way you looked at me is still stuck in my mind. I think about it constantly. That’s the night I knew that all the love songs were about you. It’s true what they say: Distance makes you love harder. Because I love you so much. You will forever be my always. When I think about that night, I know that I’ve never felt so loved.

Yours, Bucky.

-

His cheeks were hurting from smiling this much. Dancing with her was the best thing in the hole world. She was beautiful, like art. Her laugh filled his ears, it was the best sound he ever heard. ‘’I’ll miss you so much’’ she whispered in his ear. He trapped her in a hug as they looked around the room, they were the last one, the band were the only people left in the room. ‘’Why are you whispering, darling?’’ he asked her. ‘’Because I’m afraid that if I speak too loudly, you’ll forget what I said. You tend to listen more when I whisper’’ she smiles. John smiled even more. ‘’John, like breathing, loving you is the most natural feeling I’ve ever known. You’re my person’’ she said against his lips. When their lips touched, it felt like home. Their soul found their home. John Egan never loved anyone more than he loved her, and he’d never felt so loved before.

Dear Y/n,

I just had another moment thinking about the quote from the German prick. It was when I learned that Buck ‘died’ in that moment, in that red cabin in London, I’ve never felt so low. You know what he means to me, but to learn that he went down was a punch to the stomach. We thought we were invincible, so to know that he went down was like watching the superhero lose a fight. So that’s the moment where, I’ve never felt so low. I love you my dear.

Yours, Bucky.

-

All alone in that telephone box, breathing the pain away. His brain couldn’t understand what just happened. How could Gale Cleven go down? It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. It was a trick to get him back on the base. Buck was alive, he was going to be waiting for him at the base. His brain couldn’t function properly, John didn’t want to believe the fact that his best friend was dead. He was in pure denial, he can’t die. Bucky felt like he was being punched in the stomach, he was out of breath. All of his happy thoughts with his friend went through his mind. He couldn’t be dead, but is he was the Germans were going to regret it. He never felt so low before.

Dear Y/n,

I’m sorry that this paper is filled with tears. I’m so alone. I never felt so alone. I don’t even know if this letter will come to you. I’m currently in a German prison, I got captured and I’m alone in my cell. I’m alone. I’m going crazy, I’ve been gone for far too long, I forgot the sound of your voice. I’m crying because I’m tired, because I miss you, because my best friend is dead and I’m crying because I’m alone. I don’t know who I’m going to be when I come home, but I’m not going to be the man you knew. All alone, in this cell, I don’t know how long I can hold on, I’ll fight for you; to get back to you. But it’s so hard… I’ve never felt so alone…

-

He’d been crying for a while. The letter was in his coat pocket, he wanted to send it to her, but he didn’t know when. Looking around, he noticed the drawings on the walls. All the men that were there before him had draw on the wall, so he decided to do the same, he took out his pocketknife and started to draw on the wall. He drew two people hugging each other, he drew inside one of the people. For him, it was Y/n and him. When he finished, he looked at his art, crying again. He’d never felt so…

[whiteskullofroses]

Noch einer!

(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)- slight nsfw

A/N: Man idk, it's 1 am and Dieter is baby girl. I don't support nacizm/any of this man's ideologies. Enjoy!

🍻 Imagine being a Yugoslav Partisan camouflaged as an SS officer, when attending a nazi meeting in the basement you meet Dieter. After a few too many shots you slip up, but luckily he is too busy thinking about you rather than the things you say.🍻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was getting louder and louder with every second running by, yet you didn't budge. At least on the outside, on the inside though, you were on fire. The gun on your belt looked lovelier with every nazi that walked in and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

You couldn't believe that you approved of this "genius" plan The Basterds came up with. No matter how stupid it seemed, there was a possibility it could work and you wanted nothing more than to have these Schwabs out of Europe and sent straight to hell where they belonged.

The SS uniform felt too tight and uncomfortable, you tapped your black boots against the cold cement and silently cursed every officer that came in the basement, however, you decided to busy your mind with something else and stretch your legs. You got up, lit a cigarette in between your middle and pointer finger, and noticed the gramophone hiding behind a wall. Just as you noticed it, it stopped playing. Walking up to the gramophone to restart it, your eyes noticed a figure in the corner.

The yellow light from the candle lit up the left side of his face.

The SS officer was reading a book and drinking beer. The more you stared at him, your mind forgetting about the music, the more attractive he looked. "No, Y/N this isn't right," you said to yourself: "I shouldn't pray on men today, especially nazis."

Without realizing he was staring right back at you until he finally spoke: "Fräulein? Was ist los?" You broke eye contact and didn't reply.

He took a deep breath and closed the book, his hand patting the sit next to him, gesturing for you to sit down.

Your heartbeat quickened, the tension was unbearable and not in a good way.

"Y/N, do not show any compassion to him, his people are killing yours on the lines out there, he doesn't deserve it." Were the only thoughts running through your head the whole time you were slowly walking up to his side.

But for now, you had to be an actress to stay alive. His cologne smelled nice. That was the first remark you truly noticed about him, besides his amazing looks. "Wie heißt du, Liebling?"

"Liebling? Hah," you thought: "what an attempt to get me flustered."

"Erika Shauenberg."

It wasn't your real name, of course.

"Zigarette?" the man asked you, smiling. His smile wasn't bad either, in fact, he was the most perfect man you've ever seen.

"Why does he have to be a piece of shit?"

Your cigarette from before burned up by itself without you even putting it in your mouth. He really got you distracted so much that you forgot to smoke.

Nodding and taking one out of the box you thanked him: "Danke."

With one slick move, he pulled out a lighter and lit it. German cigs tasted different than the Yugoslav ones, but for the time being, they were good enough.

"Oh!" He remembered: "Es tut mir leid, dass ich vergessen habe," putting one in his mouth as well: "mich vorzustellen."

Blowing smoke into thin air: "Major Dieter Hellstrom."

Dieter? What an extraordinary name.

"Erik!" Dieter called out to the waiter as he approached our table. "Scotch, zwei Gläser!"

Grinning, he leaned closer to you and half whispered: "Erik hat eine Flasche Jahre alten Whisky aus dem schottischen Hochland-"

"Would you mind if we continued in English?" You interrupted him: "I was raised in France as a German kid." Tapping your cigarette on a black ashtray: "I never learned proper German because my father, well..."

Think Y/N! Think!

"He was killed in combat and my mother died from the flu when I was only 5 years old." Putting on a sad face you sighed: "I was given to a foster family in France."

"Where?" Dieter wondered.

"Menton."

"Ah, Erik!"

The waiter brought the two of you your drinks and left the scotch bottle on the table. Amazing, this was going to be a long night.

However, in reality, you couldn't complain about being in his company. Yes, he was a nazi, and yes you hated nazis, but damn was he charming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 hour later....

You've never had this much fun in your life. How many shots you drank, how many cigarettes you smoked? You didn't care, and neither did Dieter. He was just as shitfaced as you.

You both laughed at each other's stories from the past.

"Noch einer, Liebling?"

"Ja, bitte!"

As he took your glass to fill it up, you watched the golden liquid splash on the table as the bottle slipped from his hand. You quickly picked it up, slightly touching his hand while leaning over the table to reach it, and laughed out loud.

"You know this reminds me when I lived in Yugo-"

Shit. No no no no no!

"Yugo? What Yugo?" he looked at you, his eyes glassy, gazing upon your face.

You swallowed hard: "Yugo? Yugo! Ah, yes!"

Think Y/n, think!

"Yugo's apartment .."

Good job Y/n

"We dated in highschool."

