#when they're getting them away from the fire

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[harmoonix]

☾ Like a prayer ☽

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫/𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭!* + 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

Note: Take this with caution! These placements are not bad. These are just some 'side things' that come within having such placements. Every placement has a dark trait, and sometimes, the nature of astrology can be negative as well as positive. Thanks for reading 🤎

• Venus x Moon harsh aspects (square, opposition, conjuction). When the Moon is in harsh aspects with Venus, the native will have a hard time telling what's on their heart. They can have the feeling of a 'heavy heart'. The native may be embarrassed or shy to tell their feelings

• Saturn x Moon harsh aspects (square, opposition, conjuction). These aspects can often feel very insecure about their feelings. They can get hurt fast, but mostly, these aspects can indicate being cold, having a hard time opening yourself, being more like a loner rather than with people

• Lilith in Gemini/3rd house, these placements often indicate gossiping and talking bad upon others. Cursing a lot, etc. The native may be savage in their communication, and their words can hurt

• Ascendant x Sun/Venus/Neptune aspects. With these placements, the native may have trouble with loving himself and may cause a lack of self-love from their side. Before having a relationship, you should always check up on yourself first. You can't love others if you don't love yourself

• Venus in the 5th/7th or 8th house. I did a 'mini post' about Venus in those houses, but in short, the native could've had more partners in their romantic past. If you're not interested in your lovers' past romantic life with other people, I think this won't affect you

• Uranus in the 7th house is also found within people who happen to have more lovers in their life. Also, dating or having casual one night stands

• Lilith x Moon aspects (all aspects). The native can have issues with their mother or their feminine energy. May feel like the black sheep or an outcast due to this. They may keep family things private in their life

• Pluto or Saturn in their 4th or 5th house could've indicated being abused as a child or having their childhood taken away from them. A person with a strong inner child

• Scorpio Saturn, the native with this specific Saturn placement can struggle with their intimacy. Can be insecure over some parts of their body and might overthink what the other person thinks about them in bed. Engaging in sexual activities can be chaotic but also beautiful

• Venus in Fire signs, the native can be either extremely loyal either extremely catchy with your feelings. Tends to flirt quite a lot. And may have multiple crushes

• Saturn in the 2h/6th/10th house or Saturn in Earth signs. The native can be an workaholic, they work over the program to gain more money/salary. This can also result as then coming exhausted from work and most times being away from home

• Lilith x Jupiter aspects (all aspects), the native with these aspects can crave more in bed. They're not happy if they're not satisfied. And they may struggle with obsession over sexual things

• Neptune in the 5th or 8th house, the native may have addictions related to 18+ content which can be a turn off for many. Nonetheless Neptune can also have a strong sexual energy

• Sun in the 7th or 10th house, the native might receive a lot of compliments. Sweet personality and a very charming aura, they like attention

• Scorpio/Capricorn/Cancer Venus, the native might be into dating older people, not very old but there can be some age gap between them. They might get successful relationships in their adulthood yesrs

• Pisces Venus and Moon, these natives are mostly ending up with a lot of scenarios in their head after an argument. They need lots of resurance from their partners

• Venus in the 8th / 12th house, the native could've had several admires, which he wanted to keep hidden. Secrets around their relationship

• Water Dominant: The native may be too clingy or very fast to respond to your feelings/they mirror the type of love you give them

• Pluto x Mercury aspects (all): The native will always have the last word in arguments. 'Truth hurts' archetype. They can use words to manipulate after their own will

• Sun x Jupiter in harsh aspects, the natives ego can be fragile, yet they tend to have a 'superiority complex' they may think they're better than others

• Aphrodite (1388) in the 2nd/5th/8th houses, the native may want to be satisfied physically. They may use their sexual energy to make themselves feel better

• Aphrodite x Ascendant/MC Aspects (all): People may find their beauty intriguing. Approachable with a soft/feminine/calm energy by the public (to both genders) tender personality

• Juno in Aries/Cancer/Scorpio may give a possessive and jealous spouse. If the spouse has low self-esteem, these can be intense

• Pluto in the 9th house, 9th house can indicate how your spouse family might see you. With Pluto here, they may see you as a powerful person to marry their son/daughter

• Pluto/Lilith/Saturn in the 11th house, the native could've had lots of issues with betrayal in their life. People in general weren't so loyal to them

• Sun in the 5th house, the native may feel to act more like a child when they are around your presence or if they feel safe with you

• Aries/Mars over their 4th house can indicate that they were raised in a household with abusive or angry family members, also can posses angry issues

• 2nd house ruler in the 8th house, they may be stingy with their money, may keep them like a secret behind you

• 2nd house ruler in the 10th house, the native may love money over anything. Money over love is their way to go

• Saturn in the 12th house can drain the native a lot. They may feel tired 24/7, get irritated fast, and becomes melancholic easily

• Leo Saturn, they can struggle with favoritism. Can be related to family trauma/ just they love picking on things to cause conflicts

• Scorpio or Lilth in the 4th house/Cancer, raised in a household where their family could have been manipulators, liars, toxic, etc

• Juno aspecting Jupiter can grant the native with fulfilments in their relationship, in harsh aspects you don't feel satisfied enough

• Mars in the 7th house can cause relationship arguments (which are normal for every relationship), but with Mars, these can he quite intense

• Having Retrogade planets like Venus in the 7th house can indicate your exes coming back in your life more than usual (these are mostly just things you need to finish, as an little advice, exes don't always come back to be together with you again, but you don't need to get back with them even if they come back in your life lol)

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

If you enjoyed this, let me know so I can make a second part 😊 🥰

Have a good day, everyone 🥰🥰

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[cherie-doll]

Hey Cherie!! It’s been so long hehe I hope you’re well 💖

Can I request a How the COD men reacts when their s/o was called a nasty name like ‘stupid cunt’? Once again projecting myself a bit here, I always regret being stunned and not punching that idiot in the face 🙂‍↕️🫠

Hope you stay happy and blithe and healthy ✨✨

May you forever stay cheerful as well, my beloved <3

Speech like this just comes off as extremely repulsive and obscene to me and I feel deeply for anyone who's had to deal with this. I won't go into detail but just know whoever is reading that it deals with this sort of theme and please just scroll or avoid if you want.

𓏴𓏴 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves

Price

He does not let that fly in this base

Doesn't care if he gets called prude or mocked for not allowing it, he'd rather there be respect

Basic decency is something that is quite literally the bare minimum for soldiers

No way will he let you be dragged around with that filthy speech especially not when you're his s/o

He lets you know he'd gladly deal with it himself but you manage and tell him you'd like to take care of it

Ghost

He's not foreign to vulgar words or foul language but he isn't okay with it when it's used to degrade someone

He's heard it in public before but never has it been directed to you, seriously what was that guy thinking? That he could just say it in passing to you on the street and walk away like it was nothing?