It was quite impressive how your foggy brain could still have such a wild imagination.

For a second he looked at you and said:

"You're aren't German, are you?"

Silence

You simply started at him and ran over the words he just spoke.

He said it's so effortlessly, his drunk tongue didn't slur one word in that sentence, as if that didn't mean that you were about to die. There was no solution in getting out of this. You do not have any evidence that you in fact were German, nor that you lived in France! Hell you don't even know France that well at all! You were pretty sure these were your last moments alive before his pretty German pistol would shoot you in the head and leave you for the rats feast on.

Suddenly the clock on the stone wall behind you started ticking slower, your heartbeat sped up and your palms got sweaty.

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

To be continued...

[gisele0127]

michael kaiser is known to be very arrogant and slyly rude to almost everyone. almost. so who would have guess that the michael kaiser is very much insecure about his accent. no one knows of course, well except for you. most football players learn english, including your boyfriend. you yourself are not that good at german, so you speak to him in english. and he attempts to answer in english but gets very irritated when he stumbles over his words or pronounces something wrong.

it was another normal night, you got off from work and headed to your shared home. to your surprise he was already there in the dinning room youtube video pulled up, notebook on the table, and pencil on his ear. you could tell he was stressed by how tensed he was. he didn’t hear or see you come in so when you pecked his temple softly he jumped a little but relaxed once he realized it was you.

“studying my love?”

“yes” he answers with a soft nod.

you leave to your bedroom to let him focus back on his little english lesson. it wasn’t until a couple hours later until he got in bed brows knit and face in a pout. (he’s such a big baby it’s kinda cute)

“what’s wrong?” you say as he lays on top of you and you comfortingly rub his back.

“is my accent really that bad?”

you give him a puzzled look and he responds again “an interviewer told me to just get an interpreter because he couldn’t understand me through my ‘thick accent’”.

michael is very cocky yes, but his ego can be broken in a matter of seconds. and only you get to see him like this.

“don’t listen to them love. your english has gotten a lot better.”

you’re not the best at comforting, which promptly leads you to pepper kisses all over his face.

“as a matter of fact, i find your accent sexy.“

and to that he smiles,

“good because from now on i’m only speaking english to you”

you smile and softly laugh because your boyfriends accent is adorable when he’s pouting.

[foressfaction]

Toby Headcanons

First things first, rewrite link —> https://www.wattpad.com/story/330185513-ticci-toby-a-rewrite?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=foressfaction&wp_originator=4ym0kekpamjg%2byu500owdfcdlnhtpkigcby1thrmnvj95d4u%2f2vtey8ihglpowcvuy8icvezeljevfn%2fbufrp

Fair warning, I am the Toby enthusiast so you’re in for a long read. If you actually care enough to read all this, keep in mind there are some triggering topics for well… everything. That’s also including the other links leading to other posts of mine. Read with caution. I go into heavy detail about topics that are usually pretty sensitive.

Family headcanons—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/734266713806405633/basic-family-head-canons-for-toby

Operator headcanons—> WIP

Him with Jack—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/735560061461594112/my-jack-and-toby-headcanons-theyre-bfs

Him with Natalie—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746264454600278016/toby-and-clockwork-some-headcanon-takes-on-this

Him and Lyra —> WIP

Him and Cross-X—>WIP

The main basics

He can't read, he has always had trouble reading. He can get simple sentences and phrases but actual literature like books, newspapers, or anything over half a paragraph long, he can't read it.

Due to losing his memories, he lost knowledge of what normal people do. He doesn't know social cues that well. You could come up to him and say that you want to be his friend and he'd look like a clueless child.

Never having a friend before, anything of the sort now would make him suspicious of you, or just not trust you.

He has very very bad trust issues, meaning he thinks everyone is out to get him. Which may not be true, though he can't help but think it due to his anxiety.

He is terrified of vehicles, and riding in them. Though he doesn't remember why. His body still reacts with trauma he doesn't recall experiencing.

This is kinda annoying for him.

He can run incredibly fast and has almost unlimited stamina. He knows his limits though and never pushes his body to the extent due to the fact he will lose mobility for the next hour or so trying to regain his breath.This may lead to him potentially passing out.

He will only run to his full abilities if he is in severe danger (or feel he is)

He loves the smell of lavender, it makes him tired and relaxed. It is the only thing that will help him sleep.

He still bites his nails so he sometimes will coat his nails in either nail polish (yes he paints his nails sometimes) or will get that nasty tasting polish. It depends. He's very insecure about his hands and so he will paint his nails to make them look a little better.

Along with the aid of sleep, basic company helps a lot. It would have to be someone he's close with or at least knows to an extent. Just having someone there, regardless of distance or their position in the area, really helps him sleep.

He's easy to make friends with but it'll take some time for him to get used to you. He'd want to know a lot of things first and learn more about you.

His favorite season is fall, and his favorite spice is Parsley. He loves the smell.

He can't cook but if he was to ever help someone with cooking (which…Is a bad idea anyways) he'd probably sprinkle a little parsley in secretly.

He is of German descent but can't speak it. (unless operator is controlling him, in that case he ONLY speaks it)

He has two marks in the shape of the operator symbol on his upper left arm and lower right side. They are scars as they were once carved into the skin and slowly scarred over.

He would be the type of person who would lay his forehead on your cheek and stare waiting for an apology or just if he was in a playful mood.

He also sucks on his candy canes until they are quite literally a deadly weapon.

I feel like he would run up stairs so fast he literally trips up them. This also goes with anytime he needed to run, it's an immediate sprint, no working up speed, no preparing his legs, literally gone- this might cause trip ups occasionally. Imagine getting hit by an axe then you hear footsteps with a loud thud following after.

He isn't very picky with food, I feel he'd eat what normally people wouldn't, like the top piece and last piece of a bread loaf, or spaghettios cold, not warmed. Same with hot dogs, he may not boil the weenie, who knows it depends.

If anyone took the bread crusts off their sandwiches he would eat those alone- i think he likes bread guys.

He probably wets his socks or pillow in the summer to feel cool, sometimes would probably just walk around with a cold wet towel draped over his head.

Lyra would occasionally make fun of him for being shorter than her for most of their childhood until he would have eventually grown taller if she hadn't passed.

He would've gotten back at her.

She definitely picked on him a lot in a playful manner and he'd always overreact. Definitely a stereotypical 'get out of my room' emo kid. He'd definitely be a stoner if we're talking normal mansion au thing. Bro would probably be high 25/8, mainly so he doesn't feel like shit all the time.

He'd meow back or bark back at animals who do so to him. He'd growl at anything growling at him and eventually these would plainly turn into tics. Now he'd just meow or bark/growl out of absolutely no where.

He'd definitely be pretty flexible, upon somehow squeezing into places like cabinets and tiny closets to avoid capture or getting spotted, he had always been pretty maneuverable-?? He'd probably purposely freak people out by doing literal gymnastic poses just out of the blue. I'd imagine he'd break, fracture or pop out of socket bones without knowing it due to not feeling the actual pain of the strain he puts on them. Therefore he ignores it and one day if he just decides to do a backbend then he just goes for it.

He loves peaches and anything peach flavored. Usually when savaging for food, canned peaches are his main target. He would almost completely avoid a store if they had none. He isn't picky at all, of course, but he'd like at least one thing of his personal liking if he's going out of his way to steal it. It HAS to be the canned ones. He doesn't fuckin know how to peel an actual peach? And I figured if anything he'd HATE the fuzzy skin on it and would absolutely have a meltdown. ( based on me). If someone handed him a FULL ASS UNSKINNED peach. He would look at you like 'What am I supposed to do with this….'

I also headcanon that he got his hat from Lyra as when they were younger and she was still alive, she worked at a mailing company sorting the mail. The symbol on the hat looks like a yellow envelope. She gave it to him when she quit so he could wear it and stuff.

He'd absolutely love spiderman and silly things like star wars and transformers. He's definitely more of a Marvel guy and probably owns/owned tons of spiderman themed clothing.

Toby would always comfort Lyra after her rough days at work. I feel she'd fall asleep on the couch immediately after sitting down. He would crawl up beside her and just curl up against her, also falling asleep. She'd always wake up before him and take him to bed soon after.

I feel he would have trouble making eye contact but it's for a completely different reason than most. It's not because he's awkward but because he genuinely doesn't know how to look at someone. Unless its a partner or a really close friend. He will avoid eye contact at least for too long. If he's actually able to hold contact with someone that's a sign he's growing comfortably that they wont hurt him.

It stems from his father shaming him for just looking at the man the wrong way anf sometimes that led to physical disputes that he wishes to avoid from any possible individual. He has a natural resting bitch face so it's not hard to mistake his look as something spiteful.

When he stutters it's not a tic, it has nothing to do with his TS, it's just a speech impediment and is very VERY insecure about it because of how many times he's been called annoying or told to just 'hurry up and say it, i don't have time for this', something along those lines.

- His tics include facial grimaces, snapping his fingers or jaws every now and then, hitting himself, or others around pretty hard, tapping his foot or whistling. He will blurt random ass shit as well (this i will sometimes add into the rp, it can be kinda funny, sometimes inappropriate) ex: "suck my loli" or "shitty shoe" shit like that.

- Appearance wise, nothing really changed. His eye color did however. Instead of that dark brown, it's a hazel green. He's probably around 5'6 overall. Plus he's extremely frail and unhealthy. He is covered and when i say covered, I mean covered in freckles. Shoulders, arms and his face are where they really are noticeable. Like normal, his hair is the same, dark and frizzy. It has a little bit of curl to it but mainly it's just wavy and fluffy.

-He still bites his hands since he's never really broken that habit, so you'd never really see him without bandages on his hands.

-Personality wise, he's pretty feral. Even as a teenager. He can be stalker-ish and weird. He's still pretty damn timid though since..hello social anxiety.

Toby is extremely neurodivergent. He stims and tics all of the time. He can't handle certain smells, tastes, textures. Specifically wet hands on any cold dry surface, or per say, chewing on a piece of steak or anything chewy for more than 6 seconds MAX. He can't have food touching and has to use multiple forks/spoons/knives when he has a meal.

-Toby can't stand the sight of his own blood. It causes him to break down and literally freak out. He has a strange phobia of organs and bones of his own coming out of where they shouldn't be. He is very sensitive with wounds in the torso area due to this exact organ phobia.

(He's had dreams where he literally had to hold his organs inside so they wouldn't fall out.

🌿Appearance Headcanons🌿

[F]He pretty much stayed the same, originally, he started with just a few freckles here and there, but how i see him, a full face of freckles, and all over him, arms, back, neck, just everywhere. This also goes for scars. He has lots of rather unique ones. Especially on his back. He has two deep gash scars right on his shoulder blades that look like he once had wings. At least that's how he wants to see it.

[F] His teeth had kinda been crooked from all of the pressure onto them throughout his childhood and due to his teeth actually getting knocked out when he was little. (his baby teeth of course) his adult teeth never really wanted to grow in right.

- I find it better if he is 19-25years old, him as any older kinda feels weird to me since i am used to portraying him as a late teen or in his early/mid twenties. This really depends on how he'll be used and the story i will go by

- His hair is still the same. Still a dark chocolate brown. It's just a lot messier, or well, very fluffy With a few curls.

- He is still very pale but still slightly more tan than how he is originally, his skin has a pastel peach light tone (just a normal pale person) and not like the light grey people usually see him as.

-His face is very scarred, but the one that stands out the most is the iconic tear, or gash in his right cheek. It exposes muscle, and his teeth from the side. It's very disgusting so he keeps hidden with masks, or bandages.

Visage and wardrobe

Adding this in last second but I feel his closet is FULL with brown grunge grey and green flannels and layered shirts and grandpa sweaters. He’s your average grunge Pinterest guy you’d find on every corner of the internet but he’s stylish unconsciously. He throws shit together he thinks looks good and apparently it actually does. One day he’d be rocking a fire fit and the next he looks like he came right out of a dumpster as most of his older clothes are torn and sheared up from well… living where he does. He prefers layers no matter what season it is but will occasionally wear sleeveless stuff and shorts. Probably owns a few shark themed pieces and along with what I said earlier. Some marvel and other stuff. Probably from the kids section who knows honestly. All of the tags on his clothes are faded.

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/743158587608727552/while-im-on-art-block-heres-some-stupid-shit-toby

Persona🌿

His personality is pretty much the same. He's a little more timid though. He actually has a big heart, despite him being a potential serial killer, he still has a few soft spots and a heart. He will care and love for someone, but in order to really earn his trust, someone would have to repeatedly prove that they are worthy of it. He's literally insane, meaning he can be really up and active in a hypomanic way. He's pretty childish around those he knows, but doesn't trust those he doesn't, in fact, those he doesn't know will most likely be ignored or get small, nervous/annoyed responses. He's easy to make friends with since his persona is very passive, he's really sweet in some situations and the next he'd be having a mental breakdown or some kind of manic attack.

-He's very jumpy and easily startled, and would most likely flinch or try to shield himself if someone moves too fast around him. This is due to his trauma and slight PTSD.

-He is touch starved, meaning when he does get affection he'd get extremely confused, weirded out or just plainly get emotional. He didn't get much love and was reminded daily that he was a sack of shit and he finds it hard to believe anyone would love him.

Canonically, he never had a sexuality, meaning he could be any sexual orientation you want. For me, he is Biromantic/Asexual. For him, relationships would have to move slowly, not just kiss kiss fall in love type of shit. You'd have to become his friend first, and of course be loyal and such. It isn't easy at all for him to fall into a relationship, in fact that's the last thing on his mind. Since he believes he is unlovable, no one would even like him in such a way, so he gives up and just sticks to what he has to do.

[Fluffy HC!]

-If the whole mansion concept is being used, he would definitely be very dramatic and really in character if he was to roleplay or play a game with Sally. If he was given a role he will make sure he fills it as accurately as possible just to make her happy. He has a soft spot for children obviously. Unless The Operator is in control.

-If he is good friends or in a relationship with someone, he will generate a nickname based off of your appearance. It would usually consist of cute characteristics he sees in you, and sometimes he'll base it off of your personality. If not, if he's feeling silly, he'll call you a nickname based on random objects. "How's my favorite frying pan this morning?"

Romance?

Toby thinks love is just a fantasy, and no one could love him, much less return the feelings, so love is the last thing on his mind. Though he thinks about what it would be like to have a partner

-He would be so emotional if he even gets a hug, much less feelings being confessed, or confessing his own but Toby may accidentally slip it out, or tell them just to get it off his chest and carry on like it means nothing but on the inside he knows it does and will beat himself up about it

-I think he'd definitely act differently as well, especially his tics would act up more as well around them because he's really nervous and maybe say random things to shoo off the feeling like nothing was there to begin with.

Habits

- He still bites his nails and inner cheek but does it when he's really stressed or nervous. He's really fidgety so he'd mess with anything loose or even would twirl his hair, soon he did it so much his hair got used to it and began to get slightly curly but mostly just wavy.