Maybe he hadn't seen your tall masked boyfriend until he stopped and turned, heading to them and the look on their face

Eyes as big as saucers as Simon planned to rearrange their face

Soap

Quick, fiery temper strikes faster than a cobra

He's at their neck in an instant, trapping them in a death grip and staring daggers into them

He doesn't care that people are staring or that he could get the police called because he's shouting threats

And his anger won't subside afterwards, it leaves a stale feeling that has him crossing his arms and serious for the rest of the day

It had gotten him all riled up for the rest of the day that he's on the lookout for anyone else looking to insult you

Gaz

You've almost never seen Kyle get mad

Oh but he was furious, fire raging within him, knowing he was really about to do something when his jaw set hard and he went real silent

He didn't make a commotion, didn't shout or yell, just silently made his way over and took care of the problem

You didn't get to see what he did to the guy because he somehow made sure you didn't, and he wouldn't tell you either when you asked

Instead choosing to distract you with something else

Roach

He's not a fan of foul language and hates hearing it used even more but being around others so much he can't really avoid it

But the sentence that some idiot had the audacity to say to your face shocked him

How could they?

How much hatred could be within them that they're letting such words carelessly slip from their tongue?

He's worried about how you're feeling more than anything so he'll take you away before anything else could happen because he doesn't want you to show it hurt

Alejandro

Marking their grave as we speak

Don't be surprised if you see him already loading a gun

Oh boy, it's gonna be difficult to get him to calm down

He's cursing and throwing profanities much worse to the other person that they're already backing away fearing for their life

It would actually weigh down on him for a while and will get raging mad whenever he remembers

Rudy

Covering your ears immediately and glaring at the person who said that to you

He motions for someone else to take care of them while he asks if you're okay

Probably doesn't matter if you say yes or no, he focuses on not letting you dwell on those words

You're not those things and never will be, such words shouldn't be said to anyone else

And what do they know? He's shaking his head and sighing, doesn't know what to do with the anger

Phillip Graves

Yeah he allows cursing, hell he curses up a storm himself but this??

This is just unacceptable

This is the lowest form of using language incorrectly, the use of such words is as sickening as rotten food, can't imagine how much worse you would feel when it's said to your face

He's made sure to instill manners in his Shadows and he'll even send one home no matter how useful or great their skills are, but not everyone has had that great education and will freely no- carelessly use their speech for worse

Getting ready to drop a bomb on them or plan a quiet murder

[djarinova]

In shades of grey in candlelight / I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

Spencer Reid x gn!reader content - reader is in an unfulfilling long term relationship, thoughts of cheating, best friend!Reid, friends to lovers, slight angst from reader longing to be loved properly again, cheating is slightly romanticised, confessions, teeny amount of angst words - 3k (how did this even happen omg) reputation event masterlist

♡—How long should you hold on to something after it's proven time and time again to be the source of your pain? And why does missing your best friend hurt so much more than missing your boyfriend?

It had been almost 4 weeks since you'd last spoken to Spencer—a mix of his work, the weekend he spent visiting his mother and the looming sense of… something… that had been hanging over your head like a dark cloud had kept the two of you apart for longer than usual.

Spencer would have been able to identify the issue that had been plaguing you, he's always been good at that—even before he'd joined the BAU.

He had been able to figure out that you'd failed a maths test when you were 12 years old. He had been able to tell when your parents had had a fight when you were 15 years old. He had been able to correctly work out that you'd ordered yourself the wrong flavour of milkshake—over the phone, without seeing your face—when you were 18 years old. And as you got older, your problems getting more and more adult, he had been able to figure out through missed calls and unanswered texts that you'd had your heart broken again. And again. And again.

That's what he would have said was the cause of your behaviour over the past few weeks—you've changed your hair, thrown out a bunch of old clothes, rearranged and then rearranged again almost all the rooms in your flat and you've been out drinking with your friends twice already this week (not that this is a particularly bad thing, or even entirely unlike you, but you mentioned to Spencer once that going to a bar or pub for a drink was only really fun when you were with him, and it had lit a spark deep within him that he refused to acknowledge). But this time you know he'd have gotten it wrong. You haven't broken up with anyone, you're still very much coupled up and there's no sign of your boyfriend wanting to dump you at all.

That's the problem.

You roll your eyes, there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. I'm the only one that can fix it.

You scoff. The faint smell of your neighbours baking wafts over you, and you can hear him and his boyfriend giggling through your shared wall. A lump in your throat begins to form, and the familiar sting behind your eyes returns as you busy your hands with tidying away the washing up (that you had accidentally washed three times now.) The tears that fall feel like they're burning your skin as they run down your cheeks, as though the droplets are going to leave small scalding streaks from your eyes to your chin.

A new wave of bitterness envelopes you and a strangled yell escapes your lips before you have the chance to think. You hear your neighbour's pause, likely raising their eyebrows at each other as if to say what the hell is wrong with next door before quickly returning to being the lovey-dovey super cutesy couple that they are. And they are. Super cutesy. You've seen them around the building before, even one time accidentally ending up in the same café after a building wide fire alarm went off. They invited you to sit with them—your boyfriend was with his mates—as they didn't want you left on your own so late at night. It was nice, awkward, sure, but nice. Conversation was easy, they seemed to bounce off of eachother in ways that you and your boyfriend never have—at least not for many years now. Their laughter was contagious and yet as you said your goodbyes and slunk back to your lonely apartment you couldn't help the twinges of envy that plagued the back of your mind.

He doesn't look at me like that. He is never that enthusiastic about dating me. He would never gush about our first date like that. (And deep down you know he could say the same things about you.)

So, yeah. That wasn't very fun to sit with.

You somehow feel happy knowing that Spencer would incorrectly guess the reason for your ongoing sadness. For some reason the thought of being unknowable to him has you frenzied… A strangled noise escapes your throat—a laugh! Christ. It was a laugh, despite how bitter and angry it sounded.

Maybe frenzied isn't the right word… But god! You don't know! At least he would actually care. At least he would want to try and get to the bottom of your feelings, to try and understand why you've been jumpy and on edge and almost hyperactive in the way you've been non stop moving recently.

Tap tap tap.

The noise makes you jump out of your skin, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes dart to the clock. It blinks back at you.

20:37

You chastise yourself, it's probably next door coming to ask if you could keep your yells of frustration down while they're having a relaxing evening. Embarrassment floods over your face and you can feel the tears threaten to fall again at the thought of being confronted about your outburst. You can imagine the look of pity on their faces—although a hidden part of you hopes that they're coming to invite you over, to welcome you into their warm home, to smell their freshly baked bread and taste the chocolate chip cookies.

Your feet pad heavily against the wooden floor as you walk out of the kitchen towards the front door—tap tap tap. A further set of knocks has you almost tripping over your feet as you rush the final few paces. You swing the door open without a thought, not wanting the neighbours to have to knock again.

You spare no thought to the tear stains that have marked your face…

“I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be—Spencer? Wha–what are you doing here?” You splutter.

“I tried calling, but you didn't answer. Have you been crying?”

“I—well, yes I have but it's fine—I didn't expect to see you, you've been so busy lately.” You take a deep breath, for a brief second—and it was brief—you had been relieved to find that it was only Spencer behind the door, but it didn't take long for the embarrassment to claw its way back up your spine and sink its teeth into your flesh once more.