- [F]He grits his teeth a lot. He'll do it randomly.

-[F] His ADHD still affects him now, so it's hard for him to focus on one thing at once and gets easily distracted. Its a bad habit

Mentality🌿

- Nothing really changed. He still suffers with his disabilities, just some stopped affecting him as much after he reached 17 originally. Being schizophrenia and Anxiety. But this headcanon still suffers with those two despite his age. This explains why he can see the operator, which brings me to the next change.

He had suffered from Schizophrenia since he was 7 years old. So he's been seeing this entity his whole life. Making so much happen and of course all of the deaths in his life was blamed upon the entity.

- [F]Since he cannot feel pain, there is a high chance that he could have hurt himself very badly and not know. So every now and then he does check ups on himself, especially after something brutal happened or had gotten into a fight. He could be perfectly fine one second ago then faint due to blood loss and wake up not even knowing what happened. This is really hard for him since a really bad wound that could grow fatal could be anywhere and he wouldn't know. So a check up on himself here and there could really save his ass.

Story🌿

- Everything pretty much stayed the same. The deaths, the conflicts. The only thing that really changed was the cause of the deaths.

- However, after the ending, where the fire nearly took his life, he couldn't remember anything on why he was there, or how he ended up in this situation. He blacked out and woke up in a whole different area of the dense forest. He no longer remembered a thing but every time he'd try and get close to coming back to the past, it would all happen again.

- He never remembered anything, even after he had murdered someone, in fact he doesn't even like doing that. He despises the fact that he should murder innocent people, however sometimes, he will see the face of a man he hated so dearly but didn't remember why.

-Amongst the crime scene, after he had murdered someone, he'd sit and stare at what he had done, a huge moment of lucidity would take over him, making everything come back for those few moments. Then his mind would wipe blank once again and he'd go on like nothing ever happened. During those moments, he'd regret spilling the blood of the victim, and hate on himself even more, while violent memories and thoughts ran through his mind, making him feel less and less stable. This sometimes knocked him out, and he'd be there, unconscious at the scene which isn't good since that's how ya get caught and arrested.

He lives in a small shed in the middle of Rosswood Park/forest. His shed is deep deep in the woods, he had never lived in the mansion. (might will make something work for roleplay use)

Before anything, these are just my changes and adjustments I made to either fit a better way of my liking/needs and to just plainly make more sense.

Disorder list and how it all affects him.

Tourettes Syndrome

A shared headcanon: Toby has coprophilia (uncontrolled cursing), which is actually an uncommon symptom, but seeing that he was unfit for public school, it would make sense in his case. Most tics are not debilitating (but can be discomforting, obviously), so Toby’s TS must be an extreme case. So my headcanon of his verbal tics being coprophilia makes sense. He is an extreme case and has complex verbal tics (coprophilia is classified as a complex phonic tic and not a simple phonic tic). This was one of the reasons he was unfit for public school, along with being bullied for his motor tics. It doesn’t mention anything about him having verbal tics in his story or implying that he has coprophilia—but again, Wade did not know much about TS, so I headcanon him to have it as it makes more sense. He also seems to just have simple motor tics (generally brief movements involving spasmodic, non-rhythmic muscle contractions) ie. jerking his head and other limbs occasionally. However, since he was unfit to go to normal school and therefore should be an extreme case, I headcanon him to also have complex motor tics (more purposeful movements such as: grimacing, tapping, walking in a specific pattern or circling, jumping, kicking, or punching), mainly kicking and punching/hitting and slapping. This would make much more sense because tho he still would probably get made fun of for just simple motor tics, that alone shouldn’t stop him from being too unfit for regular school. His are obviously chronic and do not disappear as he gets older, unlike with many cases.

-So there are my headcanons on his TS and tics. They make much more sense, and if Wade had actually known about TS more, would probably be what they would have given him. I’m not entirely sure if you can have both simple and complex tics of the same type, but I don’t see why not, so I headcanon him to have both simple and complex motor and phonic tics. His simple verbal tics include clearing his throat, grunting and other short repetitive noises. Typically he usually grunts and makes said repetitive noises more but will compulsively clear his throat, sometimes with coughing, from time to time. Said repetitive noises often happen while trying to speak and will act up if he is nervous or very excited. His complex phonic tics, like I stated before, is coprolalia along with sømetimes muttering or shouting random words spontaneously.

Again, his complex verbal tics act up when he is nervous or very excited etc. He tends to curse randomly while talking and sometimes will say random words which sometimes makes it very difficult for him to talk and make coherent sentences. Cursing is his more common complex verbal tic while sputtering random words is less common for him. Most days it isn’t too bad and he mostly just swears when talking (along with all his other tics but I’m focusing on how it affects his speech right now), but sometimes he’ll have days where talking is very difficult and he stutters trying to get the words out and can’t make coherent sentences. Again, it gets even worse when he’s nervous or very excited. For his simple motor tics, he mainly jerks and cracks his neck along with jerking his other limbs in weird ways that often cause his joints to pop and make a cracking sound.

Sometimes they’re violent enough that if he could feel pain it would hurt him and occasionally injuring himself cause ie. tearing or pulling a muscle (which is shit as he can’t feel pain so doesn’t notice anything is wrong most of the time). Again, like always, these tend to get worse and act up when he’s nervous or very excited. Often when cracking and jerking his head he will also grunt or make said repetitive noise as he does so. His complex motor tics include throwing things, punching, slapping, hitting and kicking either himself, anything and anyone he can reach or is close to him, and if nothing is around, the air itself. These are less frequent than his simple motor tics, but as he is an extreme case, they are still a common occurrence for him. Again, like all his other tics, they tend to act up when he’s nervous or very excited, but not as much as all the others. His simple motor tics act up more when he’s nervous or very excited more than his complex motor tics. When they do act up more, which ones tend to depend on how he’s feeling. If he’s feeling stressed, nervous or sad, he tends to hit or punch, kick slap, ‘hurt’ himself more. If he’s angry it’s a mix of hitting, slapping and punching himself along with kicking, punching and throwing nearby things. If the emotions are positive he tends to backhand anything that might be nearby, just doing that motion if there’s nothing to hit, throwing things, kicking his legs out or slapping himself in the face, and occasionally punching if he’s really happy or excited. He must be careful cause he tends to punch nearby people in the face when that happens, most of the time pretty hard. He always feels super bad whenever that happens and tries to hit himself instead so he doesn’t punch someone in the face when excited. Sometimes if his tics, mainly his complex motor tics, are acting up badly, he’ll drop down on the floor and roll around a bit as he hits the ground and air and lets everything out in a little fit. It’s best to quickly move him to an opener area if he can feel a bad tic fit coming on so he can lay down where he’s not going to hit or throw anyone/anyone. It’s best to just let him get it out unless it’s partially violent and he’s in danger of hurting himself (jerking too hard etc.) or if he’s doing it to himself particularly hard and violently. He is an extreme case so he tics everyday, but some days, if he’s really lucky, it won’t happen too often and will mostly just have simple tics that don’t get in the way of day to day life too badly. On the other hand, he can have very bad days where his tics act up, his complex tics especially, where they happen very frequently and he can’t make it stop or slow down and has multiple violent tic fits where he usually ends up breaking and destroying a lot of things and hurting himself, sometimes pretty badly, especially since he cannot feel it and will try to direct things towards himself instead of whatever’s around him. And yeah, those are my headcanons on Toby’s TS and different tics. I headcanon him to be an extreme case (since that would make the most sense given how he’s supposed to not be fit for normal school since it’s that bad). I also headcanon it to actually get worse as he grows up, especially as his mental health deteriorates. I could probably go on about this more but I’ve rambled enough and I think I kinda went on a bit long, so I’ll try and stop myself here now.