His eyes bore into you as if he's trying to look inside you. He scans your face, your movements, he watches your hands fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt—before you notice him noticing you and you flatten your palms against your sides in an awkward, unnatural manner.

“May I come in?” He asks, his voice is gentle and it's almost enough to make you fall to the floor in despair.

A hum is all you can manage in response. You quickly side step out of his way, locking the door behind him as he removes his jacket and scarf and hangs then neatly on the third hook from the left—the one that's always left bare, just for him.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

He pauses mid stride—he’s already halfway to the kitchen and if you had known he was coming over then there would a cup of coffee on the side waiting for him, in his favourite burgundy mug, the one with a chip on the lip—and tilts his head at you as if to say isn't it obvious.

“I'm here to see you.” He states, incredibly matter of factly, as if the mere question coming from your lips is completely ridiculous. Why else would he be here?

“I—” You start, but Spencer disappears around the corner before you are able to get any more words out. You huff, feeling slightly unnerved by his sudden arrival and subsequent behaviour since setting foot on your doorstep. There is nothing else in the world that can make you as happy as he can. Something which both terrifies you, and excites you a great deal.

You step foot into the kitchen and you are unsurprised to find Spencer already in the process of making himself a coffee. He pauses once more when he catches sight of you and he holds a second mug out towards you in question. You shake your head. You don't think you'd be able to stomach anything until you can get him to speak to you properly.

A thought suddenly occurs to you, and it may be the first time you ever fully allow yourself to truly think it. Because although it's not unusual for Spencer to visit you in the evening, sometimes even coming over as late as 1 or 2 in the morning—he gets back from cases at the most unpredictable times—do people think you're seeing each other? The two of you have been friends for years, it's not weird for a friend to come over at all hours of the day… right?

“Spence, are you alright?” You pause, eyeing his very full cup of caffeine. “Haven't you just got back from a case? I can make up the sofa bed if you want to get some sleep.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Why do I feel so weird about asking him to stay over? We're friends. It's what friends do.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He ignores your questions, but you can't bring yourself to be annoyed at him. Not when his knuckles are white from how hard he grips the cup and his eyes flit from your hands to your eyes to your mouth and back to your hands.

Wait—your mouth?!

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He repeats. He closes the gap between the two of you with only a couple of steps. His steaming coffee is still clutched in his hands, but his fingertips seem restless, as if he knows where he wants them to be, but he just can't—or won't—move them there.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Your mouth feels dry—maybe turning down Spencer’s offer for a coffee was a mistake… He's barely an arms length away from you now, if you were to reach your hand out towards him it would brush up against the navy cardigan he has on. It looks so soft and you can't help but wonder how it would feel around your shoulders. Would it be baggy? Would it fit perfectly? And would Spencer want to come back from a case to find you curled up on the sofa while wearing it?

Your neighbour’s laughter ripples through the air like thunder. It's gone before you have time to register the noise fully, but it's enough to snap you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from Spencer's torso. It was as though he was waiting for you to make eye contact with him again, because he immediately puts his cup down on the side—more clumsily than usual, you'd be surprised if there wasn't an extra chip on the lip now—and takes the smallest of steps towards you. You are almost toe to toe now.

“I–uh–meant to ask you earlier… about your boyfriend.” He hesitates. “Presumably he's not around…”

There's two ways you could take his question.

Part of you wants to lie, to say that no, he's not around, you dumped him months ago—when your friends first told you that you should—and that you weren't expecting any company tonight. It would be just you and Spencer, no interruptions. Besides, Spencer knows that your boyfriend doesn't live with you, it's been the topic of many a heated discussion, but… could you just pretend you misunderstood? Could you say that no, he's not around, he's probably out with his friends somewhere. Could you admit that he hasn't texted you back in almost 4 days? Could you say he's not around, in fact, he hasn't been around you for 12 days?

But Spencer doesn't give you any time to think through what to say. You gasp when his hand touches your arm and he laces his fingers through yours without so much as a word, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. As if he had done it a thousand times. The certainty with which he touched you has your heart pounding. What is he thinking? All you can do is blink up at him. His eyes are swimming with questions, but the only one he voices is, “Is this okay?”

Your head moves before you can think and he breathes a deep sigh of relief. You haven't felt as calm as this in months, and yet somehow it feels like you're suffocating. His touch is warm and the dusting of pink on his cheeks has you feeling a rush of anxiety—but the good kind, the kind of anxiety you get when your crush looks at you, the kind that comes hand in hand with a first kiss… And yet you know you need to pull away. Before something more happens.

You force yourself to pull your hand out of Spencer's and the emptiness returns immediately. You stumble away, bumping into the counter as you do so, and you utter a small yelp when your hip hits the corner. Tears sting your eyes and before you know it Spencer has his arms around you. Somehow knowing what you need before you are even able to think it. You choke out a broken apology—for what, you don't even know—and all Spencer can think to do is squeeze you against his chest, whispering soft comforts into your ear.

You stay like that for a while—long enough that the pain at your hip is now only a dull ache. Your throat is dry from all the heavy breathing and you feel a slight throbbing pain in your head, but you do, somehow, feel a little better.

That is until your emotionally fried brain catches up with itself. And then you cringe, hard. Embarrassment floods your veins and you feel your cheeks heat up by an alarming degree—like someone, somehow, is holding the sun directly against your skin. You are acutely aware of how closely Spencer is watching you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, unsure of whether there's a look of hurt, confusion or pity on his face—unsure of whether it matters—and all you can do is stare through your blurry eyes at what you think is your feet, but what could just as easily be a pair of furry, blue alien slippers.

You scold yourself. You fell apart all because he... held your hand? God. What a mess he must think you are. And—oh! How he probably thinks you are the worst person in the world for even entertaining the possibility of his feelings for you when you aren't even single. If he even thinks that what you did was entertaining the possibility. Or maybe you completely misread the situation and he was only trying to comfort you as a friend... But what if he thinks you have no interest in him? What if he thinks he's ruined your friendship and your relationship? What if you're reading into things far too much and he doesn't like you like that and he thinks you're a bad person for even thinking about kissing him–not that he would know that, he can't read your mind–and you've certainly never thought about kissing him before and especially not right now–he doesn't know how much you long for him to sweep your off your feet—

"I like you Spencer."

You blink. Slowly you bring your head up and meet his gaze. He takes a shallow breath, as if he had been holding it for quite some time.

Christ.

You only meant to think the words, and yet somehow they slipped past your tongue out into the space between the two of you. An accidental confession of something you hadn't even consciously thought until 0.2 seconds ago.

Well I can't take it back now.

He holds your gaze. His vision blurs ever so slightly and he blinks back his unshed tears before they get the chance to overwhelm him. He clears his throat before speaking, but even then his voice is low, quiet, as if trying not to spook an animal.

"You... do?"

You nod, and he takes another obvious sigh of relief, deeper this time.

"I do. I like you a lot actually."

It's as though hearing you voice your feelings for him has broken down the very last wall between the two of you. Your mind flits briefly to thoughts about your boyfriend, before shutting them down so violently that you almost feel sick. You taste metal in your mouth and you realise with a start that you'd bitten down so hard on your lip that you'd drawn blood. You reach for the closest available source to wash the bitter taste away—Spencer's coffee. And he watches as you take a sip, your eyes are closed but somehow he can sense that they are closer to shedding tears than his are. He reaches an arm towards you and gently begins to rub soothing circles on your waist. The touch sends an electric pulse throughout your entire body and you almost drop the mug in shock. It's like all at once you realise just how stupid you were for allowing yourself to be so miserable for all this time. Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who barely touches you when one touch from Spencer has your insides burning? Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who doesn't care about your feelings unless they are positively affecting him, when the first thing Spencer asked you tonight was if you had been crying?

For right now all you care about is the way Spencer's eyes glisten when they look at you, how warm his hands are when they touch your face and how the quiet laughter from your neighbours no longer makes you feel as lonely as it did before.

You felt like such a fool. But it seemed like realising this fact was enough to set you free. It seemed like the acknowledgement was enough. You didn't give any thought now to the things you would have to do this coming week—the breaking up, the collection of your things from his place (although at this point there is only a toothbrush and a single pair of joggers that haven't moved from their place on the back of his sofa since you washed them and left them there). Hell, even the possibility of having Spencer there with you hadn't crossed your mind.

[valentine-cafe]

Oh to be a male reader who seems like nothing gets to him, charming and playful, only for your character to find him in a room all teary, and when pressed he just mumbles about the false rumour he thought was true, quiet and defeated and not meeting their eyes,

"are you really going to date <name of person>...?"

(order of: Tiramisu, mango pancakes, revani, key lime pie, rhubarb and strawberry crumble. I understand they're more than the average request so please don't feel pressured to answer❣️)

˖⁺. “ rumour has it ” : 

﹙ multi m. characters x male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various men x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ antihero ˖ immortal ˖ mercenary ˖ god ˖ grim reaper characters ﹚

what happens when the confident, cocky man they know and love ends up in tears over a fake rumour about them?

﹙ cws ﹚: none!  | wc : 1.2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: this is soooo sweet we need more content for m readers like thiiiss :((

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : a look of confusion would flash before his eyes. had he ever seen you cry? the sight of your tears and the ache of his heart that came with it answered the question.

his mind scrambles for answers. where did the rumour come from? why were you upset over it?

for once his mind decided to click for him. he could practically feel the small lightbulb go off above his head. without a second to waste he advances forward to stand in front of your teary self. hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair catching in the wind of his lean. his tall form casts a shadow over the wooden desk that you sit at.

“now why’d I be on a date with ‘em when we’re going out for milkshake huh?”

your eyes spring wide and the tears halt together. your shaky voice brings a twitch to his brow and he has to restrain himself from pulling you into his arms altogether.

“wh-what - since when -”

“since now. come on pretty boy.”

he’s yanking you up in seconds with that big grin on and affectionate eyes. a large hand cupping your face to stroke a thumb along your cheekbone.

꒰  mercenary ˖ immortal ˖ antihero ˖ punkgoth character  ꒱

﹙rasui 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : it only took one glance from him at you and then out to the hallway of his syndicate. the false flames licking away at the walls as per usual.

what strange rumors. such pathetic way to put someone’s confidence down. and the someone is you, of all people— why would someone do that?

“don’t just stand and look at me like that.” the mumble hits his ear, and immediately a brow raises slowly, creating that little forehead wrinkle that makes his face look ever the more handsome. damn this fire elemental.

“well if you insist.” he chuckles softly.

his hand sweeps across the open door to close it. before the soft, singing sound of his footsteps would pass towards you. head tilted in concerned confusion.

“i’ve never spoken to them about such.” he scoffs, long, brown hair standing blue with flame by the edges.

the small glance at his hair you catch out the corner of your eye indicates well enough his concern for you. tinges of sadness.

“rasui. . .”

“shhh.”

slowly, his hand finds the bottom of your chin, and slowly lifts your head to tilt it. make the saddened eyes of yours meet his fiery gaze, that hold such passion for you. had they always had that? you’d never noticed. . .

“i’d rather not waste my time with the likes of such.” he croons into your ear honestly, pressing a little smooch to your temple gently.

“you have, always, my undivided attention, habibi”

꒰  mercenary leader ˖ fire elemental character  ꒱

﹙haitao 9948e. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : “oh don’t be so solemn dear.” he huffs softly, entering the room properly and drawing the door shut.

“there are no corpses to be mourned in the morgue today, after all. not yet, at least.” ah, humor continues as life goes on.

it is one of the things you find yourself so very fond of with him for. his morbid character oddly endearing in times of dull light.

“I am. . . failing to understand?”

in such confusion would your eyes meet his, as you heard the snort that emerged from his nose. the slightest of eerie laughter creeping out past his lips.

“don’t you wanna be with them instead?”

“no.” he’d answer blunty, smiling widely at you. shrugging casually before grinning at you in the usual, morbid fashion of his.

“i’d rather manage their funeral than do that.”

the bark of laughter that left him as he walked over to you sat your heart aflame, it was warm, a bit of a cacophany as usual but you loved it nontheless.

with a small wink from him, he gently takes your hands in his cold ones.

“you though, gods, you’re worth dancing around with until death.”

꒰  grim reaper ˖ mortician character ꒱

﹙alessio 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : “what? where in the abhorration did you get that idea?”

it is only when the words leave his lips does alessio halt at the sight of your tears. realisation sets in with a sting and for the first time in awhile. . . he feels a hint of regret.

the sorcerer takes a seat beside you. his expression remains ever the same but the change comes with his warm palm on your knee. a small silence settles over the both of you before he pipes up in a quieter voice.

“you should not believe everything you hear, my dear. . .”

one of his knuckles raises to brush away your tears. there is a small tilt of his head with a tender smile to his dark lips.

“why are you so upset?”

you sniffle. the feel of your gut twisting stiffles your words. however with your overwhelm, the hand on your knee and the soft voice from the typically frightful, blunt man. . . they ease out like melted wax. “I. . . because it should. . .”

“should be you?”

you love the way he cups at your face with both hands and steers your eyes to him. love the way his smile assures the throbbing heart of yours. his words are what put it to rest entirely.

“such a bright star you are. . . why would you think my eyes are on any other?”

꒰  sorcerer ˖ corrupt god character ꒱

﹙talisen 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : with such blunt words, delicately and full of softspoken wonder. it drips off of his tongue like wine: “whyever would one put an ear to such bereft opinion?”

of course, your reaction would be to look away in unbridled humiliation. although, it was clear he did not intend to have you feel such way.

“i just. . .” you try, taking in a deep breath, before looking down at your hands. frowning, at the inability to speak.

a long hand finds your shoulder, as the god’s much larger and taller body slumps down next to you in the couch.

“no.” he speaks, and brings your chin into an upwards tilt with one hand. the other drawing you closer to give you a small squeeze on the back.

“no?” you murmur back with a scoff. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“what i have attempted to tell you for long enough. is what it means.” he groans out, the sound almost wilting and blooming the flowers altogether.