ADHD

He does have ADHD, meaning he usually has sudden outbursts of energy. He shows this by getting easily distracted during times he should be occupied by one thing, instead he'd be interested in literally everything else but what he should be. Because of this, he wasn't fit for school, or anything of the such.

He doesn't take medicine for this, since he can't exactly get his hands on it, or thinks that he needs it.

He lets out his energy by running around in an open space, pacing back and forth, tapping or scratching with his fingers, or tapping his foot/bouncing his leg. Usually his ADHD acts up more when he's excited or trying to concentrate. He bites his nails because of it as well.

He can't focus on one thing at once, and would be distracted by the littlest things like a lizard on a tree, or even a bug flying around his face. He'd stop what he was doing before and focus more on that other than what he should be focusing on. He never exactly thought of it as something bad but usually he'd forget what he was doing before and that something could have been important.

Dermatophagia

note: Dermatophagia is what's known as a body-focused repetitive behavior (BFRB). It goes beyond just nail biting or occasionally chewing on a finger. It's not a habit or a tic, but rather a disorder. People with this condition gnaw at and eat their skin, leaving it bloody, damaged, and, in some cases, infected.

This was a lot worse when he was younger, but he still does it as he grows up. It can get so bad that he has to wrap his hands up by himself and fight the urge to feel the skin in between his teeth. He doesn't just bite his own hands however, he does it to his arms randomly. He'd bite into any of his arms for some odd reason but never hard enough to make them bleed. This of course depends on how hard he bites into them. This happens when he is usually upset in any way, and takes the anger out on himself or a nearby flat surface, like a wall or table.

This harms him badly, but since he can't feel it, he doesn't know when to stop, making this 10 times worse than any normal case. He's gone as far as to nearly gnaw off the skin of his knuckle, exposing the muscle underneath, almost to the bone. This isn't as bad as when he was younger, but when he gets upset in a way, he will still struggle with the problem of gnawing on his hands

I am missing some here, that being BPD, Schizophrenia, psychosis, and autism. I’m aware some are just mere disabilities but I want to do more research before I go into these sensitive topics.

Some more smaller posts with undocumented headcanons

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746629900867371008/so-i-headcanon-toby-to-be-a-phat-stoner-so

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/744151888116711424/i-have-so-much-on-this-dude-hes-been-through

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/748800526075985920/another-day-another-essay-toby-is-a-closed-off

[edenfenixblogs]

Hello, as a non-Jewish person I have read Night because of your posts. I am not very good at articulating my thoughts, and if anything I say brings up questions for you I will try and answer them. The beginning where there is a sense of hope, is so awful because it just constantly gets worse and worse. The worsening of the regulations while the people of his village tell themselves that it is not too bad, but it is terrible, right from the first limitation, and even before it, all the events that led to it.“German laborers were going to work. They would stop and look at us with no surprise” (100), “And the spectators observed those emancipated creatures ready to kill for a piece of bread”(101). This dehumanization, I wonder how did the German citizens live with it? This sentiment continues on to this day, and yet it is dismissed so easily. “I was sixteen” His relationship with his religion is hurt so much, this general feeling of hopelessness that other people around him also feel, “Just like Rabbi Eliahu’s son, I had not passed the test”. He feels such guilt, he tries so hard to help his father, even as he is starving himself.

While I read this book, sometimes I thought that whatever is happening in this book was not that bad. Sometimes they would get a thicker soup and that would make him happy. How awful is that? For this to be normal for him. For this to not be unusual to me. In the stories of the Holocaust that I have learned, these things are not unfamiliar, the starvation, the apathy of other civilians, the death marches. His story has been categorized in my mind as another set of terrible things that were done to a Jewish person during the Holocaust. His story, every single atrocity that was done to him, I can not imagine properly, yet I only feel an undefinable upset over what happened to him. I think there is something wrong with that? I have very recently discovered that I am, in fact, antisemitic, from your posts and someone else that also realized their antisemitism (which you pointed out), and am trying to outgrow it. I am concerned that my reaction to this book is greatly affected by antisemitism. I can’t tell, am I telling myself that his suffering was ok? Am I? In the book, there are often mentions of Jewish culture that I do not know of. For example, “Shavuot” and the New Year being in summertime. I understand that these are google-able questions, but I was wondering if you have resources for a general introduction into Jewish culture and history? I hope by learning more I can dismantle my antisemitism. If you know a better way to do so, I would appreciate if you could let me know! Thank you for the recommendation to read Night, I will read All But My Life next. I am sorry if my concern over my antisemitism reads as shallow, I do not know how else to express it.

Friend, I am SO PROUD OF YOU and SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU!!!!!

I have said repeatedly that all journeys begin somewhere. More people are antisemitic than are not antisemitic, because that’s how systemic oppression works. You have been taught to hate me.

I thank you for seeing our shared humanity and working to unlearn the harmful things you know.

1. How did the Germans live with the dehumanization? The same way people are living with the dehumanization of Jews now. German antisemitism was deeply tied to antisemitic concepts and tropes that long predated Hitler. These tropes and conspiracy theories had been floating around Europe for a very long time. Furthermore, they have never gone away. All the old tropes and conspiracy theories are resurfacing in the internet age, because the Holocaust only temporarily shamed antisemites, but not enough significant cultural shifts occurred to stop it from rising again.

2. “…sometimes I thought that whatever was happening was not that bad…” I think I see what you are saying. I don’t know your age or where you are from, so I’m not sure if you’ve ever dealt with these kinds of feelings before, let alone how to articulate them — or how to do so in English. But you seem to be horrified by what is happening but you also seem to feel guilt that you find moments of relief in the horrible times as well. I don’t think that makes you a bad person. I just think that makes you a person. The human mind is not built to comprehend trauma on the scale seen during The Holocaust. It instinctively tries to find moments of reprieve that prove things aren’t that bad. And, to be fair, Judaism applauds this. It is a very Jewish idea that we should always look for moments of joy even when our hearts are steeped in misery. Because life is joy. And it is sometimes impossible to wrap our minds around how joyless life can be, and often was for Jews during this time. But your instinct to recognize the impulse to say “well, this day/moment/experience wasn’t so bad” and correct yourself to say, “actually this is a horrific terrible thing that just wasn’t as bad as that other horrific terrible thing that just happened” instead is a good instinct. One of the reasons the Holocaust occurred was because both Jews and non-Jews gave in to this instinct to minimize suffering. Jews minimized our own suffering and clung to hope until it was too late too late to fight back successfully. From the moment we were told to register on lists and wear stars and get on trains, we all should have fought. We should have fought louder and more to condemn Hitler while he was on the rise and to shame those who would vote for him. But ultimately, we were still outnumbered terribly and nothing we did could have stopped the horrors that followed if non-Jews didn’t support us. Non-Jews, of course, bare the true guilt and responsibility for the Holocaust. They refused to question their own hatred. They turned a blind eye to the rising antisemitism. They abandoned their friends in need. They complied with hostile forces who threatened them in order to betray the Jews around them.

Your job as a non-Jew is to never repeat those mistakes. Never let an instance of antisemitism go unremarked on. Ever. And learn what antisemitism looks like. Refuse to ever let it exist or ignored in your presence.

Everyone likes to pretend they would do this, but very few ever do. The reality is that some people hate Jews so much, they will stop being your friend for defending us. And to be a good person, you have to be willing to let those people leave your life if they are unwilling to let go of their hate and learn to do better. The reality is that, at some point, you may very well be asked to choose to reject a friend for the sake of the safety of Jews you have never and will never meet. The good news is that this is not the case the majority of the time!