“little interest do i find in such fickle creature as the one that claims i am theirs.” he begins. free hand moving to your heart to trace at the area. as he leans close enough for you to see each and every copper speck on his face that shape small crystalline patterns.

“a heart of mine lays beating within your hands, my beloved. it is time you see that.”

꒰  snake god ˖ corrupt god character ꒱

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

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[discordiansamba]

to suki's surprise, there's someone her age here.

she hadn't expected it when she'd been sent away to the boiling rock- the fire nation's most dreaded prison. what an honor, she'd thought while rolling her eyes as princess azula tried and failed to bait her.

his name is zuko. he's from the fire nation. nobody quite knows what his actual crime was- and she's loosely defining crime here- but that he'd just turned up at the prison one day without fanfare, like they'd snuck him in overnight. he arrived with half of his face swaddled in bandages- and now, three years later, he's been left with a vicious scar.

(how did someone end up being thrown in here at thirteen? even for the fire nation, that seemed... young.)

suki likes him.

she likes the way that he still has the audacity to try and escape, even after this place has broken so many others much older than him. he spends more time than anyone else in the coolers- but despite being a firebender, he never seems bothered by them. he knows his way around the prison like the back of his hand.

he seeks her out as soon as she arrives.

"hey," he sits across from her, "-hear you're a rebel leader of some kind."

"sort of," she tells him, "-i'm the leader of the kyoshi warriors. ever heard of us?"

zuko shakes his head no- but he's willing to learn. so she tells him about kyoshi island and about the kyoshi warriors. she tells him how she ended up here- and doesn't miss the way zuko's one brow shoots up when she mentions princess azula. he huffs and says that anyone who could catch her attention like that is a friend of his.

on the day of black sun, they make an escape attempt together.

it doesn't work. they both get thrown into the cooler for their trouble. but it doesn't stop them from trying again- this time on the day of sozin's comet itself. the guards might all be firebenders- but so is zuko. this time they have a new partner in crime- chief hakoda of the southern water tribe. sokka's father.

(she's pretty sure he thinks they're both vaguely insane.)

it doesn't work either. they go back to the coolers.

then one day, fire lord iroh arrives at the prison himself. the war is over. ozai is dead. he's here to free those who shouldn't be here- starting with the prisoners of war. he begins to call out names of those who will be walking free today- and suki and hakoda are among them.

zuko isn't.

zuko isn't, until chief hakoda whispers something into the fire lord's ears- and the old man's eyes go wide. hakoda points out zuko to him, and the man stares at him like he's seen a ghost.

"...nephew?"

(what.)

another boiling rock au idea is an au where instead of being banished, ozai sends zuko to the boiling rock after his agni kai and claims the prince died in the night due to an infection. by the time zuko's aware of what's going on around him, he's already confined to a cell at the boiling rock. his father doesn't want him. he's a shame to his nation. he doesn't think he can get any lower.

or: zuko grows up at the boiling rock.

very few people there even know that he's the former crown prince, but what they do see is a thirteen year old kid with half his head swathed in bandages, his hair freshly shorn, who has been thrown into the highest security prison in the fire nation. which is pretty fucked up!! zuko goes from pampered prince fed only propaganda all his life, to being surrounded by war prisoners and other assorted political prisoners- as well as just your run of the mill convicts.

it's an eye-opening experience, to say the least!

(zuko's escape attempts are like, a once every two month occurrence. none of them ever work, but he's gotten father than anyone else ever has. this is because no one else is as insane as the kid who was basically raised for part of his life here.)

years later, when the war is over and iroh is sitting on the fire lord's throne, he begins the long process of freeing the countless prisoners of war that the fire nation has imprisoned- as well as the political prisoners. it's a long process- and he decides to begin with the boiling rock, where he knows the chief of the southern water tribe was sent after the failed invasion.

there's no records of zuko at the boiling rock, of course.

or: iroh finds out that his nephew isn't dead. he's been at the boiling rock this entire time. suddenly the fire nation has an heir apparent.

(zuko returns to the caldera for the first time in years, very much not the same person he was when he left- and is unsure how much he can actually trust his uncle.)

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Hundred Temples of Agatha Harkness

"Why are you picking this to get insistent about?" Agatha complained. "I mean, it's a flower crown, Rio."

Agatha and Rio, on the road, in love. Agatha is annoying, Rio is romantic and long-suffering. Business as usual, really.

"Rio, stop that," Agatha snapped at her as she absently grew flowers along the side of the road, then plucked a handful of the prettiest ones. Her perpetually-annoyed beloved was in a worse mood than normal, something about the heat, everything taking too long and very possibly the time of the month.

Rio glanced over at the woman she loved, absently working the flowers into a circular shape. "Do you know people used to worship me as a god?" she asked conversationally.

"I didn't," Agatha answered, barely paying attention, then seemed stop and consider that. "Are any of them still around? Because I can think of several ways that could be useful."

"…Agatha, are you suggesting that we scam people who worship me?"

"I mean," Agatha said, pursing her lips as though she seriously needed to consider the question. "…Yes?"

"Do you have any shame?" Rio said, which only made Agatha laugh, a surprised cackle that made an answering smile tug at Rio's lips.

"I wasn't aware you were so invested in morality," Agatha admitted. "Given that your favorite hobby is watching people die."

"It isn't really a hobby, Ags. More like a full-time job."

"Still."

"Death isn't wrong," Rio said. "It's a part of the natural cycle."

"Right, sure. And the part where you love when I murder people?"

Rio's eyes fell half-closed and she licked her lips, savoring the idea of getting to watch Agatha do what she did best. "Well, then it becomes their time to pass beyond the veil. Ags, is there a coven where we're going?"

"Yes, and I will, I promise, but don't get too fired up about it, I want to stay for a few days and do some other things first."

Rio pouted slightly, pressing herself closer to Agatha. "It sounds nice, though. I want it."

Agatha patted her on the shoulder. "It will be just as nice in a few days, I promise."

Rio glanced at the hand on her shoulder. "Whole temples in my honor."

Agatha snickered. "Feeling how far you've fallen?"

"Mm. Every once in a while. But you know, I'd rather be walking down a dirt road with you than have a hundred temples in my honor."

"Right," Agatha said, the compliment sliding off her like water off an oversized, aggravating duck. "…Any chance any of those temples are still standing?”

"No idea," Rio said, trying to decide between exasperated and affectionate and settling on both.

"Shame."

Rio put the completed flower crown on her own head without comment and Agatha glanced over, then shook her head. "…A god, huh," she said, snickering slightly.

Rio considered, then motioned, grew more flowers only to pluck them, feeling them begin to wither and die as soon as their roots broke away from the ground, minuscule deaths but still pleasant, like warm sunlight on her skin. She began to weave them together, choosing only the best and brightest.

"…Surely you don't need that many flower crowns," Agatha pointed out.

"Just one more," she said.

"…Hey, Rio," Agatha said, catching on and immediately beginning to protest. "No. They're very pretty. Very, very pretty. But it's just—it's not my thing."