Most people want to consider themselves good people. And most people want the approval of their peer groups.

Your job is to steer the attitude of your peer group away from antisemitic thinking and toward peace and deconstruction of hateful systemic antisemitism—rather than allowing your peer group to steer you toward the comforting familiarity of Jew-hatred.

3. “…I have recently discovered that I am antisemitic…” I forgive you. As I said, most people are. I draw a distinction between someone who is antisemitic and someone who is an antisemite. You have harmful and negative opinions about Jews because of the systemic bigotry you have been surrounded by your whole life. But this hatred has not become your identity. You recognize this hatred as a part of you that must be discarded. Antisemitism is something you have, not something you are. And you are doing the right things to make sure you stop being antisemitic. This, to me, means you are not an antisemite. If you give up and stop caring about Jews and unlearning these harmful thought patterns, that would make you an antisemite. Because that would mean you are comfortable folding the antisemitism you possess into your identity and sense of self. It seems to me you do not wish to do this. And that means you’re growing and changing for the better. And that is beautiful.

4. “I am concerned that my reaction to this book is affected by antisemitism.” Yeah it probably is. But so is most people’s reaction to this book. That’s the point. Your being willing to confront that is what is important. It is about looking at the places where you lose empathy for Jews, asking yourself why, and then fixing the reason you find.

5. “Am I telling myself his suffering was ok?” I think you’re doing the opposite. I think you’re re-sensitizing yourself to something you were de-sensitized to. That is difficult and admirable.

6. Regarding Jewish culture:

6.a. “Shavuot” is a Jewish holiday. It is the anniversary of the day G-d gave the Torah to the Israelites. In general, a good way to familiarize yourself with stuff like this is to look for resources about Jewish holidays and what they mean. Hebcal offers short summaries of each Jewish holiday that you can import into your phone calendar and learn about as they happen. Wikipedia has a page about Jewish holidays that you can explore. So does the Jewish Virtual Library.

6.b. Jewish culture is vast and impossible to summarize simply. I would recommend starting with the Wikipedia Page on Jewish Culture and exploring whatever seems interesting to you. You’ll never learn it all and that’s ok! I’ve never met a Jew who knows it all either! We have so many subcultures all over the world shaped by unique experiences in diaspora. The most important thing to take away is that no matter how far apart we are or how differently we practice, we are all one people whose goal is to love our fellow humans and do our best to make the world a better place. This is called Tikkun Olam, which means repairing the world. This in itself is a huge concept. But it all relates to making the world better for one another.

I think you are doing a beautiful and amazing thing. And you, by choosing to remove hate from your mind and your actions, are actively making the world a better place. You are repairing some of the damage done by systemic antisemitism.

You are doing Tikkun Olam. And that, in every possible situation, is the best thing you can ever do. Thank you, @JellyMarbles

[duchessofostergotlands]

Leonor is putting an impressive number of engagements before getting in the navy. In a way I wish more European royals would feel the pressure the Spanish do, because it’s embarrassing to see a teenager work more than actual monarchs and constistently giving more relevant speeches than middle aged people. It’s actually good for these privileged people to know their position is not set in stone.

I was going to go into depth about why you shouldn't compare families etc but let's just fact check this first. The only family that has an official, public record of engagements is the Brits (one of the many many reasons you don't compare wildly different situations) so the best you can do with other royal families is use their website. As far as I can tell from Casa Real Leonor has done 9 engagements this year. You state that she's doing "more than actual monarchs" and I'd love to know which monarchs have done less than 9 engagements since January because I can't think of any. Harald did more than that in June alone and he's 87 and just had a pacemaker implanted lol.

I also find the statement that she is "constistently giving more relevant speeches than middle aged people" to be odd. Relevant means appropriate. We're not the intended audience for the vast majority of speeches so unless unless it's egregious - like talking exclusively about Botswana during a visit to Hungary - how can we judge what's more or less relevant? We can say if we liked the speeches or not, sure. You could say if it's relevant to you and your life (for example I don't enjoy military related speeches because I'm not a fan of the military so it isn't relevant to me personally). But I'm not a German politician or a business person from Japan, how would I know what's relevant to them if they're the kind of intended audience, which they generally are for older royals compared to the young royals whose speeches tend to be aimed at the general public through events like National Days or birthdays? What exact passages in Leonor's speeches make them more relevant than those given by older people?

None of this is in any way a criticism of Leonor. I'm not Spanish but as an outsider she seems like a kind, intelligent, confident, mature young woman and a credit to her parents. Again, as an outsider, I'd say she's doing an excellent job. But it's totally unfair to use her to put down people in vastly different circumstances using inaccurate information and criticisms neither you nor I are actually qualified to make. The next generation are coming into their own and we have the chance to make sure they become leaders who are recognised for their own strengths and criticised for their own failings.

Of course royals need to know that their position is determined by us, the people. But if I've learned anything from our WW2 and abdication episodes of the podcast it's that the most successful royals are those who are motivated by a recognition that their job is an honour and they have a responsibility to the public, not those who are scared of losing their ponies.

[monkayemporor]

Poly parenting!

Synopsis: Life in a poly relationship with male reader and fem!Blue Lock

Featuring: Kaiser Ness Rin Isagi Sae Shidou

NOTES: I hope this isn’t cringe! Should I make part 2?

-You can pray to whoever you want, but it’s definite that you’ll have gray hairs by the time you’re 30.

KAISER & NESS

-It started with you and Kaiser dating each other, no Ness in the picture.

-Then one day Kaiser asked if she could bring her pet over. And like any sane person, you thought it was an actual animal.

-Imagine your surprise when she pulled up with a human being, Alexis Ness. 

 “Dear, that’s not an animal…”

 “I said I was bringing over my mutt. This is her.”

 “...”

-Ness acts like you’re the biggest cockblocker between her and Kaiser (you are) and hates your ass.

-Though, you and Ness grow closer over Kaiser, and eventually, all three of you fall in love with each other.

-Timeskip to the wedding day and it’s crazy. With Kaiser demanding something suitable of a empress like her. While you and Ness just stood on the sidelines. 

-But you manage to get past the vows and onto the honeymoon. 

-Moving onto kids, I can see the idea of one kid. (You can decide who carried them. Or if they were adopted) 

-And if it’s not obvious, neither of them is strict with the child. 

-Ness saying ‘no’ is quite literally impossible and Kaiser isn’t exactly helping by spoiling them rotten. So it’s up to you to play the role of ‘Strcit Dad’ 

-Only the best schools for the kid. And according to Kaiser, they must be raised in Germany. Even if you aren’t German. But the child can still learn your native language.

-Ness is literally in bliss because her dream of a family with Kaiser (and you) has finally come true.

-Kaiser’s ego takes a boost whenever she takes the family on vacations or just days out. She simply adores the praise and loves showing off her child. 

-While you’re married to an egotistical narcissist and an obsessive woman, all you can do is pray your kid doesn’t end up like either of them.

ISAGI & RIN

-You either knew what you were doing when you started dating both rivals, or no clue. Absolutely no in-between. 

-You knew Isagi from being her childhood best friend, and once when she invited you to a party celebrating the latest match (totally just because you were friends), you couldn’t help but catch her rival’s eye. Rin Itoshi.

-Thus began the competition between both strikers to win your heart. At first, you entertained it but after the fourth fight of the week, you had to put your foot down and decided enter a poly relationship with them.