She didn't answer, humming off-key to herself as she worked the stems together, held up the finished product with a pleased smile. Even better than hers.

Then she quirked a finger at Agatha. "Beloved, come here."

"Noooo," Agatha said, speed-walking away like she was ever going to be able to outrun Death. Rio let her get a few steps ahead and then appeared in front of her, so close Agatha almost ran into her.

"That is an incredibly petty use of your powers," Agatha said, taking a fast step back. "It’s very pretty, love, I'm just not really a flower person. Or a whimsy person. Or whatever that thing represents."

Rio let out a deep, pained sigh, realized that was the first time she'd remembered to breathe in a while. "Agatha."

"Why are you picking this to get insistent about?" Agatha complained. "I mean, it's a flower crown, Rio."

Rio gave the other woman a smile that would have cowed lesser women, the wild, exultant, smile of a being that could have watched the world die and still remained unsatisfied.

It only made Agatha cross her arms and try to stare Death down.

"It represents that every once in a while, my love, I want to win," Rio said.

Agatha searched her expression for a moment, then snatched the flower crown and put it on her head, arranging it neatly. "Are you happy?" she snapped.

"Euphoric," Rio said, catching Agatha's wrist and tugging her into an embrace. "Ecstatic."

"Great," Agatha drawled, her arms looping around Rio’s waist. “So happy. But just so you know, this has nothing to do with your former status as a god. If the Mother herself came and tried to force me to wear this ridiculous thing, I’d tell her no.”

Rio raised an eyebrow. Agatha rarely invoked the Goddess and never in play, the deity was one of the few things she seemed to take seriously, far more seriously than she often took Rio. “Then why?”

Agatha couldn’t quite meet her eyes. ”Because apparently you care,” she murmured. “And I want—you know.”

“To make me happy?”

Agatha inclined her head in agreement. “That.”

“Ags, do you know what would make me very happy?”

Agatha tugged her closer, pressed an overwhelmingly gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you," she said. "I must, right? I'm letting you win."

Rio couldn't help but melt against her lover, always delighted by Agatha managing to be momentarily romantic. "More than a hundred temples," she murmured.

"But consider, my sweet, that we could probably gain more benefit from the temples," Agatha said, slightly too smug with her own amusement.

"Oh, well, if you want me to go off and start a religion…"

Agatha's arms tightened hard around her waist, dragged Rio tighter against her. "No," she said and sometimes Agatha really did get it entirely right, looked at her like the last thing in the world she wanted was for Rio to go anywhere, even if that anywhere might benefit her. "Stay right here, on a dirt road with me."

Rio kissed her in answer, kissed her and kept kissing her until Agatha's cheeks were as red as her mouth. "Always, beloved," she murmured.

Agatha cleared her throat, flushed down her neck. "…We should get going," she said, sliding her fingers through Rio's.

"Sure, Agatha."

It took longer than Rio had expected after they had set off again, hand in hand, for Agatha to glance at her and ask plaintively, "Rio, how long do I have to wear this thing?"

"A little longer, please. It suits you," Rio said, and couldn't stop herself from giggling at the pained expression on her lover's face.

"You would make a very petty deity," Agatha complained.

"Agatha Harkness, you should talk."

That made Agatha burst into delighted, cackling laughter. She bumped her shoulder against Rio's. "…Now there's an idea. I'd take a few hundred temples in my honor.

"If you like," Rio said. "I don't mind if you scam people who worship you."

"Want to start a religion?"

"I want to do almost anything, so long as its with you."

Agatha squeezed her hand, perhaps in acknowledgement of the compliment, a sign that Agatha might be capable of learning after all, then began to workshop a possible religion as they continued their walk down the road together.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

The X-Men The Animated Series/'97 Friendsgiving Special:

• It's a bit chilly outside, but it doesn't matter much. The air is crisp and clean, the fireplace has a warm, burning fire in its center, and everyone is together for today...

• Reader has been trying to make a fish for the potluck, making sure their lemon pie is tangy and sweet and sets. They spent the early morning hours making it, and now they set it in the fridge to cool for the next few hours. They're not the only one scrambling to finish for the potluck.l, though

• Remy has been trying to make gumbo since dawn, adding in the spices and meats and vegetables and muttering hurriedly to himself. He tastes it every now and again, trying to make sure it tastes perfect. He's in a warm pink sweater, and his hair is is tied up, his eyes focused on the task at hand...

• Jean finished her gift to the potluck the night before, a sweet potato casserole, which hopefully is more flavorful than last year's Christmas dinner. She spent a lot of time trying to get it right, so they'll all try some, and thank her for making it... She's wearing earrings with small acorns dangling from them, amd her sweater has a turkey on it...

• Scott had prepared a soup, regular chicken noodle, and it smelled good. It was left to simmer on thr back eye of the stove, and he uses the fun shaped pasta pieces in it this time. He was still a bit strict today, but he was smiling, and it was nice to see him happy for a change...

• Logan had hunted a deer for this occasion, and spent thr while week making jerky. Reader had tried a piece, and it tasted amazing. A bit tough, but all jerky is, with the perfect smoky, salty flavor. He was proud of himself, and the team was, too. He was wearing flannel today, in red and black, and seemed to be a bit more relaxed than normal...

• Morph was in charge of the mashed potatoes, and they took great strieds to make them the best. They added butter, salt, pepper, even sour cream, into the pot, and they seemed pleased when they tried a bit. They were dressed in a sweatshirt with fall leaves on it, and they kept making turkey jokes throughout the day...

• Storm had made a turkey, using garlic and salt and baste, stuffing it, and it was to cook until dinner was ready... it smelled heavenly, amd she had to swat away anyone who tried to steal a bite when she checked it's temperature. She wore a white sweater with golden thread running through it...

• Rogue had made a pecan pie, and Reader had to stop themself from drooling at the warm, nutty scent in the air. She kept it on the table, and made small talk with Remy, the two eventually evolving into playful banter. Rogue qore a maroon sweatshirt with a cardinal on it...

•Hank had made some sausage balls, happily explaining his recipe for them as he set the bowl down. They smelled like sausage biscuits, and he let Reader, Jubilee, and Roberto try one when no one was looking. They tasted like a warm house and sleepy holidays. Hank was wearing a mustard yellow sweater, with specks of black and brown dotting it...

•Jubilee and Roberto were in charge of the punch, amd the two kept excitedly chattering about what to add. Reader spotted lemons, oranges, cherries, and limes in it, and were asked to taste test it. It tasted like a citrus explosion, with hints of club soda and fruit punch. The two were wearing matching sweaters, both bright yellow with orange leaves on the sleeves...

• Reader was happy to see Cable, Bishop, amd Forge show up, each mumbling about being home for the holidays. Jean and Scott hugged Cable tightly, while Hank and Storm were quick to start up conversation with Forge, and Bishop and Logan went about trying to taste the food, being swatted away by Rogue while Remy waved his spoon at them, light crackling along it...

• It was a surprise when The Professor and Magneto came down, both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, and both saying they'd invited Erik's children to come by... it wasn't much later when Pietro zoomed in, followed by Wanda and Lorna, who carried a box of sugar cookies and gingerbread, saying they'd decides to stop by, if only to cause a ruckus...

• Reader had been outside, taking a breather, when they spotted Mystique sneaking through the front doors... and they were quick to startle when they saw Sabretooth staring at the mansion from the woods. They were happy to wander inside after that...

• Kurt showed up at the last minute, happily asking about the holiday, and bamfing around the mansion, hanging decorations and calling our to Rogue and Logan and Morph to watch them... he wore a bright orange sweater, and smiled brightly when he saw Rogue and Remy getting along...

• Once dinner was ready, everyone was squeezed into the dining room, pulling out the chairs and setting out the dishes. Jean, Scott, and Cable were sat together, by The Professor amd Magneto, with Wanda and Pietro and Lorna on their other side; Logan and Morph, as well as Jubilee and Roberto, were sitting together, on the other side of the Summers-Grey Family; Forge, Storm, Hank, and Bishop were sat across from them, happy to discuss the history of the turkey; Rogue, Remy, and Kurt were at the end, along with Mystique, all of them getting along for once, all of them ready to try the food; Reader, when they went to sit down, was offered by everyone to sit with them... they ended up sitting between Jubilee and Roberto, feeling a bit warmer and a bit lighter among friends...

• Getting dinner was amazing. The turkey was crisp and juicy, popping with flavor; the gumbo was spicy, a warm taste lingering on the tongue; the sweet potato casserole was sweet, the marshmallow top soft and adding an extra fluff to it; the chicken noodle soup was delightful, each bite full of chicken and pasta; the mashed potatoes were perfect, tasting salty and peppery and with the right amount of sour cream; the sausage balls tasted like sausage biscuits, each a warm bite of home; the pecan pie was divine, each bite nutty and full of spice; Reader's lemon pie was tart and creamy, each bite lemony and sweet; and the punch packed a punch, full of citrus zest and sparkling with bubbles...

• Reader was happy to talk with their family, everyone giving thanks for their friends and for everyone taking time to make the meal, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, the holiday cheer infectious and bright. It was nice, a warm home and warmer friends, all gathered together...

• And when they all went to the living room to nap, Reader was glad to sleep amongst friends, falling into warm, peaceful dreams and gentle sleep...

@roxanndrummond @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @thewickedweiner @danniloversugar

[kailoraurelius]

📣📣📣 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT SWAN, I shout into my empty room. @sun-mo0nshine reblogged my post about Swan being the baddest bitch and said they love the way Jasmine says, "Swan". And I have a headcanon about it that idk maybe y'all would like?? So here it is lol. Sorry it's monsterously long.

We all have animatics in our heads, I'm sure. Or full stage or cinema productions or whatever. We're picturing it as we listen. I have a full stage production in mine. There's a few parts that are questionably possible with today's technology, but whatever. It's entertaining and gets me through very long hours at work sometimes.

POINT IS, in my head, Swan almost never smiles. She sounds nearly bored the very first time she says her name in Survive the Night. But we know her better now! We know she was worried even then!! And all the girls are saying their names in ways that seem to match how they'd be feeling in that moment.

Cochise, vibey, positive. Shown by her share of the lyrics in the rest of the song, because she's the one that sings about Cyrus holding the crown and wanting to see what happens with Cleon.

Cowgirl, more excited and rambunctious, down for a good time. That one is simple lol.

Fox, short and fierce. She's already trying to show she's tough in the first moment of her in this. You can hear her lifting her chin when she fuckin' says it.

Cleon, the loudest and most open voice of all of them. Representing basically her whole character in her intro. She is the one that believes fully in Cyrus and is open to her dream.

Ajax, just above monotone, a little extra emphasis on the "s" sound. It feels a little darker, even snake-like for a moment. Not to say she's a snake by any means, but she is ALMOST an antagonist for her own crew throughout—questioning Swan over and over, picking the fight that ends up taking her away—and this bit of darker voice and imagery kinda hints at that to me.

Rembrandt, always saying her name in two parts, the last syllable usually leaning more toward her feelings. (For example, the first time Mercy adds herself to the Roll Call later, Rembrandt speaks after her and there is very clearly a ???? In the middle of her name and an annoyed emphasis on the T at the end, like she's thinking, "who is this bitch? It was MY turn next.") And in this first Roll Call, her voice seems to fall somewhere between Ajax and Swan's vibes. Not as worried or displeased, but in between. Which makes sense because she is the one that echoes Ajax when she openly questions the plan throughout this song.

NOW. Swan. Worried. Monotone. Mind elsewhere, on what the future is about to bring them. I do not picture her smiling in this.

In Warriors' Cypher is the first time we hear some brightness in her voice, but even then she's talking about "peace so far" and stating that she has everyone's backs if that changes. She's STILL worried, even while they're fooling around and having fun. I do picture her almost exasperatedly laughing at the others' parts or smirking at Cowgirl's line, but not full on grinning. She's still focused on her worry, but she's allowing the bit of fun. And, in If You Can Count, I do see her starting to smile as it seems like the peace is going to be a real, lasting thing.

But, as Swan later says in A Light or Somethin', everything goes wrong from then on. Cyrus, running for their lives, the Turnbull ACs trying to kill them, the track fire. In Track Fire and a Phone Call, everyone is again kinda goofing off. Blowing off steam, razzing each other. But Swan is serious and stern. "When we get there, that's when we've made it." No smiling. She's too focused on protecting her crew.

Then we get to Orphan Town and THIS is where I think Swan's first full, genuine smile would come in. Again, she's worried, she's strategizing. The Orphans are taking some convincing. Swan and Fox start their flirting, where I imagine she would have a placating smile on, at least. Then Mercy comes in.

And I think Mercy amuses Swan. I think she comes out, singing about the Orphans, saying "Witcha hand on your BCACK" and, in my head, Swan laughs, startled into amusement, then quickly hides it so Sully won't turn on her. Then Mercy turns on her.

She starts demanding Swan's vest and this is the first and only time in the album that we hear Swan sound a little dumbstruck. That "What?" absolutely sounds like 0.0 She recovers, offers to try and get Mercy one if she helps them through, and Mercy says she wants the vest off of Swan and what do we hear? A laugh. A small one, entwined with her, "No chance" but a laugh. The only amusement we hear in Swan's voice until A Light of Somethin'. So yeah, I think Swan finds Mercy ridiculous and unhinged and kinda hilarious. Still though, I don't see a full-on smile happening here.

But then everything goes sideways, Swan defends Mercy, Sully changes his mind about letting them pass, and Swan decides to blow their shit up. They start putting together the molotov and it's when Swan calls for a piece of fabric and Mercy offers it up that I see the smile happening. The line "Let's make their world a little brighter" is the brightest we've heard Swan's voice be. In my headcanon, feature film, stage adaptation, I see Swan asking for the fabric and Mercy jumping forward to offer it up and Swan, startled again into amusement and gratefulness, fully grins.

I think it goes away very quickly as she focuses on her task and puts back on her leader face, but I think that quick look is when Mercy starts falling.