-The wedding day isn't easy either. But both women manage to shut up and get through the vows for this marriage. 

 “Do you take Yoichi Isagi and Rin Itoshi as your wives?”

 “Fuck no.” (What should’ve happened 🤡)

-Their rivalry extends to even the kids. One kid from each mother. Why? I don’t know either. The only thing that’s concrete was the fact that you couldn’t walk for some time once they were done with you.

-Two daughters from one striker and a son from the other. Making only two guys vs. four ladies (Trust me it’s not fun)

-Rin’s determined to turn her kids into football stars while Isagi’s more laid back and chill. 

-You can usually find Isagi asleep on the couch with the children whenever she returns late from practice. 

-Isagi also tends to show off pictures of her kids to her teammates which quickly gets annoying, forcing Rin to hold her back. 

-Rin acts like she doesn’t smother your kids in affection behind closed doors.

 “Our children are better than Sae’s.”

 “But she doesn’t even have any?” 

-Praying for your sanity in this marriage.

SAE & SHIDOU

-You were kidnapped for the wedding by Shidou.

-You and Sae knew each other from Spain, where you were assigned as her manager. But unlike the previous ones, the midfielder enjoyed you and found you slightly less annoying than the others. 

-Being the only one she liked, you two managed to bond over football and life. 

-Really good friendship and then you started to date her privately. 

-You met Shidou during the U-20 game where she scared the shit out of you.

-Sadly, when Sae gave this batshit crazy mfer her number, she gave yours too. Why? No idea.

-You and Sae were forced to endure the most out-of-pocket texts (she sent nudes-)

 “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

 “I mean…they’re bigger than yours…”

-When Shidou broke into Sae’s place, she caught you and the midfielder doing…stuff.

-Chaos ensued.

 “We’re going back to Spain, [Name].”

 “FINALLY!”

 (This never happened. Author simply has no idea what he’s doing)

-What actually happens is Shidou forcing Sae, who forced you, into a relationship. 

-At this point, contemplate suicide because there’s no way you’re physically surviving Shidou. Whether in bed or not. 

-Timeskip to the wedding and despite your prayers, Rin Itoshi shows up. Ensuing chaos 0.2

“Why is Rin staring at you, Shidou.”

 “...Shidou?...”

-The wedding ends with both Rin and Shidou in the hospital while you and Sae just…

-When it comes to kids, Shidou’s the most enthusiastic about. (Who could forget the womb scene?)

-You and Sae on the other hand aren’t really into the idea. 

 “We have to have kids! To leave our mark on the world!”

 “...”

 “...”

-In the end, you guys give in and have a kid. One son to be exact that Shidou carried.

-Sae’s still not onboard until the kid finally arrives.

-Then she acts as if she always wanted a kid. 

-Shidou’s always egging the boy on fights and loves having fun with him.

 “We told you to not let him beat up the other kid!”

 “Sorry, not sorry.”

-You can pray to whoever you want, but it’s definite that you’ll have gray hairs by the time you’re 30.

NOTES: You can tell I was running out of idea towards the end…But anyway! If you guys want me to do a part two, it’ll have Nagi/Reo Noa/Ego and Barou/Lorenzo!

[thesmpisonfire]

Once again I'm thinking about Richas being rushed and not supposed to be seen in the state they found him

I honestly think Richas was supposed to be the egg given to the french.

He knows a bit of the language (Yes, ik that the meta reason is bc Ricardão is an overachiever and was learning french before the QSMP) when he barely knew Portuguese when he was found. And the French arrived not too much after the Brazilians, in a planned crash

Probably Pomme and Richas were in development at the same time (as we saw yesterday that the Feds are still constantly creating new eggs) and Richas was further in development, just missing his leg. The Brazilians crash was unexpected (Or maybe even supposed to be after the French and Pomme would be their egg) and clearly alerted as an invasion and a problem to be dealt with

They were the only ones that the islanders had to fight to get to, while the French were clearly displayed without much trouble (Maybe this will be debunked with the Germans arrival, we'll see). They had no fancy theater either, going over a dirt patch

Now, back to the eggs and the comparison between Richas and the others

I saw some ppl say that Tallulah is also a "rushed" egg bc of her disabilities but I genuinely don't think so. Besides her hearing and asthma, she's a perfect egg on the outside. She might have some trouble but she'd be perfectly capable of finishing the Parkour tests or any other that would be given to her. Plus, she wasn't just thrown in the attic by herself, she had a cage. She was on display for Wilbur to find. She has a bed model fit for her

Same for Pomme. She was in a cage, and the Federation themselves guided people to get to her by giving her coords. On the very first day, Pomme also had a bed model individual for her, with her beret

Richas, to this day, doesn't have an individual bed. He uses Tilin's bed still. Also, the Feds would have the perfect opportunity to introduce Richas in the middle of the other cracked eggs when they were returned, but they didn't. When the Feds told the islanders to go get their eggs, they only specified the parents that already had eggs and that they had been returned. The Feds didn't call attention for the Brazilians to get their egg as well. Richas wasn't in a cage in the attic to be found together with the others. He was thrown, still covered with preservatives, in one of the empty cages down stairs and the other eggs that found him, specifically Dapper, Bobby and Leo, who got BBH's attention, who got Slime and Quackity's, who then called the Brazilians.

Richas was a rushed afterthought so they could pretend they were expecting the Brazilians, but they weren't. The fact he has one leg is just another proof, and yes it would mess with his test if they had time to put him through the parkour, because guess what? Richas was SHIT at parkour. They tried to teach him during the Immortalyson day and Bobby finished perfectly while Richas had a lot of difficulty with the last bits. His dads knew it was due to his leg and told him there was no problem, they'd help him learn how to do it in a way that was fair to him

Richas also always points out how he didn't have a cage or have a bed special for him, joking that it's because he's Brazilian and the Feds hate them. He also is the only egg that seems to have problems with someone else's memories being mixed with his, probably because the Feds had no time to give the last touches to his mind before dropping him at the Adoption Center

[grlbutnotwood]

good morning children I have come to feed you (I wrote destiel in kill your darlings setting ficlet you're welcome)

"...Since I started this report, we recieved the news from London, saying the German high command denied that great enemy formations approached the coast of..."

Castiel threw a pen at the radio. It did not shut the hell up.

Oh well.

It was childish, of course. Throwing things around, huffing in a tantrum, his only saving grace - the fact that no one saw him at the moment. Who gave a shit?

He focused back on the papers. Two stacks, ungraded on the left, graded on the right. The stack on the left was significantly bigger, despite the fact that Castiel's been sitting behind his desk for three hours.

His office wasn't much to look at. White walls, bookshelves with everything expected of him - Shakespeare, Shelley, Fitzgerald, pictures of his family alive and dead and missing somewhere on the front lines, the only plant that was able to thrive with the feeble light available and less than frequent wandering that was the consequence of Castiel's wandering mind. A large desk, dark wood and the air of pretentiousness in the carving, took up most of the space, two chairs across from Castiel's for the students to sit in rigidly as they sort out whatever business he needed to deal with.

A blazer was thrown over one of the chairs. Castiel hadn't dared to touch it.

The radio on the windowsill, almost lost among the clutter of empty coffee mugs, kept chattering - and as the rain picked up, drumming on the window, he could finally drown out the goddamned news reports. The branches of the oak tree banged on the glass, the poor thing, almost completely devoid of leaves by the end of October.

It was past midnight, he knew for sure. He didn't look up at the watch mounted on the wall, not that he would see anything as the only source of light was Castiel's lamp, pouring bright golden spot on the paper work in front of him and nothing else.