Back to everything is hard and sucks for a while. Swan is busy trying to ignore Ajax and Mercy's beef and protecting her crew. Her sole focus is getting them home. Then they lose Ajax and she has to lead the cops away. Mercy goes with her and they end up alone.

Which brings us to A Light or Somethin'. We know Swan was likely freaking out inside. Her Warriors are out there somewhere and she can't help them, can only hope they're waiting for her at Union Square. Ajax is gone, Cleon is gone. So she's quiet as they walk through the tunnel, understandably. But, again, Mercy manages to amuse her. You can HEAR the amusement in her voice. She laughs, saying Mercy won't like initiation. She is playful when she says, "Well, you split from the Orphans, are you loyal?" It's a legit question, but it's said with such a lighter feel. You can tell Mercy has broken through the stern, stoic face she's been putting on for just a moment. I think this is the closest we get to another real smile before the Finale. Not the full blown grin I picture in Orphan Town, but a smile nonetheless.

And when Swan rejects Mercy, her voice drops back down to that more monotone, worried voice we're used to. Except it also has a bit of a rasp to it now. A pain. She doesn't want to be pushing Mercy away. Desperation and agitation fill the rest of the song and then it's, once again, everything sucks and we're running. They lose Fox.

And I feel like there's a smile after the kiss in Same Train Home. It definitely feels like there's a few in the Finale, when Swan says "Anyone sick of runnin", when she tells Mercy she's a Warrior, when Cleon shows up, when Swan and Mercy sing "When I am with you" together.

But I think the only full, unguarded or untinged with sadness/worry, grin is in Orphan Town. When this woman Swan doesn't even know shows up and startles her into genuine happiness she wasn't expecting to find anywhere. Much less on the run for her life.

[atreefullofstars]

So like, in my case, it's because I haven't been on board with the narrative's framing of the moral landscape since like episode... three?

This narrative is just PLAGUED with rules for thee but not for me. Is it wrong to assassinate the enemy kingdom's ruler who has blood on his hands? Depends on who does it. To send an assassin after the innocent young prince? Depends on who's doing it. To BE a magical assassin? Dunno, are you aesthetically pleasing while doing it? Is it wrong to kill bugs? Depends on who's doing it. Is it wrong to want power? Ditto. Is it wrong to use slurs and do unflattering impersonations of another species? Shocking and unforgivable if you're human, hilarious if you're an elf. Almost point for point, everything the "evil" characters have done that was bad, the "good" characters have also done and never been held to account for it by the other characters or by the narrative. And the "bad guys" have done a lot of GOOD stuff that the narrative refuses to acknowledge.

One of THE villains of the series is a man who worked tirelessly and sacrificed his physical health to not only defend his people from natural disasters and from incursions from invading forces, but ALSO defends the actual lives of said people from a king who would blithely throw thousands of them away for a feel-good moment with the queens of a foreign kingdom. Harrow FAILED as a king right there, it would have been DISASTROUS to his rule if they'd actually carried our that edict, Viren snatched that situation right out of the fire, and he's VILIFIED for it! And the reasoning is that they had to kill a big, possibly sentient, possibly unique creature to save thousands of (ordinary, common, boring) lives... ... but THEN when it's RAYLA AND CALLUM setting out with the intent to kill a big, possibly sentient, possibly unique creature -- not even to save lives, but to restore a cultural practice and claim the reward for it -- THAT'S FINE. Yes, they found a way not to kill it, warm fuzzies all around, but the narrative completely fails to grapple with the fact that they were GOING to and it NEVER treats that as wrong the way it does with the magma titan. (Caveat: I'm not saying Viren did nothing else wrong, but I take issue with the way sins were heaped upon him by the writers in later seasons because frankly they're just trying to retroactively justify the vilification that was already present in season 1.)

And the BIGGEST injustice at the heart of all these injustices is this idea that humans have no right to want magic, even when they're dying for lack of it, even when the people who have it are abusing them instead of helping them, humans have no right to call anybody out or take anything they aren't given or even wish for it to be different. Every human who ever did dark magic for any reason was wrong, every human who ever fought back against an elf or dragon was wrong, humans are supposed to accept their place at the bottom of the pecking order and in the reservations they've been force-marched to and they're supposed to be the ones to absorb any lingering anger from the conflict and set down their weapons first even when being actively invaded --

-- and then we get told the story of the FIRST time this happened, when a sweet innocent child motivated by love was the only one who wanted to help humans, and she was KILLED for it in the name of the natural order --

-- I'm on Team Aaravos here, not because I think he's righteous (he's not) or because this is nobler than vengeance (it's not) but because I'm disgusted with the so-called morality of everyone the show is telling me to root for. EVERYONE in this show has sought revenge for something at some point, which makes Aaravos no worse than any of them in terms of motives. Everybody's got blood on their hands, and the numbers just depend on who you think 'counts' as a person. He's manipulative in a way that obviously creeps some people out, but this show has failed to give me any character whose behavior I'm happy with, so pick your poison.

Aaravos is railing against the entire moral order of this little fictional universe and so am I. He wants to take that world apart with his teeth and I'm going to be over here with my popcorn. Fucking get 'em, babygirl.

Obviously he's going to lose, and we'll get some speech about how it was because of the desire for peace and unity or something, and it'll be super super gross, and the show will never actually address the fate it consigns the human race to, and everything will all work out because the writers said so, forever and ever, amen. Whatever. I'm here for the food at this point.

Someone explain to me why there are so many posts along the lines of: "Aaravos can do whatever he wants now that we know he lost his beloved daughter and has trauma"

My brother in Satan that's someone else's daughter he's going after and exploiting now.

I know the answer is He's Hot So He Can Do Whatever He Wants which- yeah like I'm here for the fandom's poor-little-meow-meowfication of him, too. Fandom gotta fandom, I guess. but still- I don't fully get that on a logical or emotional level.

The whole Leola thing did humanise him, yes, but that added complexity didn't change my mind about him being kind of a dick.

There is this song in Sweeney Todd, Johanna (Quartet). Sweeney grieves the loss of his daughter but that's still secondary to how focused he is on using that grief to fuel his desire for a revenge- Revenge that's destroying countless lives of innocent bystanders who mean nothing to him. The story he tells himself about his innocent daughter's faith is the justification for his actions. That's my perception of Aaravos. And that's ultimately more interesting to me than him being a perfect lil' victim of this all.

[itachi86]

aw slanter helping allanon

[bitegore]

if your ocs were bosses in a video game, what do you think their boss fight would be like?

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

third thought about the frenzyflame influence/casting/plot of the au: there's probably some antagonism going on between the two of them regarding john using incants that are physically very taxing on arthur's body. like john probably does it without thinking once, the first time he's gotten strong enough to do it and feels that they're in danger, and then gets immediately defensive when arthur complains and it remains a sore point for a while regarding when the situation is dire enough to merit it

[obstinatecondolement]

Wish my parents would take the "not swearing at me and shouting about how they own the house I live in" challenge every time I push back mildly against them treating me like a literal child challenge.

[dihalect]

i need to post about palestine on facebook but i'm fucking terrified