The world was ending outside, in the way it does practically every other week in a way that was rather comforting. A cycle withering and dying before the next one, coming full circle. The clock kept ticking away, the smell of cold sickly-sweet coffee suspended in the air.

He read through another essay, contemplating getting another coffee or perhaps falling asleep right then and there, when the door creaked.

Castiel shouldn't have heard it over the sounds of rain and thunderstorm. And yet, he did.

Of course he did.

"Hey there, professor," a cheeky smile and golden skin, rumpled white button-up and the ever-present mirth in his voice. Dirty boots of a workman rather than fashionable oxfords under the edges of his slacks. Leather satchel worn out and falling apart even more so than Castiel.

Warm skin, delicately dotted with freckles - always so, so warm. Strong callused hands, firm thighs underneath the confining uniform, perfect teeth with those pointed incisors digging right into Castiel's skin, his lips-

"Mr Winchester," he breathed out before carefully putting the pen in his hand down. (The one he threw at the radio was temporarily lost and forgotten). To an outsider he might seem relaxed, composed.

But Dean learned to read him the same way Castiel taught him to analyze William Blake's poems. He recognized the tension in his arms, a glint of alarm in the eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. An animal preparing to pounce, waiting out its prey.

Dean's breath stuck in his throat even as he moved into the study, closing the door behind himself.

Dear God but how he wanted to be torn apart.

"So it's Mr Winchester now," his voice was low, teasing. Yet he moved slowly across the room, a practiced dance routine as he waited for his partner to make a move. "Last time we were alone like this I was-"

"What do you want," Castiel cut him off, not a hint of question of his voice but rather a command. A shiver ran through Dean. He stopped just across from his professor, between them - just a table and the game. Their game. It boils down to just a question of who was going to fold quicker.

Usually, the game had the same outcome. They had yet to grow tired of it, if ever.

This was bad, wasn't it? But how bad could it be if it never harmed anyone? They didn't know that it was just a question of time.

They didn't know they wouldn't be the ones getting hurt. Worse than hurt.

("Mr Winchester, we'd like to ask you about your whereabouts as of the 16th of November. We're very sorry...")

"Well, I wanted to get my blazer back, for one," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulder, quite reasonably to someone who didn't see the thrill of a gambler with a deck of cards on his face.

Dean's hand fell on the back of the chair, over the said blazer, the other falling on the strap of the satchel.

Castiel watched, laser-focused on every movement of the younger man, still as a statue, his face - harsh outlines in the scarce light of the lamp between them.

Inevitably, not so much later, he'd lose his composure. He would grab what was his and he would have him. The papers would unfortunately be discarded all over the floor or otherwise crumpled underneath the bodies, skin, sweat, fuck yeah more come on Cas-

The table creaks rather loudly, obscenely. It's good that Dean had the foresight to lock the door.

[notaplaceofhonour]

An Open Letter Regarding the Holocaust Inversion & Blood Libel of the “Average Pace” Meme:

The person who shared the screenshotted post deleted it after I sent the following message. I truly believe they shared it out of ignorance & not malice; I cannot say the same of OP who created the graphic. I am sharing my deconstruction of its rhetoric & imagery here as a learning opportunity:

Nothing justifies the injustices Palestinians have faced, and what Netanyahu is doing is vile. No country should be above criticism, nor its leaders above condemnation, but this is not that.

What people like OP are doing is weaponizing legitimate atrocities to spread the antisemitic narratives of Holocaust Inversion (an offshoot of Holocaust Revision & Denial that claims “The new Nazis are Jews”) and Blood Libel.

And no, the fact that these libels are made in criticism of Israel does not absolve them of being antisemitic narratives that predate the existence of the State of Israel. As if to hammer in that point, that is not the flag of Israel that the creator of this agitprop decided to equate to the Swastika—that is the Magen David. That’s just the symbol for Judaism.

Worse, to impose the Magen David over images of blood (especially what is implicitly the blood of children) is a direct invocation of Blood Libel, the antisemitic accusation that Jewish leaders thirst for the blood of children. This libel has incited the mass slaughter of Jews since long before the Shoah, and is still being used to this day to incite violence against Jews through Qanon & accusations that Israelis drink & bathe in Palestinian blood.

And if it truly weren’t about the Jewishness of Israel, why would OP pick the Shoah specifically? There have been countless other mass killings in the world, many with much greater resemblance to Israel/Palestine than Jews in Nazi Germany (see: ethnic cleansings in Liberia & India/Pakistan for instance). Meanwhile, the only things The Shoah/WWII and Israel-Palestine have in common is people dying and Jews being present. So why specifically invoke the slaughter of Jews to criticize Israel if it is not about invoking the Jewishness of Israel?

That doesn’t even get into how cherrypicked those numbers are to the point the exact same “average pace” metric could easily be used (and in fact is, by the German far-right) to present the Bombing of Dresden by the Allies—a campaign that killed more than 25,000 German civilians in 72 hours in an area much bigger & less densely populated than Gaza with a fraction of the bombs that Israel has used—as comparable to the death camps.

This rhetoric does not aid Palestinians in any way. In fact it drags the movement down by providing ammunition that can be used to paint all criticism of Israel as antisemitic & give people who just hate Palestinians the casus belli they need to shut it down. The only thing it accomplishes is hurting Jews; it twists the knife in the wounds left in our community, it trivializes the Shoah by universalizing it or presenting it as “the lesser of two evils”, and it incites violence by equating Jews to Nazis.

[softdedue]

I remember as a boy asking my father about the conflict in Israel and my father—who is a world expert on international relations, who has literally written the textbook on these sorts of genocides, who never shies away from a discussion—told me: we don’t talk about that. It’s complicated. Being a child, I listened.

I went away to college, to a good Jewish school, trying to reconnect to my roots. I asked my Rabbi: what is so complicated about the conflict in Israel? And he said, we don’t talk about that, it is too complicated. Not being a scholar of such things, I listened.

I asked my friend, a political sciences major who was studying to one day become a rabbi themself: why is it that no one will speak about Israel? And they said, it is complicated. You are German; would you like it if everyone who walked up to you asked you your opinion on Hitler? And I thought, that is no answer at all.

And then I moved to Tigard, and I met Muna, who would become a mother to me in many ways. “Habibi,” she would say. “Can you come download this new app for me? My daughter wants to play some new game.” And we went from working together to caring for each other, and I met her family—few enough of them blood, but built together out of the shared experience of coming here to this hostile country that did not like their scarves and their prayer and their accents. My Arabic is poor, and heavily accented, but the fact that I knew any at all—and wanted to learn more from her, and was willing to listen—was enough to get her to welcome me in, and we had known each other for less than a year when she began to tell me stories of home.

My Muna was born in Jerusalem, and she immigrated here when her daughter was only five years old, trying to escape the constant bombs. Every single day of the Israeli occupation she was afraid for her life, and her family’s lives, and they were the lucky ones: they got out, and they came here, and she and her husband had been able to find work and support their family in spite of all the prejudice they faced. Many of their loved ones were not so lucky. She couldn’t tell me how many people she knew who had died, and that was before the current conflict.

I knew then that it had never truly been “complicated”. The plight of my people is complicated, yes, and it always has been, but that has never—and will never—give any of us the right to displace other innocent people from their homes in the name of claiming some sort of god-ordained holy land. “God said we could have it” has never been a rightful claim for anyone. Jewish people across the world have been blinded and misled by Israeli propaganda, as have others of all religions, but it truly is just that: propaganda.

I stand with justice. I stand with freedom. I stand with Palestine